Lucky

So, not much news. We've been dealing with an unbelievably awful stink from the septic lines (imagine the movie "RV"). Luckily (or unluckily?) it's been 50s and rainy most of the week, so we were stuck inside anyway. The kids complained endlessly about being cold. How was I supposed to know we would need blankets, in Maryland, in June? But anyway ... it's hard to sit outside and enjoy our new outdoor living room, so we need to get that taken care of soon. (Incidentally, I don't have a lot of faith in the plumber. I think he's an idiot).

Barry went out to level the dirt where the plumber had dug it up for the septic tie-in. He found this.



So, who knows. Maybe our luck IS about to change. ;-)

We've spent the weekend planning what to do with the house. This is one time when it's incredibly wonderful to be married to an architect. Barry measured and planned and planned and measured, and took a field trip to a huge auction warehouse where we hope to buy a lot of the items we'll need for the house. He was torturing me all day, sending photos of amazing kitchen cabinets and beautiful french-door, stainless-steel refrigerators. I'm planning to go with him next time so that we don't let all these beautiful things go to waste!

Barry and the kids had a blast taping out where the new cabinets and island will go.

I know it doesn't look like much, but imagine the possibilities. :)

I finally started running again this weekend. (Whether I will keep it up remains to be seen, but at least I started). Running is great alone, thinking time for me. Today, coming back up the last hill before our house, I was thinking about two things: One, how striking the fields and sky and sun and clouds. And how lucky we are to live in such a beautiful place. Two, that I hope to get only one thing from this experience and it isn't a new kitchen (though if it does all pan out, that would be great). I hope our kids take away a sense of adventure and possibility. I hope they learn that any experience can be what you make it. And I hope they look back when they are adults and say to each other, Do you guys remember the summer we all lived in the trailer? Wasn't that crazy? I can't believe we did that! And then, I hope, they all laugh like fools just thinking about it.

Moving In

So after about a week of delays, the trailer was finally delivered last Friday. Picture a 39' trailer, hitched to the back of a truck, pulling in to our little yard ... from Route 94. It was nerve-wracking for me and all I was doing was watching. That driver had nerves of steel.

He got the trailer all lined up for us and then the waiting began. Waiting for the plumber to hook up the septic. Waiting for the contractor to figure out where to get another extension for the electrical cord because the trailer (according to them) should have been facing the other way. Thing is, there's a big shade awning on the side of the trailer, and we had two choices: Have the awning facing Route 94, so that we could enjoy the sights and sounds of traffic all summer long ... or have it facing the back field where we could enjoy green fields and blue skies. I'm sure it's pretty obvious which option we chose. But it seemed to throw the contractor and plumber for a loop. Luckily for us, there was no way of turning the trailer around, so the guys did what they are presumably paid to do and figured it out.

In the midst of all this activity I was traveling back and forth from the hotel in Columbia, dealing with phone calls and messages and trying to pull all of our belongings out and pack it in my car (god bless Volvo and their massive cargo space) and after the contractor called me to tell me the trailer was facing in the wrong direction, I called Barry and proceeded to have a temper tantrum. Complete with tears. (Side note here: Has anyone else ever noticed that being told to "calm down" never actually helps matters?)

Finally, after what was a very long and exhausting day, we were pretty much moved in. The kids had the slide outs slid out and we were feeling like we could maybe handle this for a while. I even remembered the Smokey the Bear magnet that Barry stuck on the hotel fridge as a joke. (That guy). And our favorite bottle opener.

Best part so far: Our new backyard "living room" furniture.

The first night was ... interesting. In a way it feels like camping, especially with all the windows open and nature sounds coming in. My rooster started crowing his head off in the middle of the night. Apparently, roosters begin crowing a few hours before dawn according to their circadian rhythms. Paco's circadian rhythm apparently tells him to begin crowing at 3:30 a.m. The even crazier part is that at about 5:30 a.m., he abruptly stops. Abruptly. And doesn't crow all day. Until 3:30 the following morning.

But waking up on Saturday morning (even if it was at 5:45 a.m.), sliding off the end of the bed and reaching over to open the screen door was pretty cool and it did seem like being on vacation.

I mean, with a view like that, how bad can it be?

I spent most of the day Saturday finding places to put our clothes. Trailer storage is very strange. There appears to be more of it than you'd think, but it's not like a nice big closet you can just plunk a box into. It's more like tiny glass-fronted (why? so that the fine china can be displayed?) cabinets that are all in odd corners or way up high and difficult to reach. It's going to be interesting.

Sunday Clay and I set up the home theatre. I'm pretty pleased. Never had a home theatre before!

Tonight we are getting a massive rain storm. The kids and I are holed up in the house with the dogs at the moment. Cole decided to set up an air mattress in his bedroom upstairs so he's been holding down the fort inside. Kylie and I are trying to get up the nerve to run through this to get back to the trailer:

Wish us luck!

Kindnesses

So I have been thinking a lot about the kindnesses of friends and strangers and how each small thing has helped me in some way.

Today at the Starbucks drive-through (I'm surviving on caffeine and adrenaline, don't judge) the woman in front of me paid for my latte. I was nearly brought to tears - and I have hardly cried (can't say never, but hardly) during this whole experience. If she only knew what a lift that small gesture gave me. If she only knew that every day is filled with tiny struggles and what pleasure I get from that coffee ... and then to have it presented to me, as a gift ...

My lacrosse team got together and gave me a card and a gift card last night. Again, I struggled not to cry. What an amazing group of girls and parents, not least of whom is a head coach I've loved working with over the years. I tried to explain to my team what a gift it is to be able to coach them. Not only because I love to watch them play - this crowd of strong, smart, spirited girls - but also because when I am on that field for a lacrosse game, I can think of absolutely nothing else for that hour. All of my troubles are erased and I am completely in the moment of that game, that time, that place. It's such a blessing. This is my seventh season coaching lacrosse, and this group of girls stands out for me. I have loved every team I've coached - but this team has a unity and a passion that just shines. So, maybe there's a reason I'm coaching this group at this time in my life. I'm not sure how much I believe in fate or a grand plan or even a higher power. But sometimes some things seem like more than just a coincidence.

Back to the night of the fire, one firefighter from Montgomery County stood out. I wish we knew his name. He brought us a pile of warm jackets and sweatshirts from my closet after the fire was out, while the investigators were doing their job and the crews were rolling up their hoses and preparing to leave. We were still standing in the driveway, wondering if we'd be allowed to go back into the house, and he saw us and realized we were cold. Then he went back in and brought out the kids' glasses and phones. I think this is also the same firefighter who told my husband that he had noticed Barry's wedding ring on a dresser in our room, and slipped it into a drawer so that nothing would happen to it. The thoughtfulness of that ... that in the middle of a fire a complete stranger would notice a wedding ring and try to keep it safe ... again, I have no words.

There are so many more, too many to list ... friends and acquaintances who called and texted with offers of housing, or storage for our things ... complete strangers on Facebook who tried to help with finding a rental home for us ... the absolute courtesy and gentleness of the professionals who came to take away our clothing, our furniture, our books, our food ... the friend who showed up, the morning after the fire, with beer (she knows us well) and a bouquet of flowers. Who would think of that, really? She said she thought I might need to look at something pretty. And she was right. I did need to look at something pretty, but I didn't even know it until she arrived with an armful of flowers.

Last night as we were driving home, my daughter and I were discussing the new furniture we planned, the changes we would like to make to the house (everyone keeps telling us, there's no better time), and she said it was almost like we had won the lottery. Immediately I thought of the hundreds of expenses, some big and some small, so many of which will never be recovered no matter how good our insurance, and I told her that no, it wasn't like that at all.

But I realized just now that I need to tell her, I was wrong. We did win the lottery. We are all fine. We are all safe. We are all here.

Prelude

So, I've been advised to start a blog with what promises to be fabulous summer adventures for the Miller family. Seemed like a good way to keep family and friends updated on our progress (I know, I'm getting ahead of myself; be patient) ... and might be cathartic as well.

First, the background.

Last weekend we had a fire. A middle-of-the-night, smelling-smoke, seeing flames, emergency wake-up-the-kids-and-get-the-hell-out-of-the-house kind of fire.

It was scary.

It was 2:30 a.m., more or less, and cold, and we were all in pajamas or what passes for pajamas in our house, and of course barefoot, and we all stood/sat/wandered around the yard and driveway watching as what seemed like a dozen fire trucks and a hundred firefighters (I know it wasn't that many, but it seemed so at the time) arrived, got the fire under control, and slowly departed.

Let me pause here for a moment to say how incredibly grateful I am to the firefighters, most of whom are volunteers who gave up a night with their own families (and do so frequently) so that they could come save our house and our family. I will never be able to repay this. I can't even begin to try.

So ... in the aftermath, we were cold and shocked and muddled. I drove the kids to their Nana's to catch a few hours of sleep. Drove back home and tried to sleep for an hour with Barry in Cole's bunk bed. Got up around eight and started to get it together.

Almost immediately it became clear that we wouldn't be able to stay in the house. I don't know what I was thinking at the time. Now it seems delusional but I actually thought we'd be out only a night or two. We are now going on night 12 in an extended-stay type hotel. Not a bad place as these places go. Pretty new and pretty clean and there is breakfast for the kids before school. If there were only a Starbucks nearby, and if only Ivy could be here with us, I think I'd be pretty content to stay forever.

But not really ... because we are 30 minutes from home and the driving is KILLING me. The traffic is a nightmare. I don't know how anyone lives in L.A. I'd surely shoot myself.

So we began looking for a rental home to stay in during the (four? six? eight?) months that we will likely be out of our house. Unfortunately, in Western HoCo, rental homes are very few and very far between, and mostly very, very expensive ... and very dog-unfriendly.

Hey, I can't blame them. A family of 5, with two dogs, one a Tibetan Mastiff ... no way would I rent to us. So no hard feelings. But we needed to come up with another plan.

Hence, Operation RV. It's not actually going to be an RV. It's going to be a trailer. I've never spent any significant time in a trailer, though we did discover last summer that we as a family actually do enjoy tent camping, but I'm not naive enough to think that camping at the beach for five days will compare in the slightest to living in a trailer with two teenagers, a college kid and two dogs for an entire summer (or longer).

There are bound to be some entertaining moments. So I'm going to try and keep up with the story here, mainly so our out-of-town friends and family can know what's going on with us. (I'll give you a hint: It likely will involve lots of alcoholic beverages).