It's Official

Our cars are now official Minnesotans. They are licensed, insured, and dirty. The midwest in March is extremely grimey. One trip to the grocery store and the muddy, sludgy spatters of melted snow, salt, and dirt have covered your nice clean vehicle. A very nice ammenity of our once-swanky apartment building, however, is a car wash stall in the underground garage. Unfortunately, Mr. P or myself will still have to actually pull the car into the stall and employ the hose in order to accomplish the actual washing. We hope to turn over a new leaf and begin washing the cars regularly. Especially our wonderful Honda, lest Papa Peanut (who bequeathed the car to us), have heart failure when he comes to visit.

While our cars are now official residents of this fine state, we are not yet officially licensed drivers, because state regulations require that we present certified copies of our birth certificates in order to obtain a license. Licesnsed or not, I'm not sure that we'll ever feel like true Minnesotans, especially after our trip to Byerly's today, where we encountered an alarming situation in the "Hispanic Foods" aisle. No corn tortillas. At all. It does appear that they carry them sometimes, but there were none to be found today. Oh, how we will long for authentic Mexican food. El Cholo . . . . *sigh*.

Byerly's did make up for some of my grief, though, with the hand dandy grocery conveyor belt, the lolipop for Miss P, and the kind words and smiles for Master P. Perhaps we'll become official Minnesotans after all.

Missing

Missing:

Four (4) Crate and Barrel Plates
One (1) Beloved Magna Doodle Toy
One (1) Box of Dress-Up Clothes
Twelve (12) Pairs of Men's White Socks

Our husband and wife moving team (aka The Bickersons) apparently failed to unload a few boxes during Monday's ALL day unloading session. Bah! Now we must decide whether to bother with the 'claims process' in order to be reimbursed for the above items. Thankfully, Miss P has yet to notice the missing Magna Doodle. Be glad, dear reader, that you will be far, far away when the urge to draw Bob and Larry hits . . . and there is no Magna Doodle to be found. It will be a dark day indeed.

We're Here

After weeks of anticipation, our move to the Twin Cities has finally become a reality. When not buried in a heap of boxes, books, toys, and diapers, we have ventured out and have begun to experience the Minnesota culture. Our favorite discovery thus far is our local grocery store, Byerly's. It. Is. Beautiful. Aisles and aisles of amazingly tidy food displays. Super friendly clerks and bag-persons dressed as though they just came out of a business meeting. And . . . wait for it . . . they put your bagged groceries on a little conveyor belt, which travels to the outside of the store, where a very jolly employee places it into the trunk of your car. Yup. You do pay dearly for your groceries at this establishment, but the service is QUITE nice (second only to Trader Joe's).

Thus far, we have encountered the "Minnesota Nice" factor in the people we have met. Most of said people have been either working at Target or Byerly's, and therefore are paid to be nice. However, I never, ever encountered a nice person working at Target in Southern California. Our checker at the Minnetonka Target was a very pleasant 60-something woman, who told us, "Welcome to Minnesooota. We have really great schools here." Even the paid-to-be-nice Byerly's employees seem exceptionally sweet. The woman who sold me a no-nut supreme brownie asked if I would prefer an end or middle piece. This made me happy.

We also spent a bit of time today at the bastion of American consumerism . . . the Mall of America. One word: Large. The place is massive, with a giant theme park right in the center of the mall. Miss Peanut spent the entire trip repeating, "I don't want to go on the rolly coaster. But, when I'm bigger, Daddy will take me on the rolly coaster. I don't want to go on the rolly coaster." She didn't seem to understand that we weren't going to patronize the amusement park on our short visit, but that we wanted a general overview. She is adjusting to the move fairly well, but she thinks that Minnesota is our apartment. When we drive about, she will remark from the back seat as to whether or not she wants to go "back to Minnesota" so that she can play with her toys. Moves are hard things for little folk to understand. Soon, however, the boxes will be emptied and we will be able to spend some concentrated time just *being* with the little Peanuts. A sweet thing to anticipate.

She's 3

Three years ago tonight, I sat in a tiny apartment, waiting for your Daddy to return from work. I had no idea what the next hours would bring, or what the next days, months, and years would bring. As it turned out, there would be pain, exhaustion, confusion, exasperation, love, joy, blessing, wonder. The three years of knowing you have been the most rewarding of my life. I have watched in amazement as you change every day. First, it was watching you learn to move, roll, sit, stand and walk. Then, even more incredibly, it was watching you learn to express yourself with words. "Mama", "Dada", "duck", "banana", "more", "ball" . . . "violin", "invaluable".

Three years ago we gave you the name Hesed, because of our belief in and experience of God's eternal mercy and love. The privilege of participating in your little life has truly taught me the meaning of this word. In my love for you, I have learned to understand and be humbled by the Father's love for us. Though you struggle against it at times, I usually know what is best for you and long to lead you and protect you. I know that I, too, am often a struggling child, who foolishly resists my Father's care and direction. Before you were born, a friend told me that parenting would teach me more about God's love than any other experience ever could. I am so thankful that God has shown us His Hesed in giving us you.

3 kisses when you wake,
3 candles on your cake.

Happy Birthday, Boo!

Getting Started

Just testing this thing out. Should be interesting!