Two years in Ridgecrest

I actually missed the anniversary -- it was yesterday. Two years ago yesterday the babies and I and my two sisters showed up in town. Two years ago tomorrow, Rocket Boy drove in with now-deceased Whiskers. Or something like that. Anyway, this is definitely anniversary week.

I used to celebrate my anniversary of moving to Boulder, because I felt that it was such a special thing to have done.

The anniversary of moving to Ridgecrest seems like something to commemorate, or observe, not celebrate, as one would commemorate or observe the anniversary of a death or tragedy. OK, maybe it's not THAT bad. But still.

Here is a photo of my sisters and the boys in our new rental house, two years ago:

And here is that room today. I guess you could say we've made it our own:

I wish I could say we've made the town our own, but I don't feel that. We've both joined clubs and gotten involved, to some extent. But except for some of Rocket Boy's coworkers (both of whom have since moved back East), we haven't come close to making a friend. The only party we've had in our house was the tortoise club party. No one (except those coworkers who moved on) has ever invited us to their house. The twins haven't had a playdate or gone to a birthday party (maybe a little young yet, I don't know).

It's hard to feel at home in a place where you have no friends or family. Friends and/or family are what make a place a home.

Well, here beginneth Year Three. What will it bring?