To Sum Up: Transatlantic Moves and Hangovers Make Poor Bedfellows

Image credit: author

This will be short. 

We move in less than a week, packing up five entire lives into bags and boxes, to travel by air and sea, not sure when we will be in our home or with our belongings again. 

We've also been partying hard. As London opens, all the events that have been cancelled or postponed have hit with a suddenness that has tasked my wardrobe, endurance, and liver function. The last few weeks (aside from the week-long holiday in the Lake District and Edinburgh) have been a whirwind of social engagements — some official — and many, many goodbyes.

We are sad, tired, stressed, excited, overwhelmed... and feel so grateful for the good friends and lovely communities that have embraced us in our London adventure. We hope we have told them, enough, how much they mean to us, how full are hearts are as we leave.

Four years ago this week, we were doing this exact thing in Ottawa. My phone flashes up photos and videos daily, of  'on this date' of our kids (four years smaller) running around our old street, the one we're returning to in... 5 days? 14? 19? We don't know yet.

But, we're going home.

Declutter! De Clothing! De Chaos!

Decluttering makes me happy. Please don’t look at my desk.

Marie Kondo is everywhere. I mean, I haven’t (yet) watched her Netflix show or read her book(s?), but I keep hearing her name connected to the art of decluttering, and boy, does she look happy on the covers.

Even before her “revolution”, I loved decluttering more than anything else. We have (until recently) lived in homes that are small and/or low on storage, and at least one of us is a packrat…possibly four of us. When kids go to bed or husbands travel, many, many things quietly find their ways to new homes in donation bins, recycling bins, and garbage cans. And this makes me happy.

So, um, this is my desk. I am a beautiful paradox.

We had boxes that we packed for a move across Canada, that sat in our basement (unopened) for three years, moved back across Canada again, sat in our basement again, and then, when the basement flooded, were moved out to our garage. Still unopened. They sat there for four more years. I had little parties out there, reducing ten unopened-for-seven-years boxes down to six, then to three… by the time we moved to our next house, we had only two, well-edited boxes of crap that my husband wouldn’t let me throw out. I see this as a win.

I started sorting through our closets again last week to reduce the overflow, get rid of too-short or Sunday clothes (because they’re holey… get it?) and stop myself from saying “I have nothing to wear” when, in fact, every drawer is full.

This is the handy checklist I used to determine what to keep and what to get rid of:

Have you worn it in the last year? (Note: This one is optional for me. I do have to keep room for different climate- and career-based storage, as my current reality as a writer/personal trainer in London (rainy, low of -2, sweatpants) is a far cry from my senior paralegal/fitness instructor reality in Canada (hot, rainy, snowy, low of -35, suits and heels) and I am NOT going to buy all new suits and snowthings.)

Is it missing a button or needs to be hemmed?

Will you really take the time to sew on a new button or hem it?

Is it full of holes?

That weren’t put there by the designer?

Does it look worn out, faded, or cheap?

But not in a good way, I mean?

Is it so tight that you can see underwear lines through it?

What? You weren’t wearing underwear in that photo? Huh.

Did you wear the item when you were pregnant?

And is your youngest child older than five?

And you’re still wearing it? Really?

The bathing suit too? Really?

Did it fit you when you had lost 15 lbs from a combination of the flu and a really bad breakup, and you looked like a skeleton, but hasn’t fit you since, but you kept it because maybe one day you’ll be wasting away on your literal deathbed and want your hospice aide to help you wear those teeny sparkly jeans again?

Really?

My youngest has a much better, quicker method, which she explained to me clearly when she was three. My mom had knitted both girls sweaters, and the five-year-old put hers on and dashed off to play. The little one tried hers on, took it off, and said, “Give it to Carmen.” (Carmen was her best friend at daycare.)

“But,” I said to her, “Your Grandma made it especially for you! Don’t you want to wear it?”

“No,” she said. “It doesn’t make me feel happy.”

The answer to that one question, “Does it make me feel happy?” (with perhaps an exception given for my super-comfy, worn-during-three-pregnancies maternity hoodie), for all of my items-in-question, of course, is a resounding, “No.”

And that was it.

I got rid of a sizeable pile of clothing and shoes, and, while I admit that there is still an embarrassing amount left, I looked at each item, trying it on as necessary, to see if it made me feel happy. If it fit funny, pulled, gaped, squeezed, or required more-than-the-usual-amount of tummy-sucking, it was gone.

Next up: the kitchen counter, which I can’t even look at without weeping.

And don’t even ask about my desk.

Update:  I spoke to a friend about the Konmari principle (still haven't watched the show) and it IS all about keeping only what brings you delight.  Obviously, my daughter is a genius.  ~KH

Karen (Power) Hough is a writer and blogger with an Honours BSc. in Human Kinetics, and dreams about living in an IKEA showroom. Her part-time “superhero job” has been as a fitness instructor for over 20 years. She currently lives in London with her husband, three energetic kids and a codependent dog, and bores/impresses them all with stories about how she used to be a nutritionist, personal trainer and national-level fitness competitor.

Pond-hopping Huffs

Well, it’s out there in the public consciousness now, with special thanks to Chris (not Fis-Chris, but Fitness Chris) who announced it with a microphone at the gym a few weeks ago, when I wasn’t there (who does that?), and then I knew I had to tell work: 


We are moving to London.

 

Naturally, “London, Ontario?” is the first question that anyone asks.

 

Ummm…London, Ontario… I mean, you’re a nice city and all, but… no.  I was there for the Ontario Provincial Fitness Championships, way back in ’01 and ‘03 (winning in ‘03, thank-you-very-much-please-see-photo-of-when-I-was-awesome) (I had A VEIN ON MY ABS), and it seemed…nice.  I was there at some other time to visit Sean for his birthday (maybe in ’02?).  Great city, sure.

 

Photo of when I was awesome, circa 2003.  Sigh.

But no, we’re not going anywhere that convenient, close (everything is relative), or safe.

 

By “safe”, I mean, “what I’m used to” or “a place that I am employable in my comfort zone”.  Like – and I can’t believe I’m saying this – Medicine Hat.

 

The second question that everyone asks is, “But isn’t this the year that ‘nothing was going to happen’?” 

Yes, yes it was.

 

Last year, just in the span of four months, we bought a house, Tamsin started school, we got a dog, and I had somebody’s baby.  The years up to that involved scrambling with three babies/toddlers/preschoolers/kids, taking on more responsibility (and prestige!) at work, Chris being away for days/weeks/months at a time, recovering from basement flooding and renovations, having umbilical hernia surgery, and travelling to see family in Las Vegas and Halifax, while playing ball hockey, teaching fitness classes, and trying to remember not only what my husband looked like, but why I was married to him in the first place.  This was supposed to be the year that we just LIVE without having any kind of major change. 

 

Speaking of segues, the key -- if I may give out unsolicited advice -- is to be very careful and judicious when writing your wedding vows.  These are capital-V Vows, made out loud in front of a whole crowd of people that you know well enough to call you on it later, even if you don’t remember what you said, didn’t mean it, or wish you hadn’t said it.  On top of the ominous echo of “the rest of your life” that looms over every wedding day (can’t you hear it???), I made the grievous mistake bold move of publicly promising to not only love, honour and humour Fis (see?  I was thinking for that part, although I honestly didn’t realize how hard it would be to even humour him, sometimes*), but also to “follow him wherever his ambition takes us”.  Since that one sentence landed me in Medicine Hat, eight months after the wedding, you’d think that I would have asked for a re-do.   

 

But, 10 years later, here we go. 

 

The kids are all keen – for the few months before it became official, we talked up Quality Street, Cadbury, and Harry Potter.  We looked at Google Maps and wondered out loud how much we could travel, if only we lived over in Europe (aside:  does England still count as Europe?  Did you know that England is an island?  And do people still call it “England”?), and they were sold.  They even jumped up and down with joy when we told them.  They are already enrolled in a nice little school, and it sounds amazing.

 

Chris has a great job that is taking us there, and I have… the opportunity to do something new, “whatever I want”.  I will be cleaning my own (damn) house and walking my own (damn) dog.  I will continue to try to turn Ziggy into a well-behaved little mutt (or one of us will die trying).  Who knows, maybe I’ll even style my hair on a regular basis.**  I have certifications in fitness that are, I think, useless in the UK.  I have mad managerial and paralegal skills that are appreciated here in the Federal Government, but possibly/probably don’t translate into the work available at the Embassy… or maybe I don’t want to do that kind of work for a while.  I could write (for whom?  About what?).  Sightseeing, hosting visitors,*** dog-training, and Domestic-Goddessing the crap out of my household might hold me over for a while, but I can’t see me lasting for long without my own thing. 

 

If only I knew what that was.

 

So, what would you DO (not just “do”, but “DO”) if you were me?  I am open to any and all suggestions - email me or call me with them, and I'll seriously consider every one.**** 

 

 

 

* Also, he points out that this blog doesn't exactly "honour" him.  Piff.

** Well, probably not, but I could.

*** Guest room/pull-out sofa in living room.  Nuff said, come visit.

**** Submissions so far include "French training" in England, a Master's degree, and "Finishing School".  Humph.

You missed your chance

To all of those so-called savvy investors, general vacationers, and real estate mavens, well, you missed out.

The prime piece of Medicine Hat real estate that I've been shilling as a honeymoon getaway/ski lodge/summer home has been snatched up, and I'm afraid, friends, that it's your loss.

THE HOUSE IS SOLD!!!


Yay:
While we are no longer "house-rich", as I like to call it, nor are we "tycoons" anymore, it turns out that I had the wrong definition for tycoon all along, in that one apparently needs to make money on one's real estate, not just own a bunch of it and pay all the mortgages, etc. Who knew? But I digress. The point was that now, no longer being "house-rich", we are also no longer "dirt-poor". But...

Snif:
We just sold the house that I brought my babies home to. The house in which we went from being a couple to being a family. It was my babies' first home and we just sold it!

But...

Yay:
We can now afford to spend money frivolously on luxuries such as food and heat. But...


Snif:
It was the house we bought when we went on our Grand Adventure, that we decorated like fiends and made our own, with paint, flooring, and totally rockin' backsplashery. (and here, too)

And now we have to do it again. Eek. But...

Yay:
We won't have to deal with the Worst Relocation Company on the Planet anymore. But...

Snif:
It was sort of our one last tangible link to life in the Hat -- our park, our friends, our nightly walks. It feels that that chapter of our life has closed.

At least we still exist there, on Google Earth.

Retro-post: Autumn Leaves and Digging Down to the New Digs

Wow, am I delinquent.

Finally, photos (a few, anyway) of the new house.

First, let us think fondly back to the autumn, when it was still somewhat nice and warm out. Here, the kids frolic on our front lawn, under our beautiful maple tree, in a rare moment that we were outside, instead of frantically scrubbing through layers of filth and smoke*.


The day that I picked up the keys, I opened the front door, and the smell of old smoke hit me, and I saw what we had bought. Oh dear, what have we done? The ceramic tiles in the entry hall were nondescript grey and icky-looking. The carpeting on the stairs was patchy dark brown with darker brown stains, the hardwood throughout the house was dingy and scuffed, the baseboards were in serious need of repainting, the windows were hard to see out of, and the bathrooms...oh, shudder.

But each layer that I take off (and am still taking off) reveals amazing things: the tiles are prettier each time I mop. They're actually a gorgeous, glazed clay, and it's a shame to cover them up with a front door mat, even for the winter. The carpet was vacuumed twice, sprinkled with baking soda, vacuumed again, and steamed twice with Mom's carpet steamer. WOW. Turns out, I have almost-new-looking beige berber. No kidding. The hardwood is a lightly-stained maple in excellent condition**, and has a nice, warm lustre. The windows, once cleaned (ever seen a paper towel turn black after washing ONE window???) let in so much light that, during the day, I rarely need to turn the lights on, and, most importantly, the bathrooms are no longer health risks. And the trim, well, a once-over with a Magic Eraser turned them bright white again.

The whole house needs a coat of paint, and there are several "projects" that we'll need to do to make it our own, but now that it's clean and livable, and our pictures are hung on the main floor(though the antelope may have to be relocated; we have a Medicine Hat corner in our living room with a lovely line drawing of the Monarch and the bridge (thanks, Scott and Jen!), but the antelope just don't seem to work there - Suffield folks, you know the antelope to which I'm referring... maybe the guest room is a better place for them), it feels like home.

Exterior improvements: BEFORE the first project.

I'm not sure if you can zoom in, but this is the front of our house. Note the cheap, stuck-on letters on the front door.

AFTER: Well, the Christmas lights are hung, there's lovely Christmas greenery (thanks, Laurel and Mike!), the house number is now the bright white shiny thing to the left of the door, the snow covers all the leaves, and we have removed the riffraff and his pumpykin from our doorstep.

Another neat thing: this is the view from our dining room/office.

To note:

1 - who are these kids, and why are they in so many of my photos?

2 - the candy basket (bottom left) is in its post-holiday wax phase - overflowing with goodies! Yay!

3 - and what's that in the background? Lettuce look closer, hmmm?

Whaaaat? A bonus kitty that came with the house? This kitty, we think, lives behind our garage (left side of photo), and comes to visit us on our deck every day at lunchtime. You can sort of see our yard, as well - it's a good size, and has a little garden patch.

I'll sort of try to promise to update this more often, but some kids (see photo) are driving me crazy.

*Note to self: when kids turn 10 and 11, send them to clean a smoker's home. That should discourage them from ever taking up the habit.
** Well, it was in good condition. Dinky cars are hard on floors, it seems.

Urge for Going

I get the urge for going/
When the meadow grass is turning brown/
Summertime is falling down and winter's closing in.

Ah, Joni.

This is the last post, Hat-side. The packers come tomorrow, and the movers the day after that.

It's not as easy as it would have been last year, or even six months ago; with each day that passes, our roots grow deeper, and we create more memories with the friends we have made, and the eagerness to rejoin "civilization" -- as we've been calling it for the last three years, almost entirely due to the selection of restaurants -- is tempered with sadness: it's bittersweet.

We left Ottawa as newlyweds, which is different from best friends. We packed up and Went West, like you are supposed to do, on our Grand Adventure. We're coming back now, as best friends, and with two very permanent souvenirs, very much changed from the people we were.

We've learned that starting over is hard, but not impossible.

We've learned that great people are everywhere, and you can build friendships and bonds over the smallest things.

We've learned that cable is actually a good thing.

We've learned that we can survive on a whole lot less sleep than we thought possible.

We've learned that a baby can physically spit up more than 6 times what went in.

We learned that one good friend can get you through.

We've learned that a house becomes a home very quickly when you bring a baby home from the hospital.

We've learned that life went on, without us (gasp!), and that the Ottawa we're returning to isn't the one we left.*

But we've also learned that it's where we want to be.

So cheers to all who participated and shared in our Grand Adventure, making it so Grand. We look forward to this next one.



*For example, Vanier is now an "up-and-coming" neighbourhood. (see also, Dowisetrepla)

You can check out anytime you like...

Woo.

We've been keeping this pretty quiet, despite the Great Excitement and Newsworthiness of it all: we're moving! There have been cryptic references throughout the postings for the past few months, and finally, finally, finally, everything was, well, finalized, so we got comfortable telling people the big news:

We're moving back to Ottawa!

This has been in the works since January, in an on-again/off-again way. Unfortunately, the last time it was "official", which was June, it was repealed within 2 days, and we had to deal with a bunch of people calling us to tell us they heard we were moving, and we had to tell them all that, actually, we're not. (Not to mention, we hadn't told anyone that we were moving, and it's a bit upsetting to have to deny a rumour that you really, really wish was true, all the while wondering where the heck it started...) And then hearing that it was officially ON again, but not from the people in charge: no, from a friend who heard it from another friend.

So, understandably, we kept the lid on it this time as well...but with a move date 15 days away, understandably, we were pretty confident and ready to go and spreading the news quietly. Not a big, bellowy "We're Outta Here!" Nope, just telling one friend at a time. Giving notice to our beloved daycare. Cancelling important things like phone, heat, and cable. Telling everyone that it's supposed to be a temporary move, and we should be back within 2 to 3 years, and would they, by chance, like to buy our house? (http://www.mls.ca/PropertyPhotos.aspx?propertyID=9843484&PhotoNum=15)*

Until this morning.

So, we're moving back to Ottawa...but it turns out we're NOT going anywhere anytime soon. And the way we found out? Our relocation agent (a rant for another day) told us that the bookings (packers, movers, cleaners, and flights) that were supposed to be done last Friday didn't actually go ahead because we're not moving for another 6 weeks... or so.

Um, what?

What I don't understand is why nobody thought that it was important to let US know that. Sure, two young kids, me barely holding it together with lack of sleep, stress of a move and now a pulled muscle/pinched nerve in my neck (joy!)...why, what's another 6 weeks (or more) of stress? Oh, and Fis is holding up about as well, too.

So yes, we're moving to Ottawa. When? No idea. I'm not going to commit to a date, although I'm sure I'll hear about it through the grapevine.

I have to say, I can Pollyanna through just about anything, but I'm tired. I'm tired of having to regroup and wrap my head around a new reality every few weeks, and have to be ok with it. I'm tired of all the crap we've put up with over the past three years, and that we're expected to smile about it and accept it. I'm tired of the small-town gossip mill, of knowing that everyone knows my business before I do. I'm starting to believe that people don't move to Medicine Hat and stay here because they like it, but because they just can't leave.**

Oh, and the conditional offer on our new home expires tomorrow.



* No, seriously. Buy our house.
** Apologies to friends from here: I'm sure I'll be less bitter tomorrow, but today, this is all I've got.

Ride a painted pony...

As they say, what goes up, must come down. In this case, what goes in the box in seemingly random groupings must eventually come out of the box, hopefully in the same number of pieces it went in with.


Finally found the USB cable. It took a lot of blood, sweat and tears, but there it was, in a box with my motorcycle helmet, a stuffed bunny, a teal cowboy hat, and some flip flops. I'm hoping this lostness isn't going to be a theme; I went out on Sunday to recycle (they don't have curbside pickup here... well, they do, but you have to subscribe and pay), and I couldn't find a directing sign, so I drove around and around and around... ok, enough with talking 'bout my troubles.



Without further ado, the photos!




Oh, hi Chris! Here, he paints our hallway with a lovely shade of torchlight over the yicky dingy grey-green.

It may seem, in the following photos, that he was doing all the work, while I was "just" the paparazzi. Not quite! I had the Very Important Job of taping and edging the low bits that I could reach (since it took us a little while to invest in a step ladder) and then recording the progress for all of posterity.








We were so excited to start on the back wall of the kitchen....until we applied the primer, a deeeeelightful shade of pink...yikes. This is when we started to get a titch worried about our colour choices.











Luckily, when we applied the ACTUAL paint, it showed us the colour that is real. Phew! The colour darkened with the next two coats. You can see the green wall in the background that was part of the original paint job. In real life, it's a very nice mossy green. We're keeping it.








Highlighted by the gorgeous deep red-orange wall, the beautiful plant and pot on the right was a housewarming gift from my parents. Thanks, Mom and Dad, for showing me that someone is waiting just for me, and for making me cry... for an entire day...


I'm feeling better now, honest.



Snif.





And finally, the might-as-well-celebrate dinner, since we're almost done! Complete with wine (Shotfire Ridge Quartage, which is a variant of what I drank to excess on Christmas Eve -- note: it's more fun on the way down), candlelight, and a partially-cleared kitchen table, I made Dilly Beloved Chicken (from Eat, Shrink and Be Merry) with roasted fingerling potatoes (with olive oil and garlic) and steamed broccoli. The DG is back!






Pop Quiz: what song's lyrics (and by whom?) pervade this post? Can you find all of them?

Testing...sibilance...sibilance...

Aaaaaand I'm back.

It seems to have been years since I've had Internet access, thanks to the so-helpful CSRs at a provider-which-shall-remain-nameless (kaff rhymes with velus kaff), but with sincere thanks to a wonderful technician named Ted, I'm all set up here!

Here, of course, is the Hat.

We're sort of settled in, and are quickly getting the feel of the city. It's not remote, small, or hick-ish at all, which continues to surprise me. The people are nice, there's a lot to do, and it really has everything we need for entertainment and creature comforts. The only thing missing is... well, everyone else. I miss: Aaron, Allie, Andra, Andrea, Ashley... and that's just the As. No, I'm not going to list everyone, but know that if you're reading this, you're on the list and that I miss you!!!

Let me explain about the "lot to do" bit. There IS a lot to do here, like hiking on great trails (the weather's been super-mild), going to shows at the Esplanade (the Hat's version of the NAC), watching the Tigers (like the 67s, but harder to get tickets), and exploring historic downtown, trying out tons of restaurants and pubs, etc, but unfortunately, we've spent every single day that we've been here (literally) painting. The previous owners had beautiful, rich, dark-brown furniture, that really looked nice with the light grey-green walls. Our Ikea-chic pine/birch looks kinda insipid in comparison, so Chris said we could buy all-new furniture!!!

Ok, no he didn't, but he said we could paint the entire house! Kaff.

We're using (promotional plug warning) Behr paint. (You can look up our colours if you're that interested.)

We've finished the entryway, the stairs to the basement, and the stairs to the main floor, and he is putting the final coat on the hallway to the kitchen and one living room wall - it's a beautiful deep yellow (Torchlight); the other wall of the living room/kitchen will be a deep tomato/terracotta red (chili pepper). We've done the powder room (feather plume) and the ensuite, too (peanut butter), and may need to take a month or two off before conquering the upstairs. Maybe six, in fact.

I started my new job last week, as well. And that's all I have to say about that.

Cats in the Hat!

Warning: Spoiler alert! For those of you that I haven't talked to in person or by phone lately, you may want to stop, pick up the phone and call me before reading this, so that I don't get the "you're telling me that you got engaged with an evite?" response that I may have received a few years ago.

Aaaand we're back.

To answer your many, many inquiries (ok, two), yes, we're renting out the condo, and yes, we're moving to a bigger place. To quash an obvious rumour, no, it's not because there will soon be three of us.

Chris has accepted a great job opportunity at the Suffield base in Medicine Hat. We spent the past week on a house-hunting trip (be vewwy vewwy quiet...), and after two days and 17 viewings, we were totally exhausted and had it narrowed down to four...then two... then we decided on a very cute, spacious (with guest rooms - no excuses to not come visit!) townhouse, that we may own in 25 years or so. We're also fairly sure that all ducks are in a line for me to get a new job there, too -- all in all, a very successful week! On the right, we celebrate the acceptance of our offer.

WHERE'S THIS HAT OF WHICH I SPEAK, you ask?

View Larger Map

A little bit about Medicine Hat: sunniest city in Canada, population of about 60,000, and there's a Costco opening there in a few weeks! It's 3 hours from Calgary (Is and Danielle!) (and we can come pick you up there if you don't want to fly on the wee little scary plane, at left), 6 hours from Edmonton (Rob, Lynda, Ryan, Nouha, Mel, and Sue!) and 2 from Lethbridge (closest GoodLife)...and about 20 minutes from Saskatchewan (wheat)! We can DRIVE to Vancouver and Kelowna (Jenny and Chantal!), which is totally awesome.

It's apparently a wonderful place to live, with most of the people that move there for "a year or two" ending up staying forever... we'll see, of course.

Anyway, we're looking forward to the adventure starting shortly before Christmas, but I'm already sad (getting sniffy typing this) at the thought of leaving our many friends and my family here in Ottawa. We're hoping to have a big Ho-Ho-Houseleaving party before we go, but with the holiday season (and GREY CUP!!!! WOOOOHOOOO) fast approaching, it may be a challenge... but watch for the evite anyway!

As always, there are fun photos and captions posted on flickr: enjoy!

http://www.flickr.com/gp/11228573@N07/588mUC