Blog Archives

like a stone i’ll wait for you there

3/7 – Grove to the ‘Burn = ~100 miles

3/9 – ‘Burn to Grove = ~100 miles

3/10 – Grove to Bend = ~125 miles

3/11 – Bend to Grove = ~125 miles

3/14 – Grove to the ‘Burn = ~100 miles

3/15 – ‘Burn to Eugene to Beaverton to Grove = ~300 miles

Total driving done in 8 days = too much (850 miles)

As you can tell, I’ve been fairly mobile for the past week. The week finished off with moving my sister into her new apartment in Beaverton. She officially completed college in 3.5 years and is waiting to hear about her acceptance into the Masters of Social Work program at Portland State.

The worst part of moving her wasn’t the flights of stairs, or the ridiculous amount of stuff she has (although she falsely advocates that I had more stuff in comparison at the same stage), or even the hours spent on I-5… rather, it was trying to get her new, fancy couch into her new apartment. We first tried to angle it in: no go. Flip it on it’s side, angle it in: nope. Take the hinges of the door and angle it in while its flipped on its side: uh-uh. Angling the back half upwards and jam it in: no way.

After thirty minutes, we found a solution (that didn’t include an ax): rotate the couch on its side, take off the 1/2 inch feet of the couch, slight incline on the back side, angled at a forty-five degree angle, and some pushes down the fluff on the top of the couch. Still, some paint did transfer onto the couch. Had the door jam been just an atom or two smaller, or had the couch been stuffed with just a little more fluff, Meg would of had a hallway couch. I think it’s furniture like that couch, that turn apartments from unfurnished to furnished because nobody wants try and move it out. Sorry Meg, but it’s staying.

This is the week leading up to spring break… just in the nick of time.

Hey, here’s a picture:

Reluctant Great Aqua-Dane

with your boxes in your car

What am I?Cottage Groveite? Cottage Grovian? Cottage Grover?

Either way… Jess and I are moved into our house in Cottage Grove. Well, I am moved into our house, Jess is helping out on her ranch until the wedding. Last night was my first official night in the new house. Not as creepy or weird as I thought it would be. Sometimes, I’m like a little kid who wakes up in a new surrounding and gets weirded out… but not this time.

While Jess and I did make a big dent in huge stack of boxes that sit where our kitchen table will be, we’ve still got a long way to go. Lately, I’ve been putting up horrendously expensive blinds… translation: I’ve been doing a lot of cursing at inanimate objects.

All that is left from my old apartment is to clean it up so Meg can take it over at the end of the month. Unfortunately, I don’t think a “once-over” with the wet/dry vac will suffice, so I’ll be cleaning in stages–beginning with procrastination, followed by denial. Yes, this is a twelve-step program, and no, none of them will actually help me clean.

I am really looking forward to the bachelor party in one week. I think it will be a tremendous amount of fun (and it better be for that price). I can’t wait for the lap of luxury, even if it is only for five hours (which means this luxury goes for about $500 an hour).

The wedding is, literally, two weeks away. Unbelievable. I’m not nervous or scared… more overwhelmed by the wealth of everything that needs to get done. In the end, I know that everything will turn out great, it will be nice to have one big congregation of everyone… of course, most of them will be Hansons, but it is the thought that counts.

House pictures (a.k.a., pile o’ boxes pictures) will be posted ’round about when the Internet gets in place (Wednesday-ish).


the further I go, more letters from home never arrive

This is why I shouldn’t be shut off from humanity for days at a time, I tend to dwell in my own meta-cognition–see below:Maybe I am just absorbing of some of the “oh man, my life is going to be changing drastically” feelings from my sister and her move to college. I’ve spent a couple of nights with sleepless beginnings trying to figure out how every thing is supposed to work out. Moving, jobs, money, houses, and morgages… it’s all just too much adult stuff. It’s hard to believe that it is all coming closer and closer with every morning, I think that’s why I’ve been sleeping in until 11, my little rebellion against being a grown up, at least for 2 hours every day. I am still constantly surprised that no one is shocked about me becoming a teacher… I was always expecting, “dude, you’re a goof off” or “I thought you had to have a higher maturity level than the kids you teach”. As well, I could just be dwelling in the same feelings I do at every major diviation from my comfortable known universe. There is a certain safety in that, yet, there is a massive swelling of excitement about what’s to come. Mostly that I want my own house. Nothing awe-inspiring, just a nice three story farm house with very wide square posts that border the porch–that’s all I’m asking for. Personally, (and I’ve probably said this before) I don’t think that I look like an adult, to be accurate, I think that I look like some awkward form of man-boy. a moy. Sometimes I really wonder how successful I can be in the face of a world that seems already past capacity for people.

Then I think, screw it–I’ll give it a good try.