Spoke to one of our friends in the North Country this morning. David said it got up to 63 degrees there yesterday and poured buckets. That's about what our temperature was, too. Every few days or so, I e-mail or otherwise contact one of our friends in the ADK to make sure the future is still there.

It's been sad at times pulling away from our associations here. Steve and I will meet for breakfast at Zaftig, a Jewish deli in Brookline on Friday. At least I'll see him before he heads out on his lecture cruise on the QEII. But my other friend is continuing to prove elusive. She has e-mailed me, in response to yet another phone messagte from me, that December 9 is the best day for us to get together for lunch. But it is unlike her not to speak to me by phone. How can I convince her that our friendship is worth continuing long distance? I seem to have hurt in her some way, and I'm sorry, but I'm not sure exactly how I did this, except by deciding to move away from Boston.

Kitty is very optimistic about the future of our friendship. She swears that nothing will keep her from visiting. I worry, though; her eyes are failing and before long I'm afraid she will be legally blind. Sid will want to visit, but I fear not as often as she will want to, or I will want her to. There are, however, flights from Boston to Albany, though I'm not sure Sid will allow her to travel alone, even if I will be right there to meet her.

Packing, packing, packing. I read the Glen Falls Post Star online to keep in touch. I subscribe to all the North Country Public Radio news editions. I go to the Gore Mountain website everyday to check in on the snow report. Time goes so slowly because of the tedium. Always another box to pack.

Just wish I had some Adirondack news to report. I don't, but in Canton I saw a huge coyote at the Bradley estate. Gosh, he was big. As big as Sophie, with a beautiful, fluffy tail. Handsome!

Ken and I spent part of Saturday outfitting ourselves with clothing and gear for our new lives in the mountains. Sorels, warm socks of many varieties, compasses, warm winter wear of all kinds--all at a discount. I have new Sorels especially made for snowshoes, though they'll be good for cold weather hiking as well. And mud boots, we really need those. I think the brand we selected are called Mud Ducks. If they only made a mud skirt for Sophie's undercarriage! That's what I hate the most about muddy weather. How do you keep dog tummies free of mud?

I've been feeling particularly unsociable. I have nothing much to say because all I've been doing is packing and dealing with moving issues. In the evenings, I manage to stay awake long enough to watch one episode of something on TV. That's it.

I've just got to get through this week and really move mountains to get more stuff into boxes or packed away in the file cabinet or desks. Next Monday the 5th, as long as there's not a snowstorm, I'll be making my way north.

Transitions in relationships, too. One friend I treasure has made herself scarce. I left a phone message, she e-mailed me rather than calling me back, and responded to my question as to when she might be available for lunch. She added that she wasn't sure if she could get together because her writing might be at a difficult spot at the times I'm available to meet her. Sigh. I really was hoping against hope that we could stay friends, that we could keep a connection going after we move. She was happy for us when I told her initially, happy that we're making a move we want, but she admitted feeling sad and personally disappointed that things would change. I'm sad, too, but I really wanted to work to maintain a connection that would reach out over the miles between us. That's what I want, but that may not be what she wants to invest in.

Another dear, dear friend and colleague is himself moving away, to California, in about six months or so. He's still hoping there's a way out, because he's a do-or-die Bostonian, and he still can't believe I'm leaving because he was positive I was one, too. But, to tell the truth, it was very hard to imagine being here without him, and although it may have been a contributing factor leading me to pursue this move, it certainly was only one of many. Just the same, I'll miss him sorely. We were supposed to get together December 1st or 2nd, in between his research trip to London and his lecture tour for one final meal in the city, but his last e-mail neglected to mention anything about it.

So, all in all, I'm feeling slightly deprived in the friendship department. It's always hard to believe, before a move to a new place, that one will meet new friends who will nourish and satisfy. I understand, though, that there are quite a number of writers and artists in the Adirondacks, and that, one way or another, I'll meet them, and befriend a few. Who knows?

Back in the Hub--bub. Not at all pleased, which is due to the fact that our entire house is upside-down. The moving facilitators helped us clear and clean the garage and attic on Monday, and helped Ken deal with some more of his stuff. So now it's in boxes and piles to be further sorted or loaded into the moving van. But that's not coming for three more weeks. Actually, Monday, December 12, the movers pack us, the 13th we load and drive north, and the 14th they unpack us. Give me strength and a hand to hold (or a bullet to bite on!).

I have the privilege of supervising the carpet cleaning people myself on December 6. That means I'll drive up Monday the 5th, make sure the carpet guys don't get lost in our new house, relax the 7th (picture me skiing or snowshoeing or knitting and watching the snow fall), and drive home the 8th. With this schedule, I need to be nearly done with organizing and packing before December 5. What slows me down sometimes is the need to check with Ken before discarding something, anything. "Ken, do you want to keep this plastic letter opener from Anton's Dry Cleaners?" Not quite that bad, but close. I'm finally at the point where I'm just going to discard the really junky stuff and not ask. Just chuck it! "Be ruthless," as my mother would say when she made me clean out my closet as a teenager.

Now isn't this an incredibly boring blog entry? I'll warn you, readers; moving is deathly boring work. There is nothing elevating about it. Real life goes into suspend mode and one doesn't resume it until the new place is in some semblance of normalcy. I'll pray that it will be soon, so my readers won't swear off this blog.

We decided to stay here one more day before heading back to Canton. It's too hard to leave, although Sunday we must. This morning I stayed in my bathrobe until ten thirty, an unheard of luxury. Then, after a shower, I explored, being ever mindful that hunters could be around, imagining that I'm a deer in a light blue parka. I sang but felt stupid talking to myself, which I was advised to do. As I headed east out the back of our land, many mountains to the north become visible, including Gore Mountain with its now-snowy ski trails. They're making snow like crazy now, the jet guns going full blast, in preparation for the mountain's opening next week. How I wish I were going to be here when it does! But there's no way.

I wish I could come up when the carpet and upholstery cleaners arrive on December 6. Maybe I can figure out a way where I just have to be here, to make sure all goes well. I have hired someone locally to let the cleaners in and lock up when they leave, but in many, many ways I'd prefer to take care of it all myself. Could I persuade Ken that I just have to make the trip up for three days? I could think up other essential jobs that need doing, I'm just sure I could convince him if I can get into my most diplomatic personna. Then the next day, I could sneak up to the mountain and ski my brains out for a few hours, and then return home the following day, December 8, a week before we move. Would that be so horrible?

Annie and her colleagues at Broderick Real Estate rise early on most weekday mornings and put in a couple of hours of skiing before heading to the office. Sounds like a great way to start the day.

We drove to North Creek for some errands, introduced ourselves to Sarah, the young woman who's the proprieter of the famous Cafe Sarah on Main Street. Great bakery, delicious coffee, cozy seating area. She knows us on sight from our years of frequenting the cafe during our vacations. Turns out the property across the street from us, which the previous owners of our house owned as well, was just sold. But I wanted to buy it, damn it! It's been sold to a married couple who are friends of hers. They sound like nice people--they're teachers at a local school. So at least we're getting some good neighbors, but I'd rather not have building going on right across the street. Oh, well.

Then Ken suggested we head off to visit our friends in Minerva. We found David and Randi's labs, Hudson and Gracie, but the rest of the family is vacationing in Tennessee, where they used to live. Because they own Morningside Camps and Cottages, their vacation comes when the summer season is over. So we hopped back in the car and headed off to visit Pete and Anne Hornbeck in Olmstedville. They were both home, Pete preparing for a big fishing trip to western New York. Ken and Pete talked in Pete's boat building shop (he is owner of the prestigious Hornbeck Boats), and when I expressed interest in Anne's quilting, she showed me all her quilts and gave me a tour of her quilt-making shop, a beautiful project room above her garage. Pete is ecstatic we've made the move up here and we hope to see lots more of them

Then home we went after a stop at Tops, the grocery in North Creek. Ken talked me into having pizza for the second time this week. I have no real way to make a dinner other than hamburgers or pizza, so I gave in. And here we are; it's six thirty and I supposed I have to pop that thing in the oven, which is totally inferior to the one I have at home. How long will I be able to stand it?

Brilliant sunshine for much of the day today, which made the cold much easier to take. It was about 15 degrees when I got up at six, and the temperature did not rise above 28 degrees all day. I didn't mind a bit, but ask me how I like it when we're at twenty below! I don't think I'll go skiing then.

I'm mesmerized by the view out our windows. I am constantly distracted by it and I take it in big mouthfuls. I was so busy with errands and house jobs that I didn't have a chance to walk the property until four. For 45 minutes I crisscrossed the pastures. There's no help for it: The only place for the garden is where the bears and deer like to meander. The soil is not passable anywhere else. Joe, a native of Johnsburg, is going to be my right-hand man in breaking ground for my organic vegetable garden. I haven't discussed with him the building of an electric fence yet, but it seems the only way, especially if I want to plant a few blueberry bushes. Even with an electric fence, I'm not sure the bears will be able to resist crashing through a fence, even if it is electric. It's possible I'll have to forego blueberries if I want to maintain a garden fence.

Joe's brother Jim loves to hunt. He helped Joe remove the furniture that the previous owners left behind. They're going to find new homes for all of it. Jim stood at our living room windows and whistled. "Some great hunting up here all right," he said. "Sure is," Joe said. I sensed that this was the opportunity they were giving me to say that I'd let them hunt up here. But I said nothing. "Do you hunt?" they asked Ken. "No, I don't," Ken said in a beleagured voice. Jim said, "Heck, all you have to do here is step out on the deck and shoot!" I laughed, and I did find it funny, but I cringed at the same time.

I hope I got myself a weekend job today. When I had my picture taken for my season's ski pass at Gore Mountain, I applied for a job. The woman in the office took my application with considerable enthusiasm. She thought they'd use me in the ski shop or in the concessions area. That's fine by me. I really enjoy retail work. And weekend work is perfect because the mountain is far too crowded for skiing in my opinion.

We have to go home tomorrow, and I'll be dragging my feet all the way. I love my new home and I want to stay here. It's so annoying to have to go to Canton and deal with all the moving problems.

This morning I was up at six. My heart flip-flopped when I walked downstairs to the living room and saw mauve tendrils of clouds that promised a glorious sunrise. For the next couple of hours I kept returning to the windows to watch the morning unfold. I had thought the living room faced east, but it appears it faces east--northeast or even north-northeast. I need a compass to figure it all out.

I wanted to run upstairs, dress, and race out the door to the woods, but I didn't. We're in the midst of deer hunting season, and even though there are "No Hunting" signs posted, the previous owners told me that they have always allowed the guys on the fire squad to hunt up here. All their tales of bears and moose did not concern me, but when the missus turned to me and said, "If they show up, just go out and tell them you don't want them to hunt up here," I wanted to scream. You mean I have to go out and tell the men who might someday be in a position to save my house from burning down that they can't hunt where they've always hunted? When I told her, I really didn't want them to hunt here because of our dog, she just said, "Well, we've always tried to get along with the locals." That's what she called them, "the locals," like they're some alien underclass. I guess I'll wait the two weeks for hunting season to be over before I venture out there, and even then I'll only do so while singing--loudly.

Our trip to Glens Falls was productive. Ken hung out at Home Depot for hours and hours, buying lots of items we need to make the place livable. I relaxed at Starbucks, then ventured on to explore the shopping opportunities. I visited Price Chopper, which appears to be a very good, supersized supermarket. The produce was of high quality for a supermarket, so I'm sure I'll be shopping there. I found an excellent discount liquor store with a large wine inventory. My favorite, Excelsior Cabernet Sauvignon from Robertson, South Africa, was in abundance, to my delight. Wal-Mart was in evidence, but will never be frequented by me or Ken, not even once. The boycott is still and always will be in effect, at least for us. There's a Sears, J.C. Penney, Target, Lowe's, Jo-Ann's Fabrics--lots of chains in this part of Glens Falls. We didn't venture into the shopping district of the city--that will require a day of exploration by itself.

It's annoying to me that I had to spend five to six hours there in that wasteland of a mall area, but sometimes one must.

Tomorrow morning early, perhaps I'll hike through the back, yelling and singing and pretending Sophie's with me. To hell with the hunters.

Today is our first full day in our new house. We pulled in yesterday at around noon, and set to work with a vengeance, discarding bag after bag of junk that the previous owners left behind. Monday night, when we had the pre-arranged, pre-closing "walk through," I silently hit the panic button when I realized the owners were leaving us everything they didn't want to take. Due to a host of irresolvable circumstances, not the least of which was that the former owners knew everybody in our new town and would badmouth us to everyone if we insisted on a remedy, we did not press our point--that the purchase agreement states that we were buying the house "furnished," but with "personal belongings" removed. So much for contracts! Our realtor promised to help us bag all the stuff and haul everything to the Adirondack version of the Salvation Army and to the dump, which she did. I was extremely grateful--it would have created a messy scene to force these people, and without her help at the house, I would have been completely overwhelmed.

So today dawned, raining hard as it did all day yesterday, but with me feeling much better after a decent night's sleep. Everything has been uphill since the day of the closing.

With help, we've emptied the truck we brought, our phone is working, and our DSL and wireless all connected. We don't have satellite tv yet, that is going to have to wait until we move in permanently next month.

So this morning I had my fresh-ground coffee with cream as planned, and looked out on our land. Terrible visibility, though. I could see the hills, but not the mountains. I do hope it clears before we have to go home Saturday! Although the previous owners tried to scare us with stories of a parade of black bears marching across the property and bobcats in our woods, I was much more afraid of the chance of running into a mouse indoors. The house inspector told us about the mouse droppings he found in the crawl spaces, and I found droppings and a container of D-Con under the kitchen sink. Yeah, I'm terrified of mice for some reason. I even stand up on chairs and scream, "Eeek! Ohmigod, a MOUSE!" But so far the only wildlife I've seen has been a chickadee that scolded us--I guess he thinks it's high time we put a feeder up. We will, wee chickadee, when we move in in December.

A cold front is moving through. The temperature has dropped 18 degrees since this morning. I'd love to see snow, of course. I'd like nothing better than to march through my woods and come across a bobcat. What do they think we bought their house for? Sipping cocktails by the pool? This is the wilderness, for chrissakes!

Tomorrow we go to the "big city" to drop off the rental truck and go to Home Depot for supplies. We'll check out one of the several supermarkets, too. I can't wait for the moving-in process to be over so I can begin having some adventures around here.

Darkness is closing in on Redwing Marsh in eastern Massachusetts, and in one month I will leave it forever for a new life in the Adirondacks. Leaving a suburban existence is incredibly complicated, and extricating ourselves from the unwelcome trappings of urban life has been as difficult as trying to shake off garage cobwebs--you know the kind, gauzy stuff so sticky you're forced to live with them until the next laundry.

Problems everywhere we look, the worst being dealing with contractors, painters, and "handymen." I won't continue in this vein because this kind of chatter sucks all the life out of me. Now when I get a call or an e-mail from one of our Adirondack friends, I'm so cheered up, I jump out of my grumpy suit. The Future! It really is out there after all!

Tomorrow we pick up the rental truck, Sunday we pack it, and Monday we drive up for the closing on our new house, which will take place at ten on Tuesday morning. This is only phase one of our move--we move permanently with all the rest of our stuff on December 14. But what's keeping me alive is knowing we'll be up there from Monday until Saturday morning next week.

On Wednesday morning, November 16, I'll make coffee and take that first cup with me and sit in front of the huge windows that look out on our pastures and woods--all 26.7 acres of it. I'll write in my journal, something I've found just too hard to do these past weeks as I race from one moving task to the next.

When will I take that first solo walk? (Sophie will be visiting all her aunts, uncles, and cousins next week.) We have to remember to bring the brush cutters, so I can start bushwhacking some ski trails out the back. I can't get too busy with that because I've got to drop in at Gore Mountain so they can take my photo for my season's pass. And my other important piece of business is getting a library card at the local library.

There's so much I want to do at our new place (hiking, exploring my new town of 2200 people, getting my office set up, reading and writing again, cooking, snowshoeing, alpine skiing, cross-country skiing), it'll kill me to have to drive back here and finish all the hard work. Deep down I may be a lazybones after all. If that's not true, then at the least I'm allergic to moving.

I'm eager to begin recording the details of our adventure. Just a couple of more days.