For When The Post Just Sits

Hey.

Don't get excited.  This isn't a real post.  I'm not here to tell you about a fancy new recipe where I grew my own chickens, or what to do with leftover bread when its only kinda sorta moldy (penicillin is my only guess).    I'm not going to tell you how to love the days with your littles (getting to bedtime is like going to Disneyworld these days) or what to do when your dog won't stop breathing in your face at every turn (because I don't ding dang know).

The truth is, I'm just tired of the last post sitting here, with its unflattering picture of Riley Girl and its blatant lie (I'm sooo not in Canada anymore, eh).  I have nothing for you.  Nothing to give.  I gave at the coffee shop.  Seriously.  I've been writing, but not for your benefit, or for my personal benefit.  Today, it was 4 1/2 pages of a literature review on robust optimization and its applications to network design.  Don't cry, I promise I won't mention it again.

So I've got nothing left to offer.  Life is beautiful, I'm grateful for the days and I love my baby and only sometimes think about re-homing my dog and Handsome and I celebrated (in the loosest sense of the word) our 6 year anniversary and he's only got 13 shifts left at his full time job here.  I'm sure there are feelings about all of that, but I don't know what they are and I'm too burned out to look for them.  I've got 16 (really 15 at this point) days left to finish writing my PhD dissertation, and its taking everything I've got.  I actually let RG stay at daycare for (wait for it) 7 hours today.  Personal record.  When the world is my oyster, I average about half that per day, because I'm peculiar like that.  But the world is not my oyster and there is no pearl, but instead meetings and writing and deadlines and journal articles.

This is a season, but while this season sits here (for the next 2 weeks), this post is likely going to sit here.  So that is why I've peppered it with some of my favorite pictures.  So that when I have a spare moment and I click over here to see if there's anything I can read in the 2.4 minutes left of my break, I can look at lovely pictures that make my heart happy.

Keep on keeping on, my friends, July 10 will be here before we know it!

<3 M.

On Leaving & Jeremiah 29

Our windows are open tonight.  The warm air that is South Carolina in March is blowing through, and I'm overwhelmed by how much I love this place.

Not specifically this house, although now that my baby is growing up here, I like it a lot more.  I see places where she plays and stairs that she learns to climb on and doorways that she peeks her head out of so much more, and I see overspray on the brick and missing quarter round and sagging crown molding much less.  When we bought this house, my intention was for it to be a three-year house.  Just long enough to get us through the end of my PhD.  I struggled off and on with hating it, for all of the things that it wasn't.  Open floor plan. precisely constructed. modern.  And now, when we're entertaining ideas about leaving it, I find myself curiously attached.

But maybe its not so curious.
I mean, who doesn't love that faux wood paneling in a small kitchen?
I'm really helping this place out if we go to sell it, aren't I?

In a "I will remember you fondly but there's your door and I'll let it slam on the way out" sort of way, not in an "I wanna live here for eva" sort of way.  Make no mistake.  This house, although the memories will be missed, and the great morning and afternoon light it has always gotten will be reminisced about, is leave-able.

But while we're entertaining ideas that would lead to us leaving this house, we're also entertaining ideas that would lead to us leaving this place.  This 70* in March place.  This sweet-tea-or-bust, yes-ma'am-no-sir, fixin' to and 'pert near place.

That's definitely not a "let the door hit chya" type of thing.  Apparently, I am a southern girl.  I wasn't born a southern girl, and only God knows how long I'll get to stay here, but I love it here; I've found my people.  I was made for the southern life.  It explains why I've always loved mason jars so well!  (If you also love mason jars, you should consider the south.  Just sayin'.)

When we moved here S-I-X years ago, it did not feel like home.  Oh, I fought it.  It was new and scary and different and so. far. away. from our families and my nieces and nephews were growing up without me and I didn't know anyone at the grocery store.  I could go to Walmart in my rattiest pajamas without fear of running into someone I knew.  I missed that.  I pined for that.  I walked the sidewalk in front of our first apartment, playing balance beam on the parking blocks, crying on the phone to anyone with an 814 area code who would listen.

I clung to Joshua 29, a letter to the exiles.  I know a lot of people love verse 11, and with good reason.  " 'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord.  Plans to prosper you and not to harm you.  To give you a hope, and a future."  And I agree that that verse can give a lot of comfort.  But I liked to move a few verses back and just hang out with verse 7.  " 'Seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you... and pray to the Lord on its behalf.  For in its welfare, you will have welfare.' "

So we sought our city's welfare (using "city" in the loosest of terms).  We joined things and knew people and became known to them.  We developed friendships and volunteered and eventually, after much work and dedication and shopping cart wrangling, we began to see people we knew at the grocery store.  And I read Joshua 29 again, and I saw that verse 5 said to "build houses and live in them.  Plant gardens and eat their produce." and so we did.  Of course, we did it for other reasons, like low mortgage rates and a love for digging potatoes.  But we did it.  We put down roots.  We really invested in this place.

Verse 6 says to "take wives and become fathers of sons and daughters..."  Again, not because we were following the step-by-step instructions, but all the same, we did this.  We began our legacy here.  We are now attached to this place in a way that can never be erased, our names printed on a birth certificate beside the names "Mother" and "Father" with "Greenville, South Carolina" in the location line.  For the rest of her life, when Riley fills out serious government paperwork, it will call back to this place.  The place where we were "exiled".

And now, it might all change again.  I've got a job interview the end of this month, and getting/taking that job would send us packing, to a place closer to home, but not home.  We would start over again.  Tonight, partially because this is big and partially because I'm having a hard time with DST and didn't get much sleep, this potentiality seems like a gaping hole I can't even begin to cross.  Think "The Great Divide" from Land Before Time and you'll be on the right track.  I can't fathom leaving here, beginning again back in verse 7, then verse 5, and 6.

But I do know this: We did what we were supposed to.  Even if we do end up having to leave, even if it means starting over, even if the fact that we have such deep roots means that it will hurt so much more to rip them out, we did what God asked of us, and I'm not sorry.  And if He asks us to do it again, I will.  I don't know how, but I will.  Because He is faithful, even when we've run out of faith, and I know he will lead, as He always has.

I don't talk about this with many people, because we know so few location-indiscriminate types.  You might call them gypsies.  Most of our friends are either back home, where we spent our first 22 years, or here, where we've been for 6, and they each want us with them, which is nice but also hard.  So thanks, invisible internet friends, for letting me talk to you about it.  ;)

<3 M.

A Space for my Place

I don't know what it is about 2014, but I have been on my game this entire year.  No lie.  All 2 days of it.  Yesterday, there was much scrubbing and wiping and putting away.  There was also exercise and dinner made.  While I'm toot-toot-tooting my own horn, I'd also like to mention that not once so far have I forgotten to feed my dog.  Considered re-homing him, definitely.  But he's been fed consistently and so we're still winning.

Today, there was dishes doing and laundry switching and vacuuming of carpet and car seats.  And then, I got down to the fun part - my new space!  A place of my own, a space to create - a haven.  A not-chaotic, made just for me, haven.  Bear in mind that all things are relative, but to me, this little corner of the spare bedroom is sitting at the end of the rainbow, shooting wishing stars and french-braiding unicorn manes, awesome.  I have been doing all of my work off of either a $10 yardsale table that is octagonal shaped, or the coffee table downstairs, so pretty much anything would be a bump up. 

Enter: The consignment store sewing table!  (It's worth it to note that I have 0 amount of prejudice as to the origins of these tables.  If I had grabbed this table off of a garbage barge on a hot summer's day, I'd still love it just as much.  After a thorough bleaching, of course.)

See that??  That sweet little made-for-my-new-machine table?  Let's have a closer look-see, shall we?

Now my quilts can just skim across that table top, moving like the music of my soul.  Or at least NOT like a blanket that is draped over a pile of books and getting pushed and pulled back and forth and sometimes catching but maybe not quite.  In a word, the fact that the table is level with the sewing... place... (?) is bliss.

But wait!  There's more!  You saw those swanky drawers on the left-hand-side, right?  Or you thought you did...

Ta-daa!  Not drawers at all, but rather the perfect place I've been wanting for keeping thread all not jumbled up.  Storing things inside of pickle jars is fine for stuff that is compact, like nails or crayons or pickles.  But storing thread... well, its a mess.  There's a reason they're not called "thread" jars, and it has nothing to do with the fact that pickles come in them.

Anyhow, one thing I love about this little table is that, thanks to its previous owner, it has already been outfitted for all of the things a sewist such as myself would want.  All those small pieces to my sewing machine, like the screwdriver and the feet and the piece that I'm not sure what it is?  That little bin right on the door keeps them handy and out of the way.  And the most perfect thing I ever did see?

Like. A. Glove.

I've decided to keep my old Brother (hehe... my brothers...) because of those fancy stitches it can do.  Mostly for the zig-zag and the button holes, really.  My mew Juki, she's the star of the show up top.  But you can't just get rid of your Brother!  That's illegal! (Unless he's younger than 6 months old, in which case it is perfectly legal to leave your brother at a fire department.  This has been a PSA.)

The rest of the room is in flux still, because there's a few things that need to be moved that can't be moved without another set of hands, and RileyGirl wasn't feeling particularly helpful today.  Girl has got to start pulling her weight at some point.  Sheesh!  But handsome will be home soon enough, and then things will be moved and the other side of the room won't look like this anymore:

#fulldisclosure

So now that things are coming together, I've got the itch to get to making again.  The nightmare that was Bono & The Christmas Sweatshop (name of a terrible 80's exercise video???) has been all but forgotten, and I'm feeling the creative juices flowing!  Which is good, since I still have about 4 Christmas presents left to make, and I've got to order my cow hide this week.

Have you been doing any extra cleaning this year?  Have you been making anything?  Have you fed your dog?  Do you want my dog?  So many questions!

<3 M.

Hey! Ho! I'm Home!

Did you hear my sigh last night?  You know, around 1:45 in the A-to-the-M, when #RG & I finally made it in the door, back at home after nearly 2 weeks of visiting the Great North.   I thought maybe you might have heard it.  It was with mixed emotions that we boarded the plane to come back to the sweet sweet South, as we had to say goodbye to so many people we love dearly, and yet I knew that my bomb-phenom husband would be waiting at the other terminal when we disembarked.  

Goodbye, lovely family & friends.  Thanks for the good times.

Hello, love of my life.

That sort of thing. 

NOTE:  You can travel with as much milk for your baby as you can carry, in case you needed to know that.  You should also know that, were you to (hypothetically) wear your baby through the airport, in a carrier that resembles what bombers in movies wear, you will be stopped for a hand test, you will have to hand your bags of breastmilk over for density analyzation, and you will have your checked baggage randomly checked.  Yes sir, Mr. TSA Dude.  That's just breastmilk.  Yes, from my boobs.  So glad you could handle it.  I feel we're somehow closer now...

But we did say goodbye and then hello, and we did make it home, and we're here now.  And can I just say, Holy Cannoli!  Apparently the Upstate decided to throw me a welcome back party, as everything that was mere buds when I left two weeks ago is now in full bloom.  I'm about to walk over to my window and throw up the sash, letting in the intoxicating smell of the dogwood in the backyard.  I can't hardly stand how fabulous it is outside today. 

I'm hoping to pick up some things for gardening, and maybe let #RG feel the (crab)grass beneath her toes.  What are you up to this lovely lovely weeekend?

<3 M.

Back At Home

Home.  Oh, I love a good home.  Even though there are many things I would love to change about our home (the popcorn ceilings, the overspray on the fireplace, the awkwardly shaped rooms...)I know that we have a pretty sweet situation here.  I am warm enough.  I am sheltered from wind and rain.  I get to watch birds flit around in the dogwoods at the front and back of the house.  I get to watch Duke go all Rambo-dog on the squierells that dare trespass on his lawn ("Stay off the grass!").  Our home is more than enough.

I love coming back home, most of all.  There's just something so quieting to my soul to be back in my regular spot, doing my regular things.  Traveling is great and all, and Phoenix was really really cool, but I love home best of all.

Since I was home and could, I baked yesterday.  Bread.  Like, the real stuff.  Sounds impressive, right?  Like maybe I should open up that bakery I talk about.  It's probably because of some great tips I know.  Like the fact that if your house is, say hypothetically, 66* because you refuse to turn on the heat, under-cabinet puck lights can really heat up a space for bread to rise.

It might be a fire hazard, but dang it, my bread rose!

Or that if you think you should take your rings off before kneading the dough, it's probably a good idea to do so before (1) you get unbelievably pregnant or (2) the under-cabinet puck lights heat the entire kitchen and your fingers respond accordingly...

Whoops.

And finally, a good recipe is everything.  Seriously, Mel, she's got it going on.  Kid tested, mom approved, the girl has never failed me yet.  Her bread recipe takes 2 hours, start to finish, but only about 15 minutes of active time.  AND IT'S DELICOUS.  As in, I may or may not have eaten an entire half-loaf yesterday.  Okay, 1/3 of a loaf... But try it yourself, and you'll understand!

#honorhim

Lets start out by saying that I'm not the best housekeeper in the world.  Okay?  Are you all okay with that?  Because it's just fact.  I'm well aware that it is something that could be changed or worked on, as it's mostly habit, but it's just not ever something I worked on much.  Also for the record, I'd like to state that Handsome knew this going in.  I'm sure, when we were dating, I usually had my room clean when he came over (don't worry, we only hung out in there with the door open, and usually the company of my lil' bro.), but at the same time, it was obviously only a surface clean.  

We're talking there may have been cobwebs.  Judge me if it makes you feel better.

Anyhow, Handsome did not grow up in a house with the same laisse faire attitude towards housekeeping.  Handsome himself didn't do much of the work, but his mother worked tirelessly to make sure their home was clean and spotless.  And we're talking deep clean, take a toothbrush to the grout lines, clean.  But since his attitude about it all was pretty lackadaisical (aren't you just loving my words today?!), I thought we made a nice pair.

Then H got old.  Or hit his head.  Or was abducted by aliens.  Either way, about 6 months or more ago, he came home and started telling me all the ways that the current state of the house was not up to par.  He may have even started with "You know what your worst failing is as a wife?"

Campy

Sometimes, when you have a really nice time, and thoroughly relax and enjoy yourself, and then you come home and have loads of dirty laundry that smells like smoke (and cheese for some reason), and the love of your life is working and you have obligations and bills and papers and all that...

Sometimes you just want to run back up the mountain and climb back in the hammock and embrace the smell of smoke (but not the cheese) and take just one more nap.  One more hike.  One more early morning listening to birds and one more late night watching the moon and the fire dance.

 I love hammocks,

TFW

(no more) Dirty Laundry

I finally did it.  I've been thinking about it and talking about it and planning on it since last year.  Yesterday, after getting home & settled from Orlando, I realized that there was a large mountain where I had left a molehill of laundry.  Problem: I was out of laundry detergent (I'm sure that's the reason that Handsome didn't do any while I was gone...).  So, instead of dropping $12+ on my favorite brand, I finally went through the work and made my own for $19.

4 lb. box of Borax
4 lb. box of Super Washing Soda (or 3.4 or something)
3 lb. OxiClean
4 lbs. Baking Soda
3 bars Fels Naptha
RECIPE FOUND HERE

ASIDE: Dear Father, I have sinned visited Wal Mart.  It has been 7 weeks since my last transgression.  I'll try to not go again.  But all of this stuff was easily found in the laundry detergent isle!

I didn't have anything large enough to mix all of the ingredients in, so I got a little creative and threw it all in a kitchen garbage bag.  Now, some people might call this a redneck thing to do.  And maybe, maybe I am a bit red around the collar.  But I just call it "using what you have".

Things That Are Not: Heirlooms

There are heirlooms, and then there are not heirlooms.

Its late, and I'm feeling chatty.  Let's have an object lesson here.

Exhibit A: Walnut cedar chest handmade by my Grandpa

Heirloom.

Exhibit B: Disposable water bottles

Not heirlooms.

Exhibit C: A bible given on the event of "another awesome beef dinner!"

Heirloom.

And now, the point of this post:

Exhibit D: Curtains

Not, (let me be clear here) NOT heirlooms.  

This may have been clear to you, but this was a revelation to me.   I was hemming and pinning, seaming and measuring, like my life depended on it.  Like these were priceless heirlooms that I would one day pass onto my children's children.

They're not.

So, after that epiphany, it really freed me up and got me moving on the whole "window dressings" front.

Back Home to my Crock Pot

In a glorious turn of events, coming home yesterday was everything I had hoped it would be.  Not in a "things are just perfect like I wanted them and the world revolves around me" sort of way.  But in a "I have my own towels and look at my backyard and this place smells right" sort of way.  Glory be, I love it here.

Plus, we have humidity here in SC, which is something UT obviously hasn't heard of.

I love my backyard.
And, speaking of, anyone need a Magnolia tree?
Seriously, we're transplanting those babies here before long.
Get your orders in.

Also, I would like to add "coming home" to the list of things that make dog ownership more rewarding than cat slavery ownership.  Seriously, I'm pretty sure there's not much better than being greeted by your dog.  With Duke, I can be gone for 5 minutes and get generally the same level of enthusiasm that I got yesterday after being gone for 4 days.  But still.

It just does something for the soul to be loved and missed and celebrated so thoroughly.
Doesn't hurt the ego any, either.

Head in the Clouds

This morning, when the alarm rang, it was difficult to think there could be anything redeeming about a 4:30 pick-up to the airport.

Later this morning, when the baby on the plane was crying, and there was a weird perfume smell in the air, it was still difficult to imagine there was anything redeeming about a 6:05 take-off.

Lucky for me, there is redemption even in difficult, uncomfortable things.

Can't wait to get home,

TFW

Fabric Informatique

In case the title didn't tip you off, this here is riveting stuff.  Definitely worth your time today.  

Definitely.

So last week, Black Friday, Cyber Monday, blah blah blah.  I didn't really do the shopping thing.  Handsome was only off work on Friday, so we did our Thanksgiving that day.  My parents were in town all weekend, and while my Madre and I did pick up some new furniture (see the chair in below pictures), we did it casually and as we would on any day.  I perused some online ads, but nothing caught my fancy... until...

Joann.  She's evil.  We used to be friends, but then she kept offering me things that ended up costing me dearly... For example, this weekend, she's offering 50% off all Home Decor Fabrics.  And me, being the naive little thing that I am, thought that all home decor fabrics are created equal.  It went a little like this:

"I need some curtains.  Curtains are 'Home Decor'.  Any of this fabric must be suitable for curtains.  Done!"

Two brief days later, Mr. FedEx shows up, Duke barks, and I'm given this package:

And now, $$ poorer and not a whole lot wiser, I do have one bit of information to share with you.  All home decor fabrics are not created equal.  The fact that they're not all priced the same should have been a red flag for me, but I figured the difference in price was due to the design or something.  You know, Mourning Dove Herringbone must just be a really popular color, right?  Right??  Nope.

Charlotta and Home Again

Charlotte was loverly.  

I learned things.

I saw a presentation with a photo of Pam Anderson in it, followed by a presentation explaining a methodology for using metaheuristics to set a policy at food banks to equally distribute food to hungry persons in NC.  

Variety.  The spice of life.

Speaking of spices (very loosely, and don't think this is a segue, I'm not going anywhere with this.) I bought a vanilla bean for the first time today.

Just like this one, but without the 3pack.
And without Amazon's help.

I don't have any idea about what to use it for.  I've always wanted them, but even on Amazon they're selling 3 for $28.  This one I bought was $2.  Three cheers for the discount-grocery-store-that-I-was-formerly-afraid-to-go-into-but-now-love.  Here here! (hear hear?)  

ASIDE: I still don't look in the freezer.  Something about the huge "COME SEE WHAT'S IN OUR FREEZER" sign and one too many scary movies has me unable to open the door even with my hand on the latch.  Sometimes I shake.  Okay, not really, but it's close.

Something else I've bought recently at my scratch-and-dent grocery?  My new favorite cereal: Honey Graham O's!

ASIDE: Am I the only person who thinks Graham is hard to spell, and difficult in general?  

Clearly it's also available from Amazon.
But it's a 12pack.
I've done the never-ending-breakfast-food thing before,
it's not pretty.

p.s.- I'm still considering doing it.  This cereal is 'da bomb!

Whew.  We've already covered a lot of ground in this short post, and I'm half tempted to call it a night and go to bed.  But there's other things left to say, more words lodged in my fingertips that need to get out.  Problem is, I don't know exactly what they are.  

31 Days: Homeowners

Mighty Conqueror Moment of the Day: When I found my camera cord.

Woot!

I haven't found the cord to the camera that is actually nice, and doesn't switch between modes on a whim (Sony has got to fix that little wheel problem), but I do have a camera that sometimes takes pictures and I can usually download them to the computer.  And so my muse has returned.

Handsome did carry me over the threshold.
Because he's sweet and humors me like that ;)

Handsome and I have been homeowners for... well, probably about 19 days now.  If I recall correctly, we moved in and spent the first night on October first.  Easy to remember.  When we moved in, it didn't really feel like home though.  As the boxes were unloaded and rooms were filled up, it began to feel like a place we were going to live, but it didn't feel any different from any of our old apartments.  

Yes, we had to sign more papers, and yes, there were some different feelings (like debt), but it didn't feel much different.  Even my excitement almost seemed forced.  There was so much work to be done, and I didn't know where to put anything... it was a crazy couple of days.

I kept looking around the place and taking stock - Nope, doesn't feel like ours yet.  Unload a couple of boxes, put the dishes in a cupboard - Nope, still not ours.  Walked around in the back yard, put in a mailbox - Nothing different.  I kept looking for that one moment when things would turn, and suddenly it would be ours.  I began to suspect that it wasn't going to happen, when suddenly...

31 Days: Home Improvement

What?

You thought this was going to be a post about improving the home?  Puh-leaze.  I'm talking about the 1991-1999 hit starring Jonathan Taylor Thomas (although since he left the show in 1998, it may as well have ended there).  Oh, and you thought that Tim Allen was the star of that show?  Again, child, PUH-LEAZE.  Also, for you ZTB fans out there, he was just part of the support cast.  Little TNS didn't even make the radar.

JTT was the closest I ever came to having a "celebrity crush".  I mean, yes, I thought he was dreamy, but even when I was young, I saw right through Hollywood's smoke & mirrors and wondered, "But what if he's not a nice person?  What would we even talk about?"  Clearly, I was not made for the movie star life, which is just as well.

In other news, I just googled Wilson's face, which was never shown in the actual sitcom.  There was a reason for that; it's not pretty (sorry Wilson!).  

31 Days: Homesick

I have come to the realization that I will not even come close to doing this for 31 days.  Which, in a way, is a good thing, as I've sort of hit a wall with the number of "Home"-words I can think of.  I can't get my mind off of "Homeopathic" and I don't even fully know the definition of that one.  The reason for not hitting the 31 days, other than missing the first 3 or so, is because I don't have internet at our new house yet, and I rarely bring my pictures to my office, so I can't post pictures.  And really, what is a post without pictures?  An empty shell, that's what.  And no one likes empty shells, save for hermit crabs who need a new home.

As a result of the no-internet-no-pictures thing, I'm going to be taking a lot of pics from google this month.
I will try to cite them, because I desire a clean conscience above many things.
This one is from here

I had a hermit crab once.  Well, probably more than once; we got them when we went to the beach every October for about 4 years.  There is one instance of a hermit crab that I remember, though.  I don't remember his name (probably something unique like "Crabbie"), but I do remember our one great day of play.  I had a miniature-lego-wagon-thing, and I was pulling him around in it.  I'm sure he was having as much fun as I was.  And then something else happened somewhere else, and my 6-yr-old brain forgot about Crabbie.  Hours later, I came back to an empty wagon that was unfortunately parked beside a small hole in the floor that fed down to our furnace.  Bye bye Crabbie.  

While that above story is no doubt heart-rending, you may be wondering what it has to do with being homesick.  Nothing.  And somethings.  I'll get to it.

31 Days: Home

There's a thing going around the bloggy world.  A "thing" where, since October has 31 days in it, people choose one topic and blog about it for 31 days.  Its sort of a challenge.  I say, "CHALLENGE, ACCEPTED".  After all, the best way to learn about something is to tell others about it, and there's a lot that I don't know about.

I wanted to do that.

Problem is, I missed the first 2 days of Octobre (that's how I imagine the French say it, even though I know they say it differently).

So I guess this is 29 days.  Either way, I'm in.  And since it's got to do with my life, and my life seems to be revolving around one word lately, that's my topic: Home.  

We just bought our first home, which makes this quite appropro.  But, since I didn't think anyone wanted to hear 31 29 days of babble about how I haven't decorated my home yet, I'm going to expand the topic to be all things including the word home.  Home-sick.  Home-work.  Home-school.  Home-economics.  Home-wrecker.  You know, whatever has to do with the word home.  

Right now, our home is a crazy place.  But it's also exciting, because, in case you didn't catch it, I just wrote the words, 

OUR. HOME.

As in, the home that belongs to us.

Ours.

So exciting.  So nervous-making.  So stressful and lovely and awkward and full of potential.  So fabulous.

Really, I can hardly stand it.  

As I've mentioned before, it's as though we (Handsome & I) have two homes.  If we're out to eat, and I say "I want to go home," I mean the house where we live.  If we're out to eat and I say, "I miss home," I mean that lovely slice of heaven up in Pennsylvania.  There's a little internal conflict, but its not much.  Either place, either way, home is a lovely thing.  I'm all caught up in how great Home is right now, and so that's where we'll be for the next month.  

What about you?  What is one place that will always be "Home" to you?

Wrapped up in excitement and packaging tape, 

TFW

*Homeostasis
*Homesick
*Homecoming
*Home Improvement
*Homophone
*Homeowners
*Home Cookin'
*Homework
*Homemade Costumes, Homeward Bound, Homewrecker, and Homelite
*Home in Bed

Going Home

I’m going home.  And then, when our trip is over, I’m coming back home. 

How can a person have two homes?  I do not know the answer to that question; I know only that I do, in fact, have both.

The first two three years or so that we lived down here, I wouldn’t get real excited on our trip home until we saw the first Sheetz.  Now, I still feel that excitement, but I feel the same excitement on the way back down when I see the first CookOut, the first offer of Meat & 3.  That’s how I know I have two homes.

I’m so thrilled about this trip.  I’m going to meet my new nephew (I love you little Izzy!!), I’m going to hangout out with friends and family, and I’m going to cool off a little bit (its never quite as warm up there).  We’re going home for no very good reason, which is, to me, the best of reasons.  It seems that we’ve fallen into a pattern of a trip home in May, a trip home in August, and a trip around Christmas time.  While its hardly enough, we try to make the most out of it, so this time we’ll be up in ole’ Pennsyltuckey for an entire week.

Really, I’m ‘bout to burst, I’m so excited.

My Ornery Husband

Its true.  I used to call him incorrigible, but that was when I was young and needed big words in order to feel smart.  Now, I just call him Ornery.  And trust me, it fits.

For example, I just called out, "Hey honey, whatcha doin'?" "Reading." "Reading what?"... silence... nothing... waiting... See, I don't want to nag, but to carry on a conversation would be nice.  So I try again "What are you reading?" "Whatever I want." And that's the end of the discussion.  Because he's a turd.

Anyhow, with my wonderfully ornery husband, we made a quick trip up to PA this weekend.  And we had a nice time.  Really, it was a wonderful visit home.  Perhaps many of you who have moved away young can relate, but whenever we go home, we’re like mini celebrities.  It’s a lot of fun, and a lot of pressure, all at the same time.  I definitely cracked underneath all of the demands this time.  Self-imposed demands, mind you, but demands all the same. 

ASIDE: I will not allow my someday-children to be famous, just FTR.  I’m assuming that they are going to be below average in both talent and physical attributes, so this shouldn’t ever be an issue.  However, should something crazy happen and Handsome and I end up with a would-be-famous person living in our home, they will not be permitted to fulfill their dreams until they reach 18.  Once they’re an adult, there’s no telling what they will do, but as a child, they will not become famous.  Its too damaging, and I’m not a fan of indoor pools; everyone who’s famous has to have one, and I’m just not a fan.

All grandparents were hugged on this trip, which immediately puts it in the running for a successful rating.  In addition, all nieces and nephews were kissed, which pushes it towards a rating of above average.  Fathers were visited with and mothers’ hands were held, and finally, as a bonus, Handsome actually danced with me once at the wedding reception.  Its official; we had a wonderful trip.  

Jonesing for home

Its true, I'm missing home in the worst way.

I miss its laugh, I miss its musk... when this is all over, I think maybe home & I should get an apartment together...

And not only do I miss home, I miss Handsome, and The Duke too.

And I miss baking.  Honestly, I've been sitting here making this pinterest page, fixated on baking chocolate chip something.  I can almost taste it.  I think I'm out of butter.  I'll pick some up on the way home from the airport.  I want to go grocery shopping.  I know, its weird, but true.  Take me as I am.

I want to bake real bad.  When I get back (tomorrow night), I'm going to change into sweatpants and a long sleeve T-shirt (the perfect outfit) and I'm not changing for 4 days.  I'm not going anywhere or meeting anyone or doing anything.  Unless someone asks me to, but I mean, I'm talking in general.  I've been getting up relatively early, dressing up like business, and meeting people for the last 3 days straight.  I've been punishing my feet with some awful little black shoes, and fueling myself with coffee and free reception food.  Add in the fact that here in Reno (and this resort), no one really goes outside at all, and you get the simple truth that I'm pretty much over it.  I want to be home and make dinner for Handsome and play with my puppy dog and vacuum and bake a lot.

Now, I don't want it to seem like I haven't enjoyed myself here; I definitely have.  I've gotten to see my brudder, enjoyed Tahoe, made some new friends, and even learned a thing or two.  Like the fact that "creme de la creme" sounds waaaay better than "cream of the cream", and that "cogitate" is not a real word, even though it sounds like one.  Really, this has been a productive and enjoyable trip (and mostly free, too.  Thanks Clemson!).  

But anyhow, I'm kind of over this.  My conference partner and I have been getting to the conference later and later ever day, and I think we're sorta worn out.  I mean, thats a lot of walking and learning to do.  And I think I read a study once that learning can really wear a person out.  I'm ready to get back to Handsome, my own bed, and washing my own towels (just kidding on that last one.  I could totally do room service for the rest of my life).  

There are some drawbacks to flying home tomorrow, however.  At the top of my list is the 4 1/2 hour flight to Chicago before I can catch the 2 1/2 hour flight back to GVegas.  Also, I only brought one NetFlix DVD, and I watched it all on the way over.  I'm debating between sticking it in the mail here (so I can get the next one sooner) or taking it with me to watch again.  Its TV episodes, which don't really lend themselves to re-watching within a week (unless its How I Met Your Mother, which I'm currently in love with) (Its not.).

The plus side is that even if you have an early flight, when returning to the East from the West, it doesn't really feel like getting up early.  And then, when you get back, you've lost 3 hours in the air and no one really expect much from you.  "Oh, its late, you must be tired," is what I'm expecting to hear.  If you go the other way, its "Whats up with you?  Its still early!"  I don't like that.  Too much pressure.    I avoid pressure.  Don't pressure me.

So, to make a long story short, (hahahaha... heh) I'm heading home tomorrow and I'm pumped.  On the way here I had a great seat partner (him & his wife own a restaurant near Clemson and are sending me a gift certificate) on the first flight and then an ok seat partner (talked a lot and took my arm rest, but was congenial) on the second flight.  It nearly feels like I'm due for a terrible seat partner, which frightens me.  Also, I'm not feeling as aggressively friendly as usual and I fear I might be all friended out.  We're going to have to see how this plays out.  It might be nearly as dangerous as roulette (which I haven't played this time around, but I've got about 15 hours left to make it happen).

Crossing my fingers for a good airplane neighbor,

TFW