|It’s a good Monday morning.|
|Bouquet to say Hello and Farewell / from Sinan.|
|Jan.22.14 Fresh snow. Thank you, Polar Vortex!|
|Scratching out a peephole on my kitchen window.|
|Living out of suitcase for the next many weeks.|
|Thank you for the all-American comfortable road experience.|
Our last week of this sabbatical year treated us to a snow storm in true Northeastern style.
Beginning with the weekend: We spent it with friends at the Pennsylvania Dutch market otherwise known as the Amish market; welcomed visiting student Zuzana; and indulged in sushi with friend Sinan who drove up from Virginia/DC just to see us.
The movers — an entourage of three men and a Budget van — lent us their Martin Luther King Jr. holiday (Monday 20.Jan) to pack and move our possessions. We ended up with a little more than anticipated in volume and weight, oops. Consolidating the things prior to the movers’ arrival may have made the packing up a little easier?
Monday night was fun at the Barr’s where we enjoyed dinner and a night hike in their woods. Such hospitality.
Living out of suitcase with just summer wear, we’re definitely having fun facing this subzero climate. And snow. Thank you, Polar Vortex! I’m appreciating all this snow; there won’t be any where we’re heading.
And oh, we sold our Jeep! It was really sudden. On Wednesday morning, in what felt like a desperate measure, Hubs and I drove to a car dealer. While caught in a negotiating game, I checked my inbox and saw a brand new email from a lady who sounded very interested in our vehicle. Talk about timing! With that, Hubs and I walked out of the dealer’s office and arranged for a meet with this lady. There were no car wash kiosks open that day, thanks to the weather, so we couldn’t prettify it. Despite its winter-grubby and icicle-dripping state, said lady, husband, and 21-year-old son (whom they are buying for) loved the jeep. We love it, too. And just like that, we were left car-less in under an hour and forgot about the car dealer. To be honest, I would much rather pass our jeep over to a family who would cherish it as much as we did instead of a salesman. Wouldn’t you too?
A couple more farewell meet-ups and it’s “So long, America”. That was fast.