Thank goodness for bakeries

I was seriously stressing out after the brownie fiasco that took place in my kitchen yesterday. After eating a few of the wounded warriors and Steve telling me that it was going to be ok, and me giving him the dramatic eye roll that says, "My life is OVER," I calmed down. It's also hard to stay upset when this cutie wakes up and laughs for no reason.

So I made an alternate plan. I knew of a cupcake shop that was SORT OF on the way to the playdate's house. (Turns out that it was not at all on the way, but it worked out fine.) The cupcake shop was located next to, yep, a weight loss clinic. I told the guy working there that it was pretty cruel for them to be situated so close to people who are trying to lose weight and he said that the owner of the weight loss clinic tries every single flavor cupcake they have as soon as they come out with them (and there are a TON of flavors, which might be why the guy runs the weight loss clinic). The only cupcakes I saw were the size of my head, and as Steve will gladly point out, I have no small head. I asked if they had anything smaller and he said that they only make small cupcakes on Fridays.

???

So I got 6 of the world's largest (and prettiest!) cupcakes.

Of course I'll introduce you! On the top left we have Key Lime. To her right is Red Velvet. Underneath is Strawberry Cheesecake. Next to her is Cosmopolitan (which turned out to be some sort of yellowish type of yummy cake with chocolate frosting). Underneath is Wedding Cake (vanilla, vanilla). And next to her is Tiffany Chocolate (with a chocolate-y filling in the middle). They were a hit, I won't lie. Expensive little boogers, but that's what I get for waiting to make my dessert the DAY OF the occasion.

To add insult to injury (injury being my messed up brownies), my favorite sandals literally disintegrated at my friend's house. They were Gianni Bini's and I've been wearing them for more than a few summers now. When I stood up from playing with the babies, I felt my shoe not fitting quite right. And when I looked down, well, there it was. Broken. None of the OTHER moms' shoes broke... In addition to having shoes that functioned properly, they also made delicious homemade broccoli salad, chicken salad, and had 7-week-old babies that sleep from 10:30pm til 4:30am. WTH???? I didn't know that was even a possibility!! So maybe there is hope (future babies, I'm lookin' at you)..

All in all it was a good playdate. I enjoyed talking with other moms (even if we can't relate to each others' "sleep issues" (HA HA HA) and malfunctioning shoes) and it was nice to do something different. And luckily Steve took that mess of brownies to work, where they are being man-handled by hungry soldiers who could care less about presentation.

LOOK y'all. What am I supposed to DO with this?

So I got invited to go to this playdate by a girl at my church. She's invited some other moms and their kids as well, and it's going to be a luncheon-type thing. Fine. I asked what I could bring. Nothing. But I hate showing up with nothing in my hands, so I told her that I had a great recipe for brownies (and yes, they are homemade and friggin delicious) and that I would bring those.

Here is my special pan.

It claims to cook brownies so evenly and perfectly and you just pull the divider out, and *voila*- perfect brownies.

Except I Pam-sprayed the MESS out of that divider and pan and look what I got.

It's like a war zone.

A measly four turned out. And I don't even think they look all that good.

So now I'm stuck going to the store, buying some cookies or brownies, slapping them on one of my plates, and trying my best to pass them off as my own.

I'm also stuck with eating this mound of gooey chocolate deliciousness because I REFUSE TO WASTE GOOD CHOCOLATE DAMMIT.

Also, Sam has decided that it is now awesome to wake up at 2am every morning because he lost his pacifier and doesn't want to open his own eyes to find it himself. And then right as I'm falling back to sleep (it seems to take F-O-R-E-V-E-R for that to happen for some reason...), Steve gets up to go to the bathroom at 3. And then his alarm clock goes off at 4. And then Sam starts crying again at 5. And he wants to be up FOR REAL RIGHT NOW MOM at 6. And I feel like I've been up since 2, having weird dreams and wondering if I shouldn't go sleep on that wonky mattress in the guest room.

Here is what I WANT to be doing.

And this is who wants to play and entertain me with his spastic crawling and high-pitched squealing.

I think I'll go stick that brownie mess on top of some ice cream and call it a day. If I don't wake up when Sam starts crying, hit me with an insulin shot. Thanks.

I did not fall off the face of the Earth. In fact, we just moved to Kentucky.

Hello! Long time no see! Did you miss me? Probably not, what with all the sweating and general stinking I've been doing in the time I've been gone. But, with all the sweating comes a finished product (but not always, sometimes I just sweat because I'm hot), and that, my friends, is what we have. Well, sort of. It's ALMOST done. There are obviously pictures to be hung and floors to mop and boxes to take to recycling, but there is a light now. I can see it. Unfortunately, it too puts off a lot of heat and IS WINTER EVER GOING TO GET HERE???

LOTS has been going on around these here parts. We moved out of Old House (that always seems to feel about 15 degrees warmer than New House) but haven't cleaned it yet. (Why do today what you can put off until tomorrow?) We moved into New House and only managed to break about two things that we own. Not too shabby. Sam's room was finished first (OBVIOUSLY) so that the precious sleep schedule could continue on without any hiccups. We finally hung pictures in there today. Watching Steve hang pictures did not have nearly the entertainment value that I'd hoped it would (for Sam. I was enthralled).

I'm still getting used to having stairs. Good news: I haven't taken a tumble down them just yet. I can tell that it will happen though. More good news: I do seem to be huffing and puffing at the top of the stairs less than I was a week ago though (NOTE: STILL huffing and puffing, just LESS, so...), so that has to be worth something, right? I will confess that after running up and down the stairs during the move had its consequences for me the next day. Muscles that haven't been activated in QUITE some time were burning/tingling/aching. It's time for me to start hitting the gym again. Yikes.

Speaking of working out, Sammy and I are going to our FIRST EVER Mommy and Me Zumba class. They offer it at our community center in a kind of public room, and I'm not sure if that's to keep demand down for on-post housing or just so the housing ladies can have something to laugh about during the day. Either way, we're going. Knock that off my list. Hopefully Sammy isn't scarred for life. And hopefully I can walk up and down the stairs the next day.

We just got internet and cable hooked up this morning. Praise the Lord. We were renting an awful lot of awful movies from Redbox and it was starting to wear on us. I'm the type that can't stand to stop a movie halfway through no matter how bad it is, but this one movie was so bad (and so CLEARLY filmed in the early 90s, but marketed like it just came out), that I didn't fight it when Steve said he was stopping it. In our recent TV/Internet lull, I did get all of my magazines read, so the spot next to my nightstand looks amazingly clean and organized, and I tend to spit out random facts at Steve that I can't back up because "I read it in one of those magazines," but I recycled them all as soon as I was done with them and can't refer back to those breaking stories and pressing issues. <sigh>

Walks here are a lot more interesting than in our Old Neighborhood. There are paths, trails, sidewalks, random yard sales, different houses and yards to look at, and we aren't stuck with doing the same boring loop every time we decide to walk. However, in order to walk and not lose yourself in a puddle of sweat, you must start out at approximately 3:30am. I had been meeting a friend and walking from 8-9 or 9:30, but we were soaked and wondering when the first nap was coming because of the pure STENCH coming from our armpits and hoping they would be asleep long enough for both of us to make it to our houses and shower. (I regret to say that some days, that did not happen. Don't judge me.) So one morning, Sam woke up earlier than usual, and we were out the door by 6:20. I was thinking it would be SO much cooler then. HA. It was not. I sweated (is that a word?) just as much as I did at 8. Sometimes Steve and I will go in the evenings (that means 5:30pm- har har har) in order to keep Sam awake for a smidgen longer, but it is, again, SO FORKING HOT that we all come back ready to go to bed at 7.

Our neighbors here are so nice. Not that we didn't have nice neighbors in Old Neighborhood. Because we did. Well, the ones that I introduced myself to were nice. Here, people come say hi to YOU because YOU'RE the one who's new and moving in and don't know anyone! How novel! (For the record, this is the way I think it should work all the time.) Our attached neighbors just moved in a couple weeks before us and we had dinner with them a few nights ago. Our other next-door neighbor was best friends with the lady who used to occupy our house. She was anxious to see what the workers had done to the inside of our house since her friend had moved out and I told her she was more than welcome to come look around. And she did. But she brought cookies the size of my face in order to have a REASON to come over. I like that. I like that a lot. They were chocolate chip and had just come out of the oven and I'm not really ashamed to admit that those were my dinner that night. It was amazing, I'm an adult, and I can ruin my appetite for dinner with dessert if I feel like it! Scale be damned!

I'll post house pictures once everything starts looking more normal, but in the meantime, feast your eyes on this:

First pool trip on post. Check out that sweet belly. YUM.

While this is totally off-topic and random, I need some advice. Is it common for a dentist's office to require x-rays before they will clean your teeth? Obviously I am a new patient and that is why they want the x-rays, but holy molars the x-rays are something like $165, and the chipper little telephone receptionist was all, "And that doesn't include the cleaning!" After I was done choking on my own tongue, I told her that I would have to call back. I find that ridiculous. Can't I just tell them that I no longer possess wisdom teeth? I have no interest in having a root canal performed on me? I just want my chompers cleaned and scraped! Also, I think I have a hole in my gums that is becoming a little worrisome to me and would like to have someone resembling a "professional" check it out. Thanks in advance for the advice!

The post in which I become whiny and probably too sarcastic

I must tell y'all about some recent experiences. And yes, this is probably going to come out as all kinds of whiny, but I feel like you have the freedom (and the heads-up) to look away now if you wish.

All right! For those of you brave boys and girls still brave enough to get on the ride, here we go!

For anyone keeping count, Sam is now nine months old. No, I didn't realize it either until after the actual day had passed. Since there is no physical celebration of being nine months old, I think I'm in the clear. One of the benefits of remembering how old your kid is is scheduling appropriate doctors' appointments for them so that, developmentally, the doctor can tell you if your kid is normal or not or if he is "just doing his own thing." (You guessed what we're doing over here, didn't ya?)

We had two appointments yesterday. The first one was with the sweaty, old allergist that wasn't really doing anything for us that we hadn't already tried ourselves. The last time we saw him (haha you probably remember!), we waited an hour and a half to be seen by him, only to be given a prescription we've already had (but with different, more damaging instructions!), and this appointment was our "follow up." But according to Sweaty Doctor, this was the appointment where he would conduct food allergy testing. Well, according to Nurse Who Is Way Too Curious About My Weight, that would not be happening. We would mainly just be having a conversation in there. So I'm waiting an hour to have a conversation? I could probably write out how most of the conversation would go! And we'd probably leave with another prescription for something we've already tried! (We are well-known for wiping out pharmacies on special creams/ointments/lotions.)

 So after another half hour of waiting in the tiny waiting room with a child who was awakened from a nap to be at this godforsaken appointment, I'd had it. I was mad that he overbooks himself. I was mad that he treats my time like it's worthless. I was mad that there was nothing in the tiny room that I could use as entertainment for Sam, except the poster of a woman who has obviously never had vericose veins (ie, she looks to be about 19yo, skinny, and childless), yet she was magically "cured" of her vericose veins by some treatment they offer at the clinic next door. I was mad that the last time I was here, I actually bought the doc's story about there being an "allergy emergency". (Isn't that why they invented epi-pens?) I was mad that he might try to sell me that same story again. I was mad that the nurse weighed me again and announced my weight to the other nurse in the room because she needed help doing the subtraction (COME ON!). I was just mad.

So after being there for over an hour, I walked out of the room. I knew this appointment wasn't going to do anything for Sam's overall health and well being and I was a little ticked at myself for even coming to this appointment in the first place. I found the nurse that took our weights and told her that while this was fun, we had other things to do, like, I dunno, go to another doctor's appointment, put the kid down for a nap, pack up our entire house.. You know, nothing major, just some things I need to check off my to-do list. Ok, I wasn't quite that rude, but I wasn't trying AT ALL to be nice about things. I mentioned that I had been waiting for over an hour, and the last time I was here, I waited an hour and a half to see the doctor and that is absurd. (I don't care how "normal" that is in the doctor-world. It's still ri-freakin-diculous!) The receptionist lady chimed in that my appointment hadn't been til 10:15 and I chimed back that yes, I'M AWARE, but it's now 11:15 and that usually means that an hour has elapsed and I'm outta here, Jack! The nurse was all, "But you're NEXT!" And I was all, "How did you know I was born yesterday?" (Ok, that's what I wanted to say. When she told me I was next, I said that even though I'm technically next, that isn't to say that he's not going to spend another half hour in the exam room with that person, and I didn't have any more time to waste there.)

I left there and was feeling pretty heated (and not just because it was 2,000 degrees outside). I had in my head the workings of a mean, nasty letter to be written to them about patient care and office efficiency and then I let my mom read it and she said it was long-winded and sarcastic. She said that I should take another look at it later on and revise it when I wasn't in the heat of the moment. That basically means that the letter should probably be completely scrapped and never sent. <sigh> I thought the sarcasm provided enough entertainment and wit to keep them reading until the very end. I found it thought-provoking, yet eloquent. It might just wind up on the New York Times Bestseller's List! But, since Mama says it's not a good idea (and she's typically right dadgummit), I guess I'll follow her advice. Bad things tend to happen when I go against her advice.

Onto appointment number two! (What could go wrong??)

This appointment was with Sam's pediatrician, who I'm not wild about like I was with his first pediatrician in Virginia, but who is a nice guy and seems to be putting in the effort to make the doctor-patient-connection. After sitting in the waiting room for a whopping fifteen minutes, the nurse calls us back and apologizes profusely about our wait. (Did the other office call and give her a heads up about my b*tchiness?) She explains that their computers or server or network (all just technical jargon to me) went down and normally I wouldn't be waiting for so long. By that point, I knew that the other office had called and ratted me out. But no! Apparently this office we go to is just really into being efficient! And friendly! And oriented towards serving the PATIENT, not collecting as many co-pays as humanly possible. I explained to the nurse and doctor that I had been at the allergist's office earlier and basically tattled on myself, but after telling the doc about the creams he'd prescribed and his directions, Sam's pediatrician was glad we didn't wait around to see what he was going to prescribe next.
Sam was weighed (I wasn't!) and is 18.3lbs. (For the record, he is apparently a master of weight-loss. He weighed in at 20.5lbs at the allergist's office. But I guess when you're subtracting numbers THAT HIGH FTLOG, the subtraction becomes difficult and mistakes are made.)
He was 29 inches in length, but I don't put much stock in those numbers because no two people ever get the same measurement on a squirmy baby and I just don't think it makes a hill of beans how long he is. ANYwhoodle, after weighing and measuring his length, the nurse measured his brain-housing melon and determined that he's "normal." Whew!
The doc came in and I inquired about Sam's tendency to stand on his toes instead of flat-footed. (See, here I am just being too lazy to write about these appointments in his baby book. I will write it here and come back in 20 years and transfer it all to his records. Maybe I'll just print all these posts out for him and staple them together. Here son. A record of your life.)
The doc said, "So when he pulls himself up to cruise, he won't stand flat-footed?"
And then I laughed and laughed and finally caught my breath and said, "Oh no, my child doesn't pull himself up. He doesn't even really crawl yet. He rolls around on the floor to get to whatever he wants, but it's when I physically stand him up, he won't come down off his toes."
The doc only seemed slightly concerned that Sam wasn't flat-out running yet, but reassured me that kids all develop at their own rate and he once knew a child that didn't walk until he was 15 months old! Is that supposed to make me feel better? I'm not trying to keep Sam from walking or crawling, but I gotta admit, I enjoy the fact that I can plop him in one spot on the floor with a toy, walk away, and come back to find him in the general vicinity of where I left him. I am seriously going to miss that when he becomes mobile.

And since you've all been so sweet as to read this far, I will leave you with a slightly more entertaining story that may or may not embarrass my mom and sister.

Ahem.

When I went home last weekend for Brittany's bridal shower, Steve wasn't able to come with us. So driving for 9ish hours in the car, alone, with Sam (who wasn't too pumped about the trip), started wearing on me by the time we made it to my folks' house. As I was pulling up, I noticed two Jehovah's Witnesses or Mormons or SOMEbodies standing at their front door. I was wondering if no one was home, and I found that odd since I made it clear that our arrival would be imminent, but as I pulled around, I saw that the garage door was up and Mama and Liz WERE home, they just WEREN'T answering the door! Stinkers!
So by the time I pulled in the driveway, they had given up on getting anyone to answer the door. They started coming around to me. Bring it boys. I'm in the right frame of mind to deal with you today.
I walked around to the other side of the car to get Sam out and they came up and said, "Hello ma'am! We're-" and that's when I cut them off and said, "HI! I'm Catholic. And I just spent NINE solid hours alone in a car with this baby and I really gotta get him inside. Thanks so much." And they were just kinda stunned, but eventually said, "Oh, uh, ok. Well, uh, um, can we help you with anything?" And as tempting as it was to throw them the keys and ask if they would mind unloading the back of the car and tossing out that poopie diaper in the backseat, I declined their generous offer (knowing that once they got inside, it was Game Over). I know that was rude. I know they're just doing what they feel called to do. But it doesn't matter which angle I look at it from, it's still SOLICITING. And nothing annoys me more than a solicitor. (Tangent!)
When I got inside, Mama and Liz were giggling and apologizing through their laughs that they didn't mean to shove them off on me but ha ha ha that was funny! Oh you guys..... I'll getcha back.

I'm related to a Very Important Person!

Check out my brother-in-law!

http://www.beloit.edu/bucs/mlacrosse/?story_id=319736

And I now know how the Dukan Diet got its name

This past weekend was a busy one. Sam and I loaded up and headed to Enterprise for Brittany's bridal shower. As much as I thought I had organized everything, we ended up doing a lot of things last-minute (ie, dipping things in chocolate two hours before the shower started). One perk of doing last-minute things was a Friday night trip to Walz-Marts and the Dollar Tree. Good, quality, Friday-night entertainment.

The shower itself turned out great. The only downside was my excessive sweating and subsequently, excessive stinking from the general Hot-As-Hell-ness that is South Alabama. I love the South but good GOD, it is entirely too hot. Brittany was obviously unaffected by the heat. (You can tell this by the overall lack of sweatiness and great hair.)

 And now you can tell who her sweaty friend is...

Sam did really well on the car ride down and back. Better than expected, but not so well that I'm chomping at the bit to make the drive more often. Steve couldn't come with us since he is Captain America and must guard chemical weapons at a moment's notice, and also, I think he wanted to spend a weekend without us, eating pizza and watching whatever he wanted to on TV.

After the shower, my mom sent up approximately 43lbs of chocolate-covered hip-fatteners with me. "For Steve." Yeah. AWESOME. Not that I don't have the faith in Steve to put all that chocolate away himself, but because yesterday I started the Dukan Diet and cannot have any chocolate!!! Cruel, yes?
It has actually not been as bad as I thought it would be. True, I'm only on Day 2, but I haven't puked or quit yet, and those are my benchmarks for "bad," so we're OK.

Speaking of extreme fun, we are officially moving out of our rental house on Friday. Well, that's what we're telling the government. In order to avoid massive heat strokes, we are just going to finally GO INSIDE our new place and look around on Friday ("move-in day"), but we don't plan to physically start moving in until Saturday. Maybe we'll just work at night. It's officially HOT by 6:30am. And I spend most of my days officially SWEATY. Luckily for us, Steve's unit is on block leave this coming week and a couple of guys (including Steve) are staying behind, so it looks like I can kill two birds with one stone here-- rid myself of the 82 Coors Light that are eating up the top shelf of my fridge and get some help with the heavy lifting. Steve seems to overestimate my weight-lifting capacities and thought that we could do it all ourselves (HA HA and HA), but I had to remind him that my biceps are only this big because they are quite flabby, not full of muscle. Thankfully, I will not be on the losing end of hauling giant, solid-lead wood pieces of furniture upstairs.

If you're thinking about us while you're talking to The Big Man this week, say a little prayer that the moving goes smoothly (same for the protein diet- HAR HAR HAR).

He doesn't know that I'm laughing at the peas hanging out of his nose

Further proof that this stay-at-home-mom job has its perks. I get to laugh. A LOT.

I wasn't doing anything behind the camera to make him laugh. He would make that little "O" with his mouth and erupt in giggles. Obviously I was giggling a lot (sorry! creepy!) but thankfully you can still hear his sweet baby laugh.

Awesome BBQ? Check.

In my quest to knock another item off the list, we went down to Nashville to sniff out some high-quality, finger-lickin', lip-smackin', slap-your-mama-good bbq. (For the record, I don't condone smacking your lips at the dinner table, nor slapping your mother in any situation. Licking your fingers is totally acceptable in the odd case you find yourself in the most horrible end-of-world scenario-- NO NAPKINS.)

We met up with The Godfather, who just so happened to be living it up in Music City this weekend.

After picking up Uncle Dan, we drove downtown with a screaming baby who had only taken a 30-minute nap all day (and was awakened so that we could go to church on time). Obviously he fell asleep five minutes before we parked the car. We stuck him in the stroller and started making our way to Jack's BBQ in the sweltering 100 degree heat. He slept in the stroller until we got on Broadway, where a 4th of July street fair was taking place. Also, there were lots of random homeless people playing guitars and singing loudly on the sidewalks, so that made it slightly difficult for him to sleep peacefully. We made our way to Jack's and arrived to find 1) a line out the door and 2) no shade or breeze to speak of. We finally got inside and immediately started drooling like rabid dogs upon smelling the bbq and deeeelicious sides.

I got a bbq pulled pork sandwich with macaroni and cheese and baked beans. (We all regretted my baked beans choice on the ride home.) Also, a big glass of sweet tea.

YUM.

Daniel shared his cornbread with us, and I'm pretty sure it was the best corn bread I've ever tasted in my life. (No offense Mama and Jiffy Mix.)

We had a fun time catching up with Daniel and going downtown (Steve and I have not been since we moved here!). And now we know a tried-and-true spot to get some amazingly delicious Southern bbq.

After getting back from Nashville and putting the small person down for a MUCH-NEEDED nap, we decided to go check out the 4-day Freedom Fest out on post. We have been hearing on the radio about fireworks and rides and concerts. We packed everything up and were ready to go. Our main mission was to keep Sam up past 6pm. Everything else would just be gravy.

We went and discovered.... There would be no fireworks. Or concerts. Just carnie rides. And rednecks. So we walked around for a bit (until we had a good sweat going) and then drove home. Sam managed to stay up (happily!) until 8pm. So any way you look at it- total success.

Hope y'all have a safe and happy 4th of July!

Update on life

Well quite a LOT has happened around here since my little closet organizing victory. A lot indeed. When I organized that closet last week, Sam was still in his baby carseat.

He is now sitting pretty in this lovely creation:

Yes, that IS called Carrot Cake Orange, and no, I can't think of a more fitting color for a carseat for this tiny person. And no, I didn't dress him in all-orange just for the occasion of First Ride In The New Carseat. I just happen to think he looks adorable in orange. Or any other color he happens to be wearing.

Steve and I finally cursed the stupid thing into place last night while firecrackers were going off all around us like we were in the middle of Vietnam- and the heat! Oh the heat. It was pretty warm. And being warm while you're doing anything even slightly stressful just ups the frustration factor by a ZILLION. Before we knew it we were yelling at each other about WHO had the idea to buy this carseat and WHY can't the stupid carseat makers draw a helpful diagram or word something so that it makes SENSE and WHY are all of these idiots firing off their explosives tonight, don't they know it's only July 1st?!?! GAH. Not fun. Carseat installation is usually not on my radar, but I felt like I needed to see how it was done, in case, you know, one day in the future, I wouldn't look like the biggest idiot EVER when I had to get it out and put it back in myself (I'm thinking future car troubles here- preparing for the worst, hoping for the best).

So now I have a slight clue, as opposed to last night, when I thought the seatbelt actually hooked the thing into place. Oops.

Ok. So the next piece of big news is..... (drumroll).... We will be moving in approximately two weeks.

(Let it sink in)

Details:
Unfortunately for us, we aren't moving anywhere especially exciting, just on post. But what is exciting:
1) FOUR bedrooms!
2) Two and a half bathrooms!
3) A fenced-in backyard that actually connects to a door on the house!!! (BIG deal since the house we're currently in requires you to go out the side door, down the steps, through the gate, and into the backyard. ??? There is NO back door. Ludicrous, right? If you're not convinced of the ridiculousness of this house after hearing that, please see the photo of an air vent in the CLOSET. And yes, all of the closets are like that.)
4) No more commute!

Even though we are relatively "close" to post, with traffic and retarded drivers accounted for, it usually takes about 30 minutes to get from our door to wherever we're going on post. PLUS, if I'm taking Sam to some activity there, I have to remember to pack all the bottles and formula and extra diapers and swim diapers (in case we decide to get in the water), and a stroller, and an extra outfit (for the inevitable poop) and his lunch (and a spoon!) in case we hang out with Megan and it seems like I always forget something. So thank goodness Megan usually has whatever we are missing since she has an 8mo as well. But still. Doesn't that just sound like a hassle? It kind of is. I will be so appreciative to have a house that is close to everything we're doing and everywhere we're going. If we want to pop in and have lunch with Steve? No big deal! I'll just get Sam in the car and we'll go! Be there in 10 minutes! Oh, Sam's asleep? Steve can come home and have lunch with me! It will be AWESOME.

Now, the moving part... not so much. I don't particularly enjoy sifting through everything we own in the middle of summer (especially since I just did it 4ish months ago) and lugging it somewhere else and up stairs. OMG this place has STAIRS. I've never lived in a house with stairs before. Maybe it will help tone some certain problem areas, hm? Or maybe I will break my neck in a moment of klutz. STAY TUNED.

The only downer about this whole experience is that we can't go in and look at this house until move-in day. I've got a floor plan and details and first-hand accounts from people who've been in houses in this neighborhood, but I want to SEE it with my own two eyes and imagine where I'll put the couch and the dogs and the 4,637 baby toys. I was told (by housing), however, that even though I can't go inside, I can peek through the windows to my heart's content. So you probably know where I've been every day since hearing that. Yup. The first day I went, there were maintenance guys there doing work on the house and cleaning. So I politely looked through the windows, but I felt rushed and like I was being stared at like a FREAK for just standing with my face against the window, so I left but knew that I would come back the next day. Wouldn't you know that they are the only maintenance men I've ever heard of that work ALL DAY, EVERY DAY? They even work on Saturdays! I took pictures with my phone, but most of them just show my reflection in the glass, looking REALLY awkward and in need of a good shower, so I only kept a few. The first one is a frontal view of the house.

Yes, it is old. Yes, it is a duplex-ish home. But also, yes, it is free.

And here is a look at the backyard view. Nice, right? I will have to remember to show you our current backyard view. It usually consists of a bunch of nerds playing LAIR in their backyard. Also, a man who should most definitely wear his shirt when he mows his grass.

We are super-excited/worried/thrilled/relieved/happy/anxious.
We'll finally get away from this stinky realty company!
How are we going to move all of our stuff that fast?
Having four bedrooms will be awesome!
How are we ever going to get anything done with Sam (whose naps are shortening in length by the DAY)?
And WHY did I finally open all of my Polish pottery thinking we would be living in this house for three more years?!

<sigh>

It will all work out. That's what Steve keeps telling me. He's usually right, so I will try my best to believe him.