Rollin' In It

This is my joint.

I've never been a St. Arbuck's girl.  Sure, I'll go in for a cup if I'm meeting friends, or on a long road trip, but it has never been my coffee shop of choice.  See, it's hard to go from years of this, to mass marketing.

Now, when I need "my time",  I go here.

When we first visited Beaver TWO YEARS ago - wow - we walked into Kolache and I knew instantly that IF George took the job at Four Mile, living within walking distance of this place would be a non-negotiable.  For Beaver was pretty much "country" compared to what I'd know for 40 years of my life. The ability to walk to Cafe Kolache would be a necessary part of my adapting to a new community.

My mom sauntered up to the counter and ask the owner what it was like living in Beaver.  I gave her a light shove to say "SHUT-UP" for we had the kids with us at the time, and they thought we were on a spontaneous vacation in Pittsburgh Beaver.  What Hugh didn't know at the time, was that we were casing the town, while the church was casing us.  My Mom just about blew our cover.

Just the mere presence of Cafe Kolache gave me comfort on that trip, for I knew I was potentially facing a huge life change.  As silly as it sounds, a local coffee shop would offer me some sense of the familiar.

Flash forward TWO YEARS later.  After a year of having a son still in half-day pre-school for our first year in Beaver, he is now at school full-time three days a week.  Thus, I FINALLY have the time to return to the "days of my youth" (or rather, the days of my young married life) when I would spend every morning at the coffee shop that George managed while in seminary.

I have been waiting for this season of my life to arrive.

I saunter in, sometimes in a foul mood if the morning routine didn't go so well around the house, get a cuppa, exchange banter with the staff, grab my seat, and begin to write.  I sip some soup, order some rolls, and chit chat with other customers.  My favorite day to date:  busting out to "You Keep Me Hangin' On" with a few others as it came over the radio.  The "Oooh's" were particularly delightful.

I really like this place.  Can you tell?

So when Kolache called ME yesterday to see if I wanted a few dozen rolls because they'd baked too many that day, I knew.

They like me.  They really like me.

I gladly accepted and arranged to get the yummy loot after picking up Zane at school.  No, they weren't free (and I wouldn't dream of just taking them), and yet, they came with something more important.

The offer of those rolls signifies that Kolache has indeed become, as my son puts it, "mommy's special place."

Thanks Kristi and Hugh.  For you didn't know back in October of 2008 that the shop made an enormous impression on me.  It has taken me a year to finally make coming in every week a habit.  It's hilarious when I realize that you've seen "all of me": pre-workout, post-workout (sorry - I stink), dressed in actual clothes and NOT wearing a bandana, laughing with my children, frustrated with my children, talking with girlfriends, writing, stumped, angry with George, or just enjoying some time out with the entire family all together.

You've even seen me without my wallet - and you fed me anyway!

I'm rollin' in small town love.

Thanks.

We are Borg

It was the early '90's when a guy came up to me at Bally Fitness, tapped me on the shoulder, mentioned he loved my show, and then upon my turning around, quickly apologized for mistaking my identity.

I had long black curly hair with a big rounded poof in the front, pushed forward a bit, the ends being clipped back with a barrette. Seriously, I am not sure how to explain it without a photograph handy. Something like this. See where I'm headed?

He wasn't mistaking me for Julia Louis-Dreyfus.

No, that happened with a different guy. And not at Bally's.

This time I was wearing red workout tights. That I remember.

Had I actually been the actress he thought me to be, I would have indeed been wearing red. On the Starship Enterprise. I would not, however, have been seen working out at a Bally's in Deerfield, IL.

Unless, maybe, Marina Sirtis did happen to hit Bally's from time to time. Who knows. She had to stay trim in that outfit somehow.

All that to say, I do have some inner-geek in me when it comes to Star Trek: The Next Generation, and even spent a Halloween dressed as Commander Deanna Troi. Communicator and all. There are pictures. Somewhere. George went as Wesley Crusher.

Will Wheaton. Yeah, he's still around.

So, I know all about the Borg. Forced assimilation and all that sort of jazz.

I revisited Chicago this past weekend. It took only seconds after exiting the plane and entering the gate at O'Hare upon arrival to realize that this was not home.

It didn't look like home. It didn't feel like home. It. Was. Not. Home.

I have assimilated.

We are Beaver.

I had a tremendous time. Fabulous. Loved seeing all the folks I could in roughly 24 hours. I reveled in watching a performance of a former student. I enjoyed much needed catch up's on conversations with old friends. I was introduced, and re-introduced to new babies. I hit up my favorite second hand shop, drank coffee with those I hold dear, ate a great hot-dog, and slept in a king sized bed. Alone.

And that's just it.

I loved it all, and yet there was a deep-seated feeling of loneliness and wanting to be home.

And Chicago just didn't cut it as "home" any longer.

I don't feel any remorse over that revelation, but rather, gladness. For I have taken to this new town so very quickly and easily. I have a neighborhood the likes of which I have never experienced, and new friends with whom I've connected surprisingly quickly. My new church community is my new church community. We live here now. Now.

And Chicago? Chicago, along with Evanston, Wilmette, Winnetka, Glencoe, Highland Park, Highwood, and let's not forget Lake Forest and Bannockburn will always hold some of the best memories from 18 years of my life.

And yet, as a wise, wise, woman once recalled after a bump on the head,

"There's no place like home."

Resistance is futile.

Get the Lead Out!

You know me by now.

I like a deal.

I'm not cheap, but I like a deal.

Salvation Army and Goodwill are treasure storehouses.

Lower your nose . . . if you wanna be all snooty-pants, then fine. I'll take Ann Taylor for $2.99. You can go and pay a gazillion dollars.

More for me.

Harper turned 9 today. All she wanted was a cover for her tennis racket.

On Tuesday, I realized . . . it's Tuesday. Her birthday is Friday. I live in Beaver.

What does that have to do with anything, you ask?

1. I've left no time to have something shipped
2. Beaver has ONE sporting goods store. Dick's Sporting Goods.

Sure, I could climb Freedom Road and make my way to Cranberry, or run down to Robinson (although I'm not even sure what other sporting goods stores are in those locations). But, I don't have the time in my day to do this. And, I forgot to google, so now I have one store in which to shop.

I get to Dick's only to find that they have no racket covers for purchase. There are covers that come with rackets, but having just bought her one a few months back, this wasn't an option.

Wait. Hers didn't come with a complimentary cover. Hmmm.

"Um, excuse me. We purchased a junior racket for my daughter and few months back. Hers didn't come with a cover. Any chance I can just purchase one of the adult covers that come with some of the other rackets?"

"No. I don't think we could do that. Sorry."

Oh, buddy. A simple "no" isn't going to stop the likes of me.

"Can I talk with a manager?"

Time for the story - keep it real, though. Not to sappy or desperate.

"My daughter turns 9 on Friday and is having a tennis party. All she wants is a cover and as you know, there are no other sporting goods stores in Beaver. You are the only game in town. Hoping you can help me out"

"Well, I don't have any covers for junior rackets. They were recalled for lead. So that's why she didn't get one when you got your racket."

Oh, China.

"So, technically, she should have gotten a complimentary cover with the racket, right?"

With that, he grabbed a few covers off the wall and began matching them up with the racket that we already owned.

"Let's take this one up to the check-out."

Figuring he was going to charge me, I set my price at $10, for he had in his hand what could be considered "top of the line" as complimentary covers go, plus it was larger than a junior racket. And, since I had planned on paying more anyway (had I properly googled), I figured $10 was a good buy. I really didn't want to pay more for this simple, black, padded one. However, I literally had nothing else planned in terms of a birthday gift, so I was praying that I'd get a fair price.

He walked me through check-out and then handed me the cover.

"Happy Birthday to your daughter."

"How much do I owe you?"

"Nothing. Hope she has a fun party."

"Seriously?"

"No problem."

It was the right thing to do, but I was still surprised, seeing as we were in a "big box" sports store. I was also surprised because for a complimentary cover it fits the whole racket, (not just the head), and is padded, with a strap.

China, you must, must, must, stop it with the lead in children's toys and gear. You're going to get yourself a reputation.

Although this time, your blunder worked in my favor.

Thanks Dick's for the perfect gift for my 9 year old.

Forget the almost 30 hours of labor and c-section. That's all behind me now. I fought hard. And just look at my dazzling, precious, priceless prize.

And now, that prize has a cover for her racket.

Um . . .

My "rockstar" daughter was needing some blue and orange hairspray to add to her rocker Halloween costume, so we popped into Walgreen's last night.

Yes, I realize Halloween is still a few weeks away, but the vision of John Hughes must reign in Beaver because it's huge around here. In fact, she had the option of wearing her costume to a junior youth group program at a local church just last night. Plus, we've got the Halloween Hop (trick or treating at the local businesses) next weekend, a Halloween Parade the Wednesday before Halloween, and then, of course, the actual Halloween/trick or treating event.

It's a lot of Halloween.

Let me add that our family doesn't actually celebrate Halloween as much as we just endure it. It is my least favorite "holiday". I don't love the emphasis on haunted houses, death, evil, witches, and all the typical ghoulish displays. However, I am not so extreme as to think that the entire day should be banned or ignored by Christian families because, in my heart, that would be denying that my God is stronger than anything evil. Ok, I could really get into that whole debate here, but I really don't care to do so, and that's not really what this post is about anyway.

This is about something much more important.

Candy.

So, as we hit the check-out with a few bottles of colored hairspray in hand, the gal behind the counter offers, "Hey, if you really want to experience the best trick or treating, go down to Beaver. The houses by the river. Those people give away full-sized bars!"

Beaver. Houses by the river. Full-sized bars.

I live down in Beaver. My house is a block off the river. I can not afford full-sized bars.

I'm banking on the fact that she was referring to the larger houses on River Road - similar to those houses back in Evanston that gave away full-sized bars.

Being a "cake-eater" sure is difficult.

Well folks, I hate to disappoint, but we'll be going "old school" with the whole gluttonous candy orgy this year. Bite-size and "fun-size" is all you'll find here.

I'm positive there won't be too many complaints.

Geez, this whole post reminds me that my entire family needs to see the dentist.

To Lorelai, or Not To Lorelai

"You are the Lorelai Gilmore of Beaver."

Well, I'll be.

My husband sure knows how to compliment a girl.

I won't go into my gushy, crushy, love of Gilmore Girls - although if you want to purchase me the entire series for my 40th birthday I'll also love you forever.

It's no secret that I've got it bad for this show.

My claim to non-fame? I once had a Marshall Field's commercial air during an episode. So, now I can say I shared a time slot with Lauren Graham and the cast.

Anyhoo, as I'm just going on and on here . . . like a certain coffee guzzlin' single mama I know . . .

I took in my first Beaver town meeting last night. The town President, (no his name isn't Taylor, nor is he called the Town Selectman), also served as the attorney for my real estate closing, and was none too popular last night due to some heavy town stuff going down surrounding a feasibility study, the community pool, and the possibility (POSSIBILITY people - let's not tar and feather the council just yet) of a new recreational facility. Add to the brewing pot the alleged "witch hunt" between a council member and a city worker, and you've got yourself good old fashioned small town drama.

For the record, even though I may sound trite in my description of the evening, I am against the recreational facility, but the pool does need a drastic overhaul. As for the other issue between the council and city workers? I can't really weigh in - I've only lived here a month.

During the meeting, I did my best not to channel Lorelai and refrained from randomly yelling, "I object!" Nor did I keep up a continual banter of humorous quips throughout the meeting, opting rather to take a low profile.

I won't pull out my inner Lorelai until next month's meeting.

Although in order for me to really get get into character, Luke's, or, in this case either Cafe Kolache or the Towne Square Restaurant, are going to have to stay open a bit later to provide me with the fuel to take on the council in true Lorelai fashion. As Starbuck's just doesn't have the Luke's vibe.

I need coffee. Extra strong. Double cafe. Triple cafe. No, forget the cafe. Throw in the whole cow and serve it to this man right here! What's wrong with you?
Lorelai Gilmore, Season One, "Love, Daisies, and Troubadours"

I'll Take a Dozen

So remember our horrid non-dining experience from last Saturday night?

No?

Well, then, you mustn't be reading and I am terribly offended.

Go back and catch up, will ya?

So, it's a small town, right? I decide to make nice with the owner and give him a call to chat.

He was fabulous. Explained about a power outage on the block that took out his cooler (and thus a few items on the menu) and his credit card machine. Plus, his main guy on the floor had to leave unexpectedly as his brother was in a car accident. He admitted it was a bad night for the place. "After you left I sent the waitress out to find you and tell you that since the credit card machine wasn't working you could just come back and pay on Monday."

Just come back and pay on another day?

That's several times now that I've been offered the "honor system" here in town when it comes to purchasing merchandise, and now food.

He was incredibly apologetic and offered desserts on the house next time we come in.

I'll take it. On a day I do a long run . . .

"Thanks, I'll just have The Door, with a side of . . . Nothing."

Saturday night.

Downtown Beaver.

7 of us needing dinner (my father and brother in law came in today), and me not really ready to cook for the masses.

The goal. Find a place in walking distance, as they had just been in a car for 5 hours.

Mario's? Packed. As expected.

The local diner? Closed. Unexpected.

We head to another restaurant I think my Dad will love - the "one which shall not be named" (as, once again, if you are a consistent reader here, you know all about my mechanic/trans guys blog post incident of last summer).

It took a while for the waitress to come over. I'm being gracious. We give her our drink orders.

"I'm sorry. We're out of root beer" she shares, after the kids order their drinks. Not a good start. She goes to the kitchen to make sure that this is the case.

Upon her return, which took a bit too long, she confirms that they are indeed out of root beer, and we continue the process of ordering drinks.

"I'm sorry, we don't have Sprite or 7-UP. Just Coke, Diet Coke, Gingerale, Pink Lemonade and Raspberry Iced Tea."

Um, ok. The kids order Gingerale, a few of us get some water, and there's a Diet Coke in there somewhere.

She returns with the Diet Coke and one water.

George's jaw begins to square.

She leaves and returns with the remainder of the drink order. As we order dinner, it is abundantly clear that something is just not right. She seems as flustered as we are.

"I'm sorry, we're out of meatballs."

Ok, is this a joke? How can an Italian joint run out of meatballs?

The dinner menu has antipasto salad listed. I order it.

"I'm sorry, but our deli is closed so we may not have antipasto. I'll have to check." I'm afraid for her to check, as it seems the kitchen is like a mile away. Each time she goes to check on something she doesn't return for close to 10 minutes.

Breathing. Breathing. Breathing. George's jaw locking. Locking. Locking.

The waitress shares that she is filling in for someone who had to leave early due to a family member who had an accident. We realize full well that the restaurant being out of items has NOTHING to do with her and she's just trying to keep it together. Throughout our entire time in the place she must have apologized close to 10 times. Ask my brother in law for the final figures. I think he kept count.

She reports that they DO have enough meat for the antipasto. Yeah! So, we order. The pizza take up to 25 minutes, ("I'm sorry"), so we nix that idea for the kids, as we've already been sitting there close to 20. All this time we've been struggling to find something for them on the menu. She then mentions "kid's pasta."

"Wait", I interrupt, "is there a kid's menu"? I flip the menu over and back in an attempt to find the dishes that she is verbally mentioning to me. They aren't listed anywhere as far as I can see.

"Yes. I'm sorry. He he didn't print them up."

At that point, George decides to take Zane, and himself, out for a little walk outside.

We finally get the order set. She repeats back everything. Check. All is correct. Ready to get that order into the kitchen.

As we are waiting. She returns. Again.

"I'm sorry. Our credit card machine is broken. I'm so sorry."

And.

Exit.

I'm sure the order was already in and beginning to be cooked, but there were 7 of us. My Dad was footing the bill. I was quite certain he didn't have that much cash on him. I was right. I felt badly for leaving (she had disappeared in the back again), but it was about the straw. And the camel. And the camel's aching back.

On our way out, my Dad left money for the drinks, and I flagged down another waitress and asked her to please convey to ours that we were leaving, as we needed to pay by credit card.

"You could write a check" was her response. Very friendly, but not really getting the point.

As we were leaving, our waitress came out from the back.

"He's going to try and fix the machine for you."

It was too late. My hungry family had already vacated the building.

We will call this "he", whoever the "he" is, on Monday to share our non-dining experience. We will be direct, and polite, as we convey our frustration.

China House won our business tonight. Their General Tso's chicken ROCKS THIRD STREET. (Ok, in all honesty we did have one teeny tiny issue with an egg roll, but that was quickly rectified.)

I'm sure we'll give "the one which shall not be named" another try at some point. And honestly, it's fine that there aren't a ton of choices of places at which to eat out in downtown Beaver specifically, as there are some awesome places all around us that to which we can drive (Lockhouse 6, Back Door Tavern). Plus, we are planning on curbing eating out in our budget once I get my pantry stocked.

Just wondering if tonight's experience was a fluke - a restaurant having a bad night - or does it have a bit of "small town" drizzled on top?

Anyone else have an interesting dining experience to share?

Me? A "Cake-eater"?

Back in March when Harper and I came out to Beaver, one of the goals we had was to see several pre-schools and choose one for Zane. We visited many places.

A conversation at one of these schools really stands out to me now as I begin to learn more about the history of Beaver.

I was asked by one of the teachers at a school I was observing, where I was looking to buy a house. I mentioned the address of the house we now own.

"Ohhh! Riverside!"

I was a bit taken back at her obvious astonishment, so I pressed her.

"Tell me what you know about the borough, and specifically the area on the 'riverside' of town."

"Well, it's just that most of the rich families live on that side of 3rd street", she answered.

"Really? Well, they better make room for the Clampett's then!"

I made a joke about it, but I was really confused (or "infused") as Zane puts it. The house we were looking at then, and now own, is really old. In fact, there were several much nicer newer homes and brand new constructions we could have looked at in Brighton Township, only we wanted the whole "Main Street, USA" feel to where we settled. And now, come to think of it, after the loss we took on our home, we probably couldn't have afforded the newer homes anyway! East Second Street had the location we wanted and the price tag we could afford. So, the whole "rich" label was lost on me. Our house was cheap. Our house is old. Our house needs work.

It's got good bones. But we've only got one bathroom and somehow we've misplaced that enormous deck and media room. Sure, I'd love those things (and a master bath), but there was no way we could afford it.

Having lived here a week, I have now heard the term "cake-eater" several times in reference to those who lived in Beaver (and specifically the river side of 3rd Street) back in the steel mill days.

Beaver, and specifically river side, was not where the actual blue collar steelworkers lived, but rather the steel management. It's been said, that if a steelworker's son was seeing a girl from Beaver, he was "taking up with cake-eater's".

And I'm the "cake-eater"?

Twinkies, maybe. Or Ding Dongs. Little Debbie Snack Cake, anyone?

Well, if this is the case, then I take milk with my tea, and these days I take my cake sugar-free. (Yeah, I'm off sugar again, and I'm grumpy).

Watch out for my raised pinky! And go finish my laundry!

John Cougar Mellancamp Would Love Beaver

Many good 'ole small towns in the U.S. of A have a gazebo in the town square. Our's included.

Only Beaver's gazebo isn't a structure from the town's earlier years, nor was its construction planned by the city. Nope. Our gazebo was built specifically for the movie Gung Ho.

See, director Ron Howard needed to do some filming and Beaver provided the perfect quintessential small town. Only it was missing a gazebo.

Not anymore!

So tonight, we ate ice cream on that gazebo, on which Obama also stood while visiting Beaver on the campaign trail, as the smell of funnel cakes, candy apples, cotton candy, and the smoke from carny cigarettes filled the night air.

Today was my most favorite day in Beaver to date. And by "to date", I mean, one week.

It began with a trip to Capo's in New Brighton to see if we could find a vanity for my bedroom. Our bathroom is tight. It would be better for the entire family if Mom could just do her whole beauty thing somewhere other than in the crowded bathroom. I can dig that. Someday, (after we're done paying for our new appliances), we'll begin talking about putting in a second bathroom, but for now, this one is it. So, in the interim, to alleviate the traffic jam in one of the most coveted rooms in the house, we began shopping for a vanity for my bedroom, at which I could Mary Kay myself up the way I like without having to be all speedy. Sometimes a girl just likes to sit and take time on herself, you know?

Capo's is one of those places that reminds me a bit of Sanford and Son, only it's heavy on furniture. There are rows down which one can not even walk, and then there are the shelves stacked with old trinkets. It's pretty incredible. I did not find my vanity (although I've got a good bite on one through Craig's List), but I did get an incredibly modern reading chair for under Harper's loft at just $10 (which was a surprise find in a place filled with pieces from the 1930's).

We then dropped some goods at the local thrift store and checked out the local market - which I LOVED! I can't stand huge supermarkets. My options here are Giant Eagle ($$$), Walmart (I have Walmart issues), Aldi (I'm down with Aldi), and a few other choices. However, today, I decided to check out the small store on 3rd. I adored it. Best find? The Amish chicken. Produce? Not great - but I intend to hit the Farmer's Market for that. The people were nice, the selection was fine and the variety was just enough.

After that stop, we hit the local consignment store, which ROCKS. My mom and I will totally be hitting that place on Saturday after I treat her to a mani and I get a much needed pedi. She's working her tail off at my house right now. She deserves all the specialty coffee drinks and manicures she desires.

Got home, called over to our neighbor, a delightful 6th grader, and took a nice walk with her and the kids to the library. I love our library. While the kids searched the entire place (literally every shelf high and low) for the "mystery book of the week" which was wrapped and tied with ribbons, I got our library cards, and also signed up Harper and Zane for the reading games. Here, they win "book buck's" for reading over the summer. They collect these bucks to redeem for prizes at the "store". The best part? Harper has signed up to read stories to Ishtar, a working black lab. The library offers the opportunity for kids to read to three working dogs. Harper chose to read to Ishtar on two dates. She gets to choose the books and Ishtar will sit at her feet while she reads. Um, how excited do you think Harper is about this?

The remainder of the night was spent at the town carnival, chatting with neighbors (who brought rice crispy treats), and reading to the kids on the porch.

What deserves a post of its very own is the adventure we took in an old house that is up for sale down our block. Victorian. 14 bedrooms. Holes in the porch. Very Boo Radley, or original Nancy Drew. We learned that it is always unlocked so we ventured in with the kids . . . spooky? I should say so. It's a wonder the kids even fell sleep tonight.

Stay tuned . . .

Just a Small Town Girl?

Perhaps.

Although I most certainly don't find my world lonely. Nor will I be taking that midnight train anywhere (and yes, we are near the train - just one part of the "Sounds of Beaver" collection).

Where to start. Where to start. Do I backtrack and recount the difficulties that just mounted and grew over these last few months? Do I seriously want to go backwards and emotionally unravel the difficulty that was our journey to Beaver?

No.

Sure I'll make comment here and there about the events that added to what George and I seriously consider the most difficult time we've ever experienced in our 18 years of marriage, but to give that pain the spotlight of an entire post? No way. Move over, crap. Good riddance. My father described it best, "Your experience was due to a horrible recession and really weird people."

He's right.

As usual. Sigh.

For my debut post from my third floor office in Beaver (MINE! ALL MINE!), I decided just to take the easy road and give you some initial impressions from my first 5 days here:

• Yes. It does feel a bit like Mayberry. And I mean that in the most heartfelt way. I'm not poking fun. Beaver does have that Mayberry feel. Apparently I'm not the only one who thinks so.


• On day one, with moving van out front, we had two girls come over and introduce themselves, met the Sr. Pastor of First Presbyterian Church of Beaver who lives two doors down, (not to be confused for Four Mile Presbyterian where George is on staff), received a plate of cookies from our neighbors across the street, a hanging flower basket, and were greeted by pretty much every person who either walked or drove up the street. Friendly? Um, yeah.


• I learned that I probably need to take "unplugged retreats" now and then, as having 4 days of no internet proved to be a fantastic form of relaxation.


• There is a thrift store and consignment shop on the main street, which, by the way, is called Third Street - for future reference. A portion of it is pictured above. You know me and secondhand stores. I've already visited.


• Everyone at my new bank is super helpful and friendly. I can't leave Chase fast enough. The hassles they put me through in order to notarize my power of attorney document prior to closing and their inability to help me with some funds that needed to be wired (long story - not worthy of a post), had me itching to find a new bank. Immediately. No Chase in this town.


• 12:44 AM. There goes the train.


• The siren for the Volunteer Firemen had George thinking there was a tornado. So funny. He made us all run to the basement. According to our neighbors, it will go off whenever there is a fire in the area. And as they shared, "If it continues to run, this signals that the nuclear plant has had a problem. At that point you might has well just sit on your porch and have a beer." Yikes.


• Harper. Tennis Camp. New town. Knowing nobody. Not a problem. Won a tournament at the end of the week. She is absolutely comfortable here.


• Zane. Not as comfortable. Asks when we are going home. He is, as he puts it, "infused" (confused). My hunch was correct that we completely underestimated how he would react to the move. So today, we took some empty boxes and created a little town on the porch. Then we played with clay and bubbles, and anything that would bring out giggles.


• My plumber? A gem of a guy. After installing our hot water heater, he offered to go and pick up our water softener (yup, we need one of those) that I purchased if I wouldn't fit it in my car. Service, people. The service is incredible.


• Mario's. Brick oven pizza's, antipasto, gelato. A block and a half from the house. Need I say more?


• Cafe Kolache. Locally owned coffeehouse. Free wireless. Next door to Mario's.


• The gem of my week? AK Nahaus. Hands down, by far, the BEST appliance store I have ever visited. I was told to purchase my washer and dryer (and anything else I needed) from this family owned business. Prices? Great. Service? Unlike I have ever experienced. Anywhere. My words won't do this place justice. But I'll try.

So, I walk in with the kids. I share that we just moved to Beaver. The kids are invited over to the flat screens for some Spongebob. I am walked around the store by the owner. The owner, who after helping me choose my appliances calls his other location so I can pick up a split box spring (ours wouldn't make it up the staircase). We get my order squared away before I drive to the next location where the sales associate who the owner called is waiting for me. The prices are so amazing that I decide to retire our 18 year old mattress and purchase a new one as a surprise for George for Father's Day.

The owner then stops by the house after work to measure for a new stove (ours doesn't work) and to insure that the washer and dryer can make it down our side stairs. We sit and chat for awhile. I actually offer him a slice a pie that someone brought us. I mention that our TV was broken in transit. He offers us to loan us one off the floor until we can afford a new one.

WHAT????????????

House calls? Loaner TV's? Plumbers offering to pick up items at Sears?

Where am I?

Beaver.

1:00 AM train just went by.

Time to crawl into my new bed.

Tomorrow's post: my own Brady Bunch episode . . .

The List

It was inevitable that I would eventually compose a post to share my "pro's and con's", or a what I prefer to call my "what I am looking forward to in Beaver/what I'll miss here in Evanston" list.

I think I'm finally up for it.

For the record, I am a list maker. I have an entire spiral-bound notebook marked "Move" in which I am keeping a running list of "to do's" that need to be, well, done, with regards to moving in June. This list isn't categorized. It's just a ongoing list, on which I add items that pop into my head, when they pop into my head. Upon completion, I check them off. Simple.

This list is a bit more daunting. But, for my own health, I need to make it. So, I'll attempt it. But rather than calling this a Pro/Con list, as I don't really believe there is anything "bad" about the move, I'll go with "What I am Looking Forward to in Beaver and What I Will Miss Here In Evanston". My apologies if this reads like a list - but that's what it is.

What I Am Looking Forward To In Beaver:

• New Adventure. After 18 years we have been given the opportunity to move, by choice, to a new area. It's rare, at least right now, that families are getting the choice to move. We didn't have to look for a new job, new city, or new home. We felt called to it and made the choice to choose adventure.
  
• New Church. We are looking forward to Four Mile Presbyterian which is smaller than our current congregation and offers a contemporary worship model. We will always cherish our First Presbyterian years, yet we are feeling led to a different church model, one that I believe, will prove to be amazing for our personal spiritual development as individuals and as a family, with the added benefit of professional growth for George.
• Smaller Town. This should be on both lists, for while I am sincerely looking forward to living in an area where a strip mall doesn't mark every corner, the amount of open land also wigs me out a bit. I am comforted in knowing that Pittsburgh is a mere 30-some minutes down the freeway and do acknowledge without a doubt that I am craving a different style of living, so the overall, I'm good with it.
• Family. We will now be 4 hours from my sister, brother in law, and their fantastic four. The thought of my kids growing up knowing and seeing and celebrating and playing with their cousins is a huge draw for me. My parents will be 6-7 hours away - so much better than always having to fly, and George's folks will be one hour closer. My brother and his wife are in the DC area, which, once again, will be much closer. The move will take us away from George's brother, Chuck, who will remain in Chicago, but I think that even he, at some point, will make a break to an area where he can live and fly fish every day.
• Cost of Living. It's a fact. Chicagoland is expensive. We have the highest gas prices in the nation. Housing prices are ridiculous (for as much as we are so not pleased with the price we got for our house, we also realize that the house itself would not have cost as much as it originally did if it were located in a different area of the country). We desire to become a debt-free family, and are on our way to doing so. We desire to save for family vacations and actually take them! We desire to give freely to others. We desire to live more simply.
• The World Is MY Oyster: I have written ample posts about my desire to write. I am blessed to have my Mary Kay business follow me to Beaver, and at the same time, I know that there are other opportunities headed my way. I have actually begun to entertain the idea of investigating the on-camera biz down in Pittsburgh, renewing my SAG card, and trying my hand. With all this swirling around in my head, I don't feel overwhelmed, but rather, so excited to see what this move holds for me professionally.
• Neighborhood. We're looking forward to living near the parks and library in Beaver where during both visits I have made, have been filled with families. We don't currently live on a street where kids are out and about (well, until recently when a new family moved in), and have really desired this. I think we would find more of this if we lived closer to Harper's elementary school, but our street is just kind of, quiet. We are praying for kids, kids, and more kids.
• House. The new house is 100 years old, but there is so much potential! We will have many projects to keep us busy, but I will finally get my own office, the kids will have the basement pretty much all to themselves, the kitchen can fit our entire family and aside from having one bathroom that is extremely tiny, we have grand plans for our new home. In time it will have another bathroom, and new garage, and will be a fabulous gathering place for friends and family.
  

What I Will Miss Here In Evanston:

• Friends, friends, and more friends. 18 years yields a lot of relationships. George has several deep relationships, I have amazing girlfriends, Harper has her small group of close friends, and Zane is beginning to realize that he won't be able to see his buddies once we move. Relationships are what drive our experiences. Break down what's important in life and it always seems to come back around to people. We will miss the people.
• Food. As silly as it sounds I will miss restaurants: Mt. Everest, Pita Inn, and Dozika, to name a few. My kids have been baptized in foods from all nations. They are not peanut butter and jelly, mac-n-cheese (unless you count The Noodle & Company), or chicken nugget kids. They are naan chewin', miso sippin', and kibbeh swallowin' children.
• Diversity. I have never lived in a place without major ethnic diversity. I'm not sure how to handle this.
  
• Chicago. It's just a really cool city. Everyone whom I have met that is familiar with Pittsburgh says the same thing about that city, and yet Chicago is a really special place. There is truly nothing like it.
  
• Lake. My sister will laugh at this, as I've never really been a beach person. But, it is nice to have it. Scout adores the dog beach, the kids like the beach, and I have enjoyed runs along the lakefront. So to not have it will make me sad. Even though I still hate sand with a passion.
• History and Memories. 18 years of them will create tears, but will also serve to fuel new writing projects.
  

Ok, this is only the beginning of processing the move. I may add more to both of these lists, but I for one think this is a mighty good beginning!!!

We have no doubt that we are being called somewhere new. There is no hesitation on either one of our parts that this move is essential for our family. It will be different. It will take some adjusting. I will indeed have some freak-out moments. And yet, I am confident that we have made the right decision.

I'm curious. What do you think???

Light is Light

Light is light. No matter how dim, no matter how bright.

Light is light.

I found myself saying this to a friend today. A friend, who in the midst of his own pain, was able to bless our family with a meal, and took a moment on the phone to ask how we are fairing. George, who was supposed to be in Beaver this weekend, had to call off his trip due to the flu-like symptoms that suddenly took over my body on Thursday. There would have been absolutely no way I could have handled the kids and the care-taking of the house for showings, unless he remained at home. And thus, he did.

And not only did he stay home to help, but our surrounding troops stepped in with hugs, prayer, meals, phone calls from lifelong friends, babysitting for Zane, rides to get Harper to/from a party, more meals, and just your good 'ole down home support. A few friends from church, neighbors, Lincolnwood parents, college buds (Stacey, I will call you back - post illness) and MK ladies all picked up the baton and ran for us. I have a lot of Thank You notes to write. Gladly.

This does a lot to help adjust one's perspective on things. As I said to George earlier, "My perspective on this entire house-selling experience has indeed changed (for the better - although I would never wish selling a home in a recession on ANYONE), even if it doesn't actually relieve the pain." The pain of fatigue, stress (seriously, I think I have mini heart-attacks throughout the day), and more fatigue has taken over my body. I am so far from being the "me" I know myself to be, and am aching, literally aching, for myself to return. For even though I can see pockets of light, I am still in the midst of feeling physical pain.

A new perspective isn't an immediate pain reliever.

God has changed my perspective through His very presence and through the presence of His people. My children are also those people. If you've never thought of your children as being a spiritual support, then I challenge you to listen to them a bit more closely.

I've got my daughter, who before leaving for school, joins me on the bed while I lay there languishing in chills, aches, and fever, so she can read me the 23rd Psalm and share with me that God is Peace.

I've got my son, who shares with us that "I love Jesus so much in my heart" and than taps his head while saying, "I love Him in my mind also."

This same little boy, who at times baffles us with is spiritually mature perspective, also made mention of our friend's grief in losing their newborn baby. Upon my sharing that little Leah is in Heaven with Jesus, he made this remarkably intuitive statement, "That is so sad. But it is so good! Amy's baby is touching Jesus right now because Jesus is the only one who can make her feel better."

Seriously, what is a parent to do with that other than leave the room in tears? And then, before the moment fades, call Leah's parents who love Jesus with their whole being, and yet still bear the pain of loss.

A new perspective isn't an immediate pain reliever.

This type of heartfelt proclamation can not be taught to a child. This is way more internal than I can ever hope to reach in the life of my kids. This is God territory.

I could care less if my kids have the books of the bible memorized, whether they know when the walls of Jericho fell or can tell me on what animal Paul was riding during his conversion.

All of that can be looked up in the Table of Contents or Index.

On the other hand, the prompting of my children to point me towards the light of God is completely spirit-led. No Table of Contents needed. That other stuff will come, but the depth? I'm beginning to see it within them, without their knowing exact bible facts and figures.

I can now see the many lights that God has been planting throughout this experience. He, the Ultimate Light, has also graced me with the light of friendship, the light of encouragement from my children, and the light of confirmation that He has indeed called us to this move.

Light is light. Dim or bright.

Gotta keep my eye on it.

Dedicated to the One I Love

This post is dedicated to Timber Creek Organic's, Myron Crockett, everyone sitting at our table during Sunday's potluck, and, new Beaver friend, Riki.

"Mom! More brussel sprouts, please!"

Guess who said that.

Come on.

Try harder.

I'm trying to make this a participatory post.

We got brussels sprouts in our Timber Creek order two weeks in a row. Myron can't stand them, so Alyssa makes sure they go to my box when we divide the goods. Then there was that full table of witnesses to Zane's most recent eating habits during this Sunday's church potluck . Habits which consisted of maybe a bite of fried chicken, a carrot or two, and then anything chocolate that wasn't nailed down. See, Zane tends to go hog wild at these events since the only sweet I keep in the house nowadays is Nutella.

And Riki. New friend Riki, whose love affair with brussels sprouts may just border on obsessive. She's a pusher. I'm certain of it. Don't be surprised if you find me sneaking around her place in the dead of night looking for a brussels sprouts fix when I relocate to Beaver, as I am now hooked on the little green yummies - especially when roasted and crunchy.

Same with Zane.

I know it's hard to believe, but picture my boy at the dinner table this evening. One hand clutching a drumstick (and actually eating it). The other wielding a fork with a tiny crunchy sprout of God's Green Goodness speared to the end.

Down it went.

"Mom! More brussel sprouts please!"

Kale for Harper.

Brussels sprouts for Zane.

Fried chicken, pizza, buffalo wings, ice cream, and popcorn for their stressed out mama who while prayerfully waiting for God to sell this house is eating everything in sight.

Brussels sprouts included. To my credit.

Blissfully Content

My personal contributions to Blissfully Domestic for the week can be found here, with a piece about teaching children respect for personal belongings, and here, a reflection on reading chapter books to young children.

This makes 5 posts in the month of February.

I am praying for a space in my new home that is all my own. A quiet, little room, (seriously, it could be a hole in the wall for all I care), where Mom can retreat to pray, write, keep my MK inventory/supplies, read, and even spread out my scrap booking gear. I've already visited Etsy to shop for terrific art work for the walls. I found the coolest print that says, "Write", and some fabulous small pieces of art that are pink (appropriate) and have to do with coffee (all the more appropriate).

Harper is praying for a front porch with a swing.

George wants space to garden.

Zane just wants to make sure that all his toys follow us to Beaver.

Me?

I want my own office. It can be tiny. But it needs a door. I figure, Harper and Zane get their own rooms, and George has an office at church, but Mommy? Mommy is never alone - except for Friday mornings. Friday mornings - when I try to cram an entire list of "must do's" and "just want to do's because I simply want to do them" into a span of an hour and a half.

Pray with me, ok?

And until we find it, keep reading.

Thrifty Thursday: A Bold Move

Want to make a radical step towards becoming more thrifty?

Move to a less expensive city.

I know, that sounds a bit flip coming from me. For, in fact, our family is planning a move from the Chicagoland area to Beaver, PA, a suburb of Pittsburgh, come June.

And yet, the idea of downsizing, whether that be a car, a house, or a city, has got me thinking.

We strive for bigger and better in America, although even this ideal has become the topic of many a conversation and prayer as we watch our nation tread the tumultuous waters of our nation's economic crisis.

And while the economic climate was the not the catalyst for my husband's desire to begin looking for a new position in ministry, it was on the list of "things to ponder". Upon visiting Beaver, we realized that relocating would not only be a wonderful professional move for George, but would also give us a bit more breathing room in the pocket book.

More to give. More to save. More to pay off debt.

Upon this realization, cost of living was bumped closer to the top of the list. We feel called to minister at this new church. The cost of living, however, is a nice perk.

My friend Angie, over at Missional Family, wrote an interesting post about making tough financial choices, one of which being to think about downsizing one's home. She and her husband have actually put their current home on the market and are planning to buy a smaller place. Who thinks this way? Seriously?

Well, Angie does. And she's cool.

I tend to think about moving "up". Apartment. Check. Condo. Check. Starter house. Check. Larger house. Ch-

Um, "Check, please."

I've changed my mind.

While we are moving to a city where the cost of living is considerably less than Evanston, IL, we sense caution as we look at homes in what is to be our new neighborhood. Sure, we could opt for the new construction home with the enormous great room, master suite, all new appliances, and a comparable or slightly less mortgage then we have now, but we have decided to go a different route on our road to thriftiness.

Why?

To lessen the overall financial strain and pressure that I think about everyday. Everyday. Did I mention that I think about our finances every day?

So, rather than the larger new home in the brand new subdivision, or the older home (that is still larger than our current home) in the area surrounding our new church, We have chosen to go with . . .

Location, location, location.

We are praying that God would lead us to an affordable home in the borough of Beaver, rather than in the neighboring townships, where, yes, we could get more house, for extremely reasonable prices. So, what gives?

What doesn't it give? Affordable housing + the ability to walk to a coffee shop, to the library, to the farmer's market, to the post office, to the - well, you get it.

Living in Highwood for 8 years and then Evanston for 10 has turned me into a walker. When we lived in our apartment and following that, our condo, we would walk to the lake for a jog, walk to shops, walk to the park, and walk to the drug store that was up the street at that time.

The location of our current home doesn't really give us that option, other than a quick jaunt to the 7-11 (for a V-8 Fusion fix), TJ Maxx (for a "please let me shop for clothing by myself" fix), and the bank (boring fix). We still make it work, somewhat, by driving to the church, parking, and then setting out on foot to run errands around town.

We simply like walking to town. And since this area of PA has things a bit more spread out, thus making two cars a necessity, we would like to retain a bit of our Highwood/Evanston flavors upon relocating. We are glad that doing so is actually an option!

For us, this means living in the borough. This also means we will most likely have an older home. A smaller home. We will either be downsizing or maintaining our current size of a home. Yes, I would LOVE a master bathroom. Perhaps, if we find something that is priced so very reasonably that we still have money left over, we can put one in. Master baths and good closet space are not typical for the homes we are viewing.

But for us, bigger isn't necessarily better.

I'd prefer a home with an emotional breathing room.

If moving to Beaver means that we can buy a less expensive home, pay off debt (and work towards living debt-free - for this is our goal), and make a fresh financial start with how we both view and use our finances, then I'll take a bold step and walk into that town.

With my children, my husband, and my dog.

Ever thought about it?

Have you prayed about a bold move?

Thrift was never more necessary in the world's history than it is today. ~Francis H. Sisson