Change of Name

Slowly, a new routine has emerged. The unspoken agreement is that weekends in our current home are over. We never discussed this fact, yet it's clear that by Friday afternoon, bags and food will be packed, and we'll kiss the chickens and cat goodbye until Sunday evening. No words were necessary to understand that once the trailer arrived, life would shift ever so slightly. But a shift all the same.

Aside from numerous electrical and other tasks involving switches and hoses (I'm already bored with this sentence), one of the first jobs was a new floor. Marta came to us a little more shabby than chic and the state of her floors elicited a slight gag reflex when I first stepped upon them in bare feet. Imagine the filthiest gym shower stall you've seen, but with 3 more years worth of grime and old cheese smell. Yep. Once the 'ol peel and stick "wood" floors were in place, we decided the next upgrade would be an addition to the "kitchen" (I use all room related words loosely when it comes to the trailer. Including the bathroom. Sigh). Jer's magnificent engineering skills were put to good use when he whipped up a new butcher block/table, tripling counterspace, and generally sprucing up the joint.

I don't even have a counter this nice at home! Thank you Ikea/Jer! Thank you very much.

Marta has taken most of Jer's time, which reminds me how useless I still am at the land. I have yet to impressively weild a chainsaw or other sharp instrument. My fence-building skills are limited to "dirt-packing" and "moral support," so unless one of the hoof stock requires individual attention, I'm sort of at a loss. If Jer's not spearheading and overseeing a project, then I'm usually just staring at a tree, and you can only be so discreet when doing this. So, eventually, Jeremy notices that I'm staring at trees, wandering in the woods, collecting Indian tools, and watching the dogs - having a pretty awesome time- and decides a new project must begin.

(I thought that wearing gloves would effectively feign productivity. But he called my bluff since I clearly only wore them to admire my dogs.)

So last weekend we commenced the Great Lean-To Build, 2010. This means that Jenna gets to man the tractor/auger in order to dig post holes while Jeremy breaks up rock and unruly clay. It's a job that involves a lot of cursing and sweating, on his part, and a lot of pulling levers, on mine. As farm tasks go, digging post holes ranks up there with watching a donkey castration. It's best to do no more than once a year.

And yes we did, oh yes we did, meet with the cabin builder. We met for over 2 hours and walked through their model cabins once again, as we did almost two year ago (pulls out hair). And would you believe it?! We love the damn things as much as we did the first time. And would you believe it?! We might be signing a building contract with them in a few weeks. And starting in June. But don't hold us to that, as plans are malleable around here.

So there are lots of changes. Change of house plans, change of routine, and changes of name. I've spent considerable time with the donkey herd, particularly the minis who are rarely mentioned here because I'm so very partial to the original star, Boo. However, those three ladies certainly have distinct enough personalities to merit a few name changes. Regardless of their high intellect, donkeys don't know their names (or, mine don't) so new names are basically symbolic. Fiona becomes Noni, to better suit her curmudgeony demeanor and short stocky physique (think: small Italian grandma). And Jasmine is easily a Jezebel since her....well..ok, she's basically an aggressive b*&%h and just trust that the name fits. And Brownie remains Brownie. The name I hated the most stays the same. She sidles up to everyone without stirring the pot or throwing things off kilter, just like the name of the dessert that everyone brings to potlucks. It (she) goes with everything.

Martha also underwent a change after our recent and manic bout of re-watching Arrested Development. From here on out we'll call her Marta. And yes I am talking about an inanimate object so if you're trying to follow a stream of logic, there is none.

But really the biggest change has to do with a definition. The home pictured in my mind for so long is now completely erased. Home is a cedar cabin. Home is a trailer. Home is the land.