The Bible talks a lot about St. Paul, but it never mentions Minneapolis…

Back of house.  Driveway needs a bit of shoveling, huh?

 After a few days driving, living in hotels with two dogs,  (also one man and 55 tote bags they all wanted to get into), we are “at home” in St. Paul, Minnesota.  Home of F. Scott Fitzgerald and Prairie Home Companion.  Home of Macalester College and University of St. Thomas.  Home of the Minnesota State Fair.  Home of Scusi and The Groveland Tap.  Home of Dave, Alyce, Tucker and Gabby.  (We just watched the population sign go up.)

While Tucker loved the hotel, we’re not sure the hotel loved Tucker.   On TV, President Obama addresses the country about the earthquakes and tsunamis, which we heard little about until we stopped for the night.

 Two days of driving from Colorado drove the dogs crazy, but gave me two days alone (nearly) with my husband with them gated in the way back of the car.  Thanks, God.  Lovely weather (cold, but no rain or snow) and mostly clear skies led us most of the way and the first several hours (we went the back way), we saw about two cars.  Overnight in Kansas City and a leisurely breakfast yesterday lent a feeling of almost vacation.  But if it were vacation, my cream soups wouldn’t have been packed.  And packed they were.

Dining Room, Office  and nearly everything else for now.

 Moving is not vacation, despite the necessity for eating out, picnicking on the dining room floor or on the blow-up bed, and generally having no place to hang your hat or sit down as there is no furniture.  Moving means getting in a small room with several other people intent on spending the afternoon signing their names over and over again  with only stale coffee to drink.  Moving is getting on a first name basis with the cable guy.  Moving is driving by, stopping to peek in windows, and trying to remember what color the living room is.  (Who bought this house?)  Moving is walking in only to find no one cleaned the refrigerator or inside the cabinets.  Moving is a big sigh of relief to find that everything else is definitely clean, which would include the bathrooms.  Moving is remembering your niece, nephew and kiddoes live just up the road a piece and are already coming to see you.  It’s finding two comfy folding chairs and a bottle of Glenlivet on the front porch without a note.  It’s seeing your piano teacher appear at the door beautifully coiffed with two huge baskets full of plates, cups, breads, wine, cheese, fruit, roses and A SHARP KNIFE!  (All while she’s on the way out of town.)

Look at it now; the living room will never be that clean again!

While we treated ourselves to a celebratory first night at the Italian restaurant and wine bar across the street and down two buildings, we woke up the next morning needing breakfast.  There is little eggs and bacon can’t solve.  And all you need is one skillet, a spatula, the eggs and bacon.  I toasted the bread in the oven.

This is how my mom cooked eggs in bacon grease.  A real treat these days.  Broke in the stove but good.

And we were home.

We’ve spent the first couple of days cleaning up, unpacking, going to the store three times, figuring out what foods the birds want in their feeders, trying to make the gates work in two feet of snow, getting phones, tv and internet working (and then not working) and walking the dogs in mud and big puddles. Once the temperature rose a little above freezing, the stuff began to melt (I’m wet 8 inches up my jeans, not something common in Colorado.)    I must say I’m really wondering where it’s all going when it melts.  We made it to worship on the first Sunday in Lent and were warmly welcomed back to Mac Plymouth United Church, which is a combined PCUSA and UCC church four blocks from our house.  We joined the Wednesday Lenten soup and study night; this year focuses on a reading of TAKE THIS BREAD by Sara Miles.  I have this book, but it’s packed a thousand miles away.  So I downloaded it to my computer, where I have Kindle.  We’ll have to share my computer, tho. 

Side yard.  Thanks to previous owners, I know exactly what’s planted here.
Here’s Tucker waiting to skid getting a ball.
Here’s Gab in the new Two-Dog Kitchen

Come visit soon.  Well,  maybe you should wait til we get chairs.

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