So, a lot of you have sent into to my queries about what I should post about, with pleas to know more about the Northwest. Honored as I am that you are so curious, I don't exactly think I'm the expert you're looking for. I have barely been here 3 years, and my experience, though wild and crazy, has not been normal. Not by a long shot.

That said, maybe I'll start at the beginning? Or the end? I guess I'll start with the house.

Two years ago, family decided to make a giant move some 1,2000 miles up to the top of the US. We wanted away from the hustle and bustle, to live a simpler life. So we did. We packed our beds and towels and shovels and tools (a dog and a rabbit), and spent nearly 5 days driving those miles.

Someday I should tell the story of our first day on the road. Flat tire(s) were absolutely involved.

Once we arrived, it took us six months to find a rental. We had to move from housesitting to housesitting, sometimes only staying for a week at a time. It was nuts. Finally in the fall, my parents found "the last rental on the face of the Northwest". An old, half-lit trailer on a small square of land. The perks? We could build a fence around the yard. The landlord didn't care if we painted. So paint and scrub and nail we did. We moved in and spent two winters there. I hated the way it looked, but it had a roof. I made a habit of taking all my projects to my brother's bed because that's where the best sunlight was. It felt like home only because it was a constant.

Meanwhile, my parents diligently searched for a house. I promise you: they looked at every listing within an 50 miles. But every property was "too" something. Too expensive. Too far. Too close to the highway. We'd look at others just to find the next day someone had already bought it.

#funtimes

Long, long story short. My dad found a listing and took us kids to peek inside the windows. We loved it's space, the log walls and wood floors, the big vaulted windows. He put in an offer and we waited. . .it was agony, this waiting. Many times, I thought we wouldn't get it. But miraculously in February, papers were signed and we were handed keys. We moved in right before Pandemic World hit. My first weeks of quarantine were spent unpacking boxes, and then realizing that I had nowhere to put my books because I'd sold my bookshelves. I set plants on the window sills, and watched as they thrived in the sun. I went thrift shopping for spoons and plates (we'd donated almost all our excess kitchenware before the move). Someone gave us a set of kitchen chairs.

I vividly remember coming home from work and scrubbing the grime from the oven my parents had bought 2 or 3 months after we moved in. I have precious videos: my brother chopping at a tree and us screaming when it falls. Never would I imagine myself digging trenches to run electrical and propane lines, or coming home at night to realize that gosh I probably can't shower because everyone else already did.

If I'm honest, finding and getting into this house had been both the biggest adjustment and hardest part. This is true of my Northwest journey, as well as my life journey. We're coming into our first winter in this place and I've mentioned before my apprehension about all the not-knowing's I have. Thankfully, it's cold enough we don't have to run the fridge. I think our driveway is only going to get worse, though. I'm already noticing things I should have made time for, and I really really want ten thousand dollars to clear up all the little quirks we keep having to deal with. *shrug*

Living in the Northwest has felt the same as "finding a freakin house" and now that we have one, it feels like there's a new journey begining. One in which I become so so well practiced in living here that I don't get nervous when the forecast says "snowstorm".

keep me posted: what else should I share about for this series?
type your questions and ideas below. trust me, I am open to all of them