Late night Ozark shenanigans and my brush with the law ...

There’s a phenomenon in our family we like to call “The Ramsey Curse”, which isn’t really a curse at all, but just the good Lord keepin’ us on the straight and narrow (or something). I blame the fact that Jim and I are both firstborns from large families, and everyone knows that if something goes down, or gets messed up, or not done…the firstborn carries the most responsibility (fellow firstborns, am I right?). How this looks on a practical level is that Jim and I can’t really break the rules, or fudge the law, or go into any gray areas (Jim is much better at coloring in the lines, I on the other hand, never seem to quite be as good as I intend).

Last night I was supposed to pick up some curly hair products and stuff from a friend. Clearly earth shatteringly important. But I’ve been trapped in a jail of fevers, aches, and congestion for what feels like an eternity at this point (really only 4 days), and even though Jim tried to stop me from going and told me he would go pick it up, I had been fantasizing about how wonderful the double seat warmer would feel on my aching bones and so I practically snatched the keys from his hand and made my escape. Thank goodness my internal firstborn alarm bells went off, because I had forgotten my wallet, and my first thought was I don’t need it, I’m just going a few minutes down the road. But the "Ramsey Curse” notification dinged in my brain, and I went back, got my wallet like a good dutiful law-abiding citizen, and settled in to enjoy some relaxing alone time with just me and the heat blasting at 89 degrees and the seat warmers on full blast. A sweet luxury when you live in a small house with four boys who are all also recovering from being sick.

Got the stuff, and made my way back at a nice comfortable speed of 10 miles below the speed limit (it’s hard to drive fast when you don’t feel good). So there I was, traveling up my deserted country road in the middle of the Ozarks, where you know…the crime is so high, the most annoying things that can happen are hitting a deer or running over a skunk, when suddenly a car whipped out behind me, and started tailgating me. I was so startled I swerved, tried to speed up, then decided his redneck, punkass self could just wait, and slowed back down (I thought it was just some young speedy kid!)

That’s when the lights went on and I realized I was being pulled over.

That’s also when I realized that this brave, road warrior law enforcement officer was going to get the rare treat of seeing an unshowered middle-aged mom in sweats, fuzzy pink bathrobe, frizzy bun, and purple slippers with a wracking cough, and a bright red nose. Let’s just say that when he got to my window, he took a full step back. In his defense, he was very young and very kind. He offered to drive me home, or call Jim (I assured him I thought I felt well enough to navigate the remaining harrowing five minutes home). He made sure to ask if I had my heater turned up and to keep my window rolled up so “I wouldn’t catch a chill”, while he ran my driver’s license. He parted with the wise wise instructions of, “Just let your husband go pick up the stuff next time, you look terrible, shouldn’t you be in bed?”.

Look mister, moms don’t really get to be “in bed” when they’re sick, I still am trying to cook and clean, homeschool, and kiss booboos over here. This IS my version of being in bed. Although fair enough, I did have a husband able and willing whom I completely sacrificed on the altar of wanting some heated seat therapy. Lesson learned.

Also, so glad I went back for my wallet. I’m telling you, the curse is real.

Things I love and don't love about moving to Missouri

Well, we’ve been here a little over two months, and no regrets yet. Granted, I sometimes wonder how crazy we were/are to move from our city suburb home in San Diego to squashed between two Amish Farms on a piece of wooded, undeveloped land in the middle of the Missouri Ozarks. Our entire San Diego neighborhood is smaller than my backyard. Sometimes I feel like I’m living in the novel Christy, and sometimes I feel like I’m a millionaire who owns their own Central Park. I can literally go for a run and never leave my own property. Excuse me while I pinch myself over here.

I joke that we live in the “Little House in The Big Woods” because we have six people and a puppy living in a small, slightly decrepit, eleven hundred square ft house, and there’s nothing around us but woods. When the weather is nice, it’s fine. When it’s not I spend my days mopping up mud tracked everywhere and dodging snowballs. I particularly love that my washer and dryer are within tossing distance from the kitchen. If I look at Pinterest, I start to get discouraged, but when I think about my ancestors living in dirt huts or little log cabins, I perk up a bit. Honestly, I wasn’t happy in San Diego, so it’s much easier to have a good perspective. So let the record reflect (for future perusal) things I love and things I don’t love about living here (in no particular order).

Negatives:

1. We inherited two cats. The sellers never mentioned them, but apparently they came with the house. We are not cat people, but we’re learning. The kids have named them Lightning and Tiger. They’re very fat and happy cats, so I assume they’re living their best life as rodent sheriffs.

2. Our back porch is rotting. You have to pretend you’re in an Indiana Jones movie and step on the correct planks otherwise you risk dropping through to the septic tank…which also needs cleaning out and relocating.

3. There is random trash everywhere. The property was maybe a little too well loved and self identified as a garbage dump. The sellers cleaned up most of it, but there’s still a fine dusting of Dorito bags and miller lite sprinkled around. We’re working on it.

4. There is no Thai food here…or sushi.

5. You have to drive between a half hour to an hour to get anywhere. (This doesn’t actually bother me yet because the roads and countryside are so beautiful, but I’m assuming I’ll have to come to terms with it eventually)

6. Our California family and friends aren’t here and we miss them. We console ourselves with lures of visits, and my parents are coming out in a few weeks so there’s that carrot hanging out in front of us. (if you’re reading this, feel free to visit anytime! We offer great accommodations of tent camping and pond baths.)

Affirmatives:

1. We inherited two cats! Which means we have zero problems with mice. (knock on wood) They seem to have developed a vague league with a possum and armadillo. Not sure if this is concerning or not, but they all hang out on the back porch/yard with a bunch of bluebirds and cardinals, making the kids think we live in a real life Disney movie.

2. I learned how to use my wood burning stove! The thing is a behemoth, and after I finally cleaned the chimney, I still couldn’t figure out how to get it lit. I did grow up with a wood burning stove, so this was somewhat embarrassing. A couple from church learned of my dilemma and came over. They gave me a lesson, (my problem was there are FIVE dampers, and I only had the two I knew of open) and they brought us a truckload of fire wood…and eggs…and meat…and donuts, which leads me to my third thing…

3. People are unbelievably nice here. Far nicer than I was expecting since we wear the cone of California shame. So far I’ve been given bacon grease, quilts, farm fresh food and a whole host of other small things, like help with banks, explanations of how things work here, offers of loaner vehicles, tools and chimney equipment etc. I start to tear up if I think about it too much. We haven’t however met our neighbors yet (Amish or otherwise) so there’s that sword of Damocles hanging over my head.

4. Everything is inexpensive here (except for produce). You can take the whole family out to eat for less than $40. The kids are taking Jiu-jitsu which also comes with a gym membership for Jim, Jamie and me for less than a quarter of the price it costs in California. For the first time in my life, I can lay in a tanning bed or sit in a sauna while my children are being taught how to immobilize bad guys. I definitely call it a win win.

5. Our property is gorgeous. I don’t know if it’s one of those things where I just bonded and imprinted on it so I’m biased, or if it actually is that amazing. When we came out in September to look at properties and houses, I always slipped off my shoes and escaped away from the realtors to see if I could really picture myself there…like sense the bones of the place (hey, I know it sound’s super woowoo). This place was just magical. I would be fine if I never had to go anywhere… which really helps with long drives thing. Ahem.

6. Life is (mostly) normal here, like it’s still 2019. Even though 2020 was a great year for us, I didn’t realize how much we missed all of the little things that give us humanity. Crossing fingers that it stays that way, but if not, there’s always the possum and armadillo to talk to. (not counting the woods full of deer and wild turkeys).

The boys are settling in… they thought the armadillo was a bear at first, and they still run around barefoot and half dressed (even in the snow), so nothing’s changed there. Jim’s replaced and rewired a new electrical panel, and we’re working on the baseboards this weekend. All that’s left to do is remodel two bathrooms, build a garage, chicken coop, and well house, move the septic, put in leach lines, plant a garden, put up a fence, tear down an old shed and clear the road going through the woods.

At least we’ve got the fruit trees planted?

Moving in T-minus One Week

There's some strong denial going on over here. We have to be out of our San Diego home by the 30th of October, but have the Uhaul showing up in a week so we can spend the last week tying up any loose ends. I have a giant list of people to say goodbye to, last foods to eat and a proper mental "thank-you" to this Harmony home that's brought us so much peace and joy after the rough few years before it.

I also suck at packing and cleaning. It is definitely not in my God-given skill set, and yet I carry on because one can only put one foot in front of the other. All in all, this move is so much easier than getting kicked out of your home and dealing with a pedophile. This move is a blessed piece of cake in comparison, but omw, how did we accumulate so much stuff? I feel like my house is like a giant Mary Poppins bag. Each closet produces more stuff than is mathematically possible to fit in that square footage.

In our new homestead (we're in escrow on a place in the Missouri Ozarks...so crossing fingers and praying it all goes through), I plan on being a minimalist who only buys beautiful long lasting things. (It's always good to have unattainable goals, right?)

Until then, it's all mattresses on the floor and pizza on napkins over here.