There are 5,675,439 decisions that need to be made when one moves a family of six across the country. The reason I know this is because we have discussed them all. Every. Single. One. Our new home is a big piece of this and so we decided to drive one of the cars out, leave it in Missouri and then fly home. Hopefully, finding a place to live in between. We had two days booked with our realtor and a number of properties to view that we had picked out online.
Whenever we go visit my husband’s family in the northwest, we stop at Taco Time as many times as possible because it is the most ridiculously good, bad for you food, ever. Guess what we found just a few hours into our trip, in the middle of nowhere? Yeah, baby. All decked out in roadside cuteness. The food was delicious, we gained 8.2 pounds in one #4 combo meal, and I reconfirmed my desire to someday be a restaurant decorator…because THAT would be fun.
We had a car concert following lunch. It was quite eclectic. Somewhere, in the nothingness of Nevada, Lisa Lisa and the Cult Jam came on to which I promptly blurted out…”that’s my jam” because really? I loved the song. It was indeed my jam and because I have always wanted to use that phrase in a sentence and see if I could do it without laughing. WHO ACTUALLY TALKS LIKE THAT???
Before leaving home we discussed planning out our road trip. You know figuring out our hotels, etc. I went as far as to bookmark hotels to make reservations, but I just couldn’t do it. Not too often do you get to get in the car and drive for 1800 miles and the rigidness of the “r” word and a confirmation number made me squirm.
We had a “plan” or a desire really, to get to Rock Springs, Wymong on day one because according to the cursor that you can drag across Mapquest, that appeared to be the middle. No reason to make reservations anyway because honestly who in the world would be in Rock Springs, Wyoming on a Monday night at midnight?
Oh, I will tell you who. EVERYONE. As I jumped out onto the icy streets in my flip flops to multiple hotels, I was repeatedly told they were full. F U L L. Upon further questioning and a very nice clerk at a Hampton Inn, I found out that Rock Springs, Wyoming is apparently usually sold out m-th due to oil workers from Texas. Huh? We were fortunate to find a room we were told after the clerk called around for us. The only room we could find, a suite at the Hilton for $130. I secretly was thrilled that we “had” to suffer through the agony of that exquisitely adorned room and all of its luxuries. I slept like a baby, ate fruit loops for breakfast, and enjoyed my 8 hours of bliss. Lesson learned, maybe.
We pulled into Lees Summit the next day at about 1:30 am. We had a place to stay for a couple nights that the church let us borrow. It was darling. We slept fabulous again and I awoke to the sound of distant thunder. I must of dozed back off and then I re awoke to quite an intense noise, that I didn’t immediately recognize. Once I realized what was going on, I jumped up to watch hail, lightening, and thunder welcome me to that first morning in Missouri. I honestly am looking forward to four seasons. I think it’ll be kinda cool. I like dramatic things.
House Hunting. Day 1.
Look at this downtown. I get to live here with all of its adorableness.
I just may have stepped into the fifties.
We met up with our realtor and were off. At our top choice and our third house of the day to look at, I was done. I fell in love, immediately, with this home. It was as wonderfully eccentric in real life as on the internet. My heart fluttered. One of the bathrooms had an exposed brick wall. That’s all I need. When you add in the claw foot tub I am down right giddy. Looking out the kitchen window you overlook the neighbors big white barn and I vowed to cook a cherry pie immediately after moving in, if we should get this home.
We continued on with our realtor, looking at other options, and finding back up homes, all the while discussing the antics of my crazy Greyson. I was trying to explain how the lack of fences in Missouri would just not work out for him, how laundry shoots would become tunnels to climb up, and catwalks in any home is just an opportunity for balance beam practice. If you have been around this blog long or know this boy in real life you will know what I mean. I, in fact, gave birth to my own little Houdini. My realtor even told me after we had been home to say hi to Greyson because he felt like he knew him already.
Day two began with no hail and more charming downtown cuteness as we met up with our new pastor. We chatted some, and prayed some, and he said some of my favorite words ever, “you gotta follow your heart”. And after another day of looking at properties, we went back to the house we loved and did just that. We made an offer.
Our last night in Missouri was spent at a hotel close to the airport. After the Rock Springs incident, I went ahead and made a reservation at this hotel while we were still way back somewhere along i80 in Nebraska. It was a great pick. Inexpensive, clean, and super adorable. We went hot tubbing, swimming, watched Friend’s reruns, signed electronic documents on the house, and so enjoyed the last night of our trip.
We were taken to the airport in a shuttle van early the next morning, with praise music blasting. I am still in shock over that one. However, the real bummer of this trip came when I looked out gate 63 and saw this.
I promptly informed my husband that I had no intention of getting on this plane, as if I had some sort of control over this. I wished for a brief moment I was someone of fame so that I could snap a finger and get a plane that had engines and held more people. They seem better to me.
It was a horrific flight. No joke. Just awful. I made friends with the two stewardess who took turns patting my shoulder and bringing me kleenexes for my tears. Constantly explaining to me the constant turbulence was normal due to the small size of the plane and the fact that I was in the last row and blah, blah, blah. All I knew was this was the second time in a month I was on a plane in the skies of Missouri crying from a mix of hating to fly and overwhelming emotion.
We land in Denver and get out of the plane and are told to stand on the Tarmac in the thirty degree weather waiting for our carry ons. It was then confirmed in my head the stupidity of the situation and I made a mental note to always check which aircraft would be taking you, before booking. This propeller deal is so NOT O. K.
I happily entered a regular sized plane for the second flight of the day. Calm and content with in air tv and quickly brought back to mild terror when the pilot announced that our flight would be “moderately bumpy”. Words you don’t want to hear. It’s like when a doctor tells you something is going to painful. You just know you are in for it. Indeed, about an hour in, service was discontinued, and as the stewardesses took their seats, I tightened my seat belt as tight as I could for an hour of “moderate turbulence”. Moderate? my. foot. We bounced for an hour. I made good friends with the gal next to me and literally arm and in arm with her and clenching Shawn’s hand we jostled our way into Sacramento airport. I was green and ill and praying to not use the air sick bag and thinking how high maintenance I was. Bleh. No. Fun.
But the trip? I will always remember. I am so grateful for this new beginning. For the ability to purchase a home. For a third get away with my husband in the last couple of months. For all of God’s blessings.
And for the little house in the country that someday soon just might be home.
…what a journey.