Waiting to land

When we were planning this great move of ours, I expected to feel settled once we arrived in Vermont. After leaving Illinois, we spent nearly a month in a transitory state, spending time in the homes of family and friends. I loved seeing the people, some of whom we now live far from and others who are so much closer now. But I also felt like we were circling and circling and never quite getting to land. I was ready to settle down, and I was so sure that would happen when we arrived in Vermont.

The thing is, though, we're subletting. We picked a Vermont town, the town we most enjoyed when we visited on vacation last year. After trying unsuccessfully to find a permanent place for us to live, we found temporary one. The place is furnished, so we put the majority of our stuff in storage for the summer.

As it turns out, this was lucky. We now know that when we say we don't want to live in a city, we mean we don't want to live in Chicago. "City" doesn't mean quite the same thing in a state where the entire population is less than a quarter of Chicago's.

This is a good thing to learn while finishing off a two-and-a-half month sublet rather than, say, in month 2 of a 12-month lease. We're focused on two cities now, Burlington and Montpelier. In one of those cities (I won't say which, out of a ridiculous desire to avoid jinxing myslf), I have two very strong job leads. I feel so very hopeful about what the rest of the year will bring.

Still, though, I also feel like the circling continues. Where will I be working? Not sure! What sitting will we live in next month? Wait and see! I am aching to settle in and start the process of making myself at home. It will happen soon, but it's getting hard to wait.

In which I interact with real townspeople

Recently while walking our dog Beckett through the village green*, I had the following conversation. I share to prove that even in Vermont, there are Those People.

*Actually it happened near the bus stop, after I had left the green. I, however, would like to pretend I exist solely on the village green for as long as I live in a village with a green.

Random Woman: Oh, that's a nice dog. Is it a chihuahua?

Me: No, he's a fox terrier.

RW: Oh, because he looks a lot like a chihuahua.

Me: Yeah, people say that sometimes. But he's a terrier.

RW: His head is shaped like a chihuahua's. And his neck.

Me: (NOTE: The remainder of my side of the conversation takes place in my head, while in person I smile and nod.) I'm not sure that I can be polite to you anymore.


RW: (As Beckett allows himself to be pet) I let dogs approach me and sniff and decide if they want to interact. That's how I show that I respect them.

Me: Perhaps another way to respect him would be to acknowledge that he's not a chihuahua.

RW: Yeah, sometimes you have to watch out with chihuahuas. Sometimes they just want to bite.

Me: Have you ever actually encountered a chihuahua, or do you just refer to every dog you meet as a chihuahua? Maybe you enrage the dogs by causing identity issues. Maybe they think that while being a chihuahua is certainly not shameful, it is also not what they are and they get mad! Maybe they are just trying to prevent their owners' heads from exploding!

RW: All right, thanks for letting me pet your dog. To someone nearby: Did you see that chihuahua?

Me: Pfff! (It turns out that when your head explodes it just makes a quiet little pfff.)