We are on track for the move to Montana next year. Housing prices up there have settled somewhat, though they are still rather higher than those in Mis'sippi. But median incomes are higher, as well, so that's encouraging. Even if I stay in the same line of work I'm in now (retail management), I can expect to start about 10k higher than what I currently make.
But I am on track for a career change, as well. I took my Praxis I test earlier this month, and did very well on the first two parts; still waiting on my grade from Part 3, the written exam. I am looking into emergency teacher certification possibilities for the coming school year, but whether or not I become a teacher this year, I will continue to pursue my certification in the interim, between now and our move to Missoula. Next will be Praxis II, subject area specialization test.
We still have much work to do on the house first; primarily, painting the outside. That will have to wait until the autumn. Meanwhile we've redone one of the bathrooms and have been boxing up numerous books, clothes, and paraphernalia that we won't be needing over the coming year.
We're both very excited and very nervous, but feel more alive than we have in months.
Wassail, traveler, and welcome to The Gable Grey -- a place of retreat, of renewal, and of resistance: a tree-shaded refuge in Dark Times. Now pass the threshold, and rest from journeys! For a cold wind is blowing; and here, if you wish, you may hear tidings of the world without...
Friday, June 27, 2008
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Whiles carried o'er the iron road,
We hurry by some fair abode;
The garden bright amidst the hay,
The yellow wain upon the way,
The dining men, the wind that sweeps
Light locks from off the sun-sweet heaps --
The gable grey, the hoary roof,
Here now -- and now so far aloof.
How sorely then we long to stay
And midst its sweetness wear the day,
And 'neath its changing shadows sit,
And feel ourselves a part of it.
Such rest, such stay, I strove to win
With these same leaves that lie herein.
-- William Morris, from
"The Roots of the Mountains"
We hurry by some fair abode;
The garden bright amidst the hay,
The yellow wain upon the way,
The dining men, the wind that sweeps
Light locks from off the sun-sweet heaps --
The gable grey, the hoary roof,
Here now -- and now so far aloof.
How sorely then we long to stay
And midst its sweetness wear the day,
And 'neath its changing shadows sit,
And feel ourselves a part of it.
Such rest, such stay, I strove to win
With these same leaves that lie herein.
-- William Morris, from
"The Roots of the Mountains"