U.S.A.

We are enjoying our "back home holiday". There's a little reverse culture shock, which I expected, but a lot of it just feels familiar and wonderful. No real update for now, but here's a photo from my bike ride this morning back on the home trails.

8

I've become a free internet aficionado. I've had tea at several different places in town now. Need to handle finances? Go have tea to use free wi-fi. Need to email someone in NZ? More tea. I've had so much tea I may never enjoy it again, but I finally found a place on the couch at Scott's former place of employment, with good wi-fi and no fluid intake requirements. My bladder is thankful.

Anyways, we're wrapping things up in Chico today. A handful of errands, and we'll be off. It's a beautiful day in town today. There were crazy wind and rain storms all weekend. The creek flooded the parks and nearby neighborhoods, and there's some trees down and some power out. But today seems to be the calm after the storm (or between?), because the sun is out and is mildly warm. There's barely a breeze. The air is SO clear, it finally feels safe to breathe in (the local farmers burn crops during the fall in Chico, and although I enjoy their crops, they destroy our air quality for months). Even though it's a nice day, it also feels like a nice day to say goodbye. Or at least, goodbye for now.

For those of you that don't know, Chico is a pretty cool town. Theres a mid-sized state university, as well as a decent art scene, great food and wine, one of the nation's largest city parks, and some of California's friendliest people. I grew up in the bay area, and I didn't know that people this nice existed (outside of Minnesota) until I moved here. They have the time to help you with directions, they smile and look you in the eye when they say "thank you". It's all in the little things, but after being here for nearly a decade, I notice these little things and try to incorporate them into who I am.

People in Chico bike to work. They go to farmer's market, at least twice a week. They support small business, and there's more Runs for This and Walks for That than anywhere I've ever seen. The sense of community here is huge, and I love it. Of course Chico has it's downsides, like any town. It's a college town, so there's alcohol abuse and cool-old-mansion-turned-frathouse abuse. There's crime and way too many transients (probably my biggest complaint). But it is beautiful, and it's become home. And I truly feel that Chico has shaped who I have become. I suppose all I'm getting at, is that I'll miss it.

Bidwell Park (and creek, about 15 feet lower than currently...)

Don't get me wrong though. I am super excited. Everything feels surreal right now, and between my cushy vagabond princess life (living out of huge suitcases, still having 2 cars, having my own shower...) and the fact that I haven't had the normalcy of going to work or making dinner, etc... I just feel like I haven't actually gotten to soak in the reality of our move. But I have a feeling that over the next 8 days, that will become much more real.

Can't wait!

9

Rainbow over my backyard, our last day in our house.

Look who found fast and free wi-fi! Thank you, T Bar.

Last night was our going away party, we had about 75 people show up for a fun shindig in a friend's warehouse building. It may sound cold (and random) but it turned out well. Patio heaters, Christmas lights, tricycle races, homebrew, and good food made for a really fun time. There were even a few folks who braved the weather to drive from 3+ hours away. We are lucky to have such great friends, and we're also really happy to hear everyone made it home ok.

Tonight is our last night in Chico. I've actually been really apprehensive about being sad, scared, etc. but I think it was unwarranted. We're both just ready for this adventure to begin. We love our house and we'll miss it. We love Chico and we'll miss it. And we'll so miss our friends, but this has been 14 months in the making, so it would be a shame to be sad. And luckily, my irrational emotional side seems to have taken a hiatus and kicked back with a mojito or something because I just feel excited. (Ok, and a little stressed... still a lot to do... but the major challenges are over.)

So despite the great wi-fi speed and this killer spot I scored on a busy night at T-bar, I'm going to log off and go see a movie with my husband. In the midst of all of the insanity, we're looking forward to sitting, relaxing, and turning our brains off. Plus, I can't miss the latest James Bond... I have my priorities.

Larry's chickens, to whom I find myself growing quite attached, although I don't know their names...

One Week

We bought our house in August 2009. We had only been in the market to buy a house for about 4 days. On day 3, we walked through a house listed at $300K (we were in a recession then, but $300K will buy you a mansion in Chico now) and Scott and I still laugh about that house. The floors were so uneven one could consider them ramps between rooms. Among ancient looking family heirlooms and dust bunnies, we saw discarded oxygen tanks and cannulas, which honestly just made me feel sad that some elderly folks had to sell their home. A heavy heart isn't exactly what you want to feel when you buy a house. 

Anyhow, the rooms were small, painted dark colors as I recall, and had an odd pattern of all connecting within each other. Like a small maze-house, great for hide-and-seek. As we braved the walk through a treacherous kitchen and out the back door, we faced a jungle. Kind of a cool jungle, but a jungle none-the-less. Gardens grew within old furniture and antique car parts, and small paths braided their way around the back yard with no rhyme or reason. It was several times the size of the house, and had a similar disorganization. There was an awesome greenhouse (where Scott saw multi-bike storage potential), but the dense foliage between the house/gate/greenhouse would have prevented any bike entrance. Conclusion? At least $20K in renovations and months in clean-up, for a house that was about 4 blocks out of the neighborhood we wanted.

And then our realtor called us, not 24 hour hours later, bubbling with excitement about a house that would be put on the market in 2 days. Tomorrow, he told us, was the day all the realtors could come view it to make their listings, but he had already peeked inside and wanted us to see it ASAP. 

We were wary, after the previous day's adventure, wondering if we were up to buying a home. But it was in our price range, smack dab in the middle of our desired neighborhood, and it had a fireplace. We agreed to check it out, and with realtors glaring, we walked in and saw this:

Large, uncluttered living room. No paint needed! No velvet curtains to remove!

No visible lean! 

We walked through all 5 rooms of the house, circled the yard, and ended up out front. We promised our realtor we'd put a bid in the following day. The asking price was below what we had agreed on for our budget of $300K, so I wanted to offer the asking price for the house. I didn't want to lose this turnkey charmer due to a couple thousand dollar squabble. But my father-in-law, who is far wiser than I, talked us though the process of putting in offers and counter-offers, and with his complete guidance assistance, I was able to get over the anxiety of offering less, and we were able to secure the house for $15K below asking price.

4 weeks later, we came home:

I had always wanted a green house with white trim. I don't know if this stemmed from a subconscious desire to be Anne of Green Gables (although I suppose her gables were green, and her house white) or if I truly have a sensible home decorator side that is buried in there somewhere. Regardless, I was so proud when we got our home painted, the lanterns out front replaced, potted plants properly placed, and a beautiful adirondack chair on the porch. 

The last checkbox on my dyslexic Anne of Green Gables homeowner dream wish list was a Christmas tree. I impatiently waited two months, and then a few weeks before Thanksgiving started mercilessly pestering Scott about when we could get a Christmas tree. Lucky for him, Christmas trees aren't actually available until Black Friday (today, incidentally), so I had to practice that patience thing. If you'll recall, I've had struggles with patience.

Anyhow, I finally got my Christmas tree (and a small fortune worth of lights and ornaments), and I finally had a window to place it in front of so all the world could see that I had created the most fabulous of all trees (under 7 feet tall), and that my house was the cheeriest of them all!

Half the reason I buy gifts for other people is so I can enjoy looking at them under the tree

I have enjoyed nearly 3.5 wonderful years in this house. We've had 3 Christmases, including huge holiday dinners. We've had 3 insane Halloween parties. There's been several great cocktail hours, and several hangover inducing nights with friends. We've had perfect date nights at home, in front of the fire place, snuggled up drinking wine. We've enjoyed our 5 chickens, Scramble, Omelet and Quiche (RIP), June and Hop. They're absolutely hilarious, and if any of you think chickens are just stupid birds that can't fly, well you're kind of right. But they're so fun to watch, funny to pester, and eggs from your own back yard really are the best (and make you feel just a tad superior to all other egg eaters.)

We move out one week from today.

I love it here so much, it's such a reflection of who we are (big bike storage, great party house, no room for kiddos, ha!) but I'm calm because I know that even though we'll be on the other side of the world, this little house, this little piece of Chico, is ours. Scott tells me we have great renters, and he is a fantastic judge of character. Our neighbors and friends will keep an eye on the place. We have a great property manager. We can't take it with us, but it's in great hands.

So off to pack more boxes I go. Theres one week left, and so much to do. Those of you that know me, know I'm overly nostalgic, so you can be sure that packing this place up is a wine-assisted process. We'll be extremely hard-pressed to find a spot this nice in NZ (although not hard-pressed to find a spot like this with single-pane windows and imaginary insulation). We don't have plans for chickens at this time, and houses with fireplaces are are rare commodity reserved for rich folks. 

But I do promise here and now, there will be a Christmas tree.

Autumn

Last week officially marked the end of summer and the beginning of fall here in California, although you truly wouldn't know it where I'm at. Ninety something degrees of hot post-summer sun is beating down on my little house, continuing to dehydrate my lawn & tempt my finger to flip on the A/C. Hasn't happened yet, I'm holding strong.

I think it goes without saying that this week has been a rough one for me. Although grandpa's passing was no surprise, I still feel the loss so much deeper than I realized I would. Of course I should have the relief of him finally being released from his worn-out body, but the selfish side of me just isn't ready to accept that he's gone. But as I said before, he would see absolutely no reason for all this belly-achin' over an old farm boy who passed away after 98 great years. So I've done my best today to enjoy the loveliness around my cute (if not sweltering hot) little home.

"Feel better" flowers - I do love dahlia season

 These are my three chickens, or as I refer to them: Backyard Terrorists.

Hop, Scramble, and June, who all waddled off 2 seconds later, realizing there were no treats.

The white chicken (June) and the smaller darker red chicken (Hop) are the replacement hens that we bought after our beloved Omelet & Quiche died back in June. I don't care what anyone says, or how miniscule chicken brains must be, these gals have hilarious personalities, and they know where the treats come from. They never cease to make me laugh. A sprinting chicken is a sight to behold- like an over stuffed football held up by toothpick legs- not a creature designed for running. And I know it seems crazy that we bought two new hens just a few months before moving out of the country, but I couldn't bear to see Scramble so lonely... she would just stand in the middle of the lawn squawking at the top of her lungs looking for her old pals. It was enough to melt even Scott's icy chicken-wary heart, and after I read literature about how a hen will die if she's all alone (flock animal mentality), he let me get two more.

Right before June charged the camera, trying to see if the shiny bits were edible.

Scramble looking quite demure, Hop doing what she does best.

The problem with having three chickens, is that you multiply the chicken demolition squad by three. Three beaks pecking your precious garden fruits and vegetables. Six feet scratching apart the lawn and the fresh fruit vines. Three fuzzy butts depositing bare-foot landmines all over the yard. Don't get me wrong, I obviously love having the ladies or we wouldn't have them. But they come with their price.

Massive anti-terrorist fence around tomatoes, watermelon, and peppers.

Our only cantaloupe on the whole vine, demolished by three greedy girls.

Of course, the upside (besides the hilarity of these silly, friendly, curious creatures): fresh eggs - 3 every day! We're lucky to frequently be able to make breakfast together... yes, the original three were aptly named, Scramble, Omelet, & Quiche. Our cholesterol has never been so high!

Hard to believe those silly squawking creatures make such beautiful brown eggs.

In the spirit of enjoying my backyard farm, I also took a picture of my only prize pumpkin. Last year the backyard terrorists annihilated the pumpkin vine before it could grow a decent squash, and they nearly succeeded in all devastation again this year, but one fruit survived and became twice their size.

My homegrown 16 lb. pumpkin, proudly displayed on the porch.

I love autumn, but like most, I'm not particularly looking forward to winter. So with any luck, Scott & I will be in New Zealand by the end of 2012, which should be just around the end of fall. Unfortunately we'll miss springtime in NZ, but I have to say, I'm not too broken-hearted about having a summer-fall-summer-fall pattern this year. Regardless, here's a few pics of what we're currently missing out on, as late September correlates with late March down under.

Meadow among the mountains of the South Island

Mount Cook in the springtime

The best part of spring in NZ- baby lambs! If I got Scott talked into chickens, these should be easy, right???