Northern MN Rush Hour vs. SoCal Rush Hour

Rush hour in northern Minnesota means there's another car in front of you at the stop sign. Instead of braking for the traffic ahead, we brake for deer crossing the road. A long commute to work is when the vehicle ahead is pulling a boat or a fish-house that you can't see around to pass. In southern California, it's a little different...

I spent ten years in the Twin Cities dealing with multiple lanes of traffic and stop and go commutes, but after spending the past fifteen years in northern Minnesota, I got spoiled by having the road to myself. My 35 mile commute to work in Minnesota was on country roads bordered by forests and cow farms. Eagles were a common sight, bears weren't unusual, and I even saw a bobcat once. 


In northern Minnesota, I obviously spent more time looking at the scenery than at the road during my commute! That will have to change here. Even on the back roads I'm just one of many in a line of cars, though they do move faster than on the freeway. At least on the back roads, the drive is more interesting, with curvy roads that wind through the foothills. 


And now and then, when the there is a lull in the traffic, I can sneak a peak at the scenery...

Time to Dig Out the Holiday Movies...

Thanksgiving means the start of my favorite Holiday movies, which I will watch endlessly until sometime in late January, much to the chagrin of my family. I was worried that the move to California might take away some of my delight in these movies. I wasn’t sure if they would feel the same when surrounded by palm trees, blooming rosebushes, and green grass. I’m used to watching them with frosted trees outside, snow on the ground, and freezing air.

So, pre- and post-dinner with all the trimmings, I watched my holiday favorites.

Scene from "Funny Farm"

I started with “Funny Farm,” with Chevy Chase and Madolyn Smith. I love the scenes where the townspeople make Redbud into a Norman Rockwell village filled with holiday merriment—all for a price, of course. The Christmas tree in the town square and the snow-covered countryside did make me homesick for my little town of Walker in northern Minnesota.  It’s a wonderful town with its own cast of characters.

“Funny Farm” gets followed up by “The Holiday” with Kate Winslet, Cameron Diaz, Jack Black, Jude Law, and Rufus Sewell. This one makes me less homesick for Walker, but more homesick for England and my brother’s family. It makes me want a cottage in the English countryside some day. Watching Kate Winslet spend the holiday in Southern California does make my current location seem a little less out of place, though.

The grand finale, the movie that will be nearly worn out by the end of the season (not to worry, I have a back up copy), the one that I love the most and can just about recite by heart, is “Love Actually.” (Word of warning: Do not watch this one with kids in the room.) Any movie that casts Liam Neeson is already off to a good start, but the rest of the cast is just as fabulous. I can’t get enough of this movie! Bill Nighy playing a washed up rock star is a riot. Hugh Grant plays a great prime minister (“Who do I have to screw around here to get a cup of tea and bisquit?”), and Colin Firth is a perfect lonely writer (“Alone, again…naturally.”).  

I know how each of the storylines will end in “Love Actually,” but I never get sick of the movie. Fritz can’t understand how I can watch a movie over and over when I know how it is going to end, but it is the journey I love. I take comfort in the familiar. I’m in agony as each of their hearts break (“We need Kate, we need Leo, and we need them now!”), even though I know it will all work out in the end—at least for most of them.

My holiday movies are like old friends. I only see them for a short time each year, but they always put a smile on my face.  

Great Weather Means No Excuses...

I love running in Minnesota. I even love running in the dead of winter if I can find a place where the footing is good. Great trails with nary a soul to be seen, which means I can let the dog run free at the same time as I do. Fantastic scenery in the north woods, especially in the fall with the changing colors, which is also the best time to get a reprieve from the bugs. But I must admit, that as much as I love running in Minnesota, running in California is pretty hard to beat right now. 

In Minnesota, running this time of year is not only a physical feat, it's a mental feat as well. When the temps drop into the freezing zone, the lungs tend to burn a bit from breathing in the cold air until the body adapts to the new winter season. After a run in sub-zero temperatures, I always felt like I not only overcame a physical challenge, but that I also conquered the elements. It's a great feeling, but it takes a lot of preparation and planning. Makes great fodder for excuses to not run as often as one should!


Well, no more excuses now. Tonight, the temps were in the high 50's, no wind and no bugs. I ran in shorts, a tank top, and my barefoot gloves (extolling the benefits of ditching the running shoes is a topic for another day). Colors are changing so the scenery was beautiful. Easy to get out and run, but the trade-off is that I have to run on paved streets, and it's hard to find places where the dog can run free. I really hate running while hanging on to a leash (and I don't think Laird would list it as his favorite thing to do either), but I do like the dog's company and he needs the exercise, too. 


With the majority of the year in southern California having mild temperatures, every day is an easy running day with no planning or preparation required other than making sure I have plastic bags tied to the leash to pick up any messes Laird leaves behind. The farthest I've had to run carrying a bag of Laird's goodies is a mile and half before I found a garbage to toss it in. 


Last year I backed out of a half-marathon I signed up to run with my cousins (I really was busy getting ready for the move to CA). This year, no excuses and no backing out. So Huntington Beach Half-Marathon, here I come (in February)! 

Suburbia in CA, or "Laird, I've a Feeling We're Not In Minnesota Anymore..."

As I walk Braden to school every morning, the Truman Show keeps flitting across my mind. Remember that movie? The one where the guy lives in the idyllic neighborhood where the neighbors all wave and say "Hi!," and people are out walking their dogs, and every driveway has two cars, and every house has 2.4 kids. Well, we only have one kid, but if we average it against the neighbors four, we're pretty close. 

Our city house....

I just keep hoping the cameramen don't expose themselves too soon and tell me this is just a hoax, because it puts a smile on my face when it takes 30 minutes to walk the half mile back from school because of stopping to talk to the neighbors, or let someone pet my dog, or help someone else track down their loose dogs. 


I love living in the country, and I am going to love getting back to our little country house for a few weeks over Christmas, and then again in the summer, but I am amazed at how much I am liking living in a neighborhood. I like that when I step outside on the front lawn, I have to wave and say hi to all the neighbors out in their front yards too. I like that when I go in the back yard, I have to call Daisy and Pepper's names and let them know it's just me so that they quit barking. Pepper is the size of a puppy treat for our dog, and has a cute little bow on the top of her head, but she's got a big bark until she's acknowledged. Then she wags her tail and yips because she wants to come play. Daisy, on the other side, just likes to talk. She barks to say hi when we go out back, and then she snuffles and snorts like a little pig with her tail wagging the whole time. 


I consider myself lucky to have the best of both worlds - a country house and a city house (reminds me of the storybook about a country mouse and city mouse). So here are some scenes from my city house neighborhood and the route I walk to get to Braden's school... 

Every neighborhood needs a white picket fence...

...and some palm trees.

I love these flowers because they look like bird heads. They are starting to fade now, but when there is a whole bunch of them together, I can't help but laugh because it looks like a flock of goofy birds.

My roses don't look like the this perfect one.

A couple years ago, Braden would

have loved having a dinosaur head

as a permanent part of our garage.

Can't wait to see what they do 

with it for Christmas!

We live in a valley, so almost every where you look there are foothills and mountains as a backdrop.

  

Not many log homes here, but I do like the light colored Spanish style homes.

Cross Country Living

Living cross country from the rest of your family is nothing today compared to 30 years ago, but it still can feel like a long way at certain times: holidays, celebrations, health scares, crises, birthdays, milestones, quiet mornings of catching up on the yoga mats. And surgeries....


I'm fortunate that my parents are in a place where they have lots of family and friends, so there will be no lack of care for my mom while she recovers from shoulder surgery. I get updates from Dad, and I talk to her daily, but I miss the reassurance of seeing her with my own eyes and knowing all is OK. 


But even with the distance, it's amazing the tools we have at our fingertips that my parents did not have when they were my age, or even 20 years ago when I was in Germany for 18 months and they were in Minnesota. I remember when calling long distance was a huge deal because the cost was so astronomical. It was a luxury reserved for holidays and emergiencies. Now it's nothing--literally--to call anywhere when calling from one cell phone to another. And even if we use the old fashioned land lines, it's just pennies a minute to talk and hardly makes a dent in the pocket book.

My Skype ID Photo

Then there is the greatest gadget/app of all! SKYPE!!! And that's free, too! We just hop on the internet, call through Skype, and we can see live video of the person on the other end. I can talk to my parents in Minnesota, or my brother in England (still working on my brother in North Dakota to get with it) and it's like were sitting in the same room, feet away instead of thousands of miles. This technology used to cost tens of thousands of dollars, and now it's free! (Obviously I am still amazed at the wonder that is Skype.)


Even working with my clients across state lines has proven fairly simple and low cost. I have a great program that allows me to access their computers when needed and take care of business. I think a couple of my clients have forgotten that I'm not in the same state because one of them keeps asking me if I'm going to be able to make it to meetings at his office. I'll take that as a good sign that the distance isn't noticable when doing my job. 


When it comes down to it, I can get from California to Minnesota in a matter of hours if needed. And though I miss out on a lot of the day to day things with family and friends, I hear from others who live away from their extended families that the time together will be even sweeter because it won't be taken for granted any more. (My uncle Paul can attest to this...) I think there could be some truth to that, and I am looking forward to my visits back to Minnesota. 


Tomorrow, Mom is able to take a shower, and then she says we can Skype again. So I'll get to see with my own eyes via webcam that she really is doing OK, especially now that Mom and Dad have figured out to tilt the computer screen so we can see more than just the tops of their heads (love you, Mom and Dad!). 

A Water What?

A water bill? 


I'm from the Land of 10,000 Lakes, and have always had a private well. I watered the lawn when I wanted, I washed as many loads of clothes as I needed, and I picked up the hose for a water fight on summer days when  I felt like it. The water was endless, and we never got a bill at the end of the month for even one drop of what we used. 


Now, not only am I on city water, but I'm on city water in southern California. It makes a difference if the timer on the sprinkling system is set for eight minutes instead of fifteen. When washing the dishes, I turn off the water between rinsing each dish. Water fights are with squirt guns that shoot a narrow stream--the hose is off limits. 

We've been allocated a certain amount of water, and if we go over the allocation, the rate we pay per gallon goes up. We had to fill out a form indicating how many people live in the house, as well as how many pets over 100 pounds live here. Never before have I given even a millisecond of thought to how much water my dog consumes. If we anticipate increased water use, we're supposed to notify the water company. And we are allowed to fill our pool once every 5 years at the regular per gallon rate; any more than that and we will pay through the nose!

The lakes here are few and far between compared to Minnesota, but the ocean is just a stone's throw away. And I understand why Fritz missed the mountains in the 24 years he was away from California. The water might be scarce, but the mountains and the ocean are awe inspiring....

Dog Etiquette

Fritz, Braden, and I aren't the only ones trying to adapt to California--our German Shepherd is having to adjust to some drastic changes as well.

His new back yard is a wee-bit smaller, the neighbor dog barks at him every time he steps out on his own lawn, and the concrete sidewalks are hot on his feet. In the past, being put on a leash meant he was about to walk in to the vet's office (and even the vet usually let him roam free once inside). Walks were through the woods with miles and acres of trees to pee on, squirrels to chase, and scents to freely follow without the restraint of a leash. Now, he has to have the leash on every time we walk out the door (at least during the day--at night, when less people are out, I let him off the leash as long as he stays close). 

The big question has been the proper way to handle the pooping situation. He doesn't like to go in our little yard, and so he waits until we are on a walk through the neighborhood. This has caused some concern about the proper etiquette when walking one's dog! Is it OK for Laird to walk up into the lawns of the houses we pass? What happens if he pees on their bushes (which he is bound to do)? And, worse yet, what happens if he poops on someone's grass?! I know I have to pick it up, (can't leave the house without plastic dog bags attached to the leash), but even if I pick it up, will the lawn-owner be mad? Yet Laird isn't too keen on squatting on the hard pavement when there is lush grass just inches away.

This is very stressful! Laird and I don't know the rules for living in suburbia. There was no need to pick up after the dog when he had acres and acres of forest to do his business. And there was no need for Laird to stress out about comfort when there wasn't any concrete for miles. This is important to Laird and I because we don't want to start off on the wrong foot (or paw) with the neighbors! 

After watching the other dogs strolling through the neighborhood, both Laird and I have relaxed a bit. All of them are a fraction of the size of Laird, and half of them don't pick up after their little lap dogs. They might think that because they have little dogs who have little poops that no one will notice. The problem with that is a person doesn't notice the little pile until it's too late and its stuck to the bottom of your flip flop! 

So I'm not going to worry about the dog etiquette anymore, and I'm going to allow Laird the comfort of squatting on the grass since I always pick up the piles off other people's lawns, tie them into a bag, and carry that bag with me for the rest of the walk. 

But if we figure out which little dog keeps leaving surprises on the sidewalk, we may be "out" of bags the day he uses the comfort the little fluff-ball's lawn....

This Isn't Your Grandpa's Mower...

I like the idea of simplifying. I like the idea of getting away from everything being automated, motorized, computerized. I like the idea of getting back to the old way of doing things at times.


So when we went from 70 acres in northern Minnesota to one seventh of an acre in southern California, it seemed like a good idea to get a reel mower. My grandfather had a reel mower. I can still picture him in the back yard of his house in St. Paul, the curved blades spinning and grass clippings flying. The reel on his mower was about a foot in diameter and it made a great whirring sound. I could hardly wait for our grass to get long enough to break out my new reel mower. 

I had visions of trimming our tiny front yard in a matter of minutes, whirring along as quickly and effortlessly as Grandpa used to with his reel mower. And mine was new, with sharp blades, a lighter frame, and shiny red paint instead of dull brown. 


It didn't go quite as well as I'd hoped....


It kept getting stuck! The grass clippings pile up on the safety bar in the back and the whirring stops. The reel mower represents everything I want more of right now, which is less--it doesn't have a computer chip, it doesn't use gas, it doesn't pollute--and it sucked!


Alas, after changing the adjustments on the wheels I finally got it to work better (I don't remember Grandpa's reel mower having adjustments on it), and I finally got the lawn mowed. It doesn't have nice straight lines mowed into it, and the grass is not all at the same perfectly clipped length, but it's no longer the longest on the block. 


Maybe if I take the "safety bar" off, it will work better! I'm sure Grandpa's mower didn't have one. I'll do that tomorrow. 


In the mean time....

Where's the Fridge?

After a month of living in a hotel, we finally moved into our house! It was such a relief to be out of the hotel that we moved in without any furniture.


And without a washer/dryer or a refrigerator... 


We got our keys at 5:00 pm, and by 6:30 our new mattresses were in our otherwise empty bedrooms, and a dorm room sized fridge from Best Buy was in the kitchen. 


Funny the little things that are different from region to region. In Minnesota, refrigerators and (typically) washers and dryers stay with a house. And if you rent an apartment, it already has a fridge in it. In CA, people move their refrigerators and w/d with them every time they move. Even when moving in and out of rentals. 


Every house we looked at had an empty space where the refrigerator belonged; or, if the house was occupied, it usually had a fridge that did not match the rest of the appliances. Our Realtor thought it was just common knowledge, and common practice everywhere, that people moved their refrigerators with them everywhere they go. 


As much thought as we put into buying just the right appliances when building a kitchen, I don't know that I want to go through the hassle of moving them with me everywhere I go. Having to rent a truck every time you change residences could get annoying fast. I think of all the times I moved in my college years and after we were first married, and a fridge definitely wouldn't have fit in the hatchback of our Toyota Celica. I'm surprised that I've not yet seen a car with a fridge strapped to its roof in the time we've been here. 


So, shopping we went. And it wouldn't be so bad if a person just had to buy the one appliance that's missing (the refrigerator), but when you buy a brand new, shiny fridge and get it into your kitchen, the other appliances start to look not so good! Our new refrigerator (which was accounted for in our moving budget) has turned into replacing the stove, microwave and dishwasher also (which was NOT accounted for in our moving budget). 


Now the only question is, next time we move, can I fit this in the back of my Mazda hatchback?

Californians talk about weather too!

People are always amazed at how much Minnesotans talk about the weather. It changes so often and it goes to such extremes that it always seems noteworthy to us. My husband will point out that Minnesotans are quick to say "This is really unusual weather" most every day, and that we seem to forget from week to week and year to year what the weather was like before. Every year my mom will say to my husband at least once in the summer and once in the winter "This is really unusual weather for Minnesota..." Fritz laughs now and says "Then it's normal." 

In Minnesota the weather can change by 60 degrees in a matter of 24 hours. We've seen winter days register at -30, but the temp the next day can be 30 above 0 and sunny. We sometimes have to wear long sleeves and jackets in June, and in March we might be in shorts playing Frisbee. The nights in November can put a killing frost on the plants, but by afternoon a person can go running in shorts and a t-shirt. 

Fritz has often commented that when weather is not a topic of conversation so often, then a person can think and talk about all sorts of other, much more important things. And when a person doesn't have to plan their wardrobe and their day around what the weather is going to be like, there is so much more fun to be had. 

Well, today, in California, people were talking about the weather! Its hit 100 or higher for quite a few days in a row now, and every where people are commenting on how hot it is and hopefully the heat will break by this weekend. The people in Starbucks were talking about it, the man at the gas station, the parents at school... and I couldn't help but smile every time.

It might not be every day of the year, like in Minnesota, but people in other states talk about the weather too! 

(That last comment may have been directed more at my husband than the general public...)

I do NOT have an accent!

I'm from the Midwest. We don't have accents. People from the south have accents. People from the east have accents. And people from the west have accents. But in Minnesota, we are right in the middle, and except for a few people in the far north of Minnesota who still have a bit of a Scandinavian brogue (possibly relatives, but not me), the rest of us don't have accents.


When I first met Fritz, he was still fairly fresh from California, and he definitely had a west coast accent. I think I may have even said something to him the first time I heard him say the word "couch." It came out more like ca-ouch, like he was starting to say cat, but then cut off to say ouch. "Ca-ouch." Definitely an accent.


And if the accent wasn't enough, Fritz also had a west coast vocabulary. Soon after we started dating, I overheard him on the phone talking to one of his California buddies, and hardly recognized him. Not only was the accent in full gear, so was the slang! I think "dude," "Cali," and "surfin'" were the only words I recognized.


So how is it that just from saying "Large, unsweetened, black ice tea, please" the woman behind the counter at Starbucks asked "Where are you from?" She smiled at me, then said "You're from the Midwest. Wisconsin? Minnesota?" I responded with Minnesota, my eyes wide, inquiring how she knew that.


And then she said it: "You have an accent."


I was shocked. "No, I don't. We don't have accents in Minnesota!" The "o" may have been a little long in don't, and sometimes I think I might say "Minnesow-ta," but I didn't think it was that obvious, until the woman imitated me and said, with another smile, "You dowen't?" What could I do but concede.


...I should have asked her to say "couch."

There IS a difference!

My own personal California Boy has been telling me for two decades that California heat is nothing like Minnesota heat. According to him, dry heat doesn't make a person drip with sweat just from standing still. My argument has always been that 100 degrees is 100 degrees and I don't think I'll like it any more in CA than I do in MN.


Well, today was 100 degrees. Above zero. And I didn't sweat.


I would have sworn it was about 85. It was a bit warm walking up to the school to pick up Braden, but it wasn't awful. We don't even have the A/C on today. I did stop for a cool drink at Starbucks while running errands, and the person in front of me ordered a hot latte! That's just crazy!!! I don't know that I'll ever adjust to the heat enough to order a hot latte when it's 100 and sunny. I don't even order hot lattes when it's cold out. I suppose if a California native was behind me in the line at the coffee shop in MN in January, they would think I'm nuts too for ordering cold drinks in the middle of winter.


Despite 100 and sunny not being as bad as I thought it would be, I'll let it cool down before I go for a run tonight. I don't want Fritz to know yet that he was right about the heat.


I think I feel a drop of sweat behind my knee....

Lions and Tigers and.... Spiders! Oh My!

Our first full day in Murrieta included touring the new house with the house inspectors (still waiting to close on it), registering Braden for school, buying school supplies, and taking a hike in the foothills. 


Ran into a little bit of a hassle getting registered for school (I put Braden's birth certificate in a "safe" place, and can't quite remember where that was), but eventually got that resolved. Then went to Target for school supplies and had to deal with more people than the Target in Bemidji sees even at Christmas time. I'm relearning how to drive on city roads with four lanes (not including the turn lanes). And I'll have to adjust to driving out of the city to get to hiking trails--a big change from walking down the driveway to get to the trail. 

But the most upsetting adjustment came while running on a beautiful trail surrounded by long grasses, cows, wide-reaching trees, and rolling hills. In Minnesota, I encountered bears on the trail several times. Fortunately they were far enough along the trail that slowing my pace to allow them time to get back into the woods was ample precautionary action. I've seen many fox running down the trail, and a few coyotes. The only thing to turn me around on the spot was a skunk strolling leisurely down the middle of the trail looking as though it had no intentions of changing course--I gave way. But the one thing I've never run into on a trail in Minnesota is an eight-legged arachnid with a fuzzy body as big as kiwi.

I knew to look out for mountain lions and rattle snakes, but nobody warned me about the tarantulas! We counted three on our way out on the trail. The first one stopped both Braden and I dead on the trail. We danced nervously on the trail, debating whether or not we should just turn around and call it a day until Fritz rolled his eyes and told us to just run past it. I think what we did was more like a flying long jump. The second tarantula on the trail was still daunting, but we managed to leap over it again after only a little bit of hemming and hawing. By the third we didn't even break stride, just took a little larger, higher step then kept right on with our run. 


On the way back I had a bit of a routine going: keep an eye on the trail ahead for fuzzy black kiwis that require leaping over; scan the grass and trees for any signs of mountain lions; don't get too close to the bushes on the side of the trail in case of rattle snakes; back straight; feet light; enjoy the run!


While we are on the topic of rattle snakes, there was a sign in front of the school district main office warning to beware of rattle snakes in the bushes along the sidewalk! What I'd give to see just a plain old bear or a harmless but stinky skunk right now....