All Things Concrete

Don't get me wrong, I typically have faith in Dustin and his creative process. Very few times has he come up with an idea that doesn't work out (barring his movie choices... believe me, I have outside support on this). Examples of things that have worked out: renting the loft in Seattle, buying the Fiat with our last paycheck for 2 months, getting married, moving to San Diego, tearing off the awning on our new house, etc. That still doesn't stop me from getting paranoid when he becomes very quiet and stares into space for an twenty minutes and then gets up abruptly asking where he can find an exact-o knife, a stick of gum, and two match sticks. I believe that support in your partner is the glue in a relationship. And so we now have...

He created a concrete wall between our living room and kitchen. It is smooth, with tiny cracks that create a visual texture amidst the faded chicken wire backing.

And I'll be damned if he wasn't right. It does frame the kitchen and lead the eye to all things concrete. Well played, sir, well played.

And the Winners Are...

We won by a landslide at the Crazy Christmas Sweater Party that Dustin's mom, Robbie threw. We won mostly because we were two of 4 participants (the others being the host and her friend) and because our sweaters were without a doubt the most HIDEOUS that have ever existed.


Dustin's was actually a womans sweater with shoulder pads. The embroidered angels and pine trees were so abundant that it was puffy. Mine was puffy, too... with painted polar bears and a doily polo collar. I hate us.
The holiday spirit, which I typically avoid, did seep in a bit. Even if it was to make fun of it. That's really how I shine anyway. Her party inspired me to put up our tree. Our shiny, bedazzled, disco tree. Baby Jesus would be so proud.

Um, I Think Curtis "Digs" the Snow

Question: What's got four paws and loves him some snow?

Answer: This guy right here!

We were invited out in the snow to celebrate our radtastic friends' son's 4th birthday. We met in town and traveled south to the snowy goodness in the Lake of the Woods area. There was a perfect turnout just off a mountain road to set up a campfire, play, smother each other in snow, hunt for Christmas trees, and eat cupcakes of glory that Shaunna made.


Speaking of glory... a rare picture of Dustin AND Curtis SITTING STILL!!!

... and looking rather handsome, at that.

But, who brought the nerd in street wear?

That's me, warm but a bit unprepared for being a So.O.(Southern Oregonian) in the winter.
In summation, we had a wonderful time with a lovely group of folks.

Thanks, Thanksgiving!

Megan, Robbie, and Me

Monkey Bread

FRITATA!!!!

Table Decoration and Conner

There were other people there, too. Like my husband, for example. And Megan's husband, Max, and his father, Paul. Somehow I had neglected to get them on camera? Probably because I was busy taking shots of the very special treat of new nephew, COLBY!

Now I don't eat meat but I could nibble on a foot or ear of this here baby.
Just sayin'.

On the 5 Days Before Appraisal My True Love Made a To Do List

Tis the season for fixing up the house in a mad rush to welcome guests that are traveling from afar and for appraisers who may grant us more money toward our home. Dustin pulled two almost all-nighters retexturing 3 rooms, installing overhead lights in 3 rooms (that previously didn't have any), and touching up the outer house paint while I painted walls and trim inside. Whew. Sometime around 2 a.m. on Sunday, we folded up shop and arranged for my ma-in-law to show the appraiser our semi-fixed up home. We did score big but decided to pass until we could get more.... the saga continues.

Upon Purchasing a Car

We knew that the day was coming for us to get a new car what with my new job and the commute and all. As we were avoiding that fact and going to get lunch Monday morning, our most current car, a 1977 Fiat Spider, was acting out.

Not up. Out. It was convulsing and not staying "ON" when the gas was released. This is kinda a big deal if you want to move forward at a green light, right? So we walked the Curtis and took off to the tour of car lots in G.P. and then to Merlin and then to Medford. As time was ticking and our patience waned, a glorious sales lady came, picked us up and drove us to her lot. No shit. We then got passed to another sales gal who helped us find exactly what we needed in our price range. Four hours and a test drive later, we was buyin' ourselves a 2003 Nissan Xterra with extemely low miles.

I won't even post them because it's like car sales person porn.
When we were signing the papers, we EACH got to pick our own pen, we got a free meal (from Taco Bell), and a new car! RAAAAAAAAAAD. I should send this post to our home seller folk to show them how it's done? Dinner and pens? Bitch, get back! You about to be skooled.

I've Never Felt More In Control

So I'm sitting on my porch, with my dog, without my dude, with a spectacularly clean home, a full fridge, a new car, all the bills paid... when it hits me. I am in control. That's funny. I thought I was supposed to get an email or mailer about this moment so that I could prepare. I think things really developed for me when I called Curtis' name and he stopped eating whatever he was eating and came to me, and sat down, and laid his cone noggin on my foot with a contended sigh.

Wow.
Now where is my mama to come to and sit down with and sigh with? Or that's right! She DID her job and that is why I am here right now. Not to toot my own horn here people, but to know me is to understand that I NEVER feel in control. My daily visual is of a ball of really, super expensive gold yarn falling from my hands to the depths of a very large and deep valley below, filled with gold yarn lovin' alligators.

Guns and the Men Who Love Them

I just dropped Dustin off out at my dad's house. We loaded up some firewood for our home since I will be in charge for the next 10 days. Because Dustin is going on a hunting trip. With my dad. In the woods. For 10 days.

Hunting. Dad. Woods. 10 days.
He's been hunting before and has guns and stuff. But it seems so odd to me that this guy, the same one that sets up fashion editorial photos and wears Seven jeans and tailored shirts, likes to shoot at deer and elk and shower in a tarp tent and cook over a pit for every meal.
He's always been an outdoors man but I've never seen anticipation quite like this before. It is very unnerving but also endearing. Get it? En-DEAR-ing? Funny.

Water Torture. Part Deux.

The last time we had a complete water malfunction, we suspected that by turning the water on and off at the main source, we were causing stress in the zillion years old pipes. So we fixed what we thought was the end of it and have been limping by with only hot water going to the beloved washer as the only side effect. Blah, blah, blah... we got cocky, turned off the water to tweak the washer lines and TA-FREAKIN-DAH we have ourselves another leak. A steady leak of scalding hot water. Wheeee! Not at ALL costly, annoying, or time consuming. No. We're fine. Really.

Dustin rented a concrete saw to correct the leak and we'll be back to "normal" again. Normal is, in our house, when you cringe to use a faucet because you are expecting a geyser of water to come shooting out thus drilling you in the chest, knocking you to the ground, and taking the other arm and leg you have left over as change from the last leak.

Stuff and Stuff

In order of newness...
Curtis in a cone (due to un-dude surgery and re-docking of tail).


The polished black tiles with flecks of copper in them as the back splash.

The RAD-TASTIC lawn. Perfect for Curtis rollin'.

The sink slope for which to drain veggies, fruits, and other goods.


The chalk board painted cabinet.

What Color IS That, Anyway?

We've painted our house as of late.

Rather, it is mostly painted and some siding added.

We are against the elements here with fall coming on (read: rain until next March) so we were forced to "winterize" our new windows. Mostly, we couldn't stomach the idea of coming home to a place that resembled a summer squash for the next season of dreary, gloomy rain.
Our reviews so far:
"Thank God. That thing was hideous before."
"Well, it's different."
"No, I like it."
"Hmmm, what color IS that, anyway?"
So, now I'd like you to tell us what you think. This is like the time I bleached my hair white/blond and NO ONE stopped me. I was going to do it regardless but I could have benefited from the resentment I would have had for those that tried to stop me while doing it. Which would have fueled the fire for LOVING the results even if it wasn't totally what I had in mind what with the patches of hair that broke off ON TOP of my head. So, really, don't be shy because I, for one, am not getting back on that ladder to change it anyway but we'd like to know just how far off we are.

I'll Have What He's Having

In the past four days, I've trained Curtis to hop around to confirm that, yes, he does INDEED have to go potty once I've asked him. To which I respond (to the tune of The Beach Boys' Let's Go Surfing) "Let's go potty now. You're gonna show me how. Let's go outside and peeeeeee. C'mon everybody let's peeeeee." It's pretty funny and I like to watch his eyes get all suspicious when I start dancing... either I'm that bad or he is SO jealous of my skills.
We've got this down for the most part. I just have to point at the ground in his sacred potty spot and say, "Go potty" and HE DOES. Quickly and efficiently. I don't know what exactly is in those kibbles that we buy him but I'm starting to think that they may be a supplement to my diet soon. I'd like to see a diagram of dog g.i. tracts to get the design down. Then I'll know so I can request it in my next life... unless I'm going to be a dog and then I'll wish for something else... like a unicorn horn or a kangaroo pouch. I digress. What I'm getting to here is that Curtis has the most reliable bowels ever. And now I have the suspicious eyes because I'm jealous of his skills.

Correction

A few posts ago I had mentioned that the kitchen finally had a sink. Well. It does have a sink but, until just 2 hours ago, it did not have a faucet in which to run water from. Sorta critical in the usefulness of a sink, the water. Now we have one and it has hot AND cold water running free at our command. Dustin nearly wept... for a couple of reasons. One being that it took him about 8 hours to get it in just right (those concrete counter tops aren't so awesome NOW are they, D?). The other reason being that he can tell me and half of Grants Pass to get off his ass about it.

Modern Chinese Water Torture

Time: Saturday evening
Location: Disbelief Town
Population: 2
Report: (imagine this tapped out in Morse code) Hot water heater rusted through. Unrelated leak under house. Washer running water excessively. Decided to paint house exterior today.
Journal Entry: I think that the paint and the water heater have been planning it for some time now. It's clearly a home uprising. But that's ok because I have been dying to try out the new poor girls mini-spa idea from Young Miss. It's where you take some damp wash cloths, nuke them in the microwave, and "steam" clean your face and, in my and Dustin's case, our entire paint speckled bodies. Because WHY WOULDN'T you paint the house on the hottest day in Indian Summer with no water?

Countertops, how I Love Thee!

It's a pretty exciting time to leave for 5 weeks for work and return to a kitchen with floors.

And appliances in places where appliances should be.

But, the real topper here is that Dustin has poured the counter tops and have them in place.

Holy Cow Bells, people. You know what that means, right?

Yes, there is now a sink.

Yes, I will shave my pits. It's a win-win.

Nice Attitude

Driving down "the main drag" of G.P.this morning, I noticed quite a few vehicles (mostly large trucks with the shiny metal balls hanging from the trailer hitch) sporting the sticker of Calvin peeing on the words "Tree Huggers". I've been away for 7 years so I can't speak to what has happened between these folks and the Tree Huggers, but I hope that there is a sticker for the latter. Something like a Douglas Fir peeing on the words "Good Ol' Boy".

How Do YOU Spell Relief?

Relief is finding out you didn't get a parking ticket when you neglected to move your car on time. Relief is discovering that your favorite mascara is not discontinued but simply relocated to a better spot at the counter. Relief is having a washer and dryer IN YOUR HOME!!! Courtesy of my very own Oma (Grandma Lola), Dustin and I have our first washer and dryer IN OUR HOME! I haven't felt this domestically pleased since I had broken a toilet (it's a long story involving a jar of pickles that I'd rather not get into right now)and finally had it fixed after 5 days without it's VERY convenient services. No more scrounging up quarters and getting territorial at the laundromat on an early Saturday morning. Nope. This chick can wash her unmentionables at any hour of the day now. And she can wash her laundry, too!

What Does Hillbilly Mean to You?

It's been a long standing joke in our family that we speak 2 languages: English and Hillbilly. Red neck is in all of us so we don't count that as a separate language as it is intrinsic in our nature. Moving back to Grants Pass, I have been reintroduced to the idea of hillbillies and their overwhelming sense of entitlement to wear overalls with no shirts and no shoes in a store. I'm not kidding. I've seen it just the other day. A lady next to me advised me not to stare as it skeers 'im.
Over email to a friend of mine in Seattle, he had noted that he didn't see any hillbillies in our house pictures and further suggested that maybe our mental versions of hillbillies differ. Below is my response:
"My image of a hillbilly looks a bit like [our dear friend who is tall
and narrow and devastatingly handsome (Hi, Snausage!!!)] ... just take all of his teeth from the front and put them in mangled rows next to the teeth in the back, shave his head bald but leave fringe so it's a mock skullet, add 30 pounds of gut, hold pants up with either duck tape or twine (or a combo), place a hayseed betwixt lips and top with two lazy eyes. Oh, and no shoes please. Oh, and tiny tank top with some shitty comment on how the wearer goes from "Zero to Bitch in 30 seconds."
There. Is that what you see in a hillbilly? I thought so.

Remember When... ?

Remember when going to a place like Home Depot or Diamond or Eagle used to be rather exciting? It meant that you were working on something. It meant that you were starting a project, a new adventure even. It meant that you maybe had done some research and were going to test a theory. It meant that you knew what you were doing. Oh, and the EXCITEMENT of telling the myriad of employees at said store what you were PLANNING... as if they gave two shakes. Pshhht.
Now what used to be reserved to the weekends (the earlier the better so you can get a jump on it!!!) happens every other day and sometimes 2 or more trips a day. Now you know the greeter's name and barely have the respect to nod at Kenny as you pass by him, him with all of his optimism and faith in you and your holy project. You almost feel comfortable enough to use the employee bathroom and get offended when the new guys asks, "So, whatcha workin' on?"
Dude, please, as if the weary disappointment smeared across my face doesn't explain it all already. CLEARLY I am RE-DOING the F-ING ENTIRE wall that I have ALREADY did. LAST WEEK. In the blanket-y blank kitchen. That I've been working on for well over a month now.
Yeah, but thanks for asking.
Do you guys sell first aid kits?

More on that Whole Sinkless Lifestyle

Ok so our kitchen is completely barren and I am forced to wash the dishes in our bathtub. Glamorous. After 20 minutes of washing the darn things, I found a lil' ditty running through my head. It sounds like a funeral march and it goes like this: "Wash-ing dish-es in the tub. Wash-ing dish-es in the tub. There is noth-ing right with it. Washing-ing dish-es in the tub." Dustin, walking by then chimed in, "I thought my life would be bett-er than this. I am re-gret-ing mak-ing this choice in my life. Wash-ing dish-es in the tub."

With the Sink Goes My Hygiene

Right in the middle of our first house guest visit (my eldest sister), Dustin decides that the kitchen must be completely gutted.

Like, completely.

Who cares that we still have 4 weeks before the cupboards were to be delivered.
What necessitates a kitchen anyway? Is it counter tops? Or a sink? Or appliances? Or a cutting board? Nay. I would say that, barring all of these things, a kitchen equals convenience. Yes, we can get by without any of the previously mentioned things but that is called camping. And camping is what we have been doing now since July 1st.

So.
I saw this comparison. I saw that dishes do not get traditionally washed in the bathtub and decided that my armpits should be then only shaved in the kitchen sink. The rub is that we have no kitchen sink for me to do the latter so I have not done that at all.
It's going on four weeks. Dustin is totally grossed out. So be it. My pit hair is long, strong, and bound to get the friction on.

Screw Pilates

Pilates has NOTHIN' on home repair.
Hold a piece of drywall over your head, while on your tippy-toes as your husband drills the board to the ceiling. Climb a ladder to the top wrung and balance while disconnecting wires that are just out of reach. Pick up newly delivered cabinets and move them back-and-forth (just for fun-sies) for 3 days across your kitchen. I have fine tuned muscles that, even with my knowledge of the human body for massage therapy, I wasn't aware of. Even my eyelids look firmer. That or I have yet to wash off the joint compound that we used to texture the walls.

Spray Painting Injuries and Those That Suffer From Them

The muscles in my forearm have been strained... from overuse... due to spray painting. I didn't know that one should be advised to ice down post spray painting session. Sure, I had been working at the task of sanding, priming, and spray painting every surface of an old art deco metal cabinet. I had this project spaced out over a week so that there would be proper drying time but I hadn't seen an injury taking place because of that.
Jeez. I was whining by day two, well, rather, the morning of day three. I woke up with both of my hands curled up in rigid claws with which to wrap around a spray can once again. I had trouble typing, putting in my contacts, brushing my hair, etc. Ridiculous! I am both embarrassed and in awe that one can have such a reaction to work. I've said it before and I'll say it again... I don't like workin' and if I had the full use of my digits, I'd show just how much I don't like it.

Curtis

On a simple Saturday, after having gone to the Grower's Market with Dustin's mom, we found ourselves with no real plan for the day. We headed out to the Grange Co-op to get some inspiration for landscaping. Finding nothing totally us, we bought D a new straw hat to protect his noggin from the shadeless dirt patch we call our yard. On our way out, we paused to see what kind of livestock was for sale on the community board. When what did our eyes spy? But a flyer claiming to have for sale the exact breed of dog that we had been researching and ready to buy for over a year!

Ahem, yes, please. We'll take him!

His needs are simple: play, food, potty, nap, repeat. That is not dissimilar to a certain someone I know. Someone who's name starts with a D and ends in "ustin".

Now he just needs to get a job detailing the house and we'll be a four member crew!

Neighbors

I had this cute, June Cleever idea of how I would introduce us to all of our neighbors. Being the first to admit that I am not your typical domestic type, I am quite ambitious. I was planning on making a nice summer dessert and going from door-to-door, introducing ourselves.
What? No oven? What? No real sink? What? No clean dishes? Ok. So, we'll allow them to come to us. And so they did. Our neighbors on the right are great... real friendly, allowed us to meet there dog Blue (that had issues with the previous owners), and told us their renting history. Blue, in our household, is referred to as Michael Landon because of his amazingly black, glossy, and wavy tresses. The dude next to him has lived there for 50 plus years. He and his wife have a one-eyed dog named Cricket that they walk three miles a day. Starting at our house. He is a million years old and LOVES that D and I are here to make this house (which he, at one time, helped stucco). He finds every reason to stop by. To drop off saw horses to sugar ant killer (thank the Lord) to advising our landscape choices. We are covered in neighbors and ants, apparently.

Sugar Ants

NOW I remember the charm of Southern Oregon... sugar ants. They are brown, tini-tiny, and smelly... like a crushed battery or the inside of a flute case (nerd alert!!!). In the middle of the night, even when you have taken such pains as bleaching the counter tops, they come in droves. We tried bombs, bay leaves, love, and hugs... these ants don't care. They are here. The are non-discriminatory. They like cat food, coffee, Splenda, vinegar, mustard, EVERYTHING that humans like. All of the food (dry and or preserved) is now stored in our brand new Frigidaire. Even unpopped pop corn. Even baking soda. Lord, help us. After week two, it isn't uncommon for the first person up to exclaim (in vain), "Shit! Their in the (insert whatever here). Shit!" Welcome to my home! Can I offer you an ant martini?

Moving In

We had our U-Haul up at our (we are forever indebted to you) parents-in-laws' home for over a week and were finally able to move in. The house was clean, our stuff was available, and Y'all was thoroughly over it. We backed into our garage and, thanks to my excellent labeling system, we got every box into it's appropriate room without a hitch. I had the boxes for our bedroom labeled so that we could know how to set up the room so it would be like we'd never left San Diego (for Y'all's sake mostly). We did so. And then promptly fell asleep. It was so foreign to go to sleep in a place that is our own and wake up in a place that is still so odd and messy. Ants were everywhere and we didn't understand why the water wouldn't come out of the tap. And you're looking at the same picture of our "yard" that I am right? Right! Pissed from the get-go.

Dis-ing the Home

Clearly, we had to clean our home before we could live in it. It was bug infested, dirty, ,unsanitary, and smelly. I took an entire afternoon to suit up and disinfect. We did bug bombs the day before and then I cleaned up the shrapnel. I bleached every surface, from ceilings to floor, and swept like I was getting paid for it. I was itchy from the rooter to the tooter and couldn't wait to move in. I wanted to have a home, a home we are now paying for, to live in. I wanted to watch t.v. like normal and enjoy coffee like usual. With the ants and the antennae, that just wasn't' meant to be.

First Injury

Dustin, in all of his zealot-ness, started dismanting our kitchen. He started small enough with the side cupboards and those that hovered above the past and our non-existing stove. As one piece of siding started to come down, Dustin moved out of the way... so quickly that he head-butted the side of the kitchen door way.... which resulted in a nice cut. We decided it didsn't need stitches but that his sense of space may need a bit of an adjustment.

Tuning In and Turning On

All we have ever known is renting. We have only had rent to pay and one, singular, uno bill to pay for "utilities" (water, garbage, electricity, gas, etc.) Sometimes, if I was lucky, those costs were wrapped into the rent price. But, I now know, that owning a home means that, in order to move in, one must set up each of those accounts and have one of those folks come to inspect the site. We had papers signed on Friday but still couldn't really live in the house until all the stuff was up and raring' to go. So I trouble shoot and call all of my local agencies, set up accounts, sign (more) papers, and set appointments. I am overwhelmed and yet very excited. This means I'm an adult right? I feel more grown up than I did on my wedding day. People are asking me questions that I don't know the answers to and I still have to make something up. How is your house heated? (Gas, duh.) How long have you lived there? (Technically or as per papers work?) Do I want electronic deduction or via paper? (How much is an average bill?) You can see where I am going here, right? A lot of newness in an era of unknowing. Wish us luck!

Signing Papers

So we'd been in town for 5 days and still didn't have the keys to the house. I'll skip the boring details and get to my point here. When Dustin and I met with our mortgage broker and our realtor and title signing agent, we were both miffed and scared. Why had this taken so long? Why were there so many witnesses? Why did we feel 15 years old? Why is there so much paper work for home ownership and not for marriage or becoming a parent? The dinky paper cup of coffee that they offered during our meeting was like a slap in the face. What, I buy a home and all you give me is an ounce of coffee with crappy powered creamer? Where is the balloons and complimentary pony ride? I want my face painted and a back massage, damn it!!! At this point, after so many days of waiting, D and I agree that home ownership is rather anti-climatic.

Upon Driving Over the California/Oregon Border

It was a long drive. One that took us well over our estimation. We had left around 8 a.m. from San Diego and hoped to get into Grants Pass around 10 or 11 p.m. what with fueling up and eating and resting. But, yeah, no. It was just a bit past midnight when we drove over the border and we still had, at least, an hour to go. It was dark and scary (the hills were steep coming up and going down) and we had a U-Haul AND a trailer for our car. Lots of pounds to pull and huge tail wind happening. Amongst jokes and silence, I admitted my sense of relief that we were going "back home" even though we hadn't called Grants Pass that since 2001. Just seeing the silhouetts of the mountains as we desended into the Rogue Valley caused me to tear up. All that green and lushness! I couldn't wait for tomorrow morning so that I could see it all clearly! Dustin had asked several times during our trip if I still thought that we were doing the right thing. I had assured him that, yes, I did because I knew we both needed to hear that. Cut to our last few minutes of the trip, when reality set in, when I saw that we were going to be surrounded by family and friends that we hadn't seen in so many years and that we no longer lived in a big city with all of it's ammenities, I turned to him and said, "You know at some point, I'm going to wake up, realize what we've done, and blame you, right?" Silence. He said, "Yeah. And I am sorry about that." And then we pulled off the highway at our exit.

Real Walk Through

Now, to be clear, we both KNEW and ACCEPTED that we were getting into a fixer-upper. I mean, I knew that. Really. But there is something to be said about buying a home without ever having SEEN it in person first. My awesome ma-in-law (who also lives in Grants Pass) met with our realtor and had taken extensive photos and emailed them to us. We had proof of what we were getting in exchange for a low, low price. But. But. But. As we walked through our new home, Dustin exclaimed, "It's like being IN a video game," explaining how it was like walking through the pictures that we had only ever seen before. The details, like gigantic spider webs and odd smells and dried puddles and leaky toilet and faucets, were not ones that I recall in the photos. I instantly fell for the lil' house because, as D and I are wont to do, we adopt broken things and make them better. This house was no different. It needed some good mojo and we were the couple to do it.

Initial Walk Through

We didn't yet have the keys or the paper work to confirm that we owned this abandoned peach colored shack, so we felt like we were trespassing. But we didn't need to have any proof that we had just relocated (not even 12 hours ago) back to our home town, other than the fact that we were still living AND talking to each other. We felt a bit entitled to explore OUR property and to look in the windows and to jiggle the door handle and to smell the lilac bushes. Our realtor, whom we had yet to meet in person after nearly 2 months of communication via cell phones, was to meet us later in the day but we just couldn't wait. So, we opened the chain link gate that held tight to the overgrown bushes and stumbled into our yard. Three words: overgrown, treacherous, and snake-ridden. The house be damned at this point... this yard was gross and embarrassing. If this was the outside? Then what was the inside? Oh, God? What have we done?

Moving Day

I'll skip the packing day... for all of our own good. It involved far too many cuss words and angry glances that I would be comfortable posting here. Let's just get to the fun of actual moving, shall we? Dustin and I woke up, from sleeping on our floor where the kitchen table had once been, around 6 a.m. He went to get us coffee one last time from our favorite spot while I drugged our 6 year old cat for the trip. By the time he got back, Y'all was cross-eyed from the drugs and I was sweaty from the effort. We packed up the little bits and pieces that hadn't fit in the U-Haul the night before and got on the road. I was less tearful than I had anticipated. I was really relieved. We both were ready to get out of San Diego and into our first home. I had loved it for the year and a half that I had been there but it never did feel like home to me. I loved the surfing and the beach (just 2 blocks from our rented duplex). I loved the consistent weather. I loved the vacation vibe. Maybe I just didn't like ME there? Who knows? But it felt right to go. So go we did. We were on the road, Y'all in here carrier between us in the U-Haul cab, traffic whizzing by. Dustin cussing. Me ignoring and trying to be optimistic. Slurpee anyone? Snap in to a Slim Jim, D! Life is good! Promise.