Moving

Let me introduce you to adventure. My story is told in present tense to assist your imagination. We begin as my brother drives a gooseneck trailer loaded with their family’s belongings, and me (not in the trailer) to my parents’ house from their home outside Horse Springs, NM. That’s near Datil, which is by the Arizona line if you’ve never had the pleasure of visiting the metropolis. 

Anyway, the trailer has a flat. I’m glad I don’t have to change it, so I put the block where it belongs and he drives forward. The block moves forward, too. Tries 2 and 3 produce the same result. So do Tries 4-7 as he backs up onto gravel attempting to give the block traction. There’s no jack, but Try 8 is successful! Tire off... and we discover that for the first, only, and probably last time EVER Dad has the wrong size spare on his trailer. It had to be some subconscious knowledge of Colby’s eventual presence, because things like that only happen to my brother. Thankfully, there is another spare and onward we travel.

One week later and one day late, after Colby and family lived through a series of unfortunate events without my recording pen handy, they arrive at my house in Santa Rosa. I knew when they were close because my friend called from town to say she’d spotted them. Who else would haul a milk cow that looked confused through town? True enough, their rigs are remarkable enough to warrant photographs throughout the trip. A milk cow, 10 dogs, 3 horses, lots of furniture, and two bikes strapped on the outside. The following morning we set out from Santa Rosa toward Ada, Oklahoma, their home-to-be. My sister-in-law had been there once. Now, forgive any awkwardness in the tale that follows. It is true and important to understanding - the rest of the story!

Arriving in Ada a month before, Allison and her friend had to wait a few moments for the boss to arrive and tell them where to unload the flatbed trailer of outdoor and bulky items they’d brought ahead of time. They began to visit with the hired man who’d be moving out of the house they planned to move in. They asked him if he’d seen coons. He had, they’d dug under his house he said. But it was OK, he’d taken care of them and peed on all the holes so they wouldn’t return.

They changed the subject. Maybe they could talk about the garden he so loved. Yes, he described his garden in detail, but explained that he’d had problems with rodents in the garden as well. However, peeing the parameters had kept the rabbits from eating it out.  And the stories continued with the same theme, though I will spare you, my dear reader. Suffice it to say we were not eager to eat the lettuce from said garden and eyed just about every outdoor feature with a suspicious eye.

Now, returning to our saga of moving to Oklahoma, we are glad to meet my brother’s new boss on the road to their house. He warns us that he has just managed to move the former hired man’s belongings out of the house, but they are not packed yet. Rather hired man, his truck, and at least 3 pickup loads of “stuff” are on the lawn of their future home. My sister-in-law decides she can at least give me a tour inside...

“Look, how cool is this closet in the entryway!” She opens the door. 

I observe. “With stuff in it?”

“Oh.” We walk on to the bedrooms. “See how nice these closets are, they have a top shelf and - “

“Stuff in them.”

Allison is ever the optimist, so we continue to the kitchen. “Aren’t these two-way cabinets neat, with - “

“Stuff.”

We look at each other and cannot help but laugh. True enough, there is stuff in every crook and cranny of the house, owner apparently unknown. They decide a motel is in order for the night, but first Colby wants to back the trailer and arrange things a bit for the morning. 

He begins to back up... The hired man looks up anxiously and yells, “Now, Colby, be careful of my pansies. If you run over my pansies, that’ll be the end of this relationship.”

Moral: Relationships are fragile, like pansies.

Our motel stay was exciting in itself; the room for 3 adults and 2 children had 2 full-sized beds and a mattress in the window. How many of you have ever slept in your windowsill? ‘Cause I have!

The following morning we clean. I like to clean. This is good, because we do plenty. We learn that the bathtubs don’t drain well (that makes them almost impossible to clean, just so you know). We learn that the neighbors who love to visit are truly very helpful and the hour they spent explaining the steam cleaner will probably be worthwhile when you consider that we need it to remove the grime coating most areas near the kitchen. I also learn to not use oven cleaner without gloves. Your skin will begin to resemble a snake shed. Speaking of snake sheds, we learn that our favorite hired man collected snake skins and snake sheds and pinned them on the wall for our enjoyment. 

By evening, we... are hot, tired, and stressed. I thought a breather would be appropriate.... so I went south to Atoka to visit my friends: Brad, Brittney, and Becca Dubach all worked with me at Eagles’ Wings for several years, and Brad’s sweet family was willing to host us all AND let me enjoy their very-much-working air conditioner and shower. I arrived just as the rain was letting up and everyone had gone to the backyard. Brad’s two year-old twins were promptly confused.

“Whaz your name? Whaz her name? Your name?”

“Rebecca.”

“Rebecca?” The dark haired twin turns. “Rebecca and Rebecca?” She turns again, and asks again. Her mom confirms,  “Yes, she is Rebecca and she is Rebecca.”

The small child looks suspiciously at Brittney, wondering if the strange name of these strange people applies here as well, but her attention is quickly drawn by a stray dog in the yard. Her twin promptly cries to be picked up, but Sara is curious.

“Whaz at dog? Whaz doggie?” I am pulled to go and follow the dog and attempt to answer the endless string of questions. As the dog goes back to the front of the house, we follow. This tiny stray “kick-me-dog” is soaked and ugly and promptly runs underneath my brother’s big Dodge pickup, which I’ve driven down for my visit. Sara continues her inquiries, “Tha doggy is with tha truck. Tha truck is tha doggy’s? The doggy is a truck’s?” 

“I don’t think so. I think the doggie just wants to be under the truck.”

“No, da truck is a doggie’s. Whereza man?”

“The man?”

“Yeah, whereza man? Da man wit the truck?”

Oh! I decide to not even try explaining that I drove the truck, and the questions recur throughout the weekend. The mysterious dog must be with the truck and somewhere, that truck has a man to drive it!

Interjection: The only other observation of my lovely visit with lovely friends is that Oklahoma rains release something into the air to which I am allergic, so I went to bed and woke up crying. Or maybe seeing friends is just an emotional experience. Either way, I took a Benadryl for the first time in my life on Sunday morning and fell asleep three times in church, despite hearing that the Bible is as necessary to a Christian as drugs are to a dealer.

Returning to our adventures with my brother’s family, I arrive Sunday night to find them in almost the same state I’d left them: tired, hot, and cleaning hard. By Monday afternoon, we are seeing progress. We’ve almost removed the layer of grease. To be fair, it had protected the cabinets from decaying, since nothing could penetrate! They leave to run errands. I stay... apparently to use the remainder of the water. By the time they return that evening, it is clear that the well has stopped.

I am so thankful to say that the house was pretty much cleaned, supper cooked, and no one’s sanity lost before the well stopped. The break in water changes our plans: my sister-in-law and I leave for NM Tuesday morning. While not quite as exciting, the trip home had its moments. The first was in Tupalo, the....er, um, community nearest their house where we stopped for diesel. Apparently these two white NM chics aren’t redneck enough ‘cause we sure get a lot of “you look like a redneck” glances from the resident rednecks of Tupalo.

The better moment was in Groom, TX. Again, a diesel stop triggers the incident. Allison fills both trucks while I run across the street to the grocery store for water and munchies. The cashier starts a conversation. “You just passing through?”

“Yes, we had to stop for diesel. I guess y’all don’t get a lot of freeway traffic.”

“Nope, they usually look at the cross at the other end of town and just keep on driving.”

“Well, you have some nice little businesses.”

“They’re all listed on that sign at the end of the street.”

“Oh... cool. Do the locals keep you pretty busy?”

“Yeah, especially on Thursdays. ‘Cuz my boss cooks chicken on Thursdays back in the back. Folks can come in and get it. You know, kind of like a way for them to eat out.”

And the conversation proceeds as I learns all the local niceties (and they do sound nice!) of Groom, TX.

Long story short and most interesting parts related, I am happy to arrive Tuesday night. My brother’s horses finally learn that the grass is edible (the filly had been scared to jump out of the trailer into it) and his family is all happily settled. And I AM ASSURED that the best route to adventure - is the route to Colby’s house.