Tag Archives: new beginnings

06.27.19
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The Clean Teeth Tribe

One of the many terrors of moving and packing up our life was the sheer panic when it actually set in that we have to start over and rebuild “our tribe” in Sacramento. I can’t spontaneously drop in on my girlfriends for a quick patio debrief, the swinging door of Sunday Funday no longer exists, the Sangria pool parties are so last season and I can’t Uber mom over to have a Bull marathon for the weekend. (Nicholas’ mom used to Uber over a good bit for weekend sleepovers, and after Nicholas left, she spent every day with me until I left, too.) Now, our tribe has to conquer a 5-hour flight, 3-hour time change, stale airplane breathing and mini bags of unsalted peanuts.

A notable part of our Atlanta tribe included our “PDS Peeps,” as Nicholas invited the (Pacific Dental Service) team and owner-docs over for meetings and social/team building time as often as he could;  eventually, we integrated them with other friends and family and every social gathering at Brasfield Square was sure to have a few Smile Generation folks in tow.

When Zelda (my mint-green moped) and I disagreed last summer and I shattered my knee, PDS was the first to send some love to the Trama Unit; and the love and support didn’t stop there.  We had the best of restaurant and home cooked Indian food delivered to our door, flowers in pink ball jars, thoughtful “couch-bound” care packages, and constant message of encouragement and offers to help. I ugly snot-cried at Nicholas’ going away party, and fully expected the work bonds in Atlanta to be a lucky anomaly that we would be hard pressed to ever find again.

Nicholas had a month head start in Sac, so by the time I moved, he knew enough to be dangerous, and was adjusting well to his team and new work climate, but short of my childhood best friend living in the bay area (anecdote to come), and an acquaintance from Atlanta, I knew no one else. I was prepared to hunker down, find a job, and settle into our new place without much support, as Nicholas has enough on his plate and I can be resilient for a while; what I wasn’t expecting was the Clean Teeth Tribe, California style.

Thoughtful invites rolled in immediately, in a sincere effort to make us feel welcome–local sporting events, farmer’s markets, trendy restaurants, birthday parties; it was so unexpected to be welcomed into intimate friend circles, not just big parties, but small groups where we were invited to meet childhood friends, families, etc.  I even got this rad coffee mug from a doc and his wife from their recent trip to Mexico….and I get texts wishing me well on interviews and checking in on me while Nicholas is traveling. In a world that is so consumed with being busy and relationships seem primarily digital, it is so incredible to be building a new life here based on authentic human connection and compassion that would ordinarily take years.

Last Saturday PDS hosted a mobile dental clinic for the Sacramento Children’s Home, and Nicholas and I went to “help” for the day–there was plenty of support, so I found myself just mingling and getting to know folks throughout the region. Every person I talked to asked me if I like it here, made suggestions on activities or restaurants, and genuinely wanted to know where I was in the job search. We’re so far from home, and yet Saturday I had the first sense of organic belonging and the realization that this is home now.

So here’s thanking our Atlanta “Clean Teeth Tribe” for being our people, loving us hard, and teaching us that job titles and seniority can be left in the bocce court out front while we just share this life thing together.

And here’s to the “Nor-Cal Region” for welcoming us with open arms, including us in pig roasts, brewery parties, and fancy sushi dinners; thank you for caring enough to text me about my pending job interviews, inviting me for dinner when you know Nicholas is in the bay, including us in The Best of Sacramento and local sporting events because you care that we embrace the city and feel integrated.

My headspace feels muddy some days as I’m still interviewing and working through some of my own crazy that’s too personal and inarticulate to try and share, but my gratitude trumps all, and for that, I’m really thankful.

PS– I’m working on a stash of denture ice cubes for a PDS bash…heheh.

 

06.21.19
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De-cluttering & Enemas: a real ‘clean out’ story

My husband, Nicholas, is a bit of a neat freak. He scrubs the counter tops obsessively to make sure there are no streaks, and if I leave a pair of heels on the stairs he breaks into a full body rash. Before I purged for the big move, he would regularly peruse the house for anything he thought he could discard, in spite of the fact that I constantly had a designated “Goodwill” box in the garage to assist in regular clean out.  Last summer, I was couch-bound for 3 months with a shattered knee, and he knew I wouldn’t scoot down multiple stairs on my hiney to check any recent additions to said donation box. And thus, about a quarter of my “treasures” mysteriously disappeared into the abyss of the local Value Village.

In his defense, he’s been (mostly) a good sport about my constant stream of family inheritances (I don’t mean one expensive vase….I mean, boxes and boxes of things from my grandparents, my parents’ farm, childhood things…the list is admittedly excessive.) In the last 4 years, we lost two of my grandparents, Grandma Hodel moved into the local nursing home, and my parents moved off the farm.  All of these changes and transitions were emotional and tricky for me living out of town, and I found myself claiming boxes of country and gospel records, candy dishes, floral china, toothpick holders…I even saved the “1-2-3 Enema!” recipe card from my Great Aunt Edna. I mean, what if Google implodes and I need a little GI assistance to the rescue?  I like to be prepared.

The pending move to Sacramento sent me spinning, and I called in my parents for de-clutter reinforcement. They drove 12 hours South from Central Illinois in their work clothes and tennis shoes with game faces on. I was terrified to leave to-do lists and disappear for work, but I knew that I didn’t really want to know what all they were purging.  I just knew I had to get rid of about 1/3 of our goods, as California real estate thinks everyone made big in the Gold Rush and a square foot costs 2 new borns and a pair of this season’s Frye boots.

Everyone survived the chaos…I mean, some of my things suffered a home displacement, but I couldn’t tell you what’s missing. I look around our Sacramento digs and grin at my little mighty mouse toothpick holder, the pearly white chicken candy dish, and the fancy decanter and shot glasses from Great Aunt Wilma, (who I can only assume had for decor and not functional use).

I appreciate a good de-cluttering session, as it actually has an emotionally cleansing power as well.  I’m thankful for the bits of our families that surround us in a modern

space that hasn’t been lived in before us.  The Pacific Railway runs right behind our patio, and as I type, it rattles my mom’s old metal picnic trays and the lid on the penguin ice bucket from Nicholas’ mom. For a fleeting moment, I forget I’m in the middle of the city and not one of the box car children on a rural adventure from my childhood story books.

I do think I should get a free pass for a year or so on any other clutter commentary from the peanut gallery…and in exchange? I’ll share the family enema recipe.

 

06.27.14
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Taking Stock and Building A Vision Board

Nicholas and I were talking extensively about creating a vision board last night; his mom made one last year and has encouraged us to do the same, as there’s nothing like the power of visuals and positive thinking to keep you on track. I used to have one in my classroom in San Antonio, but we’ve never made one together.

It’s a perfect time to refocus, especially as we’ve recently marked a year of us beginning our life back in Atlanta. It’s a good time to slow down, let our souls catch up with our bodies, and quietly review the transitions of the last year. After 14 years of working for Target, yesterday was Nicholas’ last day–perfect timing since we’re rounding the troops and spending as much time with Poppi as possible now that he’s on hospice care. Nothing like closing down both of our careers in the same year and learning that time with our dad is seriously limited –it all begs a moment to step back and take stock of our life.

The vision board seems easy at first–it’s simple to make a list of things that more money or time would get us, but we tried to focus on things less dependent on both, as how can you ever measure when you have enough of either? Instead, we focused on things that already do or would bring us more happiness or contentment.

Time together topped our list– spending time with family trumps all else–gathering together to hear Poppi’s stories, glean another cooking lesson or tip, and share laughter and memories over great food.

We want to continue building our friendships here, join an adult sport league like kickball or softball, bike the Atlanta belt line, and continue to entertain in our house.

Nicholas wants to hone his homebrews and I want more time in my “studio” to craft and dabble in homemade goods.

We have our sights set on weekend getaways to Savannah or Charleston, and of course can’t keep cruising off the board.

We haven’t lost hope of our supper club, built around concepts of napoletana pizza and homebrew, and I’m still scheming about a job in writing or nonprofit.

What I’m realizing, though, in brainstorming our continued vision for the future, is that I already have more than I ever imagined, or deserve, and I’m so thankful.

It’s not all perfect, of course–Transitions are tough and we have plenty of them, personally and professionally. But we’re loved beyond measure, surrounded in healthy and fulfilling relationships. I remind myself that this is more important than anything else this life could offer.

So as we continue to create a vision board, we’re dreaming hard, but are also taking the time to step back and recognize that it’s already a good life.

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