Guess what I'm doing today? GO AHEAD GUESS!!!!

I actually wrote this yesterday because I just can't stands it! I'm prouder than a puffed up poodle!!

Guess what I am doing today? GO AHEAD . . . . . .

GO AHEAD GUESS!!!!!!!!!


Getting the keys to my new house.

I SAID I'M GETTING THE KEYS TO MY NEW HOUSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And opening the door. And I took ALL OF NEXT WEEK OFF TO MOVE ALL MY STUFF FROM THE TWO STORAGE SHEDS AND MY PARENT'S BASEMENT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Thank you everyone who gave me words of comfort and said 'cheer up' when I needed it. Thank you for reading the saga about hunting for a job. Then having to relocate to accept this job. Of having to move to my hometown. Of having to live here without Mr. Hall most of the week. Of having to face issues I never wanted to face and then actually coming out better because of it.

Thank you for reading about all of it and then sticking around irregardless. And thank you, o thank you for never once calling me a blogger in my parent's basement!

Thank you, Thank you, Thank you!!!

I just want to cry and sob and get all snot bubble I am so happy.

SQUEEE!!!!!!


And I will do just that, later tonight. After we fire up the hot tub. Bust out some champagne. I still can't believe it. It's all coming true.

My dreams are coming true people. sniff, sniff, sob a little, wipes a tear . . .

The House of Hall has risen again!!!

ok, gotta go.

The hot tub is all warmed up :)

Blur - New Music - More Music Videos

Have a good weekend.

SQUEEE!!!!!!

Sunday Brunch. There were mimosas. It was awesome.

My mother in law held a brunch on Sunday. It began at 10 am. You should have been there ;)

My MIL is a woman mad cooking skills yo. Her food, it is soo good so tasty so omg so layered with the herbs and tasty layers of divine goodness. Her food is so good that even when you are tired of seeing relatives, tired of catching up, tired of being with each other you- you linger. You stay put. Because her food keeps calling to you.

Then there were the mimosas.

My little sister in law made mimosas. In wine goblets. She is young and poured a lot of champagne and a little orange juice. I was smashed beyond belief during brunch. Unbelievably plastered. Face beet red and giggling all happy.


Why didn't anyone tell me about mimosas before? Champagne with orange juice? In wine goblets!!!! THAT'S EFFING BRILLIANT!!

I love my little SIL. I really do. We debated Twilight and Britney Spears. Got all huffy. It was such fun, arguing about nonsense. I bet this is why people get into bar fights :) tee hee hee...

And nothing smoothes over familial tension better than a few mimosas. And oh, the tension is there. Lots of women folk. And then there is the gigantic elephant in the room. And really, what family gathering would be complete without that?

My mother in law didn't come to our wedding. On purpose. That was almost 9 years ago. Noone talks about it. I have seen this woman on a monthly basis since then. On purpose. I still have trouble making eye contact with her, but I want her in my life. In the kids' life too. Draw your own conclusions there.

But, again, the food. OMG so delicious. I just want to spend five days eating there. The woman carmeled the apples, roasted the almonds, foundue'ed the chocolate, and smashed the pumpkin to make the pie. I could just eat for days.

Plus, my mother in law teaches after school programs. She has about 10 billion toys for the kids to be entertained with. And Mr. Hall, he says to me, "Babe, sit, drink your mimosas. I got the kids." OH I could just die I love that man o mine.

Then the kids lay down for a nap. Then I was looking around at all the couches and spare chairs. But they were filled with puffed out party goers. The floor looked like a good option.

But, then I spied a lawn chair. A metal lawn chair with fabric stripes. With a tiny pillow resting upon it's seat. And a thousand violins began to play.

I passed out cold. Was the best 20 minutes of my life. The chair was so comfy. When I woke up my pillow was wet. "What the hell?," I thought. Oh, I had drooled all over the pillow.

Drool on the pillow is the quintessential hallmark of a freaking awesome nap!

At this point I was much sober and it was 4 pm. Time to pack the kiddies and drive home. Thus concludes another party at my MIL with the food I could just die for. So tasty, so devine.

Can't wait for thanksgiving. By then I should be hungry again ;)

Thank you, Dinosaur Train and Nightswimming

Thank you dinosaur train, for coming on at 8.00 am this morning. And thank you Thomas the train for coming on right after. Because the wee Mac cuddled for a solid 45 minutes, all warm on the couch, his back glued to my front.

And thank you eggs, toast. and jelly. Thank you omelet pan too.

Thank you Mac, for asking Pancake to "Come sit next to me and eat oatmeal." Then looking at her and turning to me all smiles and saying "That's my SIISSster, Pancake.

And thank you Pancake for hugging your brother and patting him on the back. Thank you for saying, "My brother is such a little bug!" And thank you for getting him a napkin before I asked you too.



Because every few minutes I would have this paroxysms of overwhelming joy. Because all of this will happen at our new house next Saturday.

And then I said to Mr. Hall, "When it's hot and summer out, we'll put the kids to bed and you and I can go nightswimming in our pool."

And he said, "Yeah, we can be all sneaky and swim naked."

It's almost too much for the human spirit to bear, this joy I feel.

Take care everyone and have a good weekend. ;)

Decor to make the Devil rise

Let's take a tour of my new house, shall we?



In this room I'll take off my shoes and lounge. The fire is so toasty and warm, I can task the dark apple cider on my lips... mmm, Snugglesville . . .



I'll spy on the neighbors through the windows. They seem nice, a bit strange though ;) The wife brought us the best casserole. She is quite stunning.



We've had them over for movies. We can also hold concerts there ;)



This is where we dine, enjoying the love as we say grace and give thanks.



Before we retire to bed, I shall draw a bath with lavender and vanilla essential oils. Hmm... which tub shall I choose tonight? I think this one will do. . .



What is true in all of this, which makes me weepy with the very thought, is this: Our cherry wood sleigh bed. I hear it calling for us. One week till we can liberate her from the storage shed.



After, to end the night, I do believe a midnight dip in the pool is called for.



It is a heated pool after all . . .

Have a good weekend all. And may all your flights of fancy come true.

My son has three obsessions

One of the best things about having kids is finding out what tickles them. The world around them is brand spanking new and the choices for fun and fancy are endless. Sometimes though, something leaps out at them, capturing them whole. And then they become obsessed.

Such is the case with my son Mac and Thomas the Train.






This is him leaping out of his Thomas bed onto his sister's bed. They have bunked like this for a while now. Such access to his big sister is very fun indeed. And I am so thankful, she feels the same way. They like sharing a room cause "we love each other." This is what my daughter said to me one night. sniff, sniff . . .

His obsession with Thomas the Train has lasted longer than I ever thought possible. It's going on a year now. It's getting stronger too. He has a train board at home and at day care. He plays with the trains most of the day, most days. When we are going through the grocery store, he sings the Thomas song. He gets so excited when we drive over train tracks. When we come across a crossing train? The boy goes bananas ;)






It's so amazing, how absorbed he can get. When he pushes the train around he makes choo-choo noises and train whistles. When guides them over a bridge he says, "HOLD ON! Train going over the hill!!" When the train falls off the track he says, "OH NO! Train fell down!!" Then he gingerly picks them up and returns them to their places. He even has his little construction workers fix "this track is brooooken."

Oh so awesome this love he has. There is nothing better than watching your kids' eyes light up. Seeing the magic they see. And make no mistake, what is magic to them is double magic to me cause I get to be there. Seeing it twice!


Here he is working a train puzzle. Note the absence of a diaper. He is 74% potty trained at this point.



Which brings me to his other obsessions. Sigh.

SIGH.

Now that the peter is free from the confines of a diaper, he enjoys um, playing ding dong ditch. Constantly. GAAH!!!! Everywhere with the touching!!! And now that winter is approaching and the runny noses are starting. NOW the finger in the nose!! Always with the picking! The finger in the nose!!! GAAAH!!!!

Bah . . . he's only 3 years old. Whattya gonna do ? ;)

When is good, good enough? Discuss.

Somewhere around the second kid I had a monster humungo revelation.

The pressure I felt to be THE BEST MOM IN THE WORLD, TO BE A GOOD MOM, TO PROVIDE EVERYTHING AND ANYTHING MY CHILDREN NEED 24/7, TO READ ALL THE PARENTING WEBSITES AND PARENTING MAGAZINES.... all of it is bullshiz.

The perfect mom is some artificial construct I made up. Some unattainable ideal I would compare myself to. That's no good. To be a good mom I needed to BE NICER TO MYSELF THAN THAT!!! That's when I decided, during my days off at work, I was going to keep the kids in day care if I needed a day off. And

AND

When they napped I was going to nap too. Not just stay awake "In case they needed me!"


WHICH BRINGS ME TO MR. HALL AND OUR NEW HOUSE.

Knock on wood we close soon.

First, let me show you the mind of Mr. Hall:



So complicated, yet so detailed and organized. It's the mind of an engineer. Complicated, detailed and organized. But this mind, it liked our soon to be new house. The inspector liked it too. He found about 13 things that required attention and fixing. Most were minor, none were deal breakers. And really, we really only needed 3 things fixed.

Mr. Hall called the carpenter, the pool guy and the roofer and got estimates. My head would get dizzy deciphering the details. He keeps it all in line. Its a thing of beauty, the mind of Mr. Hall.

So, right before we presented the estimates to the seller...............

We found out the seller had already fixed 12 items. Then, instead of fixing the 13th item, which was trivial anyway, they gave us their snowblower. And it is a sweeeet snowblower my good people. All told, they dropped 3000 fixing stuff. Um, ok then.

In all honesty, we were floored. We were thankful because yeah, thank you seller! Thank you for being a decent human being!

But here's the thing. They fixed everything, but not to the standards of Mr. Hall. Again, he is an engineer. And he had explained the best way of fixing stuff to me. His way of fixing stuff begins at the root of the issue. His way makes sense.

The seller had fixed things in more of a patch work kind of way. Less expensive and sturdy for sure but, gah. We know they didn't fix things the best way. The way we could have.

But here's the thing.

IT DOESN'T FUCKING MATTER.

NOT ONE BIT.

Because we have looked through so many houses. Torturing ourselves with questions, analyzing the data, working the angles. Because we are smart people. We know the best for us and we are trying to figure out the best way to get there.

BUT IT DOESN'T MATTER. I AM DONE BEING BEATEN DOWN BY DOUBTS AND QUESTIONS. I AM DONE TRYING TO BE THE BEST HOUSE BUYERS.

Because this good is good enough. Because we're getting a hot tub with this house. A hot tub that we can make new babies in. There's a fire place to warm my back during the winter. The kids will have their own room. Mr. Hall gets a work shop. So yeah, in this case.

Good is good enough. GRRR!!!!



So, I ask , When is good, good enough for you?

Feeding the fever puppets

Pancake was on the couch yesterday, all sicky with a fever. Usual kid stuff. No worries.

I sat next to the hot potato all day feeding her canned peaches, chocolate pudding and cherry gatorade. And watching a lot of spongebob, scooby doo and other assorted cartoons. All while she napped on and off.

Fever does funny things to the brain. At one point she woke up and started to yelp.

'MOMMA what happened to my fingers??!!! I only have three fingers!! They hurt, ow ow oww...they HURT!!!" "

She had fallen asleep on her hand.

I gave her an ice pack and a freezy pop. The other fingers grew back.

Then she closed her eyes, layed down and starting wiggling to and fro. I said, "Pancake, what are doing?"

"Dancing to the music Momma". The song below was playing in the background.

Next time, when she passes out, I'll have to move her around more. Remember to pull the strings a little :)

You can fast forward to the 1.55 mark for the good stuff.




I think she will be better tomorrow, she starting to get really sweaty before she went to bed.

The fever is breaking I believe.

Here's to a healthier Sunday :)

Chilly weather be damned, it's time for a pool party!

OR . . . . IN TWO WEEKS . . .



Ok two weeks and next summer.... but yes. oh yes my pretties . . . that up there, that might just very well be and lord help me it's looks to be true . . . that is part of

The New House of Hall!!

ROCKIT!




Does anyone else miss Beavis and Butthead? Hello? Anyone?

Mr. Hall and I discuss my odd and why he likes me

Apologies for the length of this post here, sometimes I just can't help myself. ;)

This blog serves as a virtual nut cracker that opens the brain of Mrs. Hall. I have been blessed with a wickedly strong memory and an eye for detail. I have also been blessed with a crazy life. Underneath it all is an ever chattering muse, urging me to use my voice. To speak in spells and tell my story.

I strive to be original, to speak my absolute truth. I empty all my pockets, strip down to the skivvies and lay my heart bare. Sometimes I am stark raving naked in here. And thank you all for coming here and thank you all for reading.

Really, thank you for reading.

All of which brings me to a little show called "True Blood". It's a HBO series that involves a small southern town, a family called Stackhouse and Vampires. The Vampires live freely amongst the living courtesy of artificially created blood. They drink it like snapple and survive thusly. Mr. Hall and I have watched about eight episodes so far.

I must say, I enjoy me some Jason Stackhouse. That's him on the left.



Jason Stackhouse is a character unburdened by deep thoughts, sexual morality, or ill defined muscles. An unrepentant horn dog. Jason is also funny as hell. I giggle for days thinking of his lines. And for this, I am fully committed to seeing his character till the end. And lord high in heaven, look at him. He is a hunk of burning love without speaking.



Also in the photo, a character named Amy. She is an overbred grifter with long, brown curly hair. With the greatest of ease, she takes control of the simpleton Stackhouse. They do things he never thought possible. Like feeling love while making love. But, what they mostly do, is "V". "V" is actual vampire blood. It makes mortals feel superhuman. Jason and Amy take it like LSD most of the time.



During these scenes of V imbibement, Jason and Amy fly all around, high and happy. They bust open primal feelings and make hot monkee love. They begin a life new to Jason, one with organic almonds. One with a hot girlfriend who doesn't wear a bra and talks about Gaia, the goddess of the earth. He's never met anyone like her. She's so smart he wants to lick her brain. Of course, it's all nefarious. She is an overbred grifter after all.

She is completely alien and enchanting. He's never met anyone like her. And he never stood a chance.



Which brings me back to Mr. Hall and I. Amy has plenty of stories. The way she speaks them, is much the same as me. We both tend to use fancy language and twisty philosophical ideals. We both create our world through declarations. We both have a hippie yet hypersmart aura and long, curly brown hair. And we both have very, very crazy stories to tell.

Stories involving a pig's head in my refrigerator, A rude boy whose heart I smashed, administering nursing care on crackhouse lane and NSFW poetry. But 99% is drug and alcohol free. Because my crazy is not chemically induced. It's home grown. Well, except this story called "The womanly art of metallica."

All of this, I have already given to Mr. Hall. Only I did with pure and loving intent. I show myself to Mr. Hall because I showed him me.

And he never, ever once said,

"I've never met anyone like you before."

Let me repeat that. He has never said,

"I've never met anyone like you before."

99.9% of the people in my life, including all my ex boyfriends I've ever had, have said this to me. And it's true. For better or worse I am wired differently than most. It's like a super power at this point.

But, Mr. Hall, he has never seen me as exotic or strange. He's never been shocked or surprised at anything I've told him. And never is heard a discouraging word. I can't tell you people how much that means to me. Except to say- it means everything.

And I told him this. And I asked him why, why hasn't he been shocked or surprised? Even when he was helping remove the last of my body jewelery, he never raised an eyebrow. I also ask why my stories are so interesting to him. Lots of people have lots of stories. Why me?, I say. This was last night.

And he said, "Because your stories make up how you are. They are all part of who you've become. And yeah, lots of people have crazy stories but you're unique. But you sought them out, that's the key difference."

Damn. I love that man.

SO Thank you for reading my stories. And as always,



WE REALIZE YOU HAVE LOTS OF CHOICES IN THE BLOGOSPHERE. WE THANK YOU FOR FLYING AIR HALL!!!

Grocery carts shaped like race cars and teenage trickery

That grocery cart, right up there, is the best. It fits both my six year old daughter, Pancake and her three year old brother, Mac. They get strapped in together, all in one place. No touching and grabbing stuff. No wandering aimlessly. No walking into other people's carts (BAM!) while not paying attention. No asking for things. Or asking again after I say no. No sharing the main basket, sitting on the bread and/or eggs as they fidget for comfort. They are strapped in and shushed. I can relax and get my grocery shop on.

Ahhhhhhhhhh

It's their own little world. Pretending to drive and be all race car crazy. They make vroom vroom and beep beep noises. They have no need for me. I occasionally take a quick left and say "Watch out now! Crazy driver!!" or I turn in a circle and say, "We going the wrong way kids, hold on!!" It's awesome incorporated, that cart right there :)

The only draw back is time. Eventually they get really, really rowdy. And loud. Because monumental kid energy can only be strapped in for so long.

So there I was, unloading the grocery goods on lane five. Three friendly teenagers were manning the station. My kids were getting very loud and starting rocking the cart back and forth. My threats of time outs were useless and really, beating the kids is not an option. Us being in public and all.

Jebus, simmer down. I was just kidding. I don't beat my kids. Well only on Sundays ..ok jeez just kidding!

Anywho. I wasn't that upset about my kids being loud and crazy. I was too distracted by the teenagers. Three of them. One boy was the cashier, then another boy and a girl were bagging our bounty. They were so young and smiley. No attitude, no texting. Just clean kids doing their job and doing it well.

I couldn't help myself, I just kept staring at the boy cashier. All young and clean. Face so smooth. He was properly skinny and hair all messy. He wore his bangs long like the kids do these days.



Kids still rocking the cart, me getting frustrated because I can't stop them. Me staring. Then I blurted out, "Hey, how old are you?"

"15", he said with a customer service smile.

Then I morphed into an old lady when I said, (and I swear to God I never say things like this, but it was unstoppable so up it came,)

"You have no idea how uncomplicated your life is. Enjoy the simplicity of being 15, of being a kid, cause when you grow up it gets a lot more complicated." And I gestured to my kids who were full on apey at this point. I was smiling and happy. It was a moment of pure comedy.

He smiled and said, "Looks like it!" He smiled a little more. The other teenagers came up towards the cart. They sort of distracted the wiley bunch while I finished my purchases. They used all manner of teenage trickery, sticking out their tongue and playing peek a boo.

We all exchanged looks, exchanged smiles. Real smiles. It was very cool this moment. The teenagers were seeing my kids in a whole different light then I was. It was a moment of wonder for them. Random cute kids in the cart. Random Mom calling them young'uns.

It was all very soothing for me, being around the teenagers. I could tell they were friends, went to the same school. I could tell they were good kids, probably got good grades and were hard workers. I could tell they were happy.

My hope of all hopes is that I can say the same for my kids, when they are teenagers. And when they get that part time job, bagging groceries or working retail, I hope they are like those teenagers.

This is my biggest dream for my kids. I want them to know what happy and wonder really is. And that it doesn't stop when you grow up. I want them to know that awesome is everywhere, they just have to look. I want them to feel the simple joy of being who they are, of living in this wonderful world.

Mommy loves you Pancake and Mac. Thank you for being my kids. You're the best kids a mommy could ever hope for. sniff sniff . . . :)





"After the Bath" by Mary Cassatt

Mood music supplied by Tom Waits, guess which mood

This is Tom Waits


His album, Bone Machine, is one I'll will never forget. It's also one I fought really hard for because I had listened to it with a really big loser x boyfriend who I loved so much but he turned out to be an asshole. And each time I would listen to Bone Machine I would fight the thoughts of him in my head because dammit,

I WANTED TOM WAITS BACK!

And I did get it back. The album and the music of Mr. Waits is all mine. mmwhaa haaa haa ;)

Which brings me to now. Because now I am on the verge of buying a house. And I love it and it loves us. But I've been here before. Three times in fact. Each time fuck all beyond my control has screwed it up.

But, this house. It has quality. Room for my cherry wood sleigh bed and all the kids toys. And a hot tub which Mr. Hall keeps talking about.

He talks about it every day. (love you babe, we'll get there I promise ;)

So, let's dig deep here. Let's all hold hands and give a little prayer.

Because I want to go home. WE ALL WANT TO GO HOME

Home to a House of Hall.

Turn it up ya'll. It's worth it ;)

It's gonna be a great day I say

For all the girly photos I post here, I really, really do appreciate the male of the species. Word up my people, word up!

Sorry for the 15 second advert. But, the video behind it rocks the house, The House of Hall that is ;)

HEY LADIES!!!

I launch a protest, universe fails to care

When I was a kid I started protesting the end of summer. The night before school started I would stand in my driveway, barefoot. I would stand right in front of my yellow garage, looking up at the moon. I remember promising the moon I would be back, that this was not the end of it! I remember taking it all in, squishing it inside my heart. Promising the plump summer moon I would be back. This was my protest.

As an adult, I mostly protest by denial. I keep believing that this cold spell of say, mid 50's, is just a fluke. That next week everything will be right as rain. I don't participate in any discussion that begins with, "Sure is getting colder out there." I have no patience with anyone that says, "I can't believe summer is over". They are nuts! NUTZ!!!

I firmly believe that sunny skies and 80 degree weather are just ahead.

Then the leaves start turning. I dig deeper into my denial.

Then I start noticing my outfits. Memorizing what I am wearing and how it feels on my skin. The summer before last I was wearing a cotton green tanktop and gray sweatshorts. I was standing barefoot, at the end of my driveway watching the kids drawing with sidewalk chalk.

It felt wonderful, this was my yoga outfit. I felt so awesome with my flatter tummy, strong exposed legs. I felt calm, peaceful and fierce all at the same time. It was the last outfit of summer.

This summer I was wearing dark blue jeans and an eggplant colored, v neck , short sleeve shirt. All cotton, all fitted close to show my strength and curves. It was feminine and sensual. I was barefoot at the park with my kids. I was digging my toes in the cool sand and watching the lake. The sun was warming my arms, neck and small of my back. I felt so warm and calm. So peaceful. Very beautiful. That was the last outfit of this summer.

The last stage of protest involves not wearing a coat. I refuse to wear a coat until I see snow. And even when there is snow I hold off. "Don't you have a winter coat?", People say. I say, "I have heated leather seats! This sweater will do the job! I only have to get to building from my car!" And people think I'm nuts and I am. but. bah.

this year.

Alas, my protest is gone unheard. I'm going to have to move up my coat wearing schedule.

Because the universe doesn't stop for me. It just dumps a bunch of cold rain and fall winds. The kind that have icy, biting underpinnings.

It'll be ok though, I promise. I'll find a fabulous jacket, all sorts of awesome. One that is worthy of Mrs. Hall. That coat up there btw. No, not worthy of anything except being called really tacky!

And don't worry, just give it a few months and the warm summer sun and plump summer moon will be back. I promise!

Now, who wants to go shopping? :)

Channeling my inner Obama

There. That's better.

Now, don't we all feel a little better?

The Dream Exchange

Every morning at breakfast, the wee Pancake and I exchange dreams.

This morning I said, "I dreamt that Daddy was in a dress and he was talking in a church". Because I did indeed have a dream that he was cross dressing and speaking at a church. He was still manly though, tough even. But it was disturbing to me while I was dreaming. Because I was being forced to hold it in, forced to change what I felt and understood to be our marriage. All so I could accept his newly exposed personal yearnings.

The yearning to wear women's clothes that is.

Which, in the grand scheme of things, isn't that bad. I mean, it's not like he was becoming an alcoholic or sleeping with the pool boy. I mean we don't have a pool.


Yet.
(author snickers mischievously)

Then Mr. Hall says, "Well, did I look good at least?" And I said, yes, you looked quite manly, like Patrick Swayze in "To Wong Foo." He had no idea what I was talking about.

Then Pancake piped up and said, "I dreamed we found a treasure and there was real gold and treasure and candy and ice cream."



I think she got the better dream last night.

But, if all goes well, wait till she hears about the pool. ;)

Take care ya'll!

Why are women so complicated? I mean really, why?

This and so many other fabulous photos are ripe for the picking from Bruce Johnson, the mastermind behind this blog: Hypocrisy

My sister in law, my mother in law, my husband, me and the kids were all in the same city for the weekend. The city called Cedartown. The city we moved from about a year ago.

Mr. Hall still works there one weekend a month and a few days a week. This weekend was his one weekend a month. I had taken the kids down for an overnight hotel stay because I miss Mr. Hall. The kids miss their Daddy. And hotels are awesome fun.

Me and the kids were to leave Cedarton right after Sunday Brunch. This is where it got retarded in between me and the other women folk mentioned above..

MY SISTER IN LAW, JANET, ASKS A QUESTION:

Janet asked me if I could bring the kids to her mother's (my MIL's) house and stay a while after the kids and I had Sunday brunch. That way, when Mr. Hall got out of work, everyone could go out to dinner.

I briefly and politely tried to explain why I was not going to do this. Again, this is where it gets all retarded. Janet didn't understand my reasons for saying no. Nor was she accepting them.

Much discussion on many cell phones occurred wherein my SIL tried to explain why and how I could spend the day in the city with the kids. And then stay for the dinner with the family. Many discussions, many women folk having them.

Here is my sister in law by the way. Note the blonde hair. My husband's grandparents were from Austria. Hence the blonde children that I, a dark haired vixen, bore so happily. That's my daughter on the right.



Also of note in this photo, the big brown horse. That horse is one of two Janet owns. She is, by all accounts, an accomplished horsewoman. She is gracious enough to share this passion with my daughter when we visit.

That being said, Janet has no children. She is married to an awesome guy. They really don't want kids and they are very happy taking trips to Costa Rica, going to horse competitions, taking trips to Spain and doing other fabulous, being married without children things. Like sleeping in whenever they damn well please.

Le Sigh.

I miss sleeping in.

I did not sleep in that Sunday, the Sunday she asked me to stay. Mr. Hall left early that morning. Like four am early. He rose, dressed by the light of his cell phone and left. He was going to be at work for the rest of the day. He gave me a pat on the tush as he left. And a peck on the cheek. tee hee hee...

The kids stirred about two hours later. Like six am later. Too damn early later. It was warm and cute and I love them no matter what.

I love them so much I drove 2.5 hours to Cedartown so they could spent the evening with their Daddy. Because he still divides his time between here and Cedartown. But I have the kids all the time and this requires effort. More effort then I ever thought I was capable of. The kids make it easy though. They were so awesome this weekend. But, that's another post.

Janet has no idea the amount of effort kids take because she doesn't have any. She doesn't understand how the kids can take effort, even if we're just 'sitting around' at her mother's house.

She doesn't understand because they don't take the kids and say, "Hey Holly, I got the kids, you go take a nap." Or, "Hey I'll take them to the Zoo, you go get a pedicure." Or, "Hey, go take a long shower, I'll play trains with Mac. I got this." Also, they never chase the kids around so Mac won't break all the antiques my mother in law has. All breakable priceless figurines. Everywhere.

Because people without kids don't have babyproof houses. But that's another post.


So.

That Sunday was this Sunday. This Sunday was spent having a fabulous brunch with just the kids and me. Then we packed everything up and took two trips to the car. Everyone had to carry something. Mac carried his train and a singular diaper. Pancake carried a big ziploc bag of markers and her unicorn. I carried everything else, gently coaching them to turn here and turn there. Watch out of cars.... don't keep pressing the elevator buttons . . . .

The brunch was truly fabulous, but that is another post.

Then, after we were all packed and strapped in, we left for home. The kids were passed out before we left the parking lot. All sleepy with syrup love.

And we drove home.






And still, Janet has no idea why I said no. ;)

Who wants omelettes?

Guess what I am doing this morning?

Go ahead, guess!

Making omelettes. What do you want on yours?

hee hee

Now, guess what else.

Putting an offer on a house.

And hope springs eternal :)

NOW!!!

Let's get to the business of the weekend before us . . .

Shakin' our groove thing!!!

AND GO!!!

God is testing me, I just know it

First, we did indeed sell our house on 9-18-2009. About three weeks ago, and the heaven's rejoiced.

Then we found a house we loved, put in an offer, it was accepted and a thousand violins began to play. Then the roof inspector found serious issues with the roof. Serious as in the roof was built wrong and a large portion was caving in. The owners decided to slap some wood on it and call it a day. mmmmkaayyy, uuhhmmm

We thought since the roof was BUILT WRONG perhaps an engineer could take a look and GIVE DIRECTION ON HOW TO FIX IT INSTEAD OF JUST PATCHING THE PROBLEM. We were willing to split the cost of any repairs. The owners said no, patching is fine and if'n that there slapping of yon wood don't fixit, that's just yer problem now innit? Thus we went our merry way.

We began our house looking journey anew. I would search and get excited. Call the realtor about property only to find that THE HOUSE WAS ALREADY SOLD OR . . . .

This one we looked at last week, it was phenomenal. We toured it, I almost wet myself.



We almost put in an offer and then, THEN we found out IT WAS ALREADY FORECLOSED ON SO WHAT THE HELL NOBODY TELLS US OR OUR REALTOR THUS WASTING ALMOST A WEEK OF OUR TIME??

We could buy a foreclosed property but that takes 4 to 6 months of paperwork and DAMMIT!!!

Then there was this house. Ya'll remember this photo? From this post?

Well, surprise surprise, it was still on the market. It is live able but needs a lot, and I mean a lot of work. But the locale is awesome and the neighborhood is banging so we hold our noses and here comes the cold water. Our offer went out.

24 hours pass, no word from their realtor. 28, 30 and such and so forth. No word. Then last night at 10.30 our realtor called and said this

"They are selling their house to become missionaries. To become missionaries for this particular church they need to sell all of their belongings. And their church was going to be part of the sale which complicates the sale" And then AND THEN!!!!!!

AND THEN!!!!k!

I stopped listening because seriously how fucking hard is it to buy a house?

(sorry about the swears)

How hard people????!!!!!




Mr. Hall warned me about this. He said, "Babe, you are going to hurt yourself getting attached and unattached to theses houses. Really, it can take a while."
I didn't listen. I told him "No, It'll be fine, it'll be ok." And then I proceeded to get attached and detached to every house we have looked at online and in person. Which means I have loved and envisioned myself and family in about 12 dozen houses.

And I am hurt.

I have one broken arm, three broken fingers and a cracked pelvis. And my left foot keeps swelling on and off for no reason.

Well, not really. But. I'm still here in a house that is not my own, with my husband not here 3 days a week. All while living with people that don't really like me. gah. no, no more. Must switch gears hear. Turn this ship around.




All can change though, I have been here before and my mood will change for all sorts of better when we have an accepted offer. Just that step alone cures 95% of what ails Mrs. Hall. So.

There is a house out there, I know there is. One that fights our budget, our local likings and will survive the inspection process. One that we can move into and I can unpack my pots and pans. One where the kids can sleep in their own rooms. One that I can snooze in my cherry wood sleigh bed. One that we can say, this is our home, this is The House of Hall.

Because this is my wish, my hope. This is my salvation. And it's coming, I hope I hope I hope.

Have a good weekend everyone and take care.

:)