I'm sure it's been said before, but I don't like moving. Maybe it's partly an oldest child phenomenon (apparently, oldest children are more resistant to change). Right now it's mostly that I'm sick of boxes. In a couple of weeks, once the reality and finality of the move has set in, I imagine it will be because I miss Pennsylvania. But I've already said enough on that head in my last post.
Let's see. What do we have to report this week? Very little, I'm afraid. Dan spent most of the week working hard on his dissertation, coming home most nights at midnight, or later. Yesterday morning he reported that something strange had happened on his way home: a policeman had stopped someone driving a truck, and flashed his flashlight on Dan as he passed; a few hundred yards further down the street he spotted a policeman with a dog inspecting the bushes. We found out why later that morning: the front page news of the local paper announced that there had been a robbery at a pizza place just a few blocks away from us, and, as the suspect fled on foot, police had cordoned off our whole neighborhood for a search.
Andrew, surprisingly, has seemed strangely unfazed by the move, remaining his usual chipper self even as his toys have been gradually disappearing. (Of course, in the absence of toys he can always find something to get into). We're learning too that we have to be careful what we say around him, as he has a pretty retentive little memory. The other day, as we were driving down Park Avenue in State College, Dan mentioned something about the street being closed off near the stadium. Andrew immediately piped up: "Pah, pah" and wouldn't relent for a while. We finally figured out it was because he had picked up on "park," and not unnaturally assumed that was where we were going. And of course, the park is a favorite destination, not only for the playground, but because of his newest fascination in the animal kingdom: "gurl." And no, we're not talking about the female half of the species homo sapiens--we're talking here about squirrels, which run rampant in our neighborhood and are nearly as exciting to chase as bunnies, with about as much success. Last time we went to the park, Andrew spent most of the time chasing a hapless squirrel that didn't have the sense to just climb a tree, but kept scampering from tree to tree to elude the terrible toddler in its wake.
This has also been a week where most of our limited socializing was done at farewell parties: Monday night I went to a farewell party for a good friend from school and his wife--they've just taken a job at a university near Palmyra, NY (one of the first things they told me about their new area was that there was lots of Mormon historical stuff in the area, which, of course, I already sort of suspected . . .). Friday evening I went to another farewell party (you'll notice that a lot of this socializing was solo: Monday Dan offered to stay home with Andrew, although I offered to find a babysitter; Friday night Dan was still at lab and a friend from my department sat in our empty apartment while Andrew slept--and then, of course, when I got back we proceeded to talk about books and Harry Potter for another couple hours!). This time the party was for our good friends the Sturgeons and their daughter Gaby--I suppose it was also in a sense for us (we were mentioned in the invitation), but we didn't find out about it until we got the invitation, and of course, Dan couldn't go--he even, sadly, had to turn down an exclusive guy's card night at the Hanscom's, which I'm sure was a sacrifice for him. Saturday night we went to yet another party at the Hanscom's--this time we all went. It was fun to see so many of our good friends from the area, but it was also pretty challenging to keep Andrew out of trouble. Since, of course, he couldn't sit still, he went from one hazard (the stairs) to another (trying to turn off the TV) to another (attempting to grab things from the table). Finally, we resorted to our usual M.O. at the Hanscom's--we set up his pack-n-play in the "Mountain Man" room. After rocking him for nearly half an hour (and with Andrew increasingly sleepy), I made the fatal mistake of putting him awake in his crib, where he not unnaturally started to cry. In the past, he's usually cried for a little while before going to sleep. This time, however, he cried for a little while until he threw up, all over his pack-n-play (but luckily not on Celie's carpet, or they might have never let us come back!). Of course, part of this may not have been just the crying, but the two hotdogs he ate for dinner . . .
Anyway, this necessitated a quicker departure than we would have liked, but was probably just as well, for Dan's sake. After we got home, he helped me unload the remaining items from our attic, and then headed up to campus to work for another 5 or 6 hours on the endless process that is the dissertation . . .
And I guess this post ended up being longer than I anticipated--that's the problem when you're just naturally chatty in prose (or you're an English major, which amounts to the same thing).
By this time next week, Andrew and I will have arrived in Provo and will have moved on to Park City, UT, and Dan will be staying with Adam Dean, a kind friend of ours who graciously offered Dan a place to stay for a few weeks, as he finishes his dissertation and prepares for his defense.
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