Temp housing

Temporary housing could've been SO much worse.

Originally we were looking at the prospect of spending up to 3 weeks in a 400-sq foot hotel room and were not happy about it. Thankfully, the nice folks at the relocation service were able to negotiate something more suitable for a family of 4 -- a "penthouse" suite, which looks very much like this:

Clearly a far more comfortable arrangement, the main advantage is that the girls have their own room downstairs, with a door that closes and allows their parents to watch TV or whatever. When all is said and done, however, it IS a hotel room, and Ellie in particular feels the loss of space and privacy -- Maggie, being Maggie, just rolls with it.

Truthfully, this place has worked out far better than expected due to some very special touches. We were told that we would get daily maid service (Kim's been loving that), but during the first few days, they went so far as to turn our dishwasher on for us, regardless of how many dishes were in it. We knew we would be getting free breakfast in the lounge each morning, but one staff member in particular has been extremely attentive to the girls, bringing out small toys and offering to make special items beyond what was available that day. The pool, which opened on Sunday (day before Memorial Day), has been a life saver (no pun intended), especially for Ellie, and the on-site shuttle has taken me to work each morning, meaning that Kim and the girls didn't have to go through the hassle of driving me to work.

The lone low points are those to be expected in a hotel environment -- limited television options and inconsistent wireless connectivity. While there's nothing to be done about the former, the lobby does have a communal computer that has allowed Kim and I to check email and do other computer tasks at least a few times a day.

All in all, we couldn't have asked for a better arrangement -- but we'll be very glad to be in our own place next week.

Weeknights at 8 -- 7 Central

On second thought, I'll put off commentary on our temporary housing to note the thing that's really been messing with us to this point (and by "us," I mean Kim and me).

In theory, the 1-hour time difference between the Boston and Twin Cities shouldn't pose too much of a problem. It's not like when we were in London and had to stay awake until 4:30 am to watch the Patriots win their first Super Bowl.

But in practice, something very weird is going on.

Let's use Kim as an example. She usually likes going to bed close to 10pm, so on Mondays she would watch "24" (at 9pm eastern, 8pm central) for an hour, then hit the sack. She's almost conditioned to feel sleepy at 10pm.

In Minnesota, by the time "24" is over and the clock reads only 9pm, that knowledge takes over and convinces the mind that she really CAN'T be sleepy, because it's too early.

So the solution, you might think, is to stop watching so damn much television. But you'd be wrong there too. Latitudinally, Minneapolis is as far north as Bangor ME and Salem OR, and is farther north than Toronto. So leading up to the summer solstice, it stays lighter longer. Our first few nights here, we were wondering why it was still light out after 9pm (a friend of mine and Minnesota native tells me to wait until mid summer, when it's still light out after 10pm).

Those two factors combined are wreaking havoc on our sleep patterns. Fortunately, we're keeping the girls at a strict 8pm bedtime, so they're not impacted at all (they're just getting up a bit "earlier" than they used to).

Nightie-night.

Planes, trams & automobiles (that's right, TRAMS)

Anybody who knows Ellie to any degree will understand our concern heading into Saturday morning's flight out of Boston. This is a girl who, historically, has panicked at any hint of loud noise and/or attention directed her way. (Her lone "performance" in a dance recital was a classic.)

So while both girls were great on all pre-flight counts -- getting up at 5:30 am to get to the airport, enduring baggage check-in, moving slowly through security and enduring a 1-hour delay in taking off -- Kim and I were both anticipating a minor scene as the plane made its way down the runway.

Indeed, as the plane sped up, her hands went up to her ears and she got that look she gets just before the breakdown. But to our surprise, she looked at Kim and started smiling. At lift-off, the smile got bigger. And we knew we were home-free.

And thanks to Auntie Lynne's loaner copy of "Sesame Street Old School," the 3-hour flight was episode-free as well.

On a symbolic note: As we came down from the clouds over Wisconsin and crossed into Minnesota airspace, I looked out the window and literally saw our future -- my new company's headquarters, clear as day, on the horizon below.

Post-flight notes --

• Maggie had an accident waiting for the baggage, but both of them liked the tram ride from the terminal to the car rental area.
  
• Moments after I accepted a compliment on my ability to stack 9 pieces of baggage on a small cart, they tumbled into the road after the card hit a seam in the concrete.
  
• Our rental vehicle is an overly-bright shade of blue that seems to be reserved solely for rental vehicles.

Next entry: The thrill that is temporary housing

Back to earth

Nothing like having young kids to bring things into focus for you.

Friday wasn't a great day for me. Watching my house empty out, I spent far too much time wandering from room to room, noticing the little things I always meant to do but never got around to, scribbling our names in little nooks and crannies of closets and the attic, and generally being far too sentimental for my own good. Sandra (our much missed tenant and de facto member of the family) didn't make things any easier by coming home early and engaging me in yet another round of reminiscing. After I put the keys on the counter and closed the back door for the last time, I was in what would be charitably called a "major funk" and arrived at the hotel convinced that it wouldn't wear off for days.

The first thing Ellie said upon my arrival was, "Daddy, tomorrow, are we going to Minnesota?!"(followed by "Can we go in the pool?!")

It put me in mind of the excitement I felt when my family moved to Chandler St. from the Bossi's house on Chetwynd Rd. I had no inclination toward sentimentality then -- I was far too excited about the future, what was to come, to dwell on what would be no more. At such a young age, I had no appreciation for what it takes to make a house into a home, nor for the relationships that can be forged (if you're extremely lucky) within the two-family structure. And why would I? I was 8.

My mother tells me how tough it was to leave after 7+ years living in the Bossi house. Both of my parents had grown close to the family and always considered themselves extremely fortunate to have fallen into such a positive tenant-landlord arrangement. Now I have an idea of how she felt, and I think the sadness isn't so much regret about moving on as much as it is sincere gratitude for the chapter that is ending.

So now my 4-year old daughter throws cold water in my face (literally as well as figuratively, for the pool at the Embassy Suites was on the chilly side) and snaps me back to reality -- this IS indeed about our future, so the sooner I start focusing on that, the better.

Final night on Pleasant Street

May 16, 2007 -- The past two months has been a whirlwind for us, from the interview and the house hunting trip to selling our Massachusetts home, coordinating and finalizing the moving plans, and saying our goodbyes to friends and family. Now, on the last night in our home of the past 6 years, I'm starting this blog as a record of our new adventure.

When I returned to Boston in 1994 after 9 years in Indiana, I told my family, "This is it -- this time it's for good." But the funny thing is, fate and fortune aren't tied to a specific place. You go where they take you, lest you regret not seizing an opportunity when it presents itself.

And so it is that Kim, Ellie, Maggie and I are venturing from our roots to see what's doin' in the Gopher State.

Understandably, we're walking the inevitable tightrope between excitement and sentimentality. Family is the strongest tie that binds, and leaving our parents, siblings, nieces, nephews and cousins is the hardest part of relocating. At the same time, moving halfway across the country isn't what it was 15-20 year ago -- cell phones, email, and the video-capable web have made the world a smaller place and promise to take much of the sting out of moving away from those we love.

And, hopefully, this blog will be a big part of it -- especially in the beginning.

Entries will be scattered until we're fully computer accessible and established in our new home, so your patience is appreciated. We should have plenty of photos and details along the way, so we hope you'll check in often.

Minnesota, here we come.