Getting There...Dec. 22-31

This is the Boise Blog, where I will post pictures and update people on things that are happening, instead of writing bulk emails. Anyone who wants to can check in, respond, or send the blog to someone else. I intend this to be a journal of sorts, where I can write about this venture to Boise--how the animals are doing, what the weather is like, how my classes and research are going, etc.

This first post will be about what happened up to and including the big move day. But it goes back to before the actual move. Originally, we planned on moving the day after Christmas, much to the horror of my friend, Sharon. "The day after Christmas? You'll just be gone? That's awful." Or something to that effect. Two days before the move, with the weather looking worse and worse, and the roads looking snowier and icier than ever, the horse hauler, Marsha Bradbury, and I called it. We rescheduled for Dec. 31st. New Year's Eve. Sharon and I breathed a sigh of relief- we could relax and enjoy Christmas without it being "The Last Day." I think Stuart would have preferred to just leave. We were done with all the things that needed to be done, and he was antsy to go. Then he stopped by his house in Trinidad to find it had been broken into. Now we knew why he hadn't left yet... He found someone to house sit/rent for free on Craigslist, we spent half a day up at the house cleaning up, and suddenly he was free to go.

Backing up a bit, Stuart had been up since the 22nd or so, and we'd been doing last minute details on the house and packing the van and trailer. I'm running around, stressing about the things I can't take, like the 8 cans of cream of mushroom soup (Stuart: Emily, they DO have stores in Boise, you know.), my second dresser of drawers, and the vacuum cleaner. I did manage to fit the vacuum cleaner in, at the last minute, sideways in the back seat of my car. We were completely packed, ready to go, Christmas Day, so Stuart could leave whenever the weather cleared. Hauling a loaded trailer over roads known for heavy gusts was not a task lightly considered. But the weather continued to rage. Christmas was enjoyed, and several bonus gift days to spend with people I cared about. Two extra visits with my friend Jennifer, and her family, down from Seattle to spend the holidays with her parents and brother. Watching Jeff and Effie "hang" around, while Adlai explored the powers of wheelbarrows to haul heavy loads, was a treat.

And then, Monday arrived, the weather was good, and Stuart headed off at 8:30 in the morning, with the intention of trying to get to Alturus. The email sent from his Huckleberry (blackberry) in Alturus read, "Roads great, going to push on to Lakeview." At Lakeview, the email read, "Shame to stop at 5:00. Going to head across the Alkali flats to Burns, since the winds are supposed to pickup tomorrow." At this point, Sharon and I started taking bets that he would just finish the trip off that night. Sure enough, at Burns, the email read, "You probably figured by now that I'm just going to go through." At 3 am, the email arrived saying he had arrived. One down, two more hauls to go- horses and Jetta.

The last day was, in some ways, the worst. Not sure how to explain it. Many years have gone into making this move happen. I have visited five grad schools in person, and visited via the internet every one in the western states that had a PhD or EdD program in Education. I've had several false starts along the way, including being two weeks away from moving this past August, with a house rented and all. Moving away from Humboldt County has been a lesson in learning to read the signs and follow what feels right. From the beginning, Boise felt right, but I kept looking at other schools just to make sure. And it isn't that I was doubting my choice. It was just finally...here. I was actually doing it. All systems were go, and it was really going to happen. There was no turning back, no nagging doubts, and, most importantly, no unfinished business. What I needed to do had been done, and I was ready to go. So perhaps it was the finality of it all that made the day so difficult. As Amy, a high school writing student of mine, said, "41 years? You've been in one place for 41 years? Wow! Just Wow. That's a long time. 41 years....". Yeah, I get it. lol.

Jennifer came and helped with last minute chores, and I was so grateful for her presence and for the easy grace of being with her. Since ours is a long-distance friendship anyway, where we visit maybe twice a year, it wasn't hard to say goodbye. We will just be seeing each other in different places. I stopped by the feed store and delivered Jake's Christmas stocking, went to the bank, mailed a package, and tied up every loose end and detail that needed tying.

That night, I had dinner with Sharon and Sam; I think we had Christmas Dinner leftovers. We had plates with heaps of fragrant stuffing with pine nuts, covered in healthy strips of turkey, smothered in hot gravy made that evening. I'm eating, and I am swallowing tears. It is delicious. I don't want this to be the last meal, in a long, long line of many enjoyable evenings of cooking. I'm not ready to say goodbye. And in the end, we didn't say a serious, final "goodbye." I just walked out the door after our usual good nights, like it was the end to any other evening. How do you say goodbye to someone you really don't want to leave? In some way, for me, it was less final that way. No tearful farewell full of sorrow. Rather, a trust in the enduring nature of our friendship and it's ability to transcend time and miles. A trust in this leap into the future and that I am doing something that has value and will be good for me to do.

4:30 am, Dec. 31, the alarm rings. I get dressed and head out to the pasture to meet Marsha. Her husband calls at a few minutes to 5 to say they are passing Arcata. I meet them on the road. My horses... they loaded up so lovely. They were nervous, but they were together. All their horsey belongings on the trailer, Marsha and her husband pulled out at 5:20 am. I rushed back to the house, forgetting to unplug and grab my fence charger, which was the last thing I had to do. I remembered somewhere between Willow Creek and Weaverville, and called my friend, who promised to stop by and unplug it, though when I told her where it was (in the casing that houses the air compressor behind the shop) she seemed awfully confused. Later, when she called from behind the shop, I understood. She thought I meant the red emergency battery charger for my car. Now I understood- why on earth would I be charging that in the air compressor house? lol.

Outside my house, in the dark, loading up, I hear, "Emily, is that you? Are you leaving this morning?" It was Sally, my mentor. She happened to be walking by for her early morning outing. She came and gave me a hug and well wishes for the trip. What a lovely, serendipitous event. I had been on auto pilot at that point, so I wouldn't break down--don't talk to anyone, don't think about it, just go. Sally jolted me back to the moment, and I reminded myself to be present, because this event would never happen again. After she left, I looked at the sky and noted the color. I walked through the house and thought of the years of memories it held, and wished my renters well.

I hit the road at 6:40. I was an hour and 20 minutes behind the horses. And you know, I never caught up to them. Anyone who knows me knows I am not a speedy driver. And it iffy conditions, I tend to be pretty cautious. But the road conditions were good. I was having to remind myself to drive the speed limit. It must have been the stops every 2 hours for the girls to use the bathroom and stretch their legs. The girls were in the back seat, their beds on top of layers of other things, so that they were able to look out the windows while laying down. Arcy had a sedative before we left, but she probably didn't need one. She got pretty dopey there for a while. For the most part, the dogs were great travelers. Drank water and went to the bathroom at every stop, slept while we drove.

When we got to Burns, we were about 10 minutes behind the horses. That was the closest I ever got to them. They arrived at the house before me, with enough time to unload all the tack and horse belongings. Stuart had the barn lights on, and when I got to the house, there were Christmas lights on the stairs! I hustled over to the trailer and found the horses quietly standing, waiting. Somewhere on this trip, they had learned patience! Elaine and Sharon would be so proud of "The Princess" Giovanna and "The Brute" Berhwood. They both unloaded nicely, with nervous leaps off the trailer into the icy, slushy ground. Marsha and I led them into their stable. I put Ber in the far stall, and Giovanna in the closer stall. Ber promptly broke through the chain that was across the 2 foot opening between the stalls, where I intended to put the water trough. They seemed to want to be together, so we left them together.

Once they were settled, I finished up with Marsha, and headed to the car to let the dogs out. They were happily watching everything from their catbird seats in the car, but were quite enthused to get out, wearing their horse-styled doggie coats in red and orange. I unloaded what needed to be unloaded and went into the house, set up a bed, and sat down. Stuart and I chatted a bit, and I called Sharon to update her on the end of the trip, called Jennifer and left a message so she knew we arrived. By this time, it was only 9pm, Mountain time. But I was beat. Checked on the horses again, they were fine. Checked on them a couple more times during the night. All in all, a remarkably uneventful trip. As someone said, if the most exciting thing that happened was finding Mexican Hot Chocolate in the fancy drink machine at my Lakeview pit stop, it was a good trip.

Next Up: Week One.