Moving From Rural to Suburbia
As the boys from Double Diamond Moving and Storage, a company owned by our head freestyle ski couch, unloaded the truck one of them pointed out to me that from the looks of it there was a bear hunt taking place up the street. Looking over I saw a police car with the tale gate opened. In the back was a policeman loading up a shotgun. I approached slowly and from afar sang out sweetly, “You’re not going to shoot a bear now are you?” He looked at me in his dark shades and tried to laugh it off but I persisted until he informed me that there was indeed an aggressive bear on the loose who had been breaking into a house at the end of the street. I wondered what kind of cooking was going on at this house to attract this criminal. I’m thinking that the wildlife townies are more bold than those who choose a more peaceful life in the countryside. We never did hear a shot.
But you can’t hear much in this sweet, sunny house on a corner lot, smack dab in the middle of suburbia where kids play stickball in the streets. When designing our house in Old Snowmass I insisted upon big airy spaces, a big mistake with three boys. As they grow up I realize that basements are an absolute necessity to drown out the boy sounds that include raging Dubstep and crazy Dodgeball. Next summer they are going to be on a sport, no matter the resistance!
Before we purchased the house I leaned against it and bounced off as if shocked by an electrical current, “It’s not wood,” I gasped. I think that Wade gets immense pleasure as he watches my feet get slammed onto the ground with every move and the realization that life is not all about silver spoons and cashmere. “Better to be the worst house on the block than the best,” he announced to me proudly standing in his standard form; architect pencil behind ear, floppy hair spilling out from worn out visor, Carharts fitting loosely over iron hard thighs, arms folded against a beautifully strong chest. What a rock he is, so much so that I have to be careful to not ask him to lift things that are too heavy for I know he’ll do it…whatever it is…refrigerators, bureaus…he’s an ox, as presented to me when I first met him on Halloween.
Remember my dream of living simply? Well, that’s Baddy. As long as he has his family and his bikes…and his skis…he’s happy. After all, it was he who lovingly built our house in the country with his bare hands, I just added the interior touches, which I can do again.
As I dive into boxes and turn the house into a little jewel I deal with the aftershock of moving. It’s the setting up of internet and TV that tops off the move into a completely emotionally draining experience. After being hung up on and transferred in a four hour time span with Century Link I finally found an agent who had some compassion for my plight, “I jusssst neeeeeed my internet hhhhhooked up,” I gasped wanting to hook up to something…anything.
In the midst of it all, Thumper is growing like a weed and I’m not even watering him because he is doing his best to cut the strings from his family and only be with his tribal pack of friends who have all been on the loose for quite some time now. Coming from the Aspen Community School, Thumper is a bit late on the scene and is on the warpath to catch up. “Break us in slowly,” we tell him as we let the leash out and rapidly spool it back in again.
When we finally get him back after a double sleepover we barely recognize him. He gives us attitude, rolling his eyes into the back of his head and saying, “Ohhhh really?” His brothers get the full brunt of it when he unleashes his untapped strength onto them by doing the typewriter for lengthy moments of time..As described by Feisty-One, who is growing tougher from the results of having a big obnoxious puppy dog for a brother, he gets pinned down and then Thumper tap, tap, taps his fingers on his chest, ending with a DING, which is a slap across the face.
When Hootie-Hoo looks all confused, wondering where his Thumper has gone, I explain to him that he’ll be back, but at the moment he’s morphing into a bit of a monster and we all have to be patient.
Wine helps. Instead of getting irritated I slip into the humor of Thumper’s new guise that he’s trying on at the moment, but I don’t fall for it and in the end his sweetness returns.
And so we move on and life continues all around us as we discover leaks and mold and unpack all the candlesticks because our lights are not working and I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that we are happy in our new home, despite the glitches. We’ll see if this happiness stays ignited once we break into the walls to fix the problems.
Tweenagers! (Click here to watch Thumper’s home-made Video encapsulating his talents)