In the bowl of the KitchenAid

Not a food post! Surprise!

Yesterday was the long awaited day. Dr. G. accepted a job. A post-Ph.D. job. A job for which he is qualified and prepared. A full-time job with benefits and appropriate pay. I think he is going to love it.

It's in Montana. Funnily enough, one of the places we used to discuss, back when we were childless and sort of drifting. We took long walks at night and talked and talked and debated and discussed and wondered and dreamed about our future.

We think we will move in December, although it may actually be sooner - we have to negotiate that. It is going to be beautiful. It is going to be fun. It is going to be cold. It is going to be tough.

I looked up Facebook groups related to our future new hometown and they are mostly about how it is for BAMFs. If you don't know what that stands for, it is mostly swearwords and I'm sorry I made you think about it. But I am seriously considering a big gun and a big dog, to go with my dreams of a greenhouse and tall pines and hardy apple trees and lilacs and maybe chickens. And maybe, if I am lucky, some killer Craftsman -style woodwork in the interior of the house. Although I wouldn't turn up my nose at a couple of the renovated Victorians I have seen in the appropriate price range, or a newer house on a couple of acres outside of town. Miraculously (so it seems to someone who's lived on top of the California housing bubble for the last six years) I have seen examples of all these that we might be able to afford.

We are going to have the chance to learn about a lot of family history stuff, because G's parents both grew up there. We are going to be fairly close to some family members we know and love and even closer to some extended family members we will have a new chance to get to know and love. We are even going to be 6 or 7 hours closer to my family in Salt Lake than we are right now.

We are going to have to leave this amazing place that has been our home for 6+ years and the wonderful people who have made it home for us. As you take that in, consider that I have never, ever lived anywhere for 6 years. In my life. Central California is, in that way, more a home than any other place I've ever been. This is where my kids have started school, where we have served in, like grownup callings at church, where I had an amazing and beloved job, where we have walked through fire to adopt our darling K and Z, where we have had the best support system you could possibly dream of as a grad student family.

We have loved it when the Chinese pistache trees turn red, when "white Christmas" means an impenetrable tulle fog over brilliant green winter grass, when the creek comes up to the tops of its banks in the spring, when the orchards blossom in the spring rain creating the most perfect blend of fragrance imaginable, when the strawberry stand opens in April just in time for my birthday, even when the summer heat sends us fleeing for the coast or the mountains.

Since I started telling people about this, I have gotten a couple of "happy for you, sad for me" reactions. Well, my feelings are mixed, too. I hope everybody knows that.

I know my Sally Lou's heart is breaking most of all. This girl saved my life when we moved here all destitute and lonely six years ago. How lucky I was to have a dear dear friend only an hour away. How lucky we have been to see each other just about every month, sometimes more, for six whole years. It is going to be hard to leave. That is very mixed-up.

But I do think all this is going to bake up pretty nicely. I have to hope so.