This Part Really Stinks (Part II)

I am very much in love with my sweet little house. I still remember pulling the for sale sign out of the yard when I first moved in.  After many failed attempts at becoming a homeowner, I bought this house all by myself. (I like to refer to her as Lucky # 4!)  I danced around this place when the walls and rooms were totally bare, right after I closed on it. I imagined it being pretty, and warm and welcoming - being a home.  And now it is a home. My home.  I painted my bedroom 3 times, with help from Kelly (and Lily!), until I found the perfect shade of blue for the walls. (I do not have any warm, fuzzy memories of paint color #2 that I like to refer to as Barbie's Aqua Dreamland. It was bad. Very, very bad.) Then there was the labor day weekend that produced two beautifully tiled bathroom floors after 3 rainy days with no working showers or toilets. Obviously Shawn was the boss of that project, but Kelly and I laid each and every tile in both of my bathrooms. I still hesitate before walking on the floors, they're so pretty! And my beautiful new wall that closed in the overlook and made a real third bedroom. I hammered and nailed and spackled and taped and sanded and painted (while Shawn and Dad did the hard stuff!), and built a wall. And it's gorgeous. See?

 (Flip flops are totally the new work boots!)

 Note the fancy new wall above the fireplace :)

I've learned that no matter what the project, about halfway through I will start to hate it and desperately want to quit. But I always feel dorkily proud of myself when it's finished.

In addition to all the additions, I have memories here now too. Sleepovers with Schmeeg, Smithers and Tooney, cooking dinners (there were at least 2 so I'm allowed to use the plural!), playing with Lily and Rory, and snuggling on my couch with Lucy that one time in snowed in Charlotte. All those little things that now feel like really big things.

It's my cozy little house that I've made mine. I can't (don't want to?) imagine anyone else living here.

3 months from today, I'll be on the plane, on my way to my new life. Three months is not enough time...

Magic Carpet

You have a magic carpet
That will whiz you through the air,
To Spain or Maine or Africa
If you just tell it where.
So will you let it take you
Where you’ve never been before,
Or will you buy some drapes to match
And use it
On your
Floor?

(One of my favorite Shel Silverstein poems that has take on a whole new meaning for me!)

Overwhelmed

Dictionary Definition: to load, heap, treat, or address with an overpowering or excessive amount of anything

My Definition:  having to make my bed everyday and follow Lucy (and her fur) around with the vacuum in the hopes of selling my house, realizing that I can't afford to sell my house, spending hours on the phone and computer  renewing my passport and ordering a copy of my birth certificate, having the post office lose my birth certificate (and not care nearly as much as I did), meeting sweet baby Graham and realizing I won't be here to celebrate his 1st birthday, going from the police station to the courthouse and then up and down the the courthouse stairs 3 times to get a piece of paper with 1 checkmark showing I haven't been arrested... the list goes on and on.

If I can actually survive the next 114 days and make it to Amsterdam it will be a miracle...

This Part Really Stinks (Part I of Many)

So I knew that I would be giving up A LOT when I decided to set off on this grand adventure. I knew that it would be hard. I just didn't fully comprehend how hard it would be. I had about 3 days after I accepted the job where I was just excited, before reality started to set in. I had to tell Lucy that I was leaving her. I cried. (She didn't.) But who wouldn't get emotional at the thought of leaving this sweet little furry face?

Okay, so she licks anything that moves, barks at imaginary foes, purposely rubs her fur into the carpet immediately after I've vacuumed, and I've compiled a list of 857 things that she's afraid of (including traffic cones and garbage bags). But she wakes up every morning genuinely excited and surprised to be alive,  gives good snuggles, and is the sweetest animal you'll ever meet. I want to pack her in my suitcase, but I'm pretty sure that overseas airplane travel would be #858 on her list.


*As you can tell from the title, I'm pretty sure this will be the first in a series of Debbie Downer posts about what I'm leaving behind. Get excited.

Spent about two hours panicking, after unsuccessfully searching for my passport. Found it in a kitchen cabinet. (Don't ask, I have no idea.) I should definitely NOT be allowed to move to a foreign country by myself.

1 Reason Why I Love My Carolina Girls...

Their hilarious responses to my news!

Ashley: Uh, we did not approve this!

Katie: Amsterdam, New York?

Charlene: There's no Target in Europe?!