we have arrived, mostly

And so, my flock hath migrated southward.  

I wish I could say it was to a tropical island, but the siren song of Happy Valley was too much for us to resist and so we find ourselves somewhere in the vicinity, tucked into a much neglected red brick rambler (is it a rambler still even if it does have a basement) with no baseboards or trim (they had to go), but freshly refinished hardwood floors, a couple new walls, some paint, and an entire summer's worth of honey-do projects ahead.  Seriously, we're going to be busy.  He with the stuff involving tools and whatever else, me figuring out what to do with this:

No, it's not the South 40...

it's my garden plot.  

Good thing my master gardner Granny lives next door, except she's 87 and I'm not so sure I can convince her to weed the whole thing on a regular basis for me.  Though she did do my front flower beds, GRANNY SLAVE LABOR AT IT'S FINEST!  She would murder me for calling her Granny.  And then say something really inappropriate because that's what 87 year olds do.  They can't hear, then get angry, yell at small children, and then say weird things.  Old people are so crazy.  When I'm 87, if I'm still coherent, I won't feel bad anymore for demonstrating any sort of verbal awkwardness because it's my g-dang right at that stage in life.  Am I right or am I right here?  I'm right.  Senility does have a bright side.  

Anyways, most of our crap is moved now.  A few loose things hither and thither but all of the essentials are in place.  Internet: check.  Cable: check.  Bed: check.  Clean underwears: check.  Sweatpants: check.  Kitchen with food: check.  I'm good to go.     

People even came over today, I entertained in my luxuriously large kitchen (DOUBLE OVEN!), if you can call stirring together a pitcher of grapefruit Crystal Light while everyone else brings the food entertaining.  

I hate moving.  But then you get in, get settled, get stuff on the walls and suddenly you're home.  

I like that part. 

Now, if you'd like to volunteer some plant donations, or to reserve some time to come weed, just let me know and I'll pencil you in.  Heck, maybe I'll even be generous and pay you with a zucchini or two if I manage not to kill whatever we plop in there, because if I've said it once, I'll say it again, I'm a giver.