The Suburbs

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And our hero returns from a four-day weekend. "Weekend" connotes some degree of relaxation; "extended weekend" even moreso. However, extended weekends that involve U-Hauls, mortgages, and innumerable trips up and down stairs with innumerable cardboard boxes shoot that idea of relaxation down.

For those who are unaware, over the weekend we changed our home from Richfield to Apple Valley. Closed-circuit to those who helped pack the truck on Thursday night-- the few drops left in the handle of Captain Morgan are now gone. Anyway, "home" connotes some degree of organization; we're not there yet. Although we made considerable progress, as of last night my belts were still MIA. (No, I'm not using twine right now, the "casual" belt box was located.) Moving is a dramatic, emotional event, exacerbated by the fact that I went without web access for four days. But I think we're past the major stressors now, and can't wait until the garage sale where we can jettison so much of the crap that we've accumulated to date.

So I'm back, baby. And here are the three things I've learned about Apple Valley so far.

• There are a lot more pickups, mullets, and tattoos than I expected. Not, you know, like cars up on blocks in the yards or grandpappy sipping moonshine in the front yard while playing a banjo, but there's a noticable difference compared to Richfield.
• Speaking of noticable differences, the quiet is almost unsettling. Sitting in my backyard last night, I could still hear 35 in the distance. But it's nothing compared to having 66th Street, Crosstown, and 35 within five blocks of my home. And did I mention that we no longer live under the takeoff path of the airport? There's still the occasional plane, but it's a soft, fluffy, soaring noise versus a pissed, loud, angry takeoff noise. There's a big difference.
• The neighbors haven't bowled us over with kindness yet. Actually, no one has stopped by at all. In Richfield we had two plates of cookies and a freshly-snowblowed (snowblown?) driveway by now. Maybe we look a little sketchy? A family with a sports-utility wagon makes them think "There goes the neighborhood"?

As more revelations come to light, I promise to share. Come see for yourself-- BW3 is only two miles from the house. :)

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