Good LORD, moving sucked!!! We're still among boxes, unloading forgotten items as a random need arises. All necessary items have been unpacked. Everything else will be unpacked if (and only if) a spoon, a screwdriver, toilet paper, or Vicks cannot handle whatever it is that needs handling.
The dog misses his 1/2 acre yard and tearing through his one story carpeted hacienda, and so he punishes us for the three stories of tile and wood flooring move by peeing and pooping on the tiled patio right next to the barbecue island. At least it's always in the same spot. He does enjoy the walks on the beach, though.
Converting prices at the store has been interesting. So has living without data at all times. I've adjusted to pesos, but not to life without on-demand digital discussions. It feels like quitting a habit like smoking. Now, rather than jumping onto Twitter or Facebook ever time I wanted to share a random thought or see what buzz was going on in the world, I'm reaching for my phone to use my new favorite app: the calculator. If I'm not dividing peso prices by the exchange rate in the middle of the grocery aisle, I'm converting gallons to liters and figuring out the peso to dollar to make sure that I'm getting the right amount of gas. It's just as fun as it sounds. I don't know why I decided against the Global Data Plan from Verizon. That's a mistake I'm rectifying today.
My morning coffee habit is suffering. My regular Grande Vanilla Americano has become an irregular tasting concoction. I figured out right away that I need to say "Espresso Americano", but I figured I could just leave the rest to the baristas. Nope. Each time, I get different levels of sweetness or bitterness. Once, the vanilla was so overpowering, I thought I was going to go into a sugar coma. The next time, I asked for three "pompas" instead of four. I doubt "pompas" is the correct word for "pumps," but they got the gist. The next time I asked for the same thing, I watched them add it in, but then the espresso itself was super bitter. It didn't even taste like the same one from the day before. So now I'm just getting used to chai lattes. They know how to make those really well.
Wah. Wah. Wah.
You'd think I was having a miserable time. The truth is, I love that we made the move. Every morning, I wake up and sit in our Sunset Room (aka: chill out zone) and watch the waves crash just beyond the sand dunes. A little while later I'll walk the dog and one of the kids or the husband down the bay a mile and back. Last Sunday, we walked over to the beach with a day's worth of water and lunch and hung out for the afternoon, taking in the warm sun, the smells of the ocean, and the sounds of the food and snack cart vendors ringing their bells and announcing their menu. We decided that this weekend, we would go with water, but rather than pack a lunch, bring a handful of pesos to munch on whatever looks good.
We've had to come back to San Diego more often than we expected over the last couple of weeks. Still tying up some appointments and picking up random packages. It's getting to be a drag having to make the drive and also having to leave our new home behind, even for a day. I find myself wanting to just be there... to soak up more smells and sounds... to figure out the best way to get mosquitos to stop biting... to taste more foods from my childhood... to watch my kids eyes light up as they begin to understand the words that were so foreign to them just one month ago. That's been the easy part. Getting back to being in Baja. The first home I ever knew. The place where my cousins and aunts and uncles are. Where there's a party every weekend and no one calls first, they just pop in to say hi. I hate that in the U.S., but I really love it in Baja. It seems so normal and natural.
Like squeezing lime on everything. Except ice cream.