The Anderson's Great Move--Part III

don't jump in the middle, read the other parts first...they're getting shorter, I promise! I've got to stop re-hashing my life and get on with it already! Sheesh....

When we rolled into town (Clinton, UT), we dropped the second car off at the mechanics. A different one. They were open. Most are on Friday. (Scott and Russ (my brother-in-law) picked up the cutlass from the other mechanic. I ran on the lush green lawn with all the kids and had a blast. There aren't many green lush lawns in Abq....just lots of rocks.)

While in New Mexico we learned that the cutlass threw a rod. Serious. No smoke, no smell, no leaking oil, no fireball engulfing the car. Just that clicking noise. And it still ran. But it wasn’t worth the price of a new engine. It became scrap. We were reduced to one vehicle—the Buick in the shop that we had no idea what was wrong. We prepared for the worst—with two down and gone we needed a vehicle and we needed one yesterday because we were still moving and had 800+ miles left to go. Four people don't fit in the cab of a Penske.

Do you know how fun it is to go car shopping when you have no vehicle? You must purchase whatever is available, you’re trying not to look desperate so you borrow a car (and pretend that the shiny Altima is yours and that you are casually looking for a "second" car--no it's not a trade in!) rather than be dropped off at a dealership….and you don’t mention that you’re unemployed and between states? I think we smell differently and only salespeople can pick up on it.

Side Note: On our move to Kentucky, we bought the '98 cutlass the day we left Logan (Side Side Note: this would be our second cutlass, as my still being used college car was an '82 cutlass--who owns two cutlass's (sp?) at the same time?*?))

Oh, yeah, and did I mention that Scott (and his dad, Kip) were running a ½ marathon on Saturday morning in Logan, UT? 13.1 miles. We did not drive up with them to the start, but rather planned on cheering them across the finish line two hours later. "Go Dad!" We didn’t make it to see them finish one hour and 55 minutes later. 5 minutes late. They lied, er, underestimated their time…but I’m not bitter in any way….

(He doesn't even look tired...and he was sooo excited to run in the full marathon after this little "practice" run)

anyhoo, back to the cars. We didn’t have much time. Saturday afternoon. Sunday was with my family, Monday was Alice’s birthday and our departure date for Oregon. Oh, wait. Monday was the day we would find out if our car could be fixed. Departure date moved to Tuesday. Monday was now car shopping day. We looked at some vans. (I’ve been in denial that the next step from a sedan is a mini-van. When family visits, we have to take two cars, and we can’t carpool for anything…I’m gonna have to take the plunge.) We test-drove a caravan. It was nice. I especially liked the push-button doors and the collapsable seats. I love options. Maybe I could do this...we decided to drive more on Monday.

So, Sunday I learn that my brother is selling his suburban. Hmm…. (the rest of Sunday was great—good to see family and friends and visit and eat delicious food! But again, not a main part of this story, lovely though….) On Monday we test drive it, and then some more vans. The dealerships told us their inventory was low and we should come back on Labor Day, and used vans were pretty much the same but if we broke down between Spanish Fork and Brigham City there was free towing (not beneficial at all if you live out of state) and roadside assistance while we owned the vehicle, and nothing in “geriatric tan". Really the options weren't too promising in our price-range.

And then we got good news** The Buick blew a head gasket and the engine seized, nasty but fixable. Work will be done that day. Yippee. Now we don’t have to have a car. We can make it on one until we find time to shop for something else.

But, now I want one.

And I want the suburban.

I'm insane. I only have two kids and nothing screams out "make me the scoutmaster" like rollinig into town with a suburban. Plus, they're huge! I wasn't even ready for a van, but I suppose if you're gonna upgrade, go big.

It just feels right, it feels good. Scott and I sit down with Justin and Celeste that night and make a deal. (They got a new suburban that had just arrived that Friday, nearly a month later than they expected, but freeing up the old suburban just in time for us…coincidence you ask? Or perhaps I had to be knocked over the head (or head gasket) to say "fine! I'll take it! and I'll be HAPPY about it, okay?!?)

We drove away with it that night, promising to send a check in the mail once we got the loan worked out. There are some advantages of being family....

We left for Oregon the next morning. Scott and Charles in the ginormous yellow Penske and Alice and I in the big, black Suburban.

(which, by the way, I love. =)

We're gonna be okay....headed back for average, unexciting, uneventful existence.

stay tuned...the tantilizing conclusion is just around the corner!!

(I don't know who the masked man was....sorry.)

The Anderson's Great Move -- Part II

you're gonna want to read Part I first....

We drove back to Albuquerque on Monday. We stopped along the way at Arches National Park, which Scott had never been to, and Four Corners National Monument, which I have wanted to see since I was a little girl. Good fun. (I can't show pics because they're stuck in the new camera and I can't figure out where the software went for managing the pics--I'm sure it's in a box somewhere....)

*found it-here I am, in four states at once! Utah, Colorado, Arizona and New Mexico.

Once we got home we started boxing everything else up right away. We had some errand stuff to take care of (brake job, join AAA, get moving truck) and we worked like crazy people to get it all done. We only had one car now so we had to take turns. Sharing is hard when you're used to your own toy. Anyway. We got everything packed up, Sabrina (Bludworth) and Yolanda (Tucker) helped me pack up the kitchen—Thanks. My Young Women came to help clean on Wednesday (I didn’t have to do the bathrooms*yeah**). Scott and I did the rest. We had everything ready to go right on time. We said farewell to Dion’s pizza *sniff* by eating dinner there on Thursday night. Our plan was to pack up and head out that night, get some of the journey over with and besides, our house was empty and we had nothing to sleep on.

I dropped Scott off at home by 6 to pack up the big yellow Penske (no U-haul for us—the alternator fell off the last one we used) with the help of the Elder’s quorum. This consists of Scott in the truck arranging the puzzle pieces of all our belongings and the other guys bring the gifts of cardboard up to him. I headed up to Sam’s club to get the contacts (prescription running out, no Sam’s in Oregon, last chance….) I even had enough time to stop at Target for some Dr. Pepper--in preparation for the long night ahead.

On my way home I accelerated at a green light and didn’t move—very far that is. Oh, great^&$% not again* This time, the check engine light came on as well. I couldn’t believe it, but the car would barely do 20, and that was with a lot of coaxing.

So. Once again, I am stranded in a dysfunctional vehicle.

I have no phone. I am not near a phone. I am not near home. It would take me 45 min to walk home and it was getting dark.

In all my brilliance, I plunged forward and kept going, the 10 min drive taking about 20, the car limping around the corner of the house where I turned it off. I mentioned to Scott (furiously loading the truck) that I killed the good car. He said he couldn’t deal with it right then. I went inside and cleaned. He loaded. Time passed.

I double checked that everything was out of every cupboard and closet and room and noticed the refrigerator still in the kitchen. This was our fridge, and we were planning on taking it with us. I went out to Scott at the truck, where he was cinching up the rope across the back so that everything didn’t fall out.

“So, you don’t have room in there for a fridge, do you?”

Ah, no, unless I wanted to leave the bookcase and Alice’s toy kitchen. Hmm….let me think about that…. (I was already forced to leave a twin bed, and two white storage cupboards—one for my fabric and one for my food). Grr%$#** The fridge stayed. I didn’t have the energy to fight for it.

Then Scott went to start the car up to drive it up onto the trailer. It didn’t start. Even cleaning the battery (thank goodness for Dr.P*) and attaching cables to jump it didn’t work. Buick down. Seriously injured (I have since found out that if the check engine light comes on, pull over and do not drive). Luckily the elders quorum are fine strong strapping youths and the six of them were able to push the car up and secure it. Yeah.

We drove out of town with all of our earthly possessions in the yellow truck (26 feet long) and towing a dead car. The second dead car in five days. (One week ago, we had a job, a house and two cars. We were living the dream. Now we had no income (temporarily albeit), a yellow truck (borrowed) and two dead chunks of metal and domestic engineering. Amazing how fast life can change.)

We drove away with a spectacular lightning display across the sky—from every side it was magnificent and it lasted hours. Fireworks in celebration? Hmm…. Now, moving trucks are not exactly the most comfortable rides. We were bounced and jostled and jiggled the whole drive. Scott made it to Cuba, we slept for 30 min., we made it to Monticello, slept for an hour and made it to Moab for breakfast. (the cinnamon rolls at the Moab diner were a disappointment, nobody makes them like mamma….) Then we were off again to Clinton. I don’t think we slept for more than an hour for 36 hours.

Will Scott & Jen make it? What exactly was wrong with the cars? Will they be fixed, or stranded? (four people don't fit in a moving truck....)

And who was that masked man anyway? --stay tuned readers, for Part III....

The Anderson's Great Move - Part I

I know y'all have been asking for details, and news and wondering where we are. Well, here it goes….

We thought we’d stay in Albuquerque. We bought a house, we settled in, we enjoyed the scenery and climate and loved the people. Ah…so this is what it’s like….

We realized we weren’t staying as long as we thought. (This meant that we had to finish the 9-mo. long bathroom remodel, it looked nice without blue painter's tape.) When we decided to move out, we moved fast—so fast that some people didn’t even realize we were moving. (I think we were gone in about a month.)

The Assignment: Move 1,466.24 miles~approximately (oh, yeah, and attend a wedding and attend a missionary return-both in Utah during the same two week time period.)

The Plan:
Part I: Go to wedding on Friday (travel to sister’s house Wed—3 hours, drive all Thursday to get to Grandma’s in time—8 hours) with reception that night, and open house Saturday—breathe on Sunday
Part II: Drive to Albuquerque—on Monday (620miles). Pack up and clean an entire house on Tuesday, Wednesday, load it onto a truck Thursday, drive back to Utah on Friday.
Part III: Scott run a ½ marathon on Saturday (in Logan), missionary return on Sunday, drive away forever on Monday (Alice’s birthday) and Tuesday
Part IV: Be in new house Wednesday, register for kindergarten Thursday, and unpack to be ready for school and work on Tuesday (Monday was Labor Day). Plenty of time to relax and get settled in.

The Reality: “The best laid plans of mice and men do often go awry…”

We managed to pack up the kids and get to my sister’s house on Wednesday. Scott didn’t show up until nearly midnight (it was his last day at work and he had to mow the lawn). Oh, did I mention that we were driving two cars on the first trip up? (Scott in the “new” ’97 Buick LeSabre, and me in the “old” ’98 Oldsmobile Cutlass—I know, classy cars.) We figured if we were leaving our kids, we might as well leave an extra car, and then Scott and I could enjoy driving to Abq and back together (pulling the extra car behind the moving truck on the return). Brilliant.

Well, our plans to leave early and get the 7 hour drive were thwarted by:

1. the cell phone registering Arizona time (non-daylight savings: -1 hour)


2. we left late: -1/2 hour


3. we took the long “short-cut”: -1 hour.

At this time we still had 7 hours left in our journey. (Wait, wasn’t that what we started with?) Three stops for one lane road construction, a horrible mickey-d lunch experience (ever try drinking a milkshake without a straw?) and we were cruisin’. Then came the race for the potty break—no trees to hide behind in the desert of eastern Utah. I think Scott was going 80 before he made it to the freeway (I-70).

Anyway. Just as we passed through Price, heading for the eternally loooonnnnnng canyon connecting to Spanish Fork, we were separated by a very slow semi-truck, and the car started to make funny noises.

So, I lose my momentum and I lost Scott (I was following him). The noise emitted by my “Gutless Cutless” sounded like a card flipped by spokes. Not good. Click-click-click went the engine, increasing in volume and decreasing in speed when I pressed my lead foot on the accelerator. I recall being pleased with 45mph acceleration.

Yeah, this was definitely not good.

I knew we were in real trouble when I pulled off the shoulder, let a bunch of cars pass, and attempted to return to my journey only to be nearly smooshed into a guardrail by a very angry semi. They have loud horns. I think my angels were working overtime. Alice was traveling with me, and we were both in tears. She said a prayer for us, and I rolled down the windows to let some air in. (I had turned off the air-conditioner when I realized we weren’t going anywhere fast…) With the windows down, and the rush of air and traffic coming in, I couldn’t hear how much the car protested, so I pushed in and kept going.

(Now, if you’ve ever driven through this canyon, you can appreciate that once you’re in, you’re in. Most of the drive is one lane each direction, with occasional passing lanes and lots and lots and lots and lots of hills. Torture in bad weather—we came up once over Christmas and Scott followed the dotted line to stay on the road—we couldn’t see the edges in the rain.)

What were my choices? Stop? Where?—there’s no shoulder and no space where you would be safe, I had no cell phone and no way of contacting Scott or anyone else. So, we kept going uphill and Alice prayed that daddy would find us. I hoped he realized something was wrong when we weren’t right on his tail (like we’d been all day) or he was going to be all the way through the canyon and have to turn back to find us—hopefully alive. So. We kept going, I drove with hazards on whenever I could and stayed as much on the shoulder as I could.

Finally I saw Scott—yipee%*&^ (exclamation points aren’t allowed.) He was pulled over and started going again when he saw us. I flashed every light I could get my hands on and yelled for him to get back off the road. He must have heard me because he pulled over again. (See, it does work) I pulled up beside him, and he rolled down his window and I think I tried for two minutes to say something and couldn’t because I was trying not to cry at the same time. (I found out later he thought I had stopped for a potty break in Price, gotten behind, and was mad that he hadn’t waited….this was the third time he’d pulled over to wait…and he didn’t think it was me because of the traffic I was plugging up—ie, the motor home right behind me going 30mph…I don’t usually drive that slow.) I finally spit out that it’s the car and clue him in to the cause of my near hysteria.

He listens.

Yeah, doesn’t sound so good.

Now, I will recount the “tender mercies” of the Lord in watching out for us.

1. We didn’t get smooshed by the cars behind us


2. the car made it to the top of the canyon (yes, it was mostly downhill after that)


3. we stopped at an old abandoned gas station with plenty of parking for two cars


4. we had cell phone reception (top of the canyon thing) to make some calls—to the mechanic brother-in-law who said it didn’t sound good, and to leave it and to the parents to tell them what was happening and why we would be late


5. I hadn’t over packed both cars for the journey up (this will make more sense in a moment)


6. my sister (and her baby) had declined the invitation to come with us a few days ahead of when she was planning on coming


7. we were driving two cars (this will make sense after part II)

We ended up transferring all of the essentials to the Buick (everything fit)—with more stuff or more passengers this wouldn’t have happened. We left the Cutlass with a note that we would tow it out in a day or two, and we took off for Clinton. (near Ogden).

Yeah. The rest of the day was uneventful.

The next day was the wedding—all day stuff, very beautiful and fun and not more in this story—hey, it wasn’t my wedding (but did I mention that it was my anniversary? 7 years, thank you).

Saturday Scott, Brian and Fletch (75% of the manpower) went to haul the car out of the canyon. We left it at a mechanics that afternoon. They were closed. Most are on Saturday.

Sunday we slept and stayed in our pajamas all day and ate ice cream out of the carton. Well, I would have liked that, but we had to get ready to leave the kids and make the return journey. That’s the next part….

Stroll Down Memory Lane...

Deep in the recesses of my picture folder, I happened upon these priceless gems.

Remember when?

We used to play at the park with all the little girls.

We used to go out on dates on Friday nights and swap baby sitting, since we were all "poor starving college students" and couldn't afford regular baby-sitters.

Ella and Hadley couldn't wait until Alice turned her head so they could pick those annoying boogers stuck up their noses. Dang, but the crunchy ones hurt. Alice was so happy they felt better she gave Ella a huge hug. Now we can all enjoy the park.

Oh, yeah, and Rawley barely had any hair.

(Just thought you might enjoy seeing the kids before they got big and we all moved away.)

Breathless

So, I realize that you're not logging in simply to peruse my poetic prose and delight in the dirt divulged from my chaotic corner.

You want pictures.

Photographic proof of our physical progress. Well, here are Charley & Alice at the top of Sandia Crest, the mountain just east of Albuquerque, 10,000+ feet in elevation. Yeah, hard to breath up there. Took 20 minutes for a 5 min. conversation...and I can't remember what else happened. (Not sure if it's the elevation or the view that left me breathless.)

I hope this curbs your current cravings, you crass creatures....

Another One Bites the Blog....

So....either I'm suffering from an extremely horrid case of "keeping-up-with-everyone" or I'm just terribly lonely way out here or I'm trying to give Allison just one more reason to suffer.

I blame it all on Allison.

If it weren't for her, I'd have no idea what y'all were doing, or how fun (and funny) life really is through the eyes of the (behind-the-scenes) stay at home mom, and how big and beautiful your kids are getting. I'd have no idea what I was missing out on, and after putting my feet down for sooooooo long I've jumped on the blogwagon, as Jessie put it. (okay, I also stink at sending out mass emails, I'm jealous that I'm not the only person people want to write to...c'mon, you actually have other friends?)

BUT don't get too excited. Y'all will probably get bored of reading my goings-ons after I get the initial rush out of the way....because, oh boy- do I have a story for you. (okay, Scott reminds me that only I think I am hilarious.) But it will have to wait until next time.

Just know that I have succombed and joined the ranks of the electronically connected.

~and Allison.....thanks... =)

ps. I never realized how many exclamation marks I used in writing until I had to edit them ALL out of this (it took me six tries--what's up with them not being allowed anyway?*?). Just know that it doesn't really capture the correct emotions *sniff* but you'll just have to pretend....