st. joe, pray for us

I am finally hogtying myself to the computer to blog. I know, I take blogging way too seriously.

It's Tuesday, and I am already wishing it was Friday, just so we could take a bit of a breath, or at least not feel guilty for it. Guilty for breathing is how I feel these days.

Last week Shaun was in Maryland working. My parents visited for a couple of days to help out, so that was nice. My dad was able to fix our garage door, which was super nice because its status of 'broken' had been a giant pain in our ass, among many other things associated with our (still unsold) house. My mom gave Eli a haircut, which was much-needed because, I swear, the boy's hair grows like we'd be feeding him Flinstone vitamins (which we are not). And we took Eli to Chucky Cheese and were forced to resort to complex forms of trickery to get him to leave.

Shaun returned Friday morning and his parents drove in Friday evening to spend the weekend with us. Again, we got lots of help with the kiddo, which was very nice, considering we had three showings this weekend, and the house had kind of gone to crap while he was gone, and I was left to harness our son's recently-acquired 2-year-old-ness. They also treated us to dinner at Lupe Tortilla's, which is the best Mexican restaurant in the world, except perhaps for Mexico. I'm telling you, people, there is only one word to describe the brilliance of this place: fajitas. If I could choose a second word, it would be margaritas. We also got to tour various sites in The Woodlands (as in the mall, Market Street, parks, etc), all while having to vacate our house for would-be buyers to drag their dirty feet on our freshly Pinesoled floors.

But I am not bitter.

Well, maybe I am -- just a little bit. But that will soon be washed out with the mop water because (drum roll, puh-leeze): We are moving. Excuse me, but that should have been in caps: WE ARE MOVING. Now then.

Yes, friends, the time has come for us to fly away to a distant land in the East.

We booked our flights tonight. We fly out of Houston March 10, and I just don't think I can believe it until it happens. I also can't believe that we will be in a confined space with a 2-year-old for three hours.

We will close on the house in Maryland the morning of March 11, and if all goes well, our goods will arrive on the 12th.

No, we have not sold our house here yet, but here's our most recent strategy:







And, it only cost 8 bucks -- and some prayers, of course. Just as a side note, I especially like how it says on the box that he's helped 1000s. I don't know, maybe it's just me, but I expected that it would have been more when you consider the number of years St. Joe has probably been doing this.

Here's a shot of Eli helping to bury St. Joe.





And let me tell you, he tossed that statue in the ground like a hot potato. Poor St. Joe. No reverence from the toddler.

And apropos of nothing I have said in my above commentary, according to my gynecologist, I am a one-woman circus (my words not hers) since I am in the very small percentage of women who have a uterus that tips towards my backside instead of towards the front. It's nice to be unique.