Snow Day

Special Guest blog post from Mike:

We have received all kinds of advice and commentary on our decision to move to Bismarck, but today I want to focus on a specific area. Many of you have taken to following the weather in Bismarck for us, and delight in telling us the current temperature or snowfall. I have been trying to live in denial about this, but as our move nears completion, this is no longer possible. So, today, we talk about snow. Specifically, snow removal.

Shortly after we decided to move, I started gathering some intelligence on this subject. We have never owned a snow blower. In fact, until recently, we did not own a snow shovel. I was on a road trip a couple months ago with my friend Rick, who was in the process of moving to Bismarck, and my friend Dennis, who lives in Bismarck. Dennis asked how we dealt with snow in Seattle. I told him the second there is a quarter inch of snow on the ground, everyone freaks out, and the city comes to a halt until it melts. I wondered if he thought we could institute this system in Bismarck, but he doubted it. However, Dennis also told me that since Rick and I were both moving there, if we both bought brand new snow blowers, then Murphy’s law would ensure they would sit unused the entire first winter. Personally, I think my friend Dennis is full of it on this subject. I decided to stop worrying about it until we moved.

Then, in early January, I was at a dinner in Boise with several people who live in Bismarck. My friend Doug told a story about his own move to Bismarck in February. The temperature was below zero, the house was unlived in, and very cold, and the moving van was full of all their stuff, which by then was also below zero. He characterized it as moving thousands of pounds of ice into a freezer. Apparently the furnace ran for several days. As we are moving into our house in February, with temperatures expected to be in the single digits, I didn’t thank Doug for this great story.

But what was potentially worse, at the same dinner, my friend Del told me that by January or so, most stores no longer carry snow shovels. What?? Apparently, by then, everyone that needs one, has one, so the stores stop stocking them. Well, this was not good news. I shared this story with my friend Joanne, to see if Del was pulling my leg. Nope, true story. I also got more advice, Joanne shared that not all snow shovels are alike, some have cheap handles and break, and you really don’t want the kind that forces you to lift the snow. Now, this will tell you something about people in North Dakota. Joanne then went out on her own time that weekend to look around to find the best deal for me. She found that the store that had the good kind was down to their last one, so she bought it for me. Thanks again Joanne! Here is a picture of our shovel, which is called a “North Dakota snow blade.”

Next on our agenda is a snow blower. I have also gotten lots of advice about this. My other friend Dennis advised that I don’t get one that is too big, otherwise Karin will have trouble handling it. Karin did not see the humor in this advice. My friend Lee told me to make sure I get heated hand grips, that sounds like excellent advice. From Rick, make sure the chute turns a full 180 degrees so you can blow it where you want to. Sounds good. From lots of people, don’t drive on new snow in your drive way, shovel it or plow it right away while it is light. Makes sense.

Probably the best advice was from my friend Andrea, who recommended that we buy a house next to a retired guy with a snow blower or mini-plow, as they love using them. I hope we followed this advice!

One Way Road Trip

As we pulled out of Seattle late this morning, it occurred to me how odd it was to be on a road trip that wasn't some sort of a loop. Half the fun of road trips is to think about what you will differently "on the way home." This time, "the way home" for us does not involve a return journey, which, my friends, is sort of a surreal thing.

Procrastination and reluctance (and a really comfortable bed!) kept us from the early start we'd planned from Seattle.

We went back to the empty but sparkly clean house and loaded up the kind of odds and ends you take on a one-way road trip. Here are at least 5 I never thought I'd travel halfway across America with:

1. Bonsai plant given to me by Pete in 2006 and I've managed to keep alive

2. Fishtank that movers refused to take

3. Piece of lead pipe that Mike welded "Hi Karin" on when he was learning how in the mid 1990s

4. TV stand that Jerry took off the wall for me yesterday because Mike's tools were already gone

5. Two stuffed meerkats named Suricatta and Kalahari who think they

know the way better than the nav system on the car

Leaving town, Mike very sweetly routed us over the 520 bridge so I could say goodbye to the Madison Park swimmin' hole as we sped by. A favorite P.D. James audio book purloined at the last minute from the Seattle Public Library kept us company for the next 450 miles or so into Missoula. We were through Idaho in a blink and encountered a little snow on Lookout Pass as we entered Montana, but all in all the road was kind to us. T Mobile, not so much. I have had zero cell coverage since Spokane. So sorry if you are trying to reach us...will be back on the grid soon I hope!

Ready for sleep and looking forward to enjoying Montana in the daylight tomorrow.

We're in this together.

Awhile back a friend of mine (who does not live here) asked me "who will you miss the most when you leave Seattle?"

With only a little contemplation, the narcissist that I am answered, "me."

Sure, I will miss the girl that lives for early morning lake swims, and the tall Starbucks drip with room that inevitably follows. I will miss the peruser of pumpkin patches, you know her, the one with her face turned up to the rain and the perpetual bad hair day. The one who loves to ride up Juanita Hill, and go barrelling recklessly down it. The one who knows the cemeteries and gardens, the secretest beaches and clearest mountain views. The one who knows the radio stations, past and present. The drinking fountains that work all year round on the bike and running routes. The one whose best weeks start with an 11th century tradition sung loud and lovely.

There's no doubt I will miss the Seattle person that I am. But over the last month I've come to realize it isn't me that I can't leave behind, it's all of you. So guess what? I'm bringing you with me.

Thank you for filling my kitchen with your noise and your love.

For snowshoes and conversation. A papier mache mermaid. A hand written note. A magical storybook given and received. A massage. Sad eyes that said I am picturing my world without you in it every day, and I don't like it. A hat you knitted yourself. Space Needle shaped pasta. A rainbow of spectacularly glamorous nailpolish bottles, one from each, and the poetically perfect final blue. For sharing a shamelessly enormous bacon cheeseburger. For a workout of my choice: 4 x 100 for time sandwiched between stroke sets. For Seattle Starbucks mugs. For the time you didn't have to give, but you gave it anyway. A candle. A beer at the local. A heart shape that will hold four distant souls together. For calling. For holding my hand. Loaning me your step ladder. A lunch break spent watching the meerkats at the zoo. For Little House on the Prairie. And a reminiscent relishing of a Peet's vanilla latte together. For staying late and doing the dishes. For telling me about the thing you remember me saying or doing that you think might have changed you. For coming to my last speech.

For crying, and for not crying.

And for being in my heart and making me what I am, wherever I go. Whether you like it or not, you're moving to North Dakota, too.