no water landings

We are here in California!

Peter, reading at the airport, surrounded by our 400 carry-on bags.

Our flight wasn't bad, although my older two asked every thirty seconds "what if we have a water landing????" I reassured them repeatedly there would be no water landings.  I refrained from telling them, even on the 498th asking, of my fears that we were far more likely to slam into the Rockies than to have a water landing.  Thankfully there were no water (or mountain) landings.

As we were waiting for our flight I got an email from the moving company letting us know that our truck driver had suffered some unknown ailment that landed him in the hospital, and thus our belongings are in a parking lot somewhere in the southwest, and will not be showing up on Thursday as previously scheduled.  They may show up on Friday.  Or not.

Tonight we are staying in the Mister's executive housing (he has been here for a few weeks already), but this apartment has one *very small* bed, and originally we figured that for one night we would suffer it so as not to spend even more money, seeing as all our stuff (ie. our beds, and toys, lets not forget all our toys) were showing up the next day.  Thankfully after tonight the moving company will be putting us up in a hotel until our stuff gets here.

This is not actually the worst thing in the world.  (Except for the truck driver, I imagine he's not so keen on this scenario.  Did I tell you about our truck driver/head of the moving crew? He is the spitting image of Ron Swanson, and talks like him too.  I hope he's ok.)  However, instead of going over to the new house to supervise all my stuff showing up, I will go over tomorrow and clean the house (it will be a contact paper party!), and we might explore the neighborhood, and register Greg at school, and generally try not to be stressed out.

I find a large part of my being stressed out at the moment is feeding Peter.  We eat mostly at home where I can prepare foods that I am certain are peanut and tree nut free.  Peter has had three reactions in the last month, two of them to food from restaurants (the third was a rebound reaction the next day), and I am just very leery at the moment of eating out.  Which is problematic when one is moving and traveling and has to buy food at airports and all of one's kitchen utensils are on the back of a truck in a nameless parking lot a thousand miles away.  

Not related to anything, but as we drove home from the airport I said "goodness, the sun is very strong for 7:30 at night, isn't it??  That daylight savings is something extra here?"  The Mister gently reminded me that it was only 4:30 in California and yes, the sun IS still strong at that hour.

Anyways.  The only way out is through, right?  We are drawing closer to being settled in here, hopefully in the next few days.  The weather is lovely.  And there are palm trees all over the place.  I have sofas to shop for.

It was a very weird feeling getting off the plane, knowing that I was not returning to New Jersey.

Its only 8:30 here, but I know from past experience that I will be awake at 3 am until I get used to the time difference, and my children will probably be up at 2 (or earlier, the horror), so I will stop my inane ramblings and go to bed now.

(As some writerly guy I can't remember right now once said, I'm sorry this letter is so long, but I haven't had the time to write a shorter one.  In that vein, please forgive my excessive parentheticals and lack of coherence or editing. Basically this is a post to let my mother know I'm alive.)

Goodnight, New Jersey. I miss you.  Good night, California.