You Have to Break Up with a Place

Living in Houston has been nothing like I imagined it would be, way back when I first realized that I would inevitably be moving here.  The last two and half years have been pleasant, relaxing (in between life curve-balls which were not Houston-specific), and a nice time of both connecting and re-connecting with friends.  Getting set up was fast and hassle-free compared to past locations.  It turns out that extricating ourselves is the tricky part.

We are in the process of selling our house, which is a pain in the patoot, as I always suspected doing such a thing would be.  The trouble is mostly due to managing baby paraphernalia and a baby schedule in the face of unpredictable periods of exile, and the fact that our first offer fell through, slowing down the process of finding the correct buyers.  Since the first offer came within days of listing the property, we were faced with wrapping up our life in Houston in a few short weeks, a prospect which left me feeling sad and slightly frazzled.

Rattled

Our baby was a month early and it still sometimes feels like I'm cramming to catch up; he's growing up fast and it's not easy to keep abreast of the changes.  I finally made him a toy rattle, and I'm pretty sure he would have enjoyed it even more a month or two ago, but he still took some time to check it out before breakfast this morning.

As our move plans remain in limbo, I'm trying to stay distracted with projects like this one, which seem to collect both in my brain and in our physical space.  It's always nice to cross something off a list, especially when I can use up leftover bits of yarn and materials.  This project is from a book of knitting projects for babies called Natural Nursery Knits.

A Wise Maker Said (Last Weekend On the Radio)

Last weekend I turned on the radio just in time to hear a snippet of a program to which I rarely listen, but my interest was piqued by the discussion.  The guest was an artist whose name is Ann Hamilton.  Someone asked her how being a maker (the title she prefers over artist) and a teacher and a parent inform each other, and also how she keeps the maker "alive with enough nourishment, how to not claw at the small amount of time/space in [her] head?"  And this question resonated with me, as I'm sure it does with many people who feel that they fight for bits of time in order to bring their ideas to life.

I don't know anything about this artist, so I have no idea what her work or her teaching are like, but her voice was calm and her response was soothing.  Just listening to her response made me feel instantly more relaxed about what I might be able to do in the coming days, weeks, years. I could feel my brow loosening and my shoulders unfolding as she responded to the question.

I Want the Village

We were never supposed to move to Houston.  My husband and I agreed when we got married that we would never move to Houston; we were united in our sense that it was the wrong place to build our lives, in spite of his professional opportunities there.  Geography has been a tricky puzzle for us from day one, but we believed we would eventually find a way around it.

That was seven-ish years ago.  The surprise we have felt at not hating life in Houston, and even rather enjoying it, has been noted on many occasions in this blog; and has been accompanied by multiple other surprises since moving here.

Finally

It’s been busy.  

My husband and I just returned from taking our baby on a trip to Missouri to see family. We spent four days in a house with six other people, bringing the household total to nine people, ranging in age from six months to forty-six years. We arrived in time for an ice storm and were essentially snowed in until our departure.  It was our first trip with the baby, and while it went well, it was intense.  I still can't believe that I was one of those people at the airport that I always pitied in the past (a person with a baby and a stroller and car seat and unbelievable amounts of shit in my luggage and carry-ons).

In spite of snow days and trips, I finally made something practical for the baby, with extra bits I already had, instead of buying new stuff:

I borrowed the pattern from some other bibs given to us as gifts, and used my serger to keep it fast and simple.  The material came from a hand-me-down baby blanket that we did not need.  They are not beautiful, but they are something that I made with resources I already had, which felt good.  As the baby starts to eat real food, I am coming to realize that I will need many, many, many bibs.  And a sense of humor.

Also, we’re moving.  Stay tuned.

Home Ownership 101

It has been a month of learning about how to be a home owner, first legally and financially, and then logistically.  We finished moving into our house Sunday night and even have the pleasure of houseguests already.  We have met a few neighbors, and have wondered about a few more.  We have pest control and help with our lawn, and have already learned about our water heater and electrical system, through surprises and research.  Our house is old-new, first built in 1930, but stripped to the studs and rebuilt last year.

One More Move

Sign of the Times

Neighborhood Limes

The house that we're buying is only three blocks away from the townhouse that we are currently renting.  Also, it is empty while renovations are being completed.  As a result, I have become a stalker.  Luckily the seller/builder completely understands, and is on board with me visiting, taking measurements, and generally being around.

I have started thinking more about this idea of 'neighbor' now that we are committed...will we have nice neighbors?  Fun ones?  Mean or crazy ones?  Who knows.  In this old neighborhood, as in many big cities, homes are nearly on top of one another and the result is lots and lots of fences.  Our fence is tall, giving us the illusion of privacy, even though technically people are all around us.

Migrate: Read About It

Moving to places that don't make it onto ten-best lists, and trying to embrace what makes them tick, was the impetus for starting this blog.  It's easy to love a place where the priorities of the community match mine.  Thriving and finding happiness in places where people don't share my values has required developing new mental and emotional muscles, along with a willingness to more accurately identify priorities.

As mentioned in recent posts, in recent weeks my husband and I have been working to decide our next step.  For a period of time, maybe the last month or two, heading for a home base in Minnesota seemed both sure and sure-fire.  In the last few days, the pendulum has swung back to a grey area as we learn more about possibilities that exist if we remain in Houston, and I'm also feeling unsure about signing up for another immediate upheaval.  The benefits of taking our time heading home in order to make the most of the opportunities right here, mixed with an uneasiness about committing to separation for fifty percent of our time (which basing our lives in Minnesota would require), have risen to the surface of our planning efforts.  In all honesty, I'm stumped by this decision.

Pros and Cons

Cheap and Easy

When friends and family ask me how Houston is, I tell them that Houston is cheap and easy.  You can park your car everywhere, most city homes have garages, there are a half-dozen grocery stores in my immediate radius which are chock-full of cheap food, and every product anyone ever thought of is available here.  The economy is good and people are shopping.  They are always shopping.  Restaurants multiply like mushrooms, and they always seem over-staffed.  Customer service is generally friendly and top-notch, and business is booming.

And yet when my husband and I picture our future, we do not picture ourselves here.  This isn't surprising in the sense that we never intended to be here, but our transition coming here was so smooth that we did briefly imagine ourselves staying longer than planned.

Neighborhood Watch

MWF Seeks Tribe

We are suddenly settled.  It's not unexpected, since I did many things to make it happen.  But still, after months of waiting and packing and driving and packing and flying and unpacking and calling and all of the things you do when you have to establish residency, we are here.  Thump.  Everything is in position; I should be feeling really, really good.  The adrenaline is wearing off, and shades of grumpiness and ho-hum snuck in.

I'm out of sorts, but with little jurisdiction.  Houston is fine; it continues to offer an easy, high-quality life.  I've completed most of the annoying moving tasks, down to finding a new doctor and a new dentist.  Even my driver's license came in the mail today.  Except I don't feel good.  I feel a little bit the way you do when you fly somewhere instead of driving; you don't necessarily have jet lag, but you have brain lag...you are surprised to find yourself in warm, sunny ___________ when only a few hours before you were shivering in ____________ .

Things are good on paper, but questions buzz and creep: How is it possible that we suddenly live in Texas?  How long will we be here?  Should we buy our place instead of renting it?  Will I make lady friends here?  Where are they, and how will I find them?  Will we decide to have a baby even though we never thought we would? Will I try to start a company, or is sewing just a hobby?  Would I be happier working for someone else and learning on the job?  Will I ever solve the riddle of trying to be fashionable and still tread lightly on the planet?  Is it really better to try to make and buy local?

Inversion

I have mentioned in previous posts my efforts to look on the bright side more than I used to.  I have been lucky and life is good, and there is truly no reason for me to grumble about small matters.  My thoughts on moving to Houston are governed by this policy.  But, as I've also mentioned, there has been a bit of a life hangover lately. Definitely not an uncommon sensation after the holidays, although my case feels more move-related than holiday-related.  It takes considerable time and energy to find the people and resources that make one feel at home in a place, and I have been dragging.

However, yesterday morning, my sluggishness about what needs to get done, and my recent lukewarm feelings on Houston dissipated during a routine household errand.  I walked a few blocks from our place to pick up some espresso beans from a place a few blocks away.  There were some local fliers and newspapers, which I read while enjoying an excellent cappuccino and an almond croissant.  In the fliers, I found tidbits and news items which gave me some ideas about how to find more of what I'm looking for in Houston.

It sounds trivial, but it got me excited again.  I have been excited to come and be part of a vibrant, creative city ever since I left Minneapolis (again) in 2010.  My husband and I had heard that Houston was a concrete jungle, polluted and gross, sprawling and without personality.  Calgary had been gravely disappointing to me, not in those ways, but in the sense that it was a healthy city with a strong economy, and a fair amount of people, but it still somehow lacked creative energy and spirit.  So after that experience, and knowing that Luanda would also have been unlikely to make us feel part of an urban experience that we liked, we decided to look at Houston as an opportunity.  After all, as the fourth largest city in the country, it seemed that there must be some creative and progressive initiatives under way.

But my first month in Houston did not bear the foodie fruit or unveil the energetic local creative economy that I sought, and that I miss so much from Minneapolis.  We don't eat at restaurants as often as we used to, but when faced with a city like this, we love to find some places we like.  We have been to maybe a dozen restaurants in the immediate 5 mile radius around us, and not once have we eaten somewhere to which I can't wait to return.  At the end of the meals we've had we usually feel bloated and a little gross.  When I feel that way at the end of a meal, I am not compelled to go back, and I don't like to feel both guilty and unhealthy after what is supposed to be a relaxing treat.

So, yesterday morning, with my caffeine buzz in full force, I left the coffee house, ready to tackle annoying life tasks and to forge ahead with my Houston exploration.  Right next door to Inversion is an art supply store, and I need some paint for a project at home, so I stopped in.  It looks very plain on the outside, like a warehouse building, but on the inside it was inspiring.  It had a strong collection of fashion and textile books, along with all kind of other bits that made me want to run home and figure out how to make everything.  The staff was thorough and friendly, and I ended up wandering around there for over an hour.

Relieved and energized, I strolled home in the seventy-degree sunny weather and got myself back on track.  While the power of the internet for situating oneself in a new place cannot be denied, there is still some ground-level investigation that has to be done.  I was happy to have rediscovered my appetite for the hunt.

Life Hangover

I've been working on flexibility and attitude during the last year.  Life married to oil has a lot of sudden twists, but also has many, many opportunities.  Learning to navigate the high-frequency moves and sudden upheavals has mostly been a fair price to pay for the adventure and good fortune that we have.

All the same, even at the height of gratitude, I feel worn out right now.  The new home buzz is waning, and there are still piles here and unfinished life bits there.  The holiday season combined with rapid-fire expenses of moving the household, additional furnishing for the new place, and setting up services, mixed in with unexpected feline dental surgery, has also left me nursing an extreme financial hangover.

As the dust settles, I'm faced again with the question of what kind of life to build here, and how to figure out what's next.

Housecats

I follow a fairly consistent order of operations when we move.  First comes the procurement of a new home and therefore address, after which home and car insurance can be obtained, with which you can secure a local driver's license, which is necessary to get local license plates,which you can always put off getting until your old tags expire, but it's a little dicey to let them lapse.

After I can prove that I legally live in a new place, things like internet and electricity can be set up, and then I can usually relax and unpack and try to figure out how many new shelves will be necessary, and how few trips to Ikea I can get away with.  After the kitchen and closets achieve a level of basic functionality, I turn my attention back outside of the house.  I try to find at least one doctor before I'm actually sick, so that when I have strep throat or something uncomfortable I don't have to try to figure out how to log into some untouched health insurance website.  Dentists don't usually get looked up until much later, and, unfortunately for the cat, finding a new vet normally gets shoved pretty far down the list as well.  In fact, we avoided it altogether in Calgary.  This move to Houston may have created a new template, however.

Giving Thanks

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday.  It is an unambiguous time of celebration and gratitude, with no confusing mixed messages about religion or materialism, or patriotism wrapped in scary truth-about-history stories.

Tipsy Move

$1 Per Pound

While preparing to move, I learned that it costs approximately one dollar per pound to have movers load and transport belongings from Calgary to Houston.  In light of that, as I pack this week, I frequently look at an item in my hand, wonder how much it weighs, and then try to decide if it's worth it.  Usually, I think it is, but I am on the fence about a few things.  Heavy items receive particular scrutiny.

I have a collection of fashion magazines from around the world.  I considered tossing them; magazines are so heavy.  However, when I prepared to move them to the bin, I ended up thinking of the trips, cultures, or friends associated with each, and a happy half-hour passed.  So, they made the cut, for now.