I'm not going to lie. Moving "up north" at the start of winter — being out in the woods without so much of a glimpse of a neighbor during the darkest days of the year — can be challenging.
This is no revelation. I haven't been blindsided. I knew these first few months would be tough. What I didn't know was that the absolute highlight of my day would be seeing Shannon's car roll up our drive.
Shannon is our UPS driver. And I do not exaggerate when I say that I MEET THAT MAN HALFWAY TO HIS HONDA whenever he arrives at our house. Even when it's below zero. Even when I don't have time to find my coat.
Also, I've made a pen pal out of our mail carrier. His name is Dennis and I've never met him in person, but we have a nice little correspondence going via mailbox.
ANYWAY. All of this is to help you understand what an absolute red-letter day it was — how utterly thrilling it was — yesterday when family descended on our house to make lefse.
Making lefse — a Norwegian flatbread — for the holidays is a tradition my family has carried on for years. Jay and I and the boys have only occasionally been involved because we lived too far away to pop in on a Tuesday evening to help.
But now. NOW! We were able to not only partake in the tradition, but host it.
I think the experience can best be summed up by what my sister, Angie, said about halfway through the day when I asked her how she thought it was going:
"The boards are getting sticky and tensions are high!"
Still, thrilling.
Plus, if you've ever made lefse before, you understand. If you haven't, here's how to best picture the day: Flour everywhere. People running back and forth across the kitchen with thin pancakes hanging off wooden slats. People yelling things like, "Oh no! It's sticking again!" Flour everywhere.
Here's how it looked at our house.
This is no revelation. I haven't been blindsided. I knew these first few months would be tough. What I didn't know was that the absolute highlight of my day would be seeing Shannon's car roll up our drive.
Shannon is our UPS driver. And I do not exaggerate when I say that I MEET THAT MAN HALFWAY TO HIS HONDA whenever he arrives at our house. Even when it's below zero. Even when I don't have time to find my coat.
Also, I've made a pen pal out of our mail carrier. His name is Dennis and I've never met him in person, but we have a nice little correspondence going via mailbox.
ANYWAY. All of this is to help you understand what an absolute red-letter day it was — how utterly thrilling it was — yesterday when family descended on our house to make lefse.
Making lefse — a Norwegian flatbread — for the holidays is a tradition my family has carried on for years. Jay and I and the boys have only occasionally been involved because we lived too far away to pop in on a Tuesday evening to help.
But now. NOW! We were able to not only partake in the tradition, but host it.
I think the experience can best be summed up by what my sister, Angie, said about halfway through the day when I asked her how she thought it was going:
"The boards are getting sticky and tensions are high!"
Still, thrilling.
Plus, if you've ever made lefse before, you understand. If you haven't, here's how to best picture the day: Flour everywhere. People running back and forth across the kitchen with thin pancakes hanging off wooden slats. People yelling things like, "Oh no! It's sticking again!" Flour everywhere.
Here's how it looked at our house.
Station #1: The rolling station.
How close do we dare get to a 450-degree grill? SO VERY CLOSE.
Flour on the floor and IN the floor — in every crack between the table and grill.
"You work. I'll take photos."
Also: I can't decide. Should that clock go on the fireplace, or back on the wall between those two windows behind me? Who wants to help me decorate the new place?!
Also: I can't decide. Should that clock go on the fireplace, or back on the wall between those two windows behind me? Who wants to help me decorate the new place?!