Sometimes I miss the suburbs.

Nearby beautiful but lonesome country road.

We were deep into our cold morning power-walk on Saturday when Jason noticed that I was wearing my bright white Oregon Ducks hat. He stopped dead in the middle of the frosty street to question my sanity in such a choice. It makes me look tan. That was the only stuttering reason I could produce.

Mr. Brodes is warmed by his
 hospital hot water bottle.

     Who knew that it was the first day of gun hunting season and that the forest surrounding us was packed with odorless camouflaged hunters scanning the thickets for a glimmer of WHITE?! I thought deer were brown, or tan, or burnt sienna. I kept walking, then stopped because Jason had muttered under his breath that I had a high probability of being shot with that hat, then decided to press on anyway hunters be d*mned, then opted to shout "Don't shoot!" at random intervals as a precaution. The muttering continued, and I noticed Jason was genuinely agitated and on the alert. So I had a little screaming melt-down in the middle of the stupid, frosty, deserted, hunter-infested country lane. Jason took his orange hat off to correct my ridiculous wardrobe choice (he was pretty much head to toe covered in precautionary colors), told me to stop crying, and continued on.
     Sometimes I miss the suburbs so much!!!!! I've spent the week thinking that Better Homes and Gardens and Country Living Magazine got into my head and made me ruin my life. I've been a West-Coast, city girl, Yankee forever. I'm tired of Wal-Mart and trees and hospitality and southern accents and potholes and fresh air and quietude. I should be able to go for a walk without fearing accidental death by deer rifle.
     I went to bed longing with all my heart for Target, and traffic, and the busy subliminal soundscape comprised of neighbors and vehicles and airplanes and things that signal to my brain that I'm where I belong in the world. The quiet beauty of my neighborhood road makes me feel lost. But when I had Target right down the road I didn't care about it, and wished I had a more simple life surrounded by trees and hospitality. I have a vision for my little family, and I feel that we're on the right track with this move and that I'm just homesick. Anyone else ever go through this? How long did it take you to feel really at home in a completely unfamiliar new place?

My old stomping grounds with neighbors all around.