There are times in life when you have to pour a stiff martini, plop your butt in a chair, look around, arch your eyebrows, sip the martini, shrug your shoulders and say, “Welp, I have no idea what just happened, but I think I like it. Yep, I certainly think I like it.”
If you had told me during the Christmas holiday, as Handan and I sat by our hearth warming our middle-aged bones by a crackling fire, that in six months we’d be Georgians, I’d have walked into the kitchen, retrieved eggs and cream from the refrigerator and bourbon from the liquor cabinet. I’d then have whipped the egg whites with sugar, vanilla and freshly ground nutmeg and then folded them into a mixture of cream, egg yolks, sugar and bourbon. Once satisfied that I had crafted the absolute perfect Christmas eggnog, I would have taken an obligatory sip and then poured the rest over your head.
It would have served you right for being a delusional crackpot spewing nonsensical stories in my living room!
Seriously, fictional madam! I really don’t know what’s gotten into you!
If then you told me that before we would become Georgians, the entire population of planet Earth would go bonkers and willingly lock themselves up for two months while world economies crashed and talking heads on TV injected every citizen with syringe after syringe of Industrial-Strength Verbal Terror, well then I would have gone back into the kitchen, prepared another Ultimate Eggnog and offered it to you with my thanks and gratitude for the hearty laugh!
But we are Georgians.
And the world has been turned on its wet and rocky ear.
Yet here I sit, martini in hand (well, on a small table, if you want to get technical), and as I look around this empty house – these floors and walls that now constitute our home – I marvel at the journey that brought us here and at the time in human history that it happened.
And it moves me to open the front door, inhale a lungful of warm Georgia air and proclaim to the neighborhood and whoever may be listening:
The Navage Patch is dead, long live The Navage Patch!
Yep, we finally did it!
A few months ago, I hinted at this upcoming move with a promise that after a short lull, The Navage Patch would be back and stronger than ever.
Well, sister, we’re back!
And do we have a whole slew of projects in the pipeline!
HoooWeeee! My back is aching just thinking about all the stuff I’ll be doing around here in the next few years as I slowly make my way through Handan’s “Babes-Do” list!
But it will all be worth my groaning back and throbbing knees. There’s a new Navage Patch now, and it’s going to be grand!
Let’s take one last peek at The-House-Formerly-Known-As-The-Navage-Patch before moving forward and southward.
Remember this place? Take a last look.
Back in February, after I deposited Handan into a small studio apartment in Atlanta, I flew back to Connecticut to begin the daunting task of packing up The Navage Patch, loading it into a bunch of POD containers and then shipping our live to more southerly climes.
It was a miserable job, and the only thing that kept me going day after grueling day was the thought of being back together with my babes in a place where snow is a rarity.
I’ll spare you the sob story of my months of misery as I toiled alone in the empty house, but I will say this: clearing out that basement was a job I’ll not soon forget!
I’m sure you remember my underground lair, but just in case, let me refresh your memory:
It was the model specimen of an unmitigated disaster.
I didn’t fear packing up the house alone. But the basement gave me night terrors.
The ancient Chinese philosopher Laozi noted that a journey of 1000 miles begins with a single step.
So too the journey to empty this overstuffed sausage of a basement.
As I took that first step down our recently-renovated basement stairs, I could not envision the time when the basement would be clear.
It seemed like too much. An overwhelming task for one person.
But fortune visited in the form of a virus.
It closed the schools and delivered an able-bodied teenage helper just as I needed one most.
With Baris’s help, the burden eased and little-by-little we packed and hauled our way through the basement.
The basement alone took a few weeks, but in the end we prevailed.
And we packed almost everything! Sure, there was some legitimate garbage that got tossed into a rented dumpster (oh, what a sweet day that was!), but most of the stuff came with us. What looks like a pile of crap to the untrained eye is really a pile of future projects! So in the name of furthering The Navage Patch, it was all loaded into PODs.
All the Christmas stuff. All the Halloween decor. All the machines and the wood and the random odds and ends that we’ve collected over the years.
Even this guy:
In the end, it took 5 PODs to fit all of our stuff, and I’d guess that half came from the basement.
I left the gas grill for the new owners, but I’d never give up my kamado!
I can’t wait for this POD to arrive (number 4), so we can start grilling again!
The boy earned a good sushi lunch on dumpster day – eaten in the traditional Japanese manner of sitting Indian style on asphalt with two body bags nearby.
Eventually and finally, I shut and locked the door on the last POD.
A few days later, I hopped in the car and headed south. We had closed on our Connecticut house, and now I needed to get my butt to Georgia so we could close on our new house in Suwanee.
This was it!
We’d been gearing up for this event since late January.
As we waited to sign the closing documents, Handan and her special counsel discussed some last-minute details of the deal.
Hey, we closed on May 4th, so it was only fitting! 😀
And with that, the torch officially passed. The Navage Patch is now in Suwanee, Georgia.
We stepped into this house, now our new home.
There is so much to do now, and we can’t wait to share it all with you!
Stay tuned for an empty-house tour!