After a quiet and restful New Year’s Eve, I greet 2025 with gratitude and enthusiasm. The last 12 months proved to be a bit of a whirlwind.

We started the year in our rental townhouse, feeling at loose ends while we contemplated where we’d spend the next chapter in our lives. January brought a snowpocalypse that blanketed the neighborhood with snowflakes atop a sheet of ice. But for the requirement of walking the dog, we stayed indoors. Even Brodie found our circumstances challenging as he couldn’t gain footing on the slick surface.

We thought we’d hit the housing jackpot in March when we found a home under construction in a nearby neighborhood. We loved the floor plan and got in on the deal in time to choose the interiors. A new road into the neighborhood would connect us to a shopping center, a fitness club, and medical offices. And we were both anxious to put down roots. It seemed perfect… until it wasn’t. The builder didn’t deliver on what they’d marketed, and we decided to take the financial hit and walk. It was the low point of the year as we thought: Now what do we do?

A dear friend invited us for a visit to Colorado and stay in her place while she traveled to Canada. We hadn’t seen her for several years, so the opportunity to catch up and check out another would-be homestead proved irresistible. And we’d benefit from her expertise as a veteran real estate agent. Long story short: We found the perfect house within 24 hours of touching down at Denver International Airport. Who knew?!?

Having closed on the property in late September, we set about the task of navigating the interstate move. We settled on U-Haul U-boxes as our means of transporting our stuff and had an outstanding experience with the two independent contractors who handled the physical move at both ends. The only minor inconvenience was the two-week transit time which passed pleasantly with family visits in Eagle, ID and Fort Collins, CO. Along the way, I cranked up the change-of-address machine which I’d grooved with our move the prior year and arranged for closing out utilities in one place and opening them up in another. But for some unpleasantness getting Internet service working, that aspect of the move proceeded smoothly. I’d worried about establishing relationships with doctors, but having a good friend in the area made that transition go much smoother than I’d anticipated. As of this writing, we’re all set!

We’ve made our new home in the Anthem Ranch 55+ community. It supports 1300+ homes, a 32,000 square foot lodge (pictured above) with a gaggle of amenities, 90+ social clubs, and nearly 50 miles of walking trails. In the not-quite-three-months that we’ve been here:

• We’ve met our neighbors and joined two neighborhood social groups.
• We established relationships with outstanding personal trainers, and my husband has found an exercise class that suits him to a tee. (The view of the snow-capped Rocky Mountains from the second story of the fitness center is breathtaking!)
• I’ve joined three dance classes – line dancing, tap dancing, and ballet for seniors – and will be teaching the beginning line dancing class in 2025.
• We’ve made friends through the Friday meditation group, and I’ll run a few sessions of mindfulness meditation while our “snowbird leaders” are in Florida.
• I found a duplicate bridge partner who is as nice as she can be and an outstanding card player to boot.

And we’ve just gotten started exploring what the club has to offer!

We’ve also forged a lovely connection with my brother and his extended family (which has become OUR extended family). He and his wife were stellar helpers with the move, providing able assistance with unpacking, picture hanging, and odd jobs to fix the place up. We enjoyed marvelous holiday celebrations for Thanksgiving and Christmas and are heading up for New Year’s football and feasting today. We haven’t lived near one another since college, and I am beyond grateful for the opportunity to make many new memories in the coming years.

We are so blessed. I can’t wait to see what 2025 will bring!

On November 5, 2024, eligible voters in the United States will cast ballots to elect our next President and Vice President. It has been a tediously long election cycle with the deciding votes likely to originate from the seven battleground states: Arizona, Georgia, Michigan, Nevada, North Carolina, Pennsylvania, and Wisconsin. So, what makes them battlegrounds?

U.S. elections are not determined strictly by popular vote; they’re determined by votes cast in the Electoral College. Each State gets as many votes in the Electoral College as they have U.S. Senators and U.S. Representatives; the District of Columbia gets 3 electoral votes. In 48 states and Washington D.C., candidates with a majority popular vote in the State or District get all of the electoral votes; Maine and Nebraska assign their electoral votes proportionally. A candidate needs at least 270 electoral votes to be declared a victor.

Forty-three states plus the District of Columbia reliably yield their votes candidates from one of the two major political parties. Popular vote in the seven aforementioned battleground states could go either way. These electoral votes provide the tipping point for that all-important 270-vote tally. Here’s how they rolled in the past few elections:

Not surprisingly, the candidates spend most of their time and money campaigning in those states.

But here’s an interesting wrinkle to the election story. Voter turnout over the past 40 years has been rather anemic with participation peaking at 66% in the last presidential election.

Given the slim margins that determine the winner-take-all-stakes in the battleground states, a party that excels in getting out the vote in these states could turn the tide of the election.

A good friend put me on to a company that uses post cards to encourage voter participation. I signed on as one of 296,000 volunteers who mailed 40 million post cards to voters in swing states. On each of the 500 post cards I addressed by hand, I personally thanked people for registering to vote, encouraged them to make a plan for voting on November 5th, and assured them that every vote matters.

Elections are consequential moments in the life of a country. This year seems all the more important given the disparity in vision and plans that each party has brought to the table. I hope every voter takes the duties as citizens to heart.

Every vote matters.

After two weeks on the road, we made it to Colorado. We had a lovely visit with my husband’s sister and family in Boise ID, an overnight stay in Wyoming, and another grand visit with my brother and his family. We enjoyed their gracious hospitality and the opportunity to catch a breath before engaging in the flurry of activity to get settled.

We had a great experience shipping our stuff with U-Boxes through U-Haul. Through their Moving Helpers program, we were put in contact with independent contractors on both ends of the trip. The Portland folks brought the boxes to our townhouse, loaded them up, and delivered them to the U-Haul depot. (They did an amazing job utilizing every square inch of space and thereby reducing our storage needs by one quarter.) U-Haul transported them to a Colorado depot. The Denver folks brought the boxes to our new home, unloaded them, and returned the empty containers to the depot. Everything made it here without a scratch (and for a very reasonable price). I have nothing but great things to say about the experience.

For the past two weeks, we’ve been unpacking, putting pictures on the wall (with several more left to go), restocking our supplies, and getting ourselves established in community. My brother and his wife spent a couple of days with us as stellar helpers. Their able assistance proved a major shot in the arm when things felt a bit overwhelming and made the process more fun. And, of course, the move from Oregon to Colorado has meant:

• New utilities and household contractors
• All new doctors and dentist
• A new veterinarian, groomer, and County registration for our dog
• New Driver’s licenses and vehicle registration
• New voter registration (in time for the election!)
• A new banking relationship
• A HUGE number of address changes

I’ve gotten great referrals from a dear friend who moved here a few years ago and from our new neighbors who’ve stopped by to welcome us to the area. It has made us feel like the big, scary move isn’t so big and scary after all.

We’ve been blessed with fantastic weather while doing all of our running around. The season of snow will be upon us all too soon, and this California girl will likely be a bit tentative with her driving until she gets the hang if it. It’ll be nice to be settled in before the first snowflakes fall.

After all is said and done, we love the new house and the new neighborhood. We feel great about our decision to move here, and look forward to what this next chapter of life will bring.

Our final week in the Greater Portland Metro Area was a whirlwind of activity – bidding farewell to the people and places that have meant so much to us and tending to the final details of the big move.

Thinking back, our tenure as Beaverton residents provided the opportunity to become immersed in community. I joined the Beaverton Chamber of Commerce shortly after we arrived and was a member of the Leadership Beaverton Class of 2012. My husband and I are graduates of the Beaverton Citizen’s Police Academy which equipped us to serve as safety services volunteers. I participated in the Community Emergence Response Team program. And we both completed training as Washington County Master Gardeners.

We were drawn to the Beaverton Farmers Market the first time we visited the area and counted ourselves among the regular attendees. It’s a GREAT market with tons of fresh produce, fish, meat, sweets, beverages (spirited and otherwise), flowers, and crafts as well as a host of places to order up breakfast or lunch. The May through September season offered live music each week with our final visit featuring a Marimba band. I’ll miss it!

I was a member of ISing Choir for 10+ years. This Beaverton-based ensemble offered a diverse collective of choral music while shining a spotlight on and collecting donations for local charities. To date, the total amount of charitable giving by the group, its audience, and its matching fund donors exceeds $400,000. Beyond the great music and good works, the group brought many, many special people into my life with whom I hope to sustain lasting friendships.

With a few tears in our eyes, we watched as our expert movers loaded up our belongings in three tightly-packed U-Haul boxes last Friday. It was a wonder that it all fit! Three cheers for their skill and our downsizing efforts!

While the boxes make their 12-day journey to Colorado, we are breaking up the long drive with family visits in Eagle, ID and Fort Collins, CO… with an additional overnight stay in Rock Springs, WY. As the fatigue gradually lifts, I’m feeling the weight of closing this chapter of our lives. Oregon was good to us, and we’re grateful for all the wonderful times we had there.

And now, onward to Colorado!

My husband and I traveled over Labor Day to visit family and a dear friend. We also planned to look at some properties to see if they struck our fancy. Lo and behold, we wound up finding the perfect house in the perfect community on Day One! We’ve been scrambling ever since to prepare for the big move. Here are some of the bigger ticket items on the to-do list:

Making provisions for health care: When crossing state lines, our Medicare supplement no longer provides coverage. We got a referral to an outstanding health insurance broker who explained our options, walked us through the application process, and provided follow through with the providers. Our dear friend provided a referral to an excellent Primary Care Physician, and we’ve set up our new patient appointments in November. Meanwhile, we’ve made the rounds with our existing doctors and dentist to make sure there’s nothing that requires attention. We also arranged for prescription refills should it take a while to get established. (I’ve got our dog covered as well!)

Making arrangements for the physical move: Given accessibility issues in our neighborhood, we knew that a giant moving van was simply not going to work. We thought about renting a truck, hiring strong backs for loading/unloading, and driving with the able assistance of my older brother. But it’s a really long haul, and driving a loaded truck is not much fun. So, we opted for U-Haul boxes with loading and unloading service. While parted from our belongings, we’ll visit family and relax while making our way to the final destination. It’ll be just rewards after all the work it’s taking to pack all our stuff.

Downsizing: I’ve been on this soap box for years and navigated a major effort when we sold our home a year-plus ago. We still managed to identify quite a bit of stuff that either won’t fit in our new home and/or presented a nontrivial risk of breakage along the way. We donated some large items to charity, gave away quite a bit more through the local Buy Nothing Facebook Group, and made two Goodwill runs. There’s still stuff that should go, but I’ll wait for the unpacking phase to deal with them. We need to press on!

Working through purchasing our home: Much has happened with technology since we went through our last housing transaction. This one will complete without a visit to the title office. We’ve signed a gaggle of documents electronically and had our first experience using a Virtual Notary Public! I’ve also been busy with the financing side of things as enthusiasm alone won’t get it done! Our agent will provide streaming video so we can walk through the house virtually the day before closing and ensure all action items have been addressed. It’s a little strange but wonderfully convenient.

Saying good-bye: We have so many wonderful friends here! We’ve been doing our best to see folks before we leave town. It’s the hardest part of the big move. Some will be part of regular gatherings on Zoom so that we can stay in close touch. Others will simply find a cozy place in our memory. They’ve all made the years we’ve spent here really special.

It has been a year since we sold our home and placed ourselves in a holding pattern until we figured out what we wanted to do. At the time, we knew that our humble abode was too much house and too much yard for our stage of life. The market and neighborhood favored sale, and we were rewarded with three offers within 24 hours of listing. For icing on the cake, we were delighted with the folks who purchased our home and have confidence that they will enjoy it as much as we did.

We got lucky on the rental property. It readily accommodates our downsized stuff. It’s a short walking distance to a shopping center, a wonderful gym, and lovely nature trails. Our landlord is a gem, and we’ve forged a nice connection with our next-door neighbor. Most of the time, it’s quiet.

While I’ll confess to hankering for a place to call our own, I’m grateful for having made the decision to have this year in limbo.

We needed to rest and recharge. The months leading up to our home sale were angsty as we contemplated making a major life change. Downsizing was effortful and a bit sorrowful. I suspect there was some grieving that went along with our change in circumstances. And, of course, it was effortful to pack, empty of the house, and move everything to a new location. (We U-Hauled all the boxes and manageable furnishings!) Amidst the turmoil, we realized that neither of us had the wherewithal to make another major decision. We needed to just chill out.

We needed to reflect on how we wanted to live during the next phase of our lives. Let’s face it. Once you reach a certain age, having a vibrant social life gets harder. And since socialization looms large in sustaining cognitive function, lifestyle considerations become as critical as housing decisions. I’ve had my fingers in a lot of pies, but several organizational affiliations have attenuated recently. My introverted husband could use a more hospitable setting especially given that he no longer drives. So, we’re taking a serious look at 55+ communities as well as those with high walkability and access to senior-friendly activities.

We needed to figure out where we wanted to live. We have lots of friends in this area but no extended family. Having gone through end-of-life management with both parents, I understand the value of having relatives nearby. Our exploration to date has included several visits to Washington and Idaho; we’re planning a trip to Colorado. Because an out-of-state move would prove daunting, we really needed to consider whether we had the stomach for it. We’ve done two cross-country moves in or married life. I’ve got the mechanics of relocation down and a pretty good idea of how I’d get enmeshed in community. Healthcare presents challenges given the number of doctors on our team and the difficulty getting appointments with them. Some practices are so busy that they aren’t taking new patients! That’s an extra layer of research for the planning phase. Mercifully, we’re both in a stable situation at the moment, so we could afford a few months of lag time getting established with new physicians.

We needed to get our financial house in order. I’ve always paid close attention to the family income, expenses, and balance sheet. We’ve lived within our means and established a decent nest egg on which to retire. That being said, end of life brings a new set of expenses and risks, and some senior housing options are really, really expensive. I’ve added some sophistication to my financial planning model, and we’ve worked with a financial advisor to adjust our investment portfolio to suit future needs. We can base our housing decision on a clear understanding of what we can and can’t afford.

I’d still like to be settled and moving forward into the next phase of our lives, but I’m glad we didn’t rush into a decision that we might have regretted. I’ve recognized that we’re not simply transitioning from a bigger-house-bigger-yard to a smaller-house-smaller-yard. We’re setting ourselves up for healthy aging in an environment that supports changing needs as they arise. And that takes a little time and planning.

The most recent module in my Mindfulness Meditation Teacher Certification Program concerned death and dying. It hearkened back to the training and clinical experience I received as a hospital chaplain. And I recalled stories that have stayed with me ever since.

The hospital’s policy called for the presence of a chaplain at every code blue and death. I took the first 24-hour shift among my peer group during which I was summoned to three deaths all with mourners my age – a wife saying good-bye to her husband, siblings witnessing the passing of a parent, and a sister at the bedside of her brother. I was anxious about doing and saying the right thing and a little triggered at being present in circumstances that could easily have been my own. Yet once I found myself in the moment, I realized that all I need do was be a loving and caring presence. That was enough.

Some weeks later, a 62-year man entered the ER having suffered what would become a fatal heart attack. He was Pakistani, and his family arrived shortly after he was pronounced dead. The women were dressed in traditional garb, and all but one of the family members were not English speaking. As I entered the ER and took in the scene, I had all kinds of noise going on in my head. I don’t speak their language. I’m not the right faith tradition. They won’t want me to intrude on their privacy. Yet I was duty bound to enter the space and express my condolences. The gentleman’s wife was sitting up by his head and holding his hand. I bent down to her ear and whispered, “I am so very sorry for your loss.” She reached her arm around my head and pulled me close to hers as we both wept. Then it hit me: We’re just two women brought together to share in a common experience of grief. Our differences don’t matter; our care for one another does.

Even families have difficulty knowing what to do at the end. A large one had gathered in the ICU for what was to be the final hour of their beloved patriarch’s life. They stood anxiously in the crowed space waiting for his passing… which didn’t come. As they started to disperse, I asked that they share stories about him. I found out that he loved singing in his church choir. I remembered that we had several hymnals in the chaplain’s office and brought them back to the room. The family selected song after song of his favorites and sang to him. He passed peacefully amidst this choir of angels.

Another gentleman kept vigil at the bedside of his lifelong friend and would not leave until he passed. Neither had family to which they were close, so it was an especially sorrowful time. The staff called for my support as they expected the patient to pass momentarily. Even though it was the end of my shift, I decided to stay until the end. I heard stories of how they met and all the adventures that they’d shared together. They both loved music, and the patient was especially fond of opera. As I was working up several arias at the time in my voice lessons, I sang several of them softly. (I felt silly doing it, but my supervisor suggested that we use all of our gifts in ministry. It seemed to be meaningful in this instance.) Fours hours later, the patient was still with us. I finally had to go home. Fifteen minutes after I left, the man passed and another chaplain provided prayer and support. It was as if the patient wanted to be a good host – or simply enjoyed the stimulation of our spirited conversation – and only departed when things quieted down. I was so sorry that I wasn’t there at the end.

Having been the attending chaplain for over a hundred deaths, I found a sense of peace at being in the midst of grief at the end of life. It helped me be present for my beloved father when he passed in 2016. His health had been faltering for several days, and he had endured an especially difficult night when I arrived that morning. He held my hand and settled in to his last few hours of life. I whispered in his ear, “You are the best father in the whole world.” With his characteristic sense of humor, he replied, “Are you sure you checked them all?” Those were the last words he spoke. He knew he was loved.

It is our natural tendency to avoid pain and suffering – our own and that of others. We fear wading into those waters, and our anxiety may cause us to try to may the anguish go away. It’s why so many folks rely on platitudes such as: “He’s in a better place.” “God must have wanted her in heaven.” “They wouldn’t want you to be sad.” Yet our hearts break and have their own time for healing and finding solace. What we most need are those who can “sit in the mud” with us. Care, compassion, love. It’s not so hard.

A few weeks ago, a piece of click bait showed up on my Facebook feed that directed me to a clip from America’s Got Talent. I took the bait and watched a lithe 30-year-old woman with a pixie haircut take the stage. When greeted and asked how she was doing, she said: “I’m awesome. I’m so happy to be here.” She planned to offer an original song entitled It’s OK which captured the last year of her life. Come to find out that she has been dealing with cancer for several years, and the disease has metastasized to her lungs, spine, and liver. But there she was, radiant, seemingly full of life.

Her song and performance were riveting – I’ve watched it at least a dozen times – and garnered rave reviews from the four judges. Even the ofttimes acerbic Simon Cowell was rendered temporarily speechless by her artistry and strength of character. In response, she said:

“You can’t wait until life isn’t hard anymore before you decide to be happy.”

That’s my touchstone for today’s post. Because at this moment, there are a lot of dark clouds in my weather system. Dear friends are dealing with suffering and loss. The organizations with which I am involved have challenges and uncertain futures. The geopolitical landscape is awash in conflict with deep fissures in my country. Millions across the globe cry out to have their basic needs met. Mother Earth is in distress. And yet:

“You can’t wait until life isn’t hard anymore before you decide to be happy.”

While you may not – at this moment – be in a place to heed this advice, there are really good reasons to give it a go.

Happiness guru Dr. Sonja Lyubomirsky of the University of California at Riverside tells us: “When we experience joy… we feel ready to take on the world, are more mindful, creative, and open to new experiences, feel more trust and oneness with intimate others, believe that life is more meaningful, and have the sense of being captains of our own ships.” Moreover, positive emotions give rise to positive thoughts. So, whether you want to tackle the world’s problems, your family’s or community’s problems, or your own challenges, being happy gives you the best chance of doing it well. Besides, it just feels good.

When I’m happy, I experience a lightness of being. Face open, perhaps with a smile. Brows relaxed. Chest, shoulders, and belly at ease. Restful breathing. Feeling connected to those around me. Feeling safe in this world. Being right here, right now. Free from thoughts that have me rehashing past woes or worrying about the future. Fully alive. So, I’m decidedly interested in figuring out how to have more of it in my life.

Extensive research gives us quite a lot of great advice about how to increase happiness. Yale professor Dr. Laurie Santos created an entire class on the subject. It’s wild popularity gave rise to a free on-line version of the course and a podcast entitled The Happiness Lab. But here are just a few simple things that we can do every day.

Express gratitude. Be mindful of everyday blessings – a practice that overcomes our natural tendency to notice what is wrong or simply take all the good for granted. It can be as simple as the regular expression of the words “Thank you” or a more formal exercise of capturing them in a journal.

Cultivate optimism. Look on the bright side daily activities and circumstances. For example, instead of: “Ugh, laundry again!,” think “Yay, I have lots of clothes and a washer and dryer.” In the midst of adversity, treat circumstances as temporary rather than intrinsic and hold confidently to a belief that you’ll get through it.

Savor life’s pleasures. Slow down and enjoy a soothing shower, a nice meal, a walk in the neighborhood, a trip to the grocery store with all that magnificent food, a quiet night with a good book. Savoring intensifies the positive feelings around something you love… and keeps them around longer.

Practice acts of kindness. Be on the lookout for what others need. As we bolster our capacity for compassion and act on it, we perceive others more positively, become more conscious of our interdependence, and act accordingly.

Cultivate community. In the company of close friends, family, and associates, we savor everyday moments, we experience the “flow” of seamless collaborations, we find purpose for our existence, and we share our triumphs and defeats.

I’ve been thinking about gratitude having shared some reflections on the subject last week. And, I particular, I’ve thought about the need to “pause, breath, appreciate” as the antidote to my usual hurry-up-and-get-it-done approach to life. My Scottish terrier decided to give me an object lesson on the subject.

Since moving into the townhouse, my husband and I need to trade off taking the dog for walks every time our pooch needs to respond to the call of nature. I view the task as a utilitarian effort to get the job done as expeditiously as possible, particularly when the weather is less than hospitable. My dog views it as an opportunity to take in every smell that may have settled on a blade of grass, a leaf, a tree trunk, or even the sidewalk since his last go round. Our difference of opinion has not resulted in favorable results.

For several nights running on the last walk of the night, Brodie and I have been in a tug-of-war. I tried to move things along with (significant) pressure on his harness. He resisted. Even if I just gently attempted to move forward, he pulled in the opposite direction. I know that Scotties are stubborn, but even this behavior seemed atypical for the breed.

I decided to give dear old Google a try and see what some experts had to say about it. Reading through several posts, I was reminded of my dog’s need for stimulation and his pleasure at noticing every little scent to which his nose might be attuned. Other than eating, it’s his happy place. I learned that resistance was an instinctual response to my tugging and that, perhaps, giving him some slack (and judicious use of treats) might get better results. And, as I thought about it, I realized: What in the world was I doing trying to rush things anyway? Couldn’t I stop and smell the roses while he was doing it, too?

The last few nights, I’ve done just that. I’ve let him control the pace while I paused, breathed, and gave thanks. For the lovely neighborhood. For the freshly cut grass. For the Spring flowers. For the stillness in the air (and relief from the heat of the day). For the adorable little dog who has given us so much love and joy over the years. For the gift of life.

The tug of war has more-or-less ceased. We still have a few moments where I need to remind him that I’m the “alpha dog” in this relationship. But having cut him some slack for most of the walk, he falls in line pretty easily.

Thanks for the lesson, Brodie.

I’ll confess. I’ve been feeling rather rootless for a time now.

Going on 2 years ago, my husband and I experienced the glowing embers of realization that our life in Beaverton needed to change. We’re getting on in age, and a 2-story, 5-bedroom house with a big yard didn’t make sense for the next chapter in our lives. So, we started exploring possibilities throughout the Pacific Northwest. While we didn’t reach any conclusions, we elected to sell our home in a favorable market last summer. We downsized big time and found a lovely townhouse to rent while we sorted things out.

For a time, I thought we could just chill out here until the clouds parted and a blinding ray of light illuminated the path forward. I kept doing bits of research here and there all the while mulling over our life circumstances. Far from receiving a grand gesture from the heavens above, things just seemed to get murkier the longer I sat with the decision process. It got me to thinking: What is it about buying a home that makes me feel so anxious and (dare I say) indecisive?

The obvious: A home represents the largest single investment in our portfolio… and a somewhat illiquid one at that. We don’t make these decisions often, and I want to make sure we make the right one. (My husband stresses about it far less than I do!) But it’s a bit more than that. Buying a home makes a strong statement about our lives. It says: Here’s where we stand. Here’s the community to which we belong. These are our people. Here’s where we’ll set down roots. And at our age – with the prospect of becoming more dependent on others in the coming years – those statements carry added weight.

Also obvious: Having lived in the same place for 15+ years, we have networks of connections that sustain us and would be effortful to rebuild – e.g., friends, social outlets (e.g., master gardening, choral groups, square dancing clubs, theater groups), doctors, dentist, hairdressers, et al. While I’ve built these relationships before and could do it again, medical care turns out to be a sticky wicket. With a nationwide physician shortage, it’s hard to get care as a new patient, and we may or may not wind up with folks we like. We’re pleased with our current care team, and we’re covered so long as we stay with them. Given the breath of our needs, that’s a major decision factor.

A couple of weeks ago, our realtor suggested we dip our toes in the waters of three new construction subdivisions that are within a few miles of our old homestead. We had nothing better to do, so off we went for a look-see. Wonder of wonders, we wound up making an offer on a not-quite-perfect-but-close-enough single-story home within a mile-ish of a shopping center, medical center, and fantastic gym. Having signed a gaggle of papers and made selection for interior finishes, we’ll likely move around the time that our lease ends. Whew!

I’ve already started thinking about the ways in which I can make our home a place for social gatherings. For the first time in our marriage, we’ll reap the benefits of having a great room that will accommodate goodly-sized crowds and a large kitchen island around which food preparation and consumption will go hand-in-hand with lively conversation.

For now, life has afforded me the opportunity to exercise one of my least favorite “muscles”… patience!

UPDATE: This deal fell through… but an even better opportunity presented itself later in the year!