Welcome to 2023!

Well, here we are in 2023! 

It feels like the last year was one long blur of activity. I guess it often feels that way, looking back at the past year, but this past year was truly an action-packed one for me. 2022 was a year of big transitions, of difficult goodbyes, of new adventures and of doors opening. 

The year started with a whole lot of preparation to leave my home of 20+ years in Healdsburg, California. It was a lovely home in a lovely town, but it was time to leave both. I have good memories, especially of Miss C as a little kid and all of the adventures we had there. But it was our married, family home -- and after the marriage ended, it felt a bit like I was living in a place that didn't fit anymore.   

 

So, there was a whole lot of fixing and freshening to get the house ready to sell.

When I pulled up this photo of the house with its newly-painted look, I spotted the 250 gallon water tote off to the right of the driveway. Like many of my neighbors around town, I'd gotten that so that we could take advantage of the city's free weekly delivery of recycled water during the drought months. Over the past few years, the city had severely restricted household water use and prohibited most garden watering. That recycled water allowed me to keep the trees and shrubs in the yard alive, even while everything else turned brown and died. Yikes. Six months in the rainy Pacific Northwest and I'd already forgotten about the recycled water. 

Inside, the house went from a home filled with color and much-loved personal decor to a beige, neutral "anyone could live here" staged look. Accomplishing that involved more painting (beige!), a lot of studying home decor blogs, and pulling out every wood, woven, brown, neutral thing I could find. My realtor was stunned when she saw the result, and apparently got inquiries about which professional stager she had used. And it did look rather inviting, if I do say so myself. Not like my house (again, BEIGE) but kind of peaceful.

All that preparation meant no sewing or quilting. This autumn leaf quilt was a gift for my sister and was the last quilt that came off of the longarm before it was dismantled to store and then move. (My realtor kept asking if "the loom" was out of the bedroom yet. It made me laugh every time.)

 

After much contemplation about how to protect the frame during pre-sale storage and moving, I decided that the solution was pool noodles. Brilliant, eh?  I ordered a box of them, and wrapped the rails with split noodles, batting and garbage bags. It worked beautifully. When the frame was reassembled just last month, every piece was in perfect condition. Not a single nick or scratch.  

 

 

2022 also had an unexpected interruption for surgery. In the midst of all of that prep work, I managed to fall and break my wrist. Ouch. (I tripped over a garden hose while I was in the process of clearing things away so my handyman wouldn't trip and hurt himself. Yes, really.) Luckily, that happened just after the realtor's photographer had already taken the listing photographs, so the house was staged and clean and ready, and all I had to do was not mess anything up. The wrist break, and eventual surgery to pin things back together, pretty much ensured that I wasn't going to do any messing up at all. I did a whole lot of TV watching and reading instead.

A wonderful benefit of that unexpected event was how many longtime friends came to my aid. They helped pack, and took car loads of stuff to Goodwill, delivered boxes of books to the library to donate, and helped make the parched backyard look decent with potted flowers. It was very humbling and lovely to have friends step up -- and it was really, really helpful. I truly don't know what I would have done without them.   

Did I mention that 2022 also brought another feline member to our family? This is Kaya. Admittedly, it was not the best time to adopt a new pet, what with the chaos of packing and house-showing and an upcoming move out of state. But when "your" pet shows up, you know. And Caroline just knew. So we figured it out, and our other critters (cat Maybel and relentlessly friendly golden retrievers Rosie and Starlie) accepted her gracefully into the family. 

Somewhere in all of that activity, I worked with a Whidbey Island realtor and found a house that looked ideal for me, Miss C, and our critter crew. After home tours and negotiations and inspections, not to mention a whole lot of paperwork, it was mine.  

 

 So, it was time to say goodbye to Healdsburg, with some sadness and a whole lot of relief, actually. It was a good family community when we got there, but it has changed a lot and become so touristy and fancy and money-obsessed over the last 20 years. It didn't feel like a place I wanted to be any more.

Speaking of friends, when it came time to make the trek from  northern California to Whidbey Island, Washington, two more dear friends volunteered to help with the adventure. This is us back in our U.C. Irvine college days, circa 1979 or so. We were so young! Moe flew up from Anaheim and helped me pack, and Beth stopped on her way back from her travels to help us drive up to Washington.

  

Moe and I (and the dogs) rode together, singing along to a 1970's music station (our college decade) for most of the trip, and Caroline and the cats kept Beth company. Here we are, a mere 40 years later, posing in front of my new house.

  

So the early summer found me unpacking, and exploring a bit, and trying to figure out where to put things and how to turn a house full of boxes into a functional home.  

This summer, my sister, dad and I said a final goodbye to my mom after a rapid health decline. I was glad to be there during the week before she died, and she knew she was home and that we were all there with her. It was, all things considered, as good as it could have been. I know my mom and my brother are together, surrounded by the wonderful family dogs we had over the years, and probably playing cards with grandparents and great aunts and uncles. 

Miss C and I spent our first autumn on Whidbey Island, and I realized with a shock that I'd not actually enjoyed autumn in quite a few years. Autumn in Sonoma County means drought and fire season, with  evacuation readiness a constant necessity. It was a huge improvement to our quality of life to leave that behind. And as some of you have read here on this blog, I have had a great time exploring the local farmers' market and autumn offerings.

 In November, we survived a 3+ day power outage after a massive windstorm brought down tree limbs and power lines.  I'd had a generator purchase in the works, but now it's installed and ready to click on at the next power outage. I think I've just guaranteed that South Whidbey won't have an outage for a while. 

I also joined the local quilt guild, and felt like I'd found my tribe! I am looking forward to making new friends. Quilters tend to be very nice people.

December brought Bernina technicians to my house to get my longarm up and running again, so I've been having a great time reacquainting myself. I've finished two quilts since then, nothing fancy but simple quilts that were fun to get done, and I just loaded up another today. 

First Whidbey Christmas was great fun, and even provided a white almost-Christmas snow storm. It made for several magical (if very icy) days. Oh, how I love the snow.

 

 

Beth (see college friend, above) joined us for Christmas with her new young lab Finn, so there was much dog romping and laughing and a whole lot of nibbling on holiday food.  

 

2023 promises to be a quieter year, but with continued exploring of our new home. 

I wish you comfort, creativity, and joy in the coming year!