Adjusting.

We are enjoying our new life in country, but our peace and quiet has come at a high price: we very much miss our old friends.

Folks up here are remarkably friendly to us, even though are new arrivals. We're leasing a house right now. It's a small community of about 2,500 (spread out over a large area) and there aren't that many properties for sell at any given time (and it's winter} so we're not expecting to do serious house-shopping until the spring. The good news for us (as buyers) is that there is glut of housing in all the local counties, and this is expected to drive down prices significantly in the coming months (actually, it's already happening - we've seen listings that have already dropped their asking prices by 100,000 or more). Our Michigan Avenue money puts us in a good position here, and it looks like we'll end up with 2-5 acres of property, maybe more. We're pretty happy about that.

There are a few bungalows and Victorian houses (older farmhouses) here and there, but predominately the houses here are Plain-Jane ranch houses built in the 1970's or later. We are re-adjusting our outlook to regard houses as comfortable shelter rather than artifacts of history! We'll be able to maintain our next house with parts off-the-shelf at Home Depot, and we probably won't even need to locate a new source for stain-grade Douglas fir. It's kind of liberating.

We live about 7 miles from "The Intersection", the town center of Cool, which is controlled by a single flashing red light. There is a line of vaguely Western-style storefronts : a Deli, a Pizza/Mexican food place (not very good) a Chinese restaurant (very good), a saloon, a feed store, some realtor offices. A full-sized supermarket just opened as we moved here: most people are pleased not to have to drive 30 min to the "city" (Auburn) any longer, but some old-timers see it as a manifestation of the Apocalypse.

Last week we attended a spaghetti dinner and auction that was held at the community stables. It had been organized for the benefit of a local horse trainer whose leg had been badly broken while working with a young colt. We went to show support and to meet some of the locals, and had expected maybe a couple dozen would show up. instead, it was more like 300, their trucks and SUVs spilling out into the field around the barn. Everyone paid 20 bucks for scoop of spaghetti on a paper plate and then proceeded to over-pay for several dozens of donated auction items: saddles, boots, drawings of horses. bottles of wine. Nothing went unsold. The recipient of this generosity, a slender man sporting a cowboy hat and a hugh leg cast, gave short speech thanking his friends and read a poem he had written about friendship.