Like many best friends, Katy and I have developed code words and phrases that mean more to us than they would to outsiders. Our shared language involves both inside jokes and references to past conversations, which advances the intricacy of the language we use with each other. There are phrases such as "upgrade" (when we go from living without a modern convenience to living with it); "sunflowers will grow here" (a situation in which jedi mind trickery will be used to get what one wants); and "good shit" (stuff that is valuable to one person and garbage to others). These terms (and many more) make our language with each other richer, more meaningful, and perhaps a little more special. They're also just fun to sprinkle around. My favorite such term we use is "playing house".
Playing house with Katy in Oregon is the act of us owning a home, being eager to improve it, but being mostly ignorant about what to do. Normally it's fun and exciting, occasionally hard and messy, but usually its a little surreal. Well it's definitely real, but I regularly feel self-aware of the markers of suburban life and question how I got here. I'm from New York City, I've only ever lived in cities before. This is my first time living in a house . . . and we own it. It's mostly great, but occasionally a little daunting. I sometimes feel like I'm missing details because I'm not used to lawns, gutters and HVAC systems. Occasionally it feels like a test in which I'm trying to figure out the right answer. For example: we have two cars, and a two-car garage even though Katy often bikes to work. So where and how should I park the cars? I don't know. We also have an unused leaf blower and have yet to install the vent fan we bought a year ago for our second bathroom. If I were to grade myself on playing house, I'd probably get passing marks but with the comment "needs improvement".
We have a bunch of plans for what to do with our home in the next year or so, both inside and out. For our backyard it's exciting work that I've never actually done before and am afraid won't work. When I started up our new weed whacker for my first time last night I knew it was an upgrade from the shears and lopers I had bought last year, but I also considered watching a safety video on YouTube just to learn what I don't know. There's so much to potentially learn about yard-care, I never knew! Inside our house I'd like to replace our base boards and re-do the ceiling, but I've never done those things and expect it'll be more videos online paired with some how-to websites. I think what makes it "playing house" and not "living house" is that we still lack some of the basic skills and efficiencies we would expect of someone our age - i.e. adults.
When we were in China, I felt a little juvenile. Part of it was the language barrier: I hadn't felt confused and alienated by what was going on around me in such a way since I was a child. Additionally, we were living a very cosmopolitan lifestyle with luxuries and I had very few responsibilities or worries, so life was carefree. The apartment building we lived in had doormen, a concierge, housekeeping services and more. While I often cooked dinner, I did so for pleasure, nutrition and comfort. If I didn't feel like cleaning up after dinner we didn't have to, the maid came twice a week. We didn't have ice cube trays so would call housekeeping every time we wanted ice. We would tip and it was appreciated, but there was something that sat funny with me about not even making ice for myself. It didn't bother me enough to go buy ice cube trays, but I was aware that life was especially low-maintenance, like back when I was a teenager and my parents made ice for me.
I've been listening to Johnny Cash again recently. "I've Been Everywhere" has always been one of my favorite songs by him. When I was in college and first discovered The Man in Black I used to wonder how many of the scores of places he mentions in the song I would get to see. Later in college as I traveled Europe and across America, I wondered what my version of the song would sound like. A decade later, I wonder if I have been enough places to write my version of the song. Have I been everywhere I'm going to go already? Being home now feels like the start of an era that's going to go on for the rest of my life. Like I've had my travels and I'm here now to put down roots, and not just literally plant roots. Some things I'm doing now I'll be doing every fall for as long as we live in Oregon; other things I'll be doing every week for as long as we live in this house, like garbage.
Even though we didn't get back long ago, we already are resuming patterns of eating and living we have developed in years of living together, plus starting new ones that are specific to Oregon. This week we found ourselves cooking huge batches of beans and eggplant; last week we harvested at least fifty pounds of apples from our backyard tree; we've been to the local farmer's market the past three weekends, and we already have our yearly pesto frozen for the upcoming winter. We are also slowly improving our home by mounting one paper towel holder at a time and killing wasp nests as they continue to reappear. I feel home in our house, but I'm not quite used to that feeling of being home yet. It's been over a year since I felt at home, and that was before we were married and still lived on the East Coast. So even though I feel home, it's still also very much a new feeling of home. Oregon is our next great adventure, and we are blessed that we have the resources to live a wonderful life here.
In reflection of the past year, one thing I have learned is that I don't need a lot of stuff, but I do appreciate the stuff I do have and its nice to be reunited with it. I spent the majority of the past 8 months with just a backpack and a suitcase full of clothes, books and a computer or two. Now I'm struggling to even unpack the boxes we had put in storage back in February. It seems like a lot of stuff. More than once I've thought of something I own, figured out what box it was in, went to that box and pulled out only that single object. I know it drives Katy crazy that I prefer to unpack this way, but it makes those objects seem magical and more meaningful, as if I conjured up the object with my thoughts alone. I don't NEED my stuff, and I proved that to myself in the past six months, but I like my stuff. Admittedly, I probably have too much stuff, and it is a tiny bit overwhelming to suddenly have so much more stuff than I used to have access to. I probably too many clothes, but it's also really nice to have more than eight t-shirts to choose from. Maybe there's a happy medium out there somewhere.
I feel a little bit like Bilbo Baggins at the end of the Hobbit. We documented our great journey in writing and have come back to the Shire a.k.a. Oregon, to live out the good life. This beautiful, green, quaint world full of jolly drinking weirdos is our new home and quite a good one to end up in after the adventures we have had. While there may be an upcoming spree of globe-trotting activity, I doubt we will ever return to the pace of unbridled jet setting we experienced this last year or so. This is my final chapter in our adventure blog, continuing it as a suburbanite doesn't quite seem right. It's been incredibly helpful to publicly share my experiences and I hope you enjoyed reading them. Alas and alack, it's over! But I'm totally okay with chopping at blackberries, playing house, and making my own ice for the rest of my life.
