Part 3

Monday brought a visit to Zion's National Park and our only real scare during the trip. It seems that someone mis-threaded the gas cap, so every time we went up a hill and rolled the windows down so I could take pictures, we smelled gas. I was so worried about it that I could hardly enjoy the tremendous majesty of the park. Imagine our relief and chagrin to realize our error.

We journeyed through one part of Arizona which was far more beautiful than I thought it would be. Folks, if you get a chance, go see it.

That night we stayed in Holbrook, New Mexico. This was our first night in a Holiday Inn Express which ended up being my favorite kind of hotel. The shampoo and body scrub smell awesome, their continental breakfast was also quite enjoyable, and the rooms were spacious and comfortable. This was also the beginning of the end concerning our kids' ability to be quiet and well-behaved in restaurants. We were all sick of road food.

At some point on our trek through Arizona we saw a sign that said something like “THBQE Next Right”. We burst out laughing and tried to figure out what it meant. Neither of us remembered the exact letters.

Me: Maybe is was the conference center for the Dyslexic Acronym Society.
Man: Otherwise known as SAD.

We busted a gut over that one.

We got to El Paso on Tuesday. All I saw of it was a major high way and what was directly off of it, but it looked awful. This was the second time I was truly worried about our vehicle even though it was in sight of the highway, our room window, and well-lit. It was pretty neat to see Mexico just over the river and sad to see the great contrast between the buildings that were mere yards from each other. Overall, I was pretty glad we were NOT moving to El Paso. However, it was comforting that a great sunset could be seen even in as dingy and cramped a city as this.

El Paso Sunset

The next day we traveled to our final destination for at least 6 months, if not longer. We journeyed through a handful of tiny one horse specks of towns and lots (and lots and lots and lots) of dry scrub and sandy dirt. I was beginning to think we'd end up in some backward little hole in the face in a state with which I was, thus far, less than enchanted. Shortly before arriving, our van's odometer rolled. That was kind of fun to watch. Later, in town, Man glanced down to see 100111 and declared with amusement that it was in binary. Yes, folks, we were that road-weary.

This place is a bit of a phenomenon. I've never before encountered a city that could be so completely hidden until you actually stumble into it. We only had 5, then 3, then 1 mile to go and it was nowhere in sight. We were beginning to doubt that we had taken the right road when, all of a sudden, we were surrounded by city. As we have wandered about it in the past couple of weeks, the same thing has happened a couple of times over again should we stray outside the city limits. The darn thing just disappears. If I didn't have a map or compass (or, heck, maybe even if I did) and someone put me ½ a mile outside the city, I probably wouldn't be able to find it.

We arrived at lodging and swarmed into the blessed air conditioning only to find that our quarters were intended for one person or one married couple. There was a double bed in a tiny bedroom barely big enough for the bed, a tall chest of drawers, and two itty night stands. I've seen welcome mats bigger than the kitchen or bathroom. There was a living room with a small table, couch, and tv. Man called lodging to see if anything large was available. Nope. -sigh- Princess and Pebbles shared the couch/hide-a-bed, Tag slept on a crib mattress provided by Lodging, and Frieda was in the travel crib. When we put the kids to bed, Man and I were confined to that little bedroom and as much cable tv as we could stand. Talk about motivation for finding a place to leave ASAP.

Yes, that's right. We journeyed half way across the country only to have no house to call home. Again. Thank goodness we found one the very next day. Man calle

d me up and he was very excited about it. Fenced back yard! Larger bedrooms than the ones in California! Carpeted floors! (does anyone recall my chagrin with all wood floors? Allow me to remind you. I hate HATE having all wood floors. The only kind of floor I think I'd hate more is dirt, or mud. Or maybe straw. With mice in it.) Garage! 2 blocks from the kids' school! It sounded really great, especially once he told me the price tag. I had my doubts once I heard the price but he assured me that despite a few flaws, it was great.

The first thing I noticed when we got here was the smell. It smelled like old pets, sweaty feet, and unwashed human. Each sink in kitchen and either bathroom had severe water damage under it, and it had all of the defects associated with an old house in general long-term wear and tear, and even disrepair. There's also this weird sort of nature paneling in the living room featuring ducks in different seasons, all of which manage to be barren and cold-looking (which I guess is better than desert scenes, given the temperatures we've had lately). The previous occupants had left in a hurry, leaving behind several items in the drawer under the stove, a (very pretty, I'm keeping it) spoon rest, a nebulizer chamber (ack!! someone with breathing problems! was the house causing the breathing problems??) several bracelets belonging to a small girl, and an old gift card to Victoria's Secret. They also didn't clean. Anything.

Man had already signed the lease, so I sighed and started mentally preparing for what it would take to leave this place in better condition than we found it. After a trip to the store to replenish our cleaning supplies (and a hummingbird feeder for Man) I set to with scrubbing, wiping, spraying, and scraping. I now thoroughly appreciate the cleaning guidelines the Army sticks to. On Monday, a man came to do a shoddy job of cleaning the carpets and the kids started school. On Tuesday, our household goods arrived. The electric company refused to turn on the power until Thursday. We refused to check out of Lodging until we had AC at the house. The people who brought our household goods over were supposed to unpack for us as well, but that ended up being a joke and a half. They just sort of stacked things everywhere they could find a place and I'm so glad I refused to let them touch my kitchen. It would have been even more of a nightmare. All week I had mini panic attacks every time I looked around my house because the landslide of absolute chaos was almost more than I could bear. I had gone to such great lengths to organize my house before the packers got there only to find that each box had such a horrible mish-mash of only heaven knows what and I just felt sick about the whole thing.

We've decided that since it was such a horrible experience that, in the future, we'd pack our own darn house and then hire strong backs to help load the moving van. It'd be far less of a pain on either end. We also found that the packers packed a few things verboten: jars of oil and sugar the kids gave me for mother's day, a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, and a quart-sized glass bottle of balsamic vinegar. They were indiscriminate concerning which plastic totes they would empty and which they'd leave full, and which ones they'd stuff with other random things to pack the contents more tightly. Half of my beading supplies ended up in a plastic tote containing our metal bar puzzles, the other half went into a linens box. The kids' clothing, books, and toys were all thrown together. They emptied out our Christmas boxes and farmed the contents out among other books. Man's books from his previous courses were literally mashed together in a box and are permanently bent. Our dance pads are melted from the temperatures our things were stored at and the kids' computer monitor is warped and broken from those same temperatures. My craft supplies were taken from the drawers they were in, stuffed among computer things, and the drawers were refilled with random items they couldn't stuff anywhere else.

You who know me well will understand that I was on the teetering edge of simply fleeing into the night, screaming in pure, gibbering terror.

It was then that we decided that nothing is worth this level of pain and frustration. As much stuff as we had, we have less. As much stuff as we have, we shall have a mere fraction. Ruthlessness is the word, and every week we will throw away at least one box of stuff. Something that surprised me though is that we only had 6,000+ pounds of stuff. We're authorized 8,000. Can you freakin' imagine another 2,000 pounds of CRAP??? What would I have done with myself?

So, anyway, we've met our new ward which is just tiny and so friendly. Our landlord is a very nice old man who is so good with the kids and came over right away to fix things up for us. The kids' teachers are very nice and the school is really great. I think that the lunches here look so much healthier than the ones in California (in CA, they had fried foods at least 3 times a week; here, they have fried stuff only once a week or less and both a fruit and a vegetable with every meal) and Man will have just the tiniest bit of homework to bring home relative to the 6 hours every night he used to have.

All in all, I'm pretty pleased with how things are going so far. It could have been worse, it could have been better, but I'm setting to with a will. We have no dishwasher or garbage disposal, we had to buy a fridge and a lawnmower, and I'm still sorting my way through the landslide. On the other hand, we already have three families of friends, the weather is cooling a bit, we have 4-5 hummingbirds who love Man's feeder, and we're happy.

I still have time to plant some summer squash but, you know... “I have enough work to do today” as the hymn goes.

Whew! And now, on to the hum-drum adventures!