the intermission

This is a strange in-between time. Not Winter anymore, not yet Spring. Not ready to plant, not sure even if we should...

:::

Contemplating this whole move-to-the-Northeast has been swirling around in our heads since mid-December, and the thought is getting a bit dusty on the shelf we've had to put it. We've schemed about rolling hills and mountain views with our little house and barn in the background. We've worried and fretted about it-- whether we could sell the house (or for how much of a loss...) whether we'd fit in up there or be horribly homesick. Since that email late in December, there has been nothing. We're is looking at scheduling some trips out East for sales calls and convenient exploration of the area. I should be excited about it, but instead, it just bring up scores of unanswered questions.


We had the neighborhood realtor come over last week to take a look at the place since he sold it to us a few years ago, now. He remembered it, and commented on all the beautiful renovations we've done-- how the kitchen blends well with the style of the house, how it was great we put stairs down to the basement. The wood floors, the paint, the porch... Now he's scheduled to come back tomorrow and let us know what the market analysis says. I'm prepared for nothing amazing.

:::

I do relish the thought of the day I get to sit down and tell my boss that I'm out of there. When I'm sitting in meetings about metrics and trends and prospecting and phone quotas... it's then that I think about that view-- the view I've never even seen. I know the grass is always greener.... but...