The Great Lang Migration, as it shall henceforth be known, began as a phone call that went something like this:
"Jason, I'd like you to come work for me."
"I love my job."
"I'll pay you an obscene amount of money to come work for me."
"Let's do lunch."
It continued with the following conversation:
"His idea of obscene is pretty much the same as mine."
"I took the job."
"We're moving to Moses Lake."
"Sounds...Where the ^%&* is Moses Lake?"
And so we found ourselves loading four pick-up trucks, four trailers, and a Mazda with all of our earthly possessions, which Jason lovingly referred to as Tania's obsessive compulsive disorder manifested into more crap than can fit into a 5 bedroom house. We then made the seven+ hour drive to Moses Lake, which I can tell you with some certainty is in Washington although it greatly resembles B.F.E. Once here we unloaded the many trucks and trailers which had arrived intact, with the exception of one box of books containing a 126 year old copy of Messer Marco Polo, which was hastily picked up off of 99E somewhere in Oregon City. We then tried heartily to convince the neighbors that the Clampetts were not moving in. It was difficult but we think we succeeded, as none of the Clampetts bore tattoos or red hair that could only come out of a bottle.
Soon after arriving there was a shade of yellow in the kitchen that the nice lady at the hardware store told me had never been mixed in Moses Lake, and Buffy posters on the wall. When we began digging in the yard to plant our black flowers and hundreds of bulbs we found 1) There is more sand in the ground in Moses Lake than on most tropical islands, and 2) little boys in Moses Lake have very little to do and will therefore do any menial labor you ask them to do if you set up a sprinkler in the yard. Once Chase, Tres, Frederick, Jean-Paul, Dominique, Hunter, Gabrielle, Bridgette, and several other children that appeared out of nowhere had planted the flowers I came inside to dismantle a waterbed left by the previous renters and then began assembling the Library. The guest room came next, and then the sitting area in the master bedroom. I had planned on painting the bathroom yesterday only to find that the paint I had was not suitable for bathrooms, so instead I hammered a half dozen holes in the wall looking for a stud for the towel rack, only to finally give up and hang a picture of a naked baby over them.
Overall the move has been very tiring, but exciting. The cat won't go outside in the heat, not to mention the goat head thorns that tear holes in your feet. The end to barefoot living is nigh. I hope everyone will keep in touch, and if you ever feel the desire to breath hot dry air until your nose bleeds look us up in Moses Lake. You'll recognize us as the ones covering our ears, you see the airport is 2 blocks away and the Japanese do nighttime touch and goes all night long, we're told it's an educational thing and that it did not begin the day we moved here just to spite us. We're still awaiting confirmation on that.
The Great Lang Migration continued sometime before Christmas of 2003 when Jason came home and announced with a half hearted laugh that we were moving back to Oregon, but that we would be heading even further South than Canby. I asked if he meant Salem, he said 'think further'.
So over Thanksgiving weekend we did a whirlwind tour of Albany and Corvallis looking at a few stunningly frightening trailer homes before settling on a farmhouse on the highway. The house is spacious but resembles a labrynth with its many narrow hallways and a little like a Lewis Carroll tale with it's tiny doors and speed bumps in the linoleum. The yard is huge and takes a couple of days for me to mow, the weather is unpredictable, and the highway claimed the cat a few months after we arrived.
So it's been a learning curve and a bit of an adjustment but all things are, so we just take it as it comes.