NOW it's Home

The junk is stashed, the kitchen is functional (DRAT! no more excuses to eat out!) and we registered for church and religious ed. I guess we're settled. Since it was our nick-knacks and paddy-wacks lying around, the house felt like home pretty quickly. But I knew we were TRULY home yesterday.

We got our very first official bill.

Yeah! Now we live here, and nobody can argue otherwise. Of course since this is a momentous occasion only occurring once, well once per move anyway, I decided not to actually pay the bill but instead frame it. I have no idea why the customer service rep at AT&T had a problem with this plan. I promised to frame it in a place of honor! Honestly, some people just don't get me.

I was complaining to Hubs about the general lack of sensitivity in customer service people these days when he ever so gently suggested that maybe I had been cleaning too long and the fumes had gotten to me.

Normally this would have led to a serious escalation in battle tactics. But for once I thought before I hollered back and sniffed and tried to look miserable. Obviously fearing that I was either rabid, insane, or hormonal--possibly all three, he immediately suggested for going messing up the recently organized kitchen in lieu of a pizza/movie night.

Nah haha. My mom might have raised a nut, but she didn't raise a dumb one. I know when to give in gracefully. So I promised to pay the stupid bill and we all left for a night out.

Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home. But eating out is good too.

Getting Settled

Well, with the Great Box War (mostly) behind us, things are starting to feel like home. Piles of useless junk lurking in corners, the floor needs to be swept, and there is a mountain of laundry threatening to topple over and maim a poor helpless victim. You know, that "homey" feeling that takes most people years of bad habits to create we can synthesize in under a month. Are we good or what?

Now our attention is turning to expanding our empire. We have to find a church, activities for the poor home schooled kids needing "socialization" (or for the home teacher mom needing a break-take your pick!)meet the neighbors (at least the ones who will still talk to us after the garbage fiasco) And of course locate all the best fast food places. Not that we eat such junk...oh who am I kidding, we love the stuff.

This is an area that differs from sunny Florida. Sure we gave up the beach. BUT we gained many dining alternatives. Within a 45 minute drive in FL we had maybe 20 different dining options. Now, well, we are basking in the glory of almost unlimited gluttony.

I do feel bad for the poor people working the drive thru, though. We have become used to the pace of Armpit, FL and now take 20 minutes to order. I'm sure our food is probably being spit on in anger but what can I say? 5 years in the south slowed us down some.

We better start picking up the pace; once the snow flies the last thing we're gonna want is to hang around with the window down for any extra time. Don't worry, we'll be back to speaking midwest soon. Y'all.

The Great Box War of 2010

We are moved. Three simple words to sum up the final stages of our ever so complicated military relocation. It's funny, really. Other military people do it even more often than we do. I don't know why this time was such a complicated ordeal. Of course it might have something to do with the enormous piles of beloved trinkets and knick-knacks we insist on saving despite the fact that they serve no purpose what so ever. Nah, probably not. I'm blaming it on the deployment. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

The moving company is supposed to take all the old boxes with them so you don't have to get rid of them yourselves. Our movers didn't. Thanks guys! If they had done their jobs properly we wouldn't have had the honor or being awarded the "Most Obnoxious Redneck Neighbors From Hell" medal. Such prestige is nothing to take lightly. We weren't in the new house 48 hours and people on three sides of us were already contacting the rental company to discuss buying out our lease. Think I joke?

27 bags, 3 extra large capacity cans, 4 giant boxes of leaves, and two stacks of broken down boxes each 6 feet tall. This was what we set out at the curb on trash day.

The truck had to run the compactor 3 times just at our driveway. 3 times. Luckily the sound covered up the loud curses of the collectors who might have broken a commandment but definitely took our names in vain.

And we still aren't done. We still have all our objects d'art to stash. I mean arrange.

Oh yeah, and a play-set to assemble.

But for now we are mostly situated in our lovely retro house. My mom managed not to snicker out loud but I know she's enjoying a good chuckle at my expense. OK, I may have teased her a bit about her orange carpet and lovely orange-rust-avocado striped wallpaper and so God has blessed us with a very reasonable but totally 70's house. 3000 sq feet of retro loveliness. I can adjust to wood floors with a pattern and orange finish. (Even though Barney now blends in so well it's only a matter of time before I step on him!) I can handle two bathrooms tiled floor to ceiling in swirly green marble. My Brady Bunch kitchen has character. But I drew the line at a formal living and dining room adorned with gold sheers accented with strands of beads. I'll live in a retro house but I draw the line when retro meets red-light district. At least the basement carpet is chocolate brown. It could be worse. It could be orange shag.