Unfortunately, due to the crazy nature of the last five days, I couldn’t sit down every night and record what went on each day. I have forgotten some things and this is really not near as funny or traumatic as it really was: you’ll have to use your imaginations. I’ll try to keep things in chronological order though, so you’ll want to continue bouncing back between December 1
st and eternity, for the whole story
After a very trying four months of wrestling with mortgage companies, lenders and agents of all sorts, I believe we finally closed on our new farmette! Well, actually, I know we did because I now have to drive a very different route to work on the days I don’t telecommute.
The place is great! I can’t wait to share pictures and other stories, but between trying to clean, unpack, work full time and not lose fingers in the frigid weather, it’s been hard to hold a camera and snap photos. The weather snuck up on me this year—not quite as bad as last year (please refer to the November 2010 posts for that) and having to learn a new routine with the animals, etc., is keeping us very busy. But, I’m getting ahead of myself.
Some of you know that Mr. H was adamant about not hiring movers. For months I pleaded with him but he refused. I finally had him worn down the Saturday morning before we thought we would indeed move. We talked with an awesome company called A-1 Movers in Sauk City. (I highly recommend them: they’re customer service was impeccable). An hour later, Mr. H got cold feet and chest pain. Then, my chest pain returned. Oh well, give and take. So, December 3rd rolls around…
The original plan of having Farmer Ron call in a few small favors and bring a crew of Amish guys to help us move was what we ended up with…and I’m so very glad we did. My dad had to work that morning so my stepmom, Dawn, graciously drove to Amish country (20 minutes from where we live now), retrieved our moving crew, and drove them two hours south to Bluebird Hollow to help us load the 26-foot truck. Mr. H and I had only met one of the guys before, so we had a house full of Amish strangers and I was praying to God, Jesus and Mary, that my Tourette’s syndrome wouldn’t kick up! I did not want to be responsible for an entire colony of pure people knowing words they were never intended to hear. But I digress…(Oh and one more thing: due to the beliefs in Amish society, I was unable to take any photos in order to capture the moment...ahem, Seneca...).
In all truthfulness my dad and Mr. H were right: hiring my dad’s friends were the way to go. I should not have wasted four months worrying about having to put forth so much labor. Why am I so lazy? Surely I am not my father’s daughter. The moving crew was no more than a group of lanky youngsters, and our friend who is a few years younger than me and not a very big guy either. I was very skeptical when they walked in; granted, they were all almost six feet tall—with the exception of our friend—but they weren’t big ox-like farm hands such as I expected. These other three boys ranged in age from 17 to probably 25. One a schoolteacher, one a logger, and a canvas shop craftsman. Looks are completely deceiving. I looked away to point to something for Dawn, and when I looked back at the baby grand piano, it was already up on its side on a skid board. The four Amish guys made everything look simple; they had clearly done this before; and, never did one of them complain, whine or groan. That’s okay: I did a lot of it for them.
When we finally took a break for lunch (they refused to eat until they “did some work first,” I surprised everyone with a big party platter from Subway. This may be a bit stereotypical, but from what I’ve seen and listening to my dad talk, the Amish really enjoy sandwiches from Subway.
We all stood around the kitchen island and crammed in 2 or 3 sandwiches a piece, an entire jar of Dawn’s homemade pickles, and, we encountered a new, exotic ice cream flavor. I don’t remember how we even got on the subject of ice cream…ah yes, I do! Mr. H was so generously sharing some of the many boxes of Girl Scout cookies (thanks Sue—hear the sarcasm?), as our dessert and I had said the Thin Mints were my favorite. The schoolteacher perked up and asked me if I liked mint chip ice cream? I told him, “Sure, but my favorite flavor of all time is Blue Moon.” This led to a discussion of just exactly what blue moon tasted like and then I remembered that I had just picked up a pint of it at my favorite fast food restaurant: Culver’s. Yum.
Having packed, well, everything I handed everyone a plastic spoon and we all passed around this little container of bright blue, frozen sugariness. The guys were quite impressed. It brought a lot of smiles and we laughed—which we had been doing all day anyway.
It was then time to lock and load—so to speak. We locked up the house, told the dogs we’d be back, and for the three “Englishers” (it’s what Amish people call us) who possessed drivers’ licenses, we each took a couple of movers with us. I think they strategically placed everyone where they felt comfortable, so our friend and the youngest boy came with me in Bill’s pickup, the schoolteacher with my stepmom, and the logger with Bill. (Incidentally, I am purposely not using anyone’s name out of respect. I doubt that I would have permission to use their names).
I hope the 17-year old isn’t traumatized for life after riding up to our new place with me. Our friend was in the front seat and we were chatting away about any number of things such as our previous life in Arizona, idiot drivers, goats, monster trucks, you know, the usual stuff.
All in all, our Amish moving crew was with us for almost 12 hours and didn’t get paid near what they are worth, but I hope they realize how grateful Mr. H and I are, because without them we would never have been able to move into our house so quickly. We consider them all good friends of our now, and we even have a couple of them going to Arizona with us in the spring, hopefully. The logger and his new bride would like to accompany Mr. H and I when we go to retrieve some of the items we left down in Tucson. Can you imagine the four of us in Bill’s truck?
More stories to come. That’s all I have energy for right now. Moving really takes it out of you.
