When we last left our heroine, she was bound for a trip to Indianapolis.
Nothing like a little over-dramatization on a Tuesday. And just so you know, I do realize that I am the heroine of none other than my own very normal life; but it’s fun to sometimes entertain the notion that my imagined superpowers transpose the Carter-world boundaries.
But it is also true that our lives are a bit less-than-normal right now. The reason we ventured to the Great State of Indiana was so I could lay eyes on a city to which I’ve not been in 18 years, before deciding to move there. Tim has been offered a job in that locale, and we are in the process of working through that decision. To say it was a whirlwind trip is putting it a bit mildly. We (meaning Tim) drove many miles after dark, dropped off 2 kids with family in Kentucky, drove some more, bombarded a generous family (friends of friends) whom we’d never met, had meetings, soirees, and the like. Saw the city. Looked at rental properties. Tried to picture it (mostly, me envisioning trips to various grocery stores with 3 kids in-tow). Then more driving, picking up tired children from exhausted relatives, bombarding yet another family in Tennessee for late-night beds, wine, and breakfast banana muffins (shout-out to Emily!), only to wake up this morning facing a big conference week at work for Tim, a trip to the pediatrician for the inevitable double-ear infection in the 3-year old, and detox from the thrills of “cousin time” for the 5-year old. I need to make bread, I have no groceries, all of my warm-weather clothes are still in the attic, and we need to get our unfinished house ready to put on the market in about 2 weeks.
So, of course, I’m sitting at a computer typing a blog post that 8 people read.
Which is a symptom of denial. And I’m pretty good at it when I need to be. Usually when it’s involving change. Any change, really, but when it’s a big one, I can quite easily and simply shut down. Tim is pretty good at handling things when it happens, but it undoubtedly leaves him in a bad place when, as we drive around a town looking at rental properties, he can’t get me to help him out.
“Here’s one — what do you think?”
“Do you like this one better than the one with the creepy attic bedroom?”
“Yeah, I mean, I guess so. Whichever. Sure.”
(All this as I stare, eyes glazed over, looking at nothing in particular.)
I just can’t process things very quickly — not when it’s a decision that will effect, at the minimum, a year of our life, quite possibly more. How can you spend 10 minutes making a decision that effects a year of life? That’s what I can’t figure out.
But amidst rental properties with dank basements, confusing school decisions, discussions about weather, meeting nice people, and dealing with an incompetent sandwich-maker at The Fresh Market, there was a place that made an imminent move seem appealing: The Goose.
Goose The Market is at the very least a place for those who love meat. They love meat, love it well, and want to share their passion with others who love meat. But it seems this obsession is also a springboard for taking license to share other seasonal, local food items that can be hard to come by in a regular grocery store: local cheeses, produce, baked goods, and the like. Plus a cellar with their selection of “meaty” wines and choice brews. We walked into the store, and I almost instantly felt grounded — this was a place I could call home. Not that I’m gonna stow away in their walk-in and start living there (though that thought did occur to me), but it’s good to know that, if we take this plunge, I can find comfort in the Indiana Bacon of the Month Club.
We went for the purpose of procurring dinner: sandwiches. Scrawled on a chalkboard, their daily selection seems to change often. I can’t remember the specifics of any of them — but I do remember looking on the board and not believing the options. We had three, and shared them all — I think the favorite was one with house-cured bacon and a blueberry compote. Oh, MAN! It was good.
I could have spent a lot of money there. Seems like it’d be easy to do — these items aren’t cheap. But hey — we’re gonna need something to replace our monthly Five & Ten budget, right? (Picture a single tear falling down one cheek.)
The midwest. Who knew? How will our eating change in Indiana? Stay tuned, if you can — and bear with me as I complain for the next four months, about everything from boxing up half my kitchen (for “staging” purposes) to the fact that our rental won’t have a dishwasher.