Party like it's 1949
I feel like I stepped back to the 1950’s. A time when clothes hang out on the clothes lines, children roam freely around neighborhoods and parks without living in fear of abduction, postmen ride bikes to deliver mail to actual mailboxes, common courtesy is everywhere and I even have a windowsill just perfect for cooling off pies. It’s all Mayberry up in here. I always dreamed of letting my kids have the childhood I did, one filled with forts in the woods, homemade bike ramps, tree climbing and maybe the occasional mass execution of grasshoppers, and I think we may have found that here. Nothing makes me happier than a bathtub full of dirty water at the end of the day. Sure, some things are hard to adjust to, like the hand vac attached to a stick that has replaced my Dyson. Or the dryer that runs for an hour, drenches the entire laundry room with water since there is no outside vent (note taken, open the window when drying clothes), and then the clothes are still damp so I have to drape them all over the room until we look like we live in a Chinese Laundromat. Laundry has become such an ordeal that I have now declared the two stain rule: if it has one stain it goes back in the drawer, two or more and I’ll consider washing it. Or the insane grocery prices. I spent my first real shopping trip picking my jaw up off the floor, I mean $4.59 for a can of refried beans, the audacity! And $7 cans of generic hairspray is a hard pill to swallow for a hairspray junkie like myself. Or the garbage cans a quarter of the size that only get picked up every other week (and apparently the one we put out today was too full so they didn’t even take it and now we’ll be stuck with a month’s worth of trash!). Or the fact that I’m always cold. Instead of central heat they have a heat pump which is a wall heater that only heats the main room of the house. After letting it run for a few hours in the morning we are finally unthawed, but you’re SOL if you have to put on a pair of cold damp jeans from the Chinese Laundromat. Arizona is my home, always will be, I miss my friends and just being able to pick up the phone and talk to them and family. I miss the comfort, convenience and familiarity of my old life, I get a hankering for Costa Vida at least twice a day and I never thought I would admit to this (Chelsea), but I really do miss me a good cheap Wal-mart trip. And $8/night movie rentals make me miss Redbox something fierce, and I regret ever getting mad at them for upping the rates $.10. But on the flip side, Jason is home by 5:30 and we actually have dinner together as a family every night, which never happened before. We’ve kind of become scrabble junkies and have our nightly scrabble and ice-cream (in a pinch cold cereal will do) parties with the kids before bed. My kids have played (and fought) more than they ever have. I lose my temper on a regular basis, but I’m also spending way more time with them than I ever did before. All we have is each other, and I like that. That first day here I thought we had made a serious mistake, but I’m quickly learning that you can’t judge a place by the quality of their motels. Or their lack of Costcos.