moving in

Ready or not here we come. While the house wasn’t exactly ready for us when we moved in last weekend, we were sure enough ready for it. Even if it has meant crunching around on gritty tile, walking on paper pathways across wood floors, or playing eeny, meeny, miney, moe with boxes in the garage trying to divine which one contains a knife so we don’t have to cut the Sheboygan (our favorite summer sausage and meat of choice for the last 3 nights) with a spoon. Our time with A & T and the lovely Miss B was really a lot of fun, and we will be forever grateful for their hospitality, but Dorothy was right. Grit or no grit, there’s no place like home.

The girls gave the house their blessing this past weekend. They are ecstatic that this has FINALLY been done, and in a way that’s exceeded even their great expectations. “Why didn’t you do this when we lived here?” they demand to know. Hmmm…let me think. Dance lessons? Pom squad? Car insurance? Apartments? Tuition? Theta? I wish we could have done it for you years ago, but sister girls it’s done now; and we expect to see all your shiny faces OFTEN! Just don’t drip on the new wood floors.

Speaking of new wood floors. I knew this whole remodel thing was going way too well. One day the wood was in and looking mahvelous. Then the very next day the tile guy

a. accidentally

b. carelessly

c. asininely (you pick, I know I have)

dragged an old broken-down shopvac with one stuck wheel back and forth across it a few dozen times. Yesterday, after attempts were made to rectify the situation with a little patch kit obviously involving the application of fresh stain, what did I spy with my little eye but little stain paw prints sashaying across the living room floor. Stain prints which, upon immediate closer examination, were found to be shaped EXACTLY like those of Suzie, the cat. But how can I stay mad at a girl who brought me my very own fully grown live robin in her mouth and delivered it to me inside my house only days before? But back to the floor. They're working on it again today, and hopefully they now grasp that it will take more than a piece of blue tape across a doorway to stop a cat like Suzie.

We plan another wave of moving this weekend, and I hope to be eyeballs deep in empty boxes by Sunday. John’s goal, while not quite as lofty, is no less important. He plans to eeny, meeny, miney, moe his way to the box hiding the TV cable.