Welcome to Our Home by the Sea

Well, not really; but since I’m mangling song titles, I’ll continue in that vein. Although we are several miles closer to the coast than we were, it is certainly not the case that “from here you can almost see the sea”. At least two ridgelines separate us from the ocean. We are, however, on the shore of a lake nestled between mountains.

It is beautiful here, ever–changingly beautiful. Lake and sun and sky conspire in creating a new tableau each morning; and soon (I hope) the deciduous trees will begin adding their fall hues to the scene. The property has a dock and a sufficiently gentle shoreline for the snolfs to swim. Just about every day that’s been sunny and warm, they clamor to do exactly that. (It makes for excellent incentive for them to make regular progress on putting away and organizing their rooms.) A friendly pack of neighborhood golden retrievers visits regularly, to the snolfs’ delight; two of them love to play fetch and will swim with the snolfs on occasion.

However ...

We have neighbors—extremely close neighbors. Not surprising, as lakeshore development seems to focus on maximizing available plots, but for privacy–minded folks like us, who’ve become accustomed to a healthy distance between houses, it’s a bit disconcerting.

The property is a family’s vacation home. And while it is a very nice (and newish) home, with enough bedrooms for each of us to have our own, it is small: no space for storing bath and bed linens, for example; and the kitchen is woefully inadequate for our larder and the Cooking Snake’s many pieces of specialty equipment. Much of our time over the past 1.672 weeks has been invested in trying to organize things as efficiently as possible, and separating out things that can be stored while we’re here. A sad corollary to that involves my lovely trailer ... the garage on the house is where the family’s marine toys are stored, so we have to park our vehicles in the drive. And even without that, there is simply no room to park the Silver Streak. So, it sits in storage a few miles from here; and within it is a growing inventory of things that are in temporary storage.

Remember I said that this is a vacation home—I bet most of you can twig what’s coming next. Yes, we will be here only nine months or so; we’ll be moving again next spring. For my part, I have vowed to eliminate a lot of the ballast I’ve managed to accumulate, and have begun thinning some things out already. (I still hold hope of being able to set up a stained glass work area, though, so I clearly haven’t been able to completely subvert my packrat genes.) No gardening, either. I brought our potted plants, and dug up a couple of the hardy herbs we’d planted; I think I can nurse them through the winter. Composting isn’t feasible, alas; but we have recycling of glass etc., which somewhat offsets that.

Back on the positive side again: Although we are tucked in a lovely spot, interstate access is only about five minutes away. Even better, we’re about fifteen minutes from the town where Daughter’s ballet school and our karate dojo are located. As our need to be there has increased (she’s in The Nutcracker and will have rehearsals for that in addition to her regular classes), the reduced expenditure of time and fuel per trip will become even more appreciated than it already is.

Speaking of karate, it (and to a lesser degree, knitting) is the primary thing that has kept me sane throughout this month. Training also whipped my sorry, aging butt into enough shape that I’ve not been a soft, blobby liability during the move. The only thing that successfully supplants the stresses of moving, organizing, and being on solo Snolf Patrol is going to the dojo: I have to focus 100% on karate whilst there. My butt gets kicked and my mind gets kicked, too; I appreciate both forms of discipline. Amazingly, both sensei have told me they can see improvement in my form despite all the external distractions.

I’ll have more to say about my training soon. We still have much to organize here, plus a few last details at the old house that will require Lobo’s presence. But I’m pretty sure the light that I see through the tunnel isn’t an oncoming train.