I don't have to pinch myself to realize that I have made the move to small-town life. All I have to do is open the local yellow pages and see the above listings to know that it's a whole new ball game. There is still much to be done and I have read and re-read all your wonderful and practical comments on how to unpack and get on with my life.
These past two weeks have sped by even though I'm no longer in the fast lane of city living. The bedroom and living room and bathroom are mostly comfy and settled. The dining room and study hold many more boxes awaiting my attention because I've been helping out at Jenn's while she was away on a mission of her own this past week. We have had only a few brief moments together since I arrived but it's already starting, that mom-daughter dance. Jenn has reminded me of my table manners and our decorating differences more than once. For this I moved 300 miles.
Toss that hay and light that propane - city gal is a hankerin' for a hayride with that deputy sheriff. Actually, there seem to be a lot of stray men my age wandering around. I hope daughter doesn't think I'll need a chaperone. There's even a local bowling alley. Drats. I should have kept the bowling ball.
So now it begins. I'm somewhere between Sex and the City and the Golden Girls. I'll figure it out.