I’ve been here a year. One whole year. After a year of being in a place, it’s maybe supposed to start feeling like home, I suspect — but sometimes I still look around and think, Wait a second. I LIVE here? This usually happens while I’m driving, for some reason. I’m on the highway and at some point I…
Literally. Things are LITERALLY falling apart in our rental house. It is raining things to fix. By now, you might be wondering if there’s a chance I’m making all this up — because, really? If I didn’t have photo evidence of what follows, maybe some of this stuff might be hard to believe. A couple weekends…
It’s taken half a month, but most of the boxes are unpacked. Most of the rooms are set up. The floors and cabinets and bathrooms are clean (for now). When I first envisioned my We-Finally-Officially-Moved-In! post, I totally imagined that it would be this glittery, sparkly thing brimming with well-won optimism and hope. Fast-forward past…
We officially, as a family, moved to California on Saturday, May 16. Al flew home to help with the movers and to assist with the whole flying-with-a-two-year-old thing. When the plane touched down, I felt the same rush of relief I always do. We grabbed our luggage — one suitcase each, plus a car seat…
Whenever I tell people that I’m moving to California, the very first words out of their mouth are something like, “Oh, no! You’ll never be able to afford a house, you know that? It’s REALLY expensive there.” I have literally heard this from everyone: friends, family, neighbors, the people who run our current daycare, the grocery store cashier. It’s…
Al and I are in California this weekend to try to find a house. V stayed in Michigan with my parents (see this support system I’m leaving behind? Argh). Three days and fourteen houses later, I thought I would check in with a dose of positivity. Lest you think I’m JUST capable of worrying, I…
I’m not the kind of person who embraces change. You might say I’m sort of averse to it, actually. Or even a little bit afraid. Okay, you know what? I’m terrified. Like, full-on, break-into-a-cold-clammy-sweat terrified. I don’t even run screaming from it, because then it might notice me. I prefer to hide from change in a…
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