I am a crazy face

Two weeks ago, I proclaimed that I was going to be better at blogging regularly.

I even gave a list of topics about which I wanted to update.

And then we moved.

Yes, we are crazy faces. We up and moved. On the fly. Spontaneously.

My sweet, darling daddy asked us if we wanted to trade homes with him - we would owe him the difference in the values of the two homes, but he would be patient about that debt, and we would be able to live the next five to ten years (or perhaps forever), in a much more spacious home.

We love our house. It's our first house, and we, especially Paul, have put a lot of sweat equity into it. But it is on the smallish side. It's not really small - many, many people live in much smaller with even more souls. We were grateful for the 356 square feet per person that we enjoyed.
But given the option to instead enjoy 596 square feet per person, especially while these people of ours have all this stuff, we went for it.

Collins needs those extra 240. Really. He does.

So, we started moving closets and beds and kitchenaid mixers.
And pets. Bluefred is coping, though, it seems.

I now have a pantry. And a spacious laundry room. And a kitchen in which I can have more than one person cooking without causing heat stroke or an attack of claustrophobia.

There is still much work to be done - We must ready our house to sell (Daddy is holding down the fort there for now), and we must get everything in its proper place at the new house.

And we have to move the trampoline, the best idea for which so far is for a few grownup men to pick it up, walk it down the street, and for me to video this event with a cold drink in my hand.

We can do this because the houses are approximately a four hundred yard walk from one another.


It took me way, way too long to create that map. I am not computer savvy.

So, yes, I am a crazy face. Crazy for moving in July with three small children. But, we are happy. We have spread out. There is a piano room. And a built-in spice rack (on which I have alphabetized my spices - something for which I mocked my mother during my entire adolescence - Sorry, Mama - you were right - finding paprika is easier when it's after onion powder but before rosemary).

And a hobbit-like front door. And a cat door. And french doors from our bedroom out onto the deck. There are many great things for which I am thankful.

All my paintings are still at the old house. It is driving me insane. I miss them. But they'll get here eventually.

So, I will get back to writing about my sweet family, but until then, wish me luck in unpacking boxes and moving trampolines and not letting Collins fall down the basement stairs.