Movin' on Up.

I think for the time being I'm going to see how far I can get on posts with cliche titles which contain abbreviated gerunds. They're serving me well.


Well lovelies...we're in. We're all moved into the sweet little house Dizzy calls California. And for only being two sleeps in, we're surprisingly settled. We all have beds. The dishes are in their cabinets. We brought home our Christmas tree today. Joy of joys.

Our population has increased by one lovely soul. My mama, Yaya, arrived on moving day and has been a Godsend, entertaining babies, cooking, schlepping, and donning all manner of hats, as seen above. The boys think she hung the moon. But she's short like me, so that would've been a feat.


The whole moving operation was miraculous. We had a constantly revolving crew of amazing volunteers who moved stuff down three flights of stairs to the new place, and then emptied our storage unit. Bless their hearts.

Much of what was in storage was remnants from my potter life, which I now miss even more. When I saw my wheel I nearly buckled. But now it's in my house, as are about 15 50-lb. boxes of clay (see what I mean about blessing their hearts!?). Eventually I might just sneak down in the night and get my potter on, but for now it's good enough just to know it's there and periodically go down and smell the dust.

I also got to unload lots of yummy pots that had to be stored. One box is actually labeled: "All my favorite pots I had to put in storage :( (sad face)." I haven't opened that one yet. I want to wait until all the clutter is gone so I can savor finding each piece it's rightful place.


The boys seem right at home. There's an embarrassment of space from their perspective. They each have a room with a closet, two windows and lots of play space. That's a serious upgrade from student housing, believe you me. They love all the nooks and crannies of an older house. They love LOVE going downstairs to Yaya's, who brought treasures from the beach like plastic crabs, seashells and bona fide beach sand.



Next we look forward to decorating our Christmas tree, finally! It's home and lighted and the fella's taking the afternoon off today for decorating. Speaking of my beloved, his birthday is upon us. Literally the first item to be put in it's place was the Happy Birthday Daddy banner. And rightly so. Happy Birthday my love. And welcome home.

Keep on Truckin'

Dizzy's favorite part of moving...

I could just eat that boy up...ears and all.

Embracing Transition and the Camera

It seems I may have run out of chuckable items. I loaded 33 30-gallon garbage bags with anything that wouldn't break upon impact 3 stories down. Amos and Eli loved every dramatic toss.

And yes, I had a baby on my hip each time. Seems Amos is not a fan of my packing up all his things and throwing them over the balcony. But I have assured him it'll all be worth it.

Tomorrow is for real Moving Day. No more piddly suv loads with babies in tow. We're talking moving truck, furniture pads and strapping young men (ok...middle aged PhD students with nothing better to do on winter break and who couldn't think fast enough on their feet to get out of it, poor guys). A thousand thanks in advance.


In my avoidance of the many packing jobs still to be done, I stumbled upon a sweet little blog called The Anderson Crew. This lovely lady has a fun Thursday tradition of getting the behind-the-scenes blogger out from behind the camera and into a post. So today...I embrace the camera with the above photo.




Stay tuned - the next entry comes to you from the new house! Hooray!

Looks like Home

Well, not really. Yet.

Today was the first day of schlepping. The boys and I took three batches of stuff to the new house. Every time I go I like it even better. Maybe because it's empty and feels so spacious. But hopefully because it's going to be a sweet little home for our little crowd.

First things first - Eli's race car bed. Before today Eli was clear that he still wanted to live in Denver (our apartment, according to him).


But after his race car bed and name letters arrived at the new house, he got really excited about moving to California (the new house. I don't know.).

The race car bed was the absolute first thing out of this apartment and first thing in to the house (conveniently he's been sleeping in Amos' crib since he tortured Amos out of it months ago).

I've taken it on as my personal challenge to pack as much of this apartment into garbage bags and throw them over the balcony to my car in the parking lot. The race car bed even took that route. I know it's the devil, but man I love plastic.

The current bag count: 20.

I have thrown 20 bags over the rail and put them in their rooms of the house. And only like half of those were fabric.

Tomorrow...I tackle the toys. If you don't hear from me for a day or so, send help.

The catch...

No baking neighbors. No secret portholes or philanthropic widows.

Just your standard fishing scam. That was the catch.

Oh well. On to better things.

(Stitch Magazine, Fall 2010 - fabric organization by Kevin Kosbab of feeddog.net that I intend to copy)

We did find a real live house that won't break the bank. It's old and somewhat charming with lots of little nooks and crannies. Hopefully with any luck the application process will be quick and we'll sign a rental agreement early next week.

You know the best part? This house has a sewing room (I said that with a whisper so as not to jinx it).

The top floor is one of those quaint slanted in-the-roof kinds of floors. On one end will be our bedroom, or the other end will be a sweet little sewing/play room. I'm going to section off my sewing area with the gate we used to block off the wood stove from baby Eli. The rest of the room will be for Eli and Amos to play. It has these great little dwarf shelves and closets, which the boys love. It seems that's as close as we're going to get to magical portholes. But it'll do.

So, my mind is swimming with organization and decorating ideas.

But I do solemnly swear not to pack a thing until the following things happen:
1)I finish sewing the Christmas orders on my list.
2)We have secured the house.

Ok maybe I don't swear, but I intend.

Ok I'll try.

On the move...

(source)

I feel like doing some decking. Where are my halls?

Well, if you've been to our tiny student housing not-family-intended apartment, you'll know I have no halls. Just three squished together rooms.

That's right. No halls to deck. Woe is my halls.

I've also rearranged the place to death, in attempts to make it feel bigger, homier, and spacious...uh...er. I've rearranged out any possible place to put up a Christmas tree.

Which sounds like reason enough to me to move. So that's just what we'll do. Hopefully within the next 12 hours. Ok, days.

It's soon to be more populated around here too. Yaya, my lovely Mama, is moving in, much to the joy of Dizzle and Boogie. They think she's the cat's pajamas.

This morning we're looking at what I hope is the place. So I'm asking you, lovely readers, to send happy homey thoughts our way. Work up some magical manifestation and make it so that the sweet house we're seeing this morning isn't what it seems: too good to be true.

We feel like there must be a catch. Here's hoping the catch is neighbors who bake, a generous philanthropist down the block looking for an earnest family to whom she can bequeath her millions, or a room in the attic with a porthole to magical lands.

Here's hoping.