We started our last full day as Californians with an early breakfast at the neighbors'. This was both a nice good-bye and a welcome break from meals composed of left over pantry stores. George made pancakes and Marcia griddled patties. We ate apricots they'd preserved over the summer, which Marcia referred to as "June in a jar". We were sent home with full bellies and some spackle to repair a few puncture wounds left where pictures had been hanging. I accidentally spackled a bug into the living room wall.
I spent last week sorting through kid stuff and stuffed closets. There have been several trips to Goodwill and lentils for dinner. LD repainted the walls, took apart our furniture, and gathered our family pictures and albums into a separate pile that was Not To Be Moved By The Movers. For reasons unfathomable to me, he feels these items are too personal to be entrusted to the care of, oh you know, hired professionals, a concern that is both sweet and very much in keeping with what I regard as a generous concern for privacy that I try to respect, but do not always share. (In the almost two years since I wrote that post, my husband has grown - do I dare say it? - proud of this blog and less suspicious of you, my (still few and just as dear) readers. It's a sentiment he does not, however, extend to include the movers.)
While the movers sorted and boxed our things I busied myself and the kids with a last pilgrimage to our favorite parks,
and fruit trees, now near bare in these remaining weeks of the fall.
I am writing this post from a hotel room downtown, where Wow's cough is keeping Munch awake past her bedtime. LD is back at the house, tending to the last minute clean up before the movers return in the morning to load the truck with the things they boxed today. If all goes as planned, we will be on the road by noon tomorrow, and arrive in time to spend Thanksgiving in our new home town.