More NOT talking about my house

On this last day of our stay here in GA, the kids and I ventured north to check out where our *hopefully* new residence will be. We scoped out the neighborhood – OOH, is that an in-ground pool?  We want to make friends with THAT family!  YOWZERS, check out that tree fort, they are definitely invited to the housewarming party! – because it’s good to get a lay of the land.

I got Jessica (the world’s greatest and MOST PATIENT realtor) to meet us at the house again so I could make with the picture snapping as the sun finally came out and graced us with it’s gorgous presence.  I have to tell you, MAH house? Is super sparkly, shiny, yummy in the sunlight.  Sort of like Edward.  But without all the fangs. And makeup.

I would love to show you the pictures, but I still feel a little GRRRR because of the fiasco of getting myself and everyone else all worked up over the Barbie Dream House only to have it snatched away by Murphy’s Law of House Buying, which states: The chances of your house sale crashing and burning like a meteor is in direct proportion to the number of people you TELL about the house.

So, again, I will talk endlessly about something in the most vague, frustrating mentions possible.  I will tell you that my house? Really makes me happy.  It doesn’t bowl me over with its splendor, it doesn’t intimidate me with it’s sheer vastness, it doesn’t make me break out into a cold sweat thinking about how we can’t afford to furnish it and therefore will have the nicest empty house in the entire neighborhood.

MY house?   Is not perfect or DREAM house or anything remotely exceptional.

It’s just a great house, that I can’t wait to move into, to bring my kids home to, to start building memories in, to turn into our safe haven, to indulge in our dreams and hopes and giggles and tickle-fights.

I’m crossing my fingers that I haven’t already told you too much.

ps…A big happy birthday to my sister, Angela.  Growing up she was always the one who was always more responsible, better at everything and although I loved her, I loved to hate her too. It’s awesome that all these years later, she’s still more responsible, she’s still better at a LOT of things, but now I just love to love her.  She’s my dearest friend, my conscience, my grounding point. I love you, sis, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!