RIP: Savers

My favorite Savers closed! This actually happened awhile ago, during the time when we were all tied up in buying a house, so we didn't find out until recently when we got tired of empty rooms and tried to go buy some furniture.
I can't really exaggerate the loss I feel right now. Where will I go for new jeans? Where will I find my next great sofa blanket or funny coffee mug? And for heaven's sake, how am I supposed to furnish the new house?
I've tried turning to other thrift stores to fill the void, but no matter how many times I go to Goodwill in one weekend, it's just not the same. We even drove over to a Savers in Minneapolis last night, and although they did have furniture, it was extremely, absurdly overpriced (not joking - one ugly, smelly, used couch was priced at $120!) and the place was packed full of hipsters with creative facial hair in ironically shabby outfits, looking for sweaters to pair with their "distressed" (read: already full of holes) $150 Abercrombie jeans.
Sigh. I guess craigslist will just have to do, huh?

Open letter to the Coen brothers

Dear Coen brothers,
People often say it's the little things that count. And while I've been focused on the big things (like buying houses) lately, I agree that the little things do, indeed, count. A lot. More if you're coping with the big things. So while I've been coping with my big things (the house, the move, the teaching, the conference), I've also been doing my best to minimize the impact of little things: I try not to freak out when my bus is ten minutes late, or when the copier breaks down, or when my students are crabby and unprepared. These kinds of inconveniences are normal. The less everyday, the bigger that little thing seems to be (i.e. collapsing interstate bridges, national political conventions). But I'm still trying; that's why I'm only penalizing you ten points (although I think you deserve to lose more for this photo alone). You're shooting a new film, and it just so happens that it's set in St. Paul. This information only earned about ten seconds of my attention. But then I learned that your film has something to do with German-speaking Jews, so you got ten more seconds. Then I heard that one of the German instructors in our department would have a minor role in the film. "Huh," I thought. "Good for him!" Then I learned that because of this role, said instructor would need substitutes to teach his class several days this semester when he has to be on set. "Huh," I thought. "It' s kind of irritating that I can't take a sick day without seriously inconveniencing/enraging at least three different people, but those same people think it's cute to use movie star lingo and have no problem filling in for this guy." Then I learned that one of my professors is an extra in a bat mitzvah scene (or something) and so she needs to reschedule one of our seminar classes to be on a Friday afternoon because that won't conflict with the shoot. "Huh," I thought. "That's really going to ruin my Friday afternoon." And then I learned that the grocery store is going to be closed for you and your damn movie. Now, I never did anything to you. I've even paid to see some of your other movies! But couldn't you find some German-speaking Jews somewhere else? Or use a discount grocery stores in town that isn't the one closest to my house? Couldn't you have just done this in L.A. where they're used to this kind of crap?
Please do a better job next time.
love,
Lindsay

Signs of life

I'm only now climbing out from under the rubble of moving boxes. This doesn't mean the boxes are unpacked, but this scene of utter chaos (in our back porch) is gone. The move went well, considering the obscene amount of stuff we own. Rob's family and a few friends came to help out, and we got everything out of the old place in a matter of hours. Then, of course, everyone went home and Rob and I were left with 8,000 boxes and only a couple bottles of beer. That was a couple of weeks ago - now the house is looking much better, largely due to Rob taking several days off to unpack and clean (refer to that older post about picking the right man to move with).
It's been a pretty ridiculous couple of weeks since then, with so many trips to Ikea and Menards that I owe them both a kidney and my first-born, leaving me very little choice but to promise Goodwill one of Rob's kidneys, or, since we might need that for the new washer and dryer, my defective left eye which I don't really need that much. Impossible, really, to summarize the time in coherent paragraph form, so instead I'll just list some things I've said during this absurd time in my life:

• Ikea must put heroin dust in the air for us to go there THREE TIMES in ONE WEEKEND.
• There seems to be a dead squirrel under the porch.
• This wallpaper is delightful. DELIGHTFUL.
  
• Asbestos schmasbestos.
• Maybe we could put a dishwasher in the porch?
• Let's put that table there, and this table in here. Or that table upstairs and this table there and then get a new table for there? Or that table on the porch and this table here and a new table there and a new table upstairs?
  
• Cricket, are you really eating THAT? Really?
• Oh, I put those boxes in the closet with the stairs to nowhere. No, the other closet with stairs to nowhere.
  

Because I enjoy lists, I'm also going to share with you the top ten things I've purchased in the last few weeks that make me feel very adult:

• A house.
  
• A furnace.
• A fence.
  
• A washer/dryer combo.
• Multiple new, never-been-walked-on, not-even-on-clearance rugs.
• Copper pipes.
• Dust masks.
  
• 3 different types of trash bags. On purpose. And not because they were on sale.
  
• A rake.
  
• New floors.

You can see the floors above. I never in a million years thought I would EVER have wood floors and then get them refinished, but Rob has a friend who did this for a price we could afford and I don't know that I have ever felt so strongly that something was so worth every penny (except for my favorite sports bra from Title IX, but that's a different story). So when you come visit, be sure to compliment the floors.
There's more to this list, of course. Aside from the part about feeling adult, and the floors, the best thing about the house so far is the yard. It's enormous, gigantic, humongous. Which makes it just about big enough for Cricket and Nick:
They are also loving the yard, although Cricket has needed some time to cope with the fact that Nick is much more aggressive with her in open spaces. He's usually pretty open to letting her chew on his face indoors, but in the yard, he tends to trap her under the porch or against the fence (which is what's going on in the picture above). This is certainly not something that could have happened at the old house, or in the old yard. That thing I said about the floors? I take it back. This is worth every penny:

Packing-induced hysteria: Hour 12

So, we move tomorrow (soon after that, I'll post some pics of the new place). And we've been packing all day today, so that everything is ready to go when people show up tomorrow at 10 to help (please don't back out!). Despite the fact that I have changed residences so often in the last few years, I HATE moving, and I hate packing even more than I hate moving. Luckily for me, this time the packing and moving is offset a bit by the incredibly satisfying act of checking off several lists we've made since we started this whole project a couple of months ago. We are (unreasonably?) proud of ourselves for getting so much done, but there's a long way to go.

This is our kitchen on its way to being empty. It's a good thing our new kitchen is bigger, because it took us about 5 hours to pack up all the random stuff (Rob's grapefruit gadget, last used in 2006, my spice racks, the 10 cans of tuna we bought on sale in July, the port wine I hauled back from Portugal).

After about 10 hours of packing, I hit this wall where I just don't see the point any more. This is when I finally see the brilliance behind my siblings' packing strategies. I spend the first several hours organizing and labeling, making sure everything is in its right place. Only later do I start throwing everything I see into whatever receptacle or bag is handy at the moment. Grocery bags, trash bags, garbage cans, shoeboxes. Then, at hour 11, I start drinking.

Here, you can see the fruits of our labor (all the boxes) awaiting transport, plus two very confused dogs. Looks like the prayers/dancing/whatever paid off - the forecast for tomorrow is pretty good here. Now I need to go drink pack some more.

Homeownership

That's right. Rob and I have joined the ranks of what I like to call the landed gentry (even though this is neither 18th century England nor a Jane Austen novel)! We're in! Since the very smooth closing on Friday, we've ripped up carpet, gotten new locks, mowed the lawn, torn out some cabinetry-type stuff, and pulled about 8,000 carpet staples from at least three different eras or stapling schools of thought. We've also had the amazing luck to have lined up almost everything we want to get done before the move (next Sunday) that we can't do ourselves.
There will be more updates soon, and pictures once I find the camera. If you aren't able to help us move, do what you can (pray, dance, whatever) to prevent rain. Or lots of homework.

10 more days

That's right. 10 MORE DAYS. And then we will OWN A HOUSE. WHICH WILL BE OURS THAT WE WILL OWN.
Not that this is anything to get worked up about.
Closing is September 19th. Work will commence immediately following (with a break for Kelly's wedding) and with a little luck, we'll have our wood floors and our patched and painted walls (and our furnace and our fence, although we aren't doing those ourselves) by the time we move in on September 28th.
Because of this, and because Rob and I are both planners, we decided it would be wise to get as much of our stuff boxed up and ready to move before closing as we can. So while I was planning lessons and trying to get ahead on my readings and thinking about taking a break to pack a box after page 76, Rob boxed up almost everything we own, including my 5,000 books (see sample at left). And then he tackled the basement.
I definitely picked the right man to move with.

Good News, Bad News: Week 1

Good News: It's Friday! There is so much good in Friday that it is difficult to convey.

1. The republicans are leaving! Which means I will not be stopped by bored traffic cops with Napoleon complexes at every intersection in town despite the fact that my light is green, and that my bus will (hypothetically) run on time, and that there will be something on TV besides that Palin woman and the heartwarming story of how much republicans love America.
   
2. I made it through my first week of teaching! And I haven't cried in front of my class OR my supervisor, no one has dropped my class, I have only made one or two egregious errors, and my kids are actually learning some things.
3. It is the weekend. I'm so busy right now that I barely have time to breathe, and while the weekend is obviously going to be just as busy, it won't involve buses or supervisors or secretaries to get in the way of my work.
4. It also won't involve students. Although almost all my students seem to be lovely people, there are one or two who are already working very hard to make my life difficult. And I don't have to see them again until Monday!
5. Tonight, I get to ignore my social/work obligations and devote my full and undivided attention to a bottle of wine, a plate of spaghetti, and the Sopranos.
   

Bad News: It's Friday, and there are at least 37 things I was going to do, had every intention of doing, really truly meant and wanted to do, but didn't.
Good News: I (hopefully) only failed to do the important things.
Bad News: The relative importance of the things I've so far failed to do is uncertain and I am NOT GOOD at uncertainty.
Good News: Marty sent me some shots of me water skiing at Clearwater. It is certain that I was awesome at water skiing: