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....