Tag: adventure

August 3, 2015

When you get what you wished for…

We made it. After logging about 2200 miles, the kid and I finally arrived in Albuquerque a few days ago. We killed a couple of nights in a cheap motel, did some touristy things, and got into the rental house late Saturday evening. Now we wait.

Home, sweet home in Albuquerque for a few months.

Tom’s still in Massachusetts, though not for long. The house closed today; the truck left with our belongings. Tom and the dog will head to my parents’ in Connecticut tonight, then begin their own long journey out here tomorrow. I bid them good weather and no traffic jams. Really, I can’t wait to see them.

As much as we’ve wished for these days to arrive (especially during last year’s endless winter), it’s been a tough couple of weeks: saying goodbye to family and friends; leaving everything we know, including the house; living out of suitcases; days in the car (particularly those few hundred miles slogging through the flat-lands of Kansas, Oklahoma, and Texas on a two-lane road); throwing out my back once we arrived…

The back yard. I'm given to understand that black widow spiders live under the deck and are plentiful in NM. Oh, my! — The back yard. I’m given to understand that black widow spiders live under the deck and are plentiful in NM. Oh, my!

But I knew these would be trying times, no matter how much we wanted them. Until we find a house to make into our new home, until we make friends and integrate onto communities out here, we’ll be on edge. Change is good — we want to challenge ourselves to grow — but it’s stressful too. Do you realize that the cable TV in this house doesn’t include HGTV, the Food Network, or the Travel Channel? What will I do without House Hunters and the Property Brothers?!!? I suppose I’ll thank goodness for the things that don’t change: hooking; reading and writing; family; and even social media that keeps me in touch with all of you.

Stay tuned for more of the adventure…

Love this rag rug I discovered in my bedroom. The owners of the house both have art degrees. And very good taste.

July 20, 2015

Regrets, I have a few…

I move from a wonderful house, neighborhood, job, church, writing group, rug hooking guild in just four days. Across the country. It’s a planned move; I really have no excuse for my regrets, the things I intended to do, but never got around to making real. And that makes me sad.

Our home has sold. We'll miss her. — Our home has sold. We’ll miss her.

While I did make it to the beach this past weekend for a final farewell to the ocean (necessary when you’re moving from Massachusetts to the southwestern high desert), I didn’t manage to get down to Salty Brine Beach down in the little fishing port of Galilee, Rhode Island. If it sounds familiar and you’re not from around here, it’s because part of the beach blew up last week (no, they don’t know the exact cause yet and exploding beaches are not the norm around here, but the sunbathing lady will be okay). It’s a nice, little place to swim, but more importantly, George’s of Galilee, a fabulous restaurant right on the beach, has a sunny deck where one can sit and eat lobster and drink chardonnay while watching the boats and ferries go in and out. I never got that last lobster.
Despite the fact that I was in New Hampshire last August (and lots of times before that), I’ve never made it to the Dorr Mill Store. It’s my twill tape go-to. Have you seen all the colors they carry? And I’ve never made the pilgrimage to Halcyon in Maine where I get (also via mail) much of the rug yarn that I use. Thank God for the Internet on both accounts.
I planned on hitting up all the cultural activities and museums – especially those dealing with textiles like the American Textile History Museum in Lowell, Massachusetts – before I left. Little did I know how much work, the kid’s high school graduation, home repairs, selling the house, packing, and good-byes would take out of us. Damn, we were lucky if we even managed to watch television. Some evenings The Young and the Restless was as artsy as it got. (I love you, TIVO.)
While life’s been a series of “last times” and farewells these past weeks, there are people I would’ve liked to have seen, especially some I’ve only met through Facebook, but are nonetheless very dear to me. I hope you all know who you are. I’m truly sorry that we couldn’t meet face-to-face. Maybe one day in the future. Tom and I will still have family here in New England, and you are always welcome in Albuquerque.

Lastly, I regret that it took me so long to revamp this website and blog. Posts will undoubtedly be sporadic for a few weeks, but I’ll try to get something of the journey and the adventure up to share. Feel free to check High on Hooking’s Facebook page for updates too. Prayers for safe travels are always appreciated. I’ll see you on the other side of the country. Next stop: New Mexico!

July 3, 2015

On the threshold of an adventure…

Time’s running out. Quickly. Yesterday was my last day of work running the food pantry. I hope that I’ve passed on all the “wisdom” I’ve accumulated to Sue while I had the chance. Clients depend on it.

The truth is that even if I didn’t, there are still a few weeks before the moving van arrives to pack up the crap we’ve accumulated over 23 years. We’re on a precipice here, people – about to move from New England, where we were all born and bred, to the high desert of New Mexico.

Where we’ll be starting our new adventure.

When I say “we,” I mean me (the hooker), Tom (the husband), and the almost 18-year old daughter. When I say “born and bred,” I mean raised on Dunkin’ Donuts, trips to Rhode Island beaches, vacations in New Hampshire’s White Mountains, fresh seafood, East coast educations, fiery-colored fall leaves, and, of course, Providence‘s up and continually coming food and art scene.

The truth is that I was born on the western side of Connecticut closer to NYC than Boston. My elementary and high school field trips usually ended up in New York: the Statue of Liberty, Broadway, the Cloisters, the Museum of Natural History, the Metropolitan Opera… (Who can complain about that???) It was only after college and two degrees – in Rhode Island and then in Kansas – and two marriages, that I ended up in Massachusetts. Where I’ve been for 23+ years. Where I learned to hook. And haven’t looked back.

But for years I have looked forward. Back in 1990 or so, I headed to Arizona on business. It was October, 90 degrees, blue-skied, and glorious. I fell in love with the Southwest. A few vacations and explorations later, and new hubby and I espoused New Mexico, truly the land of enchantment with it’s big sky, clear air, art, hiking, and outdoor lifestyle. Sure, things stood in the way: careers, a kid who needed to finish school, and a mother-in-law with Alzheimer’s. (Life does indeed suck sometimes.)

But high school graduation finally arrived last month, and mother-in-law smiles down on us from up above, encouraging migration to a new and warmer climate. New Mexico’s not populated with quite as many hookers as New England and the Maritimes (you can all stop laughing at my understatement), but I’ll find them. And my hopes are to introduce the art form to new admirers. Preferably in trade for weaving lessons. I’ve always wanted to weave. Have you seen the tapestries of Donna Loraine Contractor?

The next few weeks will be busy. And potentially volatile. Emotions run high when you’re in the midst of a cross country move to a place with no one waiting for you. Just your dreams and hopes for a new adventure. Follow us and see where they take us.