I can’t tell you where anything is, but our stuff has been transferred from one place to the other (hint: old apartment to new home!).

Our amazing crew (Brent, Russ, Adam, Andy, Adam, Trevor, Pete, Kevin, Jonathan, Chris, Joseph, Pat, Teresa, the Slumberland guys [who had been here before to deliver a mattress to the previous owners and were a little puzzled when I said we just moved in],
and probably others I’m forgetting) worked their butts off and got everything in the new place by 2:30.

I worked until about 8:30 or 9 last night, moving boxes around to the correct rooms and starting to unload, clean, and put away the kitchen stuff. There’s still lots more to do, but for now, I’m enjoying the day. Sitting upstairs (the best zone for mooching some wireless until the cable guy comes on Tuesday). Perched on top of the fuzzy pink cushion over the warm radiator (keeps my bum warm!). Looking across the street at the part where two people are walking two dogs, and the guy has a little baby carrier on his back. A few other dogs went by already, too (walking their humans, of course).

So life is good. We have a house (holy crap–we have a house!). And I’m loving it.

And when I give in, I never have correct change. So that means I put in a $1 bill and get a quarter back as the delights fall from on high.

And you know that quarter starts tapping me from inside my pocket. It’s lonely.

So I walk over to the spinning vending machine–the one with little pieces of candy where everyone shoves their germy fingers up the chute to see if they can get one more morsel.

Well. I walk there, and mysteriously, the quarter jumps up into my hand and drags my fingers over to the quarter slot. “Turn the knob…please…my friends are in there!”

Always one to take pity, I do it. And downward shifts the pile of coated candies inside the glass prison–Reeses Pieces slide down and somehow land in my hand.

Thus ends my quest to eat healthy snacks.

Stupid Cheetos.

We’ll make it.

The exciting news of today was furniture shopping and ordering our dining room set a a loveseat and chair for the front room. It’ll even deliver on the day we’re moving–December 9. Wow!
Just keep packing…just keep packing…just keep packing, packing, packing…

Went to bed at 9:30, and at least that shut me up!

Tonight didn’t start so hot, either. I worked late, which was fine. But then I waited outside in fake-smoking weather (you know, so cold you see your breath so it looks like everyone is puffing away on a cigarette?) for about 10 minutes before the bus came. By the time I got to my stop, I was thawing out. Scanned my card to pay the fare, stepped off the bus, and then thought, “Oh crap!” as soon as I was halfway to the parking ramp.

Yep. Got off the bus too early.

Brent dropped me off at the station this morning, but in my half-frozen state, I thought I had driven this morning. Oh, and my other freak-out moment came when I realized that Brent went to the mall with a buddy, so I was going to be walking a mile back home in the dark and cold.

Called Brent, and thankfully, he was on his way back from the mall! So he picked me up and saved my delicate skin from some major frostbite! Oh, and my feet from really breaking in my new shoew I got last weekend…the ones with 3.5-inch heels!

And the highlight of it all? There was a box of Godiva chocolates waiting for me in the back seat.

Whatta guy!

And that’s okay because I’m a busy woman. Brent and I are buying a house and will close on December 8, so packing and working are enough to occupy my time. Add in a dash of church, Christmas, and decompression time to stay sane, and I’m lucky if I get 7 hours of sleep!
So that’s life. Life is good. And I’m going to do my best to blog about the everyday moments, but I’m not making any promises…

My first flight through O’Hare, and I was probably going to miss my connection.

The 10:30 flight took off, and I was planning to hang out for another 3 hours before boarding my delayed flight. Well, they added an 11:30 flight to replace the cancelled 8:30 am one…and because I was on standby, I got on!

So I made it to Chicago with a whole row to myself on a less-than-full flight. A few of the storms hung around, so I braced myself against the window in lieu of complimentary beverage service.

My flight to Louisville was on time, and I made it there by 6pm with no problems. Actually, I really enjoyed the flight…it’s not everyday that you can get both an aisle and window seat–at the same time!

Yay for puddle jumpers.

The fair booth was selling journals, stationary sets, cardstock, and more. A couple of weeks ago, my wonderful creative heroine, JLo, was proclaiming the wonders of Mr. Ellie Pooh papers. She recently did a craft/scrapbook convention in SF and was leading make-and-takes for Mr. Ellie Pooh (including an origami box that many people liked as much or more than what they made in their classes!). Anyway, JLo was up to her elbows in poo, and having a blast…

• Sidenote: I’m one who enjoys the unusual side of crafts. I think it comes from my mother–and my childhood adventures collecting dead dragonflies and butterflies for mom to use in her floral arrangements. Unfortunately, the dead dragonflies would turn an icky brown color and then curl their tails under as they dried out and shrivelled up. (Mom tried to salvage them by spray-painting them silver, but then they just looked freakish.) I digress. Anyway, the unusual, creative, artistic spirit that I inherited from my mother came out when I saw the Mr. Ellie Pooh booth. And I had to buy a pack of cardstock!

So what’s so special about Mr. Ellie’s Pooh? Well, just that! The paper is actually made of 70% elephant poop! You see, Mr. Pooh (Karl) has a heart for animals. He heard that elephants in Sri Lanka were being killed as much of their natural habitat is turned into farm land–not for tusks or skin, but rather because they were interfereing with agriculture. Until people understand that elephants have economic value, the killing will continue. So Karl set out to save these beautiful creatures, thus Mr. Ellie Pooh. Mr. Ellie Pooh’s papers are made from 70% elephant dung that goes through a paper-making process and results in an acid-free paper that is soft and flexible and tears beautifully (”Tears down and out,” as JLo says!). It also embosses beautifully (dry embossing–try using the Wizard!) While this company offers incredible papers, their primary goal is to help save Sri Lankan elephants through supporting farmers and local economies in Sri Lanka. What a cool mission!

I’ll create a pooh card and try to post it in the next few days. Until then, check out Mr. Ellie Pooh papers, and check out the retailers if you want to touch some real Sri Lankan elephant dung!

So tomorrow, I will be back to blog again. ) Besides, I have to share today’s exciting discovery: elephant poop. It’s really pretty cool…I swear!

I realized this after waking up from a nap (1)–which was needed because I’m not drinking as much caffeine/Diet Coke anymore (2)–and being thorougly irritated at the neighbors who are blasting their hip-hop music so I can hear every baseline repeat 27 times until the next song…when the bassline is inverted slightly (3). The realization sunk it a bit more as I returned to my desk to chop some Diet Coke (4) 6-pack
rings apart before throwing them into the garbage because I don’t want some poor bird in a landfill to die of asphyxiation while he’s simply scrounging for dinner (5). (I also knew how to type asphyxiation without having to look it up. Bonus points [6]…and more bonus points for knowing to use brackets within parentheses instead of another set of parens [7]).

Oh, and the topper? Our toilet paper smells like the trunk of a car (8-9-10-11)! We were almost out of rolls in the apartment, and rather than going to Target to pick up another pack, Brent brought up a 24-roll package that had been out in the 1986 70,000-mile-odometer Ford Tempo (12). I think it’s been in there since before we were married, but no one can confirm or deny that statement. (Oh, and did I mention that the Tempo is on it’s way to the “farm” because our fleet of “new” grandma cars–1993 New Yorker [13] and 1992 Dodge Dynasty [14]–has replaced the dying Ford.)

Anyway, I’m the oldest almost-23-year-old around, I’m sure. But oh well. Life is pretty good. And Neil Diamond music can always take my mind off feeling like a geezer (15).