It was 5 degrees outside when I got up this morning. The dogs didn't even want to go out and they have fur coats. This the the time of year (every year) I think I am ready to move. Ready to find somewhere just a bit warmer, where it doesn't snow and I don't have to spend half the year changing into a different pair of shoes when I get to work.

As the time nears for us to make a decision about staying, it is getting harder to imagine our family anywhere else. We really do love this little town. We feel safe here, our children enjoy being here, and even though I have been yearning for more opportunities for my own career, I will be sad if we have to leave. We've put down roots and they have become so far reaching, that ripping them up might ruin us for a time.

Have you ever wanted to take a place and transplant it? I felt that way about our first house in California. I still dream of that house. I think when I conjure up an image of home, that's the first thing to come to mind. I feel that way about Moscow, Idaho, where we have lived for the past 6 years. The town is pretty near perfect, and if I could take it and relocate it so it was near a larger city that offered more opportunities for Jon to share his art, and me to further my writing, I would. While I'm at it, I would take that first house from California and put that in the mix.

Since this is an impossibility, perhaps we will make the most of our current situation (make our own opportunities) or find a place to move that will attempt to live up to our high expectations. The perfect town with the perfect house? Does it exist?

Last weekend Jon and I attended a party here in Moscow. It was a 20s-themed party called 31 Fisticuffs. It was organized by a guy, who is really good at parties and has a great imagination, for his birthday. He sold tickets, did some great marketing and rented a space. We attended in 1920s garb and  stood in the basement of a building, under a single bare bulb watching people with amazing moustaches fight one another. The losers had to have their moustaches shaved off. Almost everyone was dressed up- although many of them had a strange idea of what 1920s clothing looked like. I am pretty sure there was a slutty cowgirl there.

In any case, after the boxing and socializing, there were several bands there to perform. The music was punk rock and it was evident why some people were at the party—to dance. There were a few who were just itching for a mosh pit. Not long before we left this girl, who was dressed in the greatest linen dress and pearls, came down to where the band was playing. She stood there swaying back and forth for awhile and then, out of the blue, she began to dance—like Elaine from Seinfeld. If you don't know what I'm talking about see the Youtube video.

http://youtu.be/DY_DF2Af3LM

It wasn't the exact same dance, it was just bad and jerky and weird. The funny thing is, I wish I was her. I wish I had even an ounce of her abandon and complete disregard for what others thought of me. It was fun to watch her. I hope I run in to her again somewhere here in Moscow, and I really hope there's music.

I voted yesterday. I almost didn't, but don't tell anyone. Even before my daughter expressed her frustration with the electoral votes and the news calling all the states before the ballots were counted, I was a little fed up. I too felt it may not make a difference if I went to the polls. This feeling was more directed at the presidential election than my state elections, but it still almost kept me from doing my part.

When I got to the polls last night the line for my precinct was extremely long. I don't remember there being this many people at the last presidential election. In line with me was a man, about my age, who began a casual conversation with me. We both observed how we were seeing people at the polls we may not have seen around Moscow before- not individuals we were acquainted with, but "types" of people we don't normally see in our everyday wanderings of the city. I realize this sounds like I am stereotyping the residents, but really I am just making an observation.

Our small town, and the surrounding area, is full of all different groups of people. There are farmers, college students, young families, single professionals, liberals, conservatives, free spirits and many more. What I, and my companion in line, found was that all of these people came to the polls. They all had something at stake, and they took their responsibility seriously. It was starting to make me feel extreme guilt over my thoughts of dismissing the election.

I voted, and the nice woman at the polls dropped my ballots into the box, (which I must point out was just a large Rubbermaid container with a slit in the top- definitely top-of-the-line materials) and she congratulated me before handing me a sticker. It felt good.

After voting I arrived home to a delicious meal my 14-year-old daughter had prepared. We watched some election coverage and tried to explain the process to our children without sounding like we didn't know what we were talking about (probably the truth most of the time), and then I went upstairs to write (NaNoWriMo is kicking my butt).

It was a tiring day. One of my friends posted on Facebook this morning that she felt as though she had an election hangover. I am also feeling overloaded with the numbers, and although all of the elections may not have gone the way I had hoped, I do have hope. I have faith in the people of my small town and county, and I have hope my children are learning the importance of standing up for what you believe in, even if it feels as though your voice is too small to be heard.

I love to write and I love to read, but most of all I love a good story. Imagine how excited I was to receive a package in the mail the other day that paid homage to Flat Stanley. If you don't know who Flat Stanley is, than you are missing out.

Flat Stanley is the main character in a series of books by the same name. Author Jeff Brown writes about an ordinary boy who gets flattened when a bulletin board falls on him. This new shape allows Stanley to travel the world in an envelope (and much more). (Okay, I know this sounds super violent and awful, but I swear it isnt.)

My niece, Eliza, read this book at school and her class decided to join the Flat Stanley Project. Students make a flat version of themselves and send it to someone by mail. The recipient then takes care of the flat student for a week or so and takes it with them to places in their town. Eliza sent me her flat self. I was so excited. Thoughts rushed at me about all the things Flat Eliza and I could do together. Granted, my little corner of Idaho may not be as magical and alluring as perhaps New York, or even Seattle, but I think Flat Eliza and I will have some pretty awesome adventures.

So, this begins the Flat Eliza Travels to Moscow (Idaho) blog series. I hope you enjoy this adventure with us.

There is even a Flat Stanley mobile app if you want to be really cool!!!

  VS.









I think I need to move. Living in a town that shares its name with a Russian town, is not always a good idea. Here in North Idaho we pronounce it (Mahw-sco), not (Moss-cow). People don't get it. It's like those people who say (Los Angle-ease) for Los Angeles. Okay, I don't really know anyone who says that, but I wanted to compare it to a bigger, hipper, more city-like city.

I am almost always asked to spell it when I must give my address over the phone. After saying M-O-S-C-O-W so many times, I have finally just begun telling people to just put Mo. That's what we call our daughter, whose name Moira is never pronounced right. So, why can't it be good enough for my city?

Until we move I will be accepting mail in Mo, Idaho. With my luck, there is already a city in this fine state that uses that name legally. I mean we do have Athol (lovingly referred to as the A** hole of Idaho- with a lisp),  Atomic City, Dubois (not pronounced at all like they would in France), Melba (like the toast), Onaway ('nuff said) and Paris.

We were recently lured to Pullman to look at a four-bedroom apartment. What turned our sites to Pullman were Panda Express, Grad school, a pool and rec center at the apartment complex and the thought of the girls each having their own rooms (less fighting) - in that order.

So Jon and I made an appointment at this complex with a rental agent. The complex rhymes with Lampus Rommons. The woman who showed us around was really nice and even when she showed us the laundry faciliies (no hook-ups in the four-bedroom) I was undeterred.
We get to the apartment, which is a model so it was furnished with top-notch stuff, the living room is pretty small. The furniture made it look so inviting that we continued in.

Turning the corner to the "dining room" Jon and I had to stifle the giggles. The dining area was no bigger than a shower stall and the kitchen was miniature. When you opened the dishwasher it hit the cabinets on the other side.

It looks bigger in the photo, really.

The bedrooms barely fit a twin bed and dresser and all four were the same size. The agent explained to us that the four-bedrooms were the exact square footage of the two-bedrooms. What were they thinking?
If the living quarters weren't bad enough, the school buses don't even travel that far out so the kids would have to ride public transportation partway to and from school.

Suffice it to say, we will not be renting from them.
The search continues, but now we are strictly looking at houses and I think we are going to stay in Moscow.

Jon and I finally got to go camping all by ourselves this last week. Jon's parents took the kids and we went up the Coeur d'Alene River to Graham Creek. It was so nice to be somewhere quiet. We got to fish and go on a 10 mile hike. I was not catching a thing in the river so I finally convinced Jon to go to Steamboat Pond, where I caught a fish almost everytime I cast out my lure. It was so fun. You could see the fish all chasing after your lure all at once. We also saw a river otter and her two babies, a turtle, and a bald eagle.





The last day of camp a deer went right through our camp and stood there watching Jon cook breakfast. It was really cool. With our Vanagon it is so comfortable to go camping. Jon and I put down the Z-Bed in the back and sleep in the van while all of our gear goes into a tent.

At night Jon and I messed around with the exposure on our camera and took some pretty cool photos with a lantern and the fire. We came back a little earlier than we wanted to because it started to rain and it was pretty wet. After it rains there are hundreds of gigantic snails there. Jon and I gathered a few for a photo shoot.







Next month Kyle is going to Scout Camp and Moira is turning 8 and getting baptized so we will have a busy month. Not to mention that Jon and I both start at the University of Idaho on Aug. 25th. Yeah, I will finally finish that degree that I have been working on forever.

I will blog soon about our new hometown of Moscow, which is turning out to be fantastic. We really love it here.