Finally... photos (part one, last days in Ely, John's camera)

Good news -- I found the cord to my camera (clearly an ongoing problem with all of this packing and moving). So here are the last photos from John's camera of the last three weeks, starting in Ely, then heading to Colorado, Montana, and ending up with our mountain of mail and my pretty new French tablecloth, which we used tonight even though we had take-out pizza for dinner. Enjoy. (Edited to add: other pictures will have to come tomorrow. My computer is being grumpy tonight and uploading these few photos took over an hour! Yikes).

And in other exciting news -- I made some progress on the unpacking today. We can now open the front door again.

*****

ELY: I just saw these photos John took of our last days in Ely, and it feels like it happened a million years ago or so. There are some good shots of our favorite parks, the cathedral, the crooked house, and more.

And.... upon arriving in Denver...

Settling back in

Of all the things I thought about before and during our time in France and England, thoughts that ranged from landscape to love to transportation to family to the French language to politics and books and wine and cheese, there was one thought I never let enter my mind. And that thought was how much mail we would have to open when we got home.

Another thought I never once allowed to flit through my brain: how packing up is easier than unpacking (because when you are unpacking, you are also trying to get back to living a regular life, which is hard to do when you have bags and boxes and suitcases and laundry (clean and dirty) and groceries and lists scattered throughout your house). Not that packing up is such a great thing, either. Just that unpacking after a big trip is kind of a nightmare.

So while the burden of these mundane thoughts never troubled me once the last six months, I am fully in the midst of them right now, and although not feeling sorry for myself (such a problem to have, that we spent a wonderful time in France and now have to return to real life), I am feeling a bit overwhelmed. I just spent more than two hours opening the mail. Our housesitter had taken the "important looking mail" to our great friend Phil, who is also a lawyer and helped us get our tax documents to my dad the accountant to be filed on time (other things you might not think about when planning a sabbatical... in Canada, unlike in the U.S., there are no extensions, so if you are gone on April 30, somehow, a tax return must get filed).What I was left with were some Christmas cards (very fun to read in June), six issues of My Big Backyard which the kids will be thrilled to discover tomorrow morning, an incredible pile of junk mail, and copies of our monthly statements for all the regular bills which we have set up for automatic payment online. It doesn't sound so bad, does it? But trust me. It was a LOT of mail.

And I don't even want to mention the unpacking. The mess. The fact that we still can hardly walk through the front door because that's where we left the luggage when we walked in last night...

There were a few highlights in this otherwise slightly dismal day, though. First... sleeping in and waking up in our own beds. Heaven. Second... Jack went to school this afternoon with great reluctance and a lot of nerves (he said to me on the way there, in French, that he is lacking confidence. He didn't believe me and John when we said it would be great.) He walked sooooooo slowly to his classroom.... and then was greeted with a hug (that was almost a tackle) from his fabulous friend Ailene, and then the whole class surrounded him, piling on hugs and hellos. As predicted, he had a great afternoon, and he will go again (eagerly) tomorrow morning for the end of school celebrations. Third, our neighbor across the street brought delicious muffins and her new, beautiful baby (and big brother and sister) for a quick hello on our front porch (she knew enough to not think of trying to come in!). And finally, we went back to Anne and Phil's for a quieter dinner tonight, and got to talk and laugh and tell stories and hear stories and enjoy good food and drop off a few trip gifts.

But the in between parts... not pretty. Not fun. But would I do it all again for the chance to go back to Burgundy? You bet.

Now... back to the mess. Or maybe bed. Probably bed!

Maison sweet maison

On the way from Helena to Lethbridge this afternoon, as I helped the girls wash their hands at a truck stop outside of Great Falls, Liv looked at me with that serious look. Then she asked "Where are we again?"

Where are we? Well, after almost six months, seven countries, nine airplane rides, dozens of trains and subways, and a five hour sunny ride on a June afternoon, we are home. It feels wonderful.

Everything is so green. I know this came from weeks of not-typical downpours here, but everything is so very pretty right now. The house is in great shape -- so big! -- and also so much more filled with stuff than La Maison des Chaumes was. It was like a reminder that we don't usually carry everything we need in five suitcases. We'd need five dozen just for the books! I have a crazy desire to declutter... but I suppose I will have to unpack first.

We haven't even started unpacking. As soon as we got home, we unloaded the car, looked around, watched as the kids rediscovered a few things ("my favorite socks! I love these socks!"), and then without opening up a single suitcase, we drove over to our dear friends' home for dinner. I was teary-eyed all night -- from the hugs of kids and adults, the ease and joy of conversations, the awe of kids who have grown A LOT in six months (ours and our friends' kids) and the delight of watching them play so happily together, the laughter, the love. Jack had wanted to go to here, to Thomas and Daniel's house, first -- he said last night he would help pack the car and everything if it meant we could see them right away. Other dear friend were there, too, and it was hard to leave. Luckily, we have the whole rest of the summer ahead of us... and hopefully lots of nights like this, nights which recall the best moments in France, too.

And now the kids are settled into their own beds, and the stacks of luggage are still waiting, and I think I will go head into my own bed shortly, too. I bet it will feel good. Familiar. Like home.

Last night on the road

Well, after almost six months on the road, we are finally heading home. Sometime tomorrow, we'll pack up the minivan, feeling SO thankful that none of the luggage will need to be weighed, and drive north. And after 4.5 hours plus however long it takes for bathroom breaks and the border crossing, we'll be home.

It's sort of surreal to think of that... that after so much time of travel and transition, we'll be walking in our own door tomorrow, looking for the mountains of Waterton in the distance from our dining room, cooking in our own kitchen, and sleeping in our own beds. It's all just a drive away.

It's not like the last months have some terrible hardship we've had to endure -- not like we've been at war or even on an endless business trip. In every way, it was an incredible experience. In fact, I am a little worried that our Lethbridge friends will quickly grow tired of our France stories... and I am already dreaming of ways to go back. But at this point in our travels, I am ready to be home. We all are.

And we should finally get there tomorrow. I'll be sure to let you know how the last leg of this long and wonderful journey goes.

Made it to magnificent Montana

I paused for a precious few seconds yesterday after I slipped back into my shoes, packed my laptop back in its case, put my liquids back in my backpack, and gathered the kids and the carryons. I wanted to take in the view. We had made it -- packed all of our bags at an exact weight one last time, made it to an airport in time, gotten all of us (and all of our stuff) through security, and were on our way to our gate. That scene had played out so many times the last six months, and now we are just a minvan ride (and one more border crossing) away from home.

I won't miss the security lines -- although we are complete pros at it (kids, too). I won't miss my panic at takeoff, landing and turbulence when flying. And I won't miss the jetlag (which is still plaguing me and John a bit, although thankfully the kids seem OK. Maybe we just are really, really tired?).

And I am SO eager to be home. I can't recall ever feeling a calling for home this strong -- real home, not our (fabulous) "France home" or "Ely home", not even our parents wonderful homes... just our home. We should get there Sunday night.

But in time, I think I will miss the thrill of travel, the delight in discovering a new place, the challenge of living in another culture. And we continue to miss our France friends, and the old friends in England we reconnected with. Jack has had three emails from classmates updating him on the end-of-year school events...it would have been nice to have been a part of those.

Well, the kids are calling to go outside, so I should sign off for now. Again, I have no idea where I put my camera cord, but pictures should be posted soon. Thanks again for following us on this journey. It is so good to be here in Montana with John's parents, and nice to be almost home, too.

Kicking back in colorful Colorado

When I was growing up, I never really appreciated the beauty of my hometown. But once I left and came back to it -- and every time I come back now -- I am blown away by the natural beauty of this place. I never get tired of the incredible blue sky, the shimmering sound of aspen leaves that will turn to gold in the fall, the mountains on all sides and The Mountain, Pike's Peak.

It's a good place to celebrate a birthday, as Katie and Livie did this week. We had to stop dinner halfway through to sing and blow out candles, though, as they were so tired they were about to fall asleep at the table. Liv toddled off after a few bites of cake (*fancy* doll cakes made by mom and the birthday girls) and put herself to sleep on the couch.

It's also a good place to take walks, play, read, laugh, eat amazing food (I had to take a picture of the ribs we had last night... they were so beautiful and so delicious!), ride in the convertible, have water gun fights (with photos take by John from safe inside the house) and enjoy the view. Here's a glimpe of our last few days... with no bleary photos of early mornings and jet lagged kids.

Flight of fancy, or a fancy flight?

I really hope that British Airways gets it labor issues resolved, because it seems to be a REALLY good airline. The only trouble we had on the flight was just that it takes many, many hours to get from Europe to the middle of America... and that certainly isn't BA's fault. The service was excellent, the plane was fairly comfortable, the food not too bad, and their treatment of the kids just wonderful. So I hope they are still flying in years to come, because we would be happy to take them back to Europe.

And on a completely different note -- I can't wait to get back and unpack... and not need to see a suitcase for a while. Can you believe all of this baggage?

Last days in Ely

Jet lag. Yup. Jet lag. And kids. Not a pretty sight.

I think kids must have an incredibly strong internal body clock, because despite being exhausted and going to bed at almost normal bedtimes, all of them are WIDE awake early in the morning. The first day, Jack woke at 2:30 a.m., and Kate and Liv sometime around 3ish. On Friday, it was 4 a.m. Today it was 5 a.m. On all of those days, John and I would have been VERY happy to sleep for hours and hours more. We had no trouble adjusting to the new time -- but despite Jack's general good behavior and reliability, we weren't entirely comfortable just leaving him in charge and letting all three of them loose on my parents' house without supervision.

So we are all very tired. But we are also very happy to be here. And I finally found the cord to my camera, so am hoping to post a bunch of photos tonight if the internet connection holds.

First up -- our last days in Ely.