Oh Poop.

The other night we were watching the sunset, and Annie says, "Hey! Look! God is painting the sky orange!" I say this not to make you puke, but because it was just so sincere, and I want to remember it.

I do not want to remember this puppy continually taking poops on my living room floor. He shits about half his body weight daily. All of the puppy training advice is all "ignore the bad things, just reward the good." I find it hard to stop seizing in displeasure when he leaves his presents in the midst of my unfurnished bowling alley of a living room. But then, ten minutes later, he's stealing someone's shoes to chew on, and trotting around with his ears perched and waving his tail, and you are suckered in by his contagious cuteness. Puppies do that to you.

The house still doesn't feel like home yet. We've got all of the boxes emptied (for the most part) but nothing's where it should go, and nothing is hung on the walls, and furniture is in undecided places. Usually I jump in and get down to business- but maybe it's the poopie living rooms, or my daily commute on 3 freeways, or starting a new job, or missing my Houston friends- but I'm slow to the get-go with this one. It's a bit overwhelming.

I'm currently reading "An American Wife" and wondering if Laura Bush has read it? How weird to have a book inspired by you. I already like it much more then "Prep." Still not really cooking. I made chicken fajitas tonight, and you would have thought my family was eating lobster. Poor deprived souls.

Face It

Recently, I joined the whole Facebook thing. Exactly nine minutes after signing up, I was contacted by a large group of people I went to high school with that I have not talked to for years. A few days after that, I heard from folks from my very first job after college. This week, a girl I knew from drama stuff when I lived in Hawaii found me. Facebook is like a virtual reunion tour.

I think it's cool and all- but there are days where I forget to check it. My husband, however, does not. He thinks Facebook is cheesy, and would never be caught dead with having his picture posted and updating his whereabouts. However, this does not stop him from using my log on and checking people out all the live long day.

Moving update: we're down to the last 20 boxes or so, and are pretty sure some stuff is missing. Like one of the cushions for our couch. Two patio chair cushions. Two Persian rugs. Two lamps. One sportscoat and half of our drinking glasses. Oh yeah- someone made off with our train table too. Somewhere there is a Thomas the Train fan sitting on one couch cushion, drinking out of Target-ware and wearing a Brooks Brothers jacket. Weird shit, I tell you.

In other news: went to yet another fundraising gala last night. (Did NOT come home with puppy). I feel like such a poser at these things- and marvel at how well put together most of the women are. As for me, I was in my dress, cleaning up dog poop and pee off our living room floor minutes before leaving. I didn't have time to change out my purse, and felt like a Class A dork as I trudged along, hiding my crocodile backpack. I did manage to get stinky drunk on Tommy Bahama rum and umpteen glasses of wine. Nothing says good times more than puking up fois gras at 4:30am. And yes! I did see my first Real Housewife of Orange County! It was a moment, I tell you.

Houston?

Just want to offer this up to the cyberspace that any of my old pals, should they be stuck on an expressway somewhere- that I'm only 23 hours away, and have plenty of space (ahem! I'll move some boxes!) and a dog that hopefully won't pee on your bed. Seriously!

We could while away the hurricane at Disneyland. I'm just saying.

I unpack, therefore I am.

I am here. I am currently stealing wireless internet from my new, friendly neighbors. I am living my life on freeways, commuting to a preschool that I'm not sure I really like. I am working. I am cleaning up oodles of dog poop. I am living out of boxes. I am still looking for the box with our phone in it. I am not cooking. I am certainly not pretty. But I am here.

Pinkalicious

As typical for my life, I hired a painter today, and gave myself 3 hours to pick paint colors for our bedrooms. Luckily, I had a color we used a few years ago for our room- so that was one room down. Next up: I promised Lucy the ultimate of all Pinkalicious rooms. She's getting big fat awning stripes of 2 different pink colors. Do you know how hard it is to pick a good pink? It's scarily easy to make it look like a Barbie massacre, or Minnie Mouse vomit. Swallowing my amateur designer pride, I called in Lucy and asked her which pink she liked best. Of course, it's called Ballerina. So, one order of Ballerina with a bit of Fairy Dust in for good measure- coming right up tomorrow at 8am!

I just re-read this and realized that this is the most boring post ever. My apologies. My life is consumed with small details right now... like picking paint colors, forwarding mail, putting curses on moving trucks that think it's ok to deliver ONE FRICKIN day outside of their window, waiting for washing machines to be delivered. I almost started crying tears of joy when the cable guy called today and asked if it would be ok if he showed up 2 hours early. God bless him.

In other news, my kids are handling school like troopers. My little one completely freaked out in the parking lot our first day when she realized her best little friend in Houston wasn't going to be there. They've moved Annie around to try a couple of different classes, and through all of the change, it reminds me how resilient these guys are. Their bedtime routine is completely shot to hell, but they are hanging in there.

The Sun Will Come Out?

This day drained me.

It started off with an early wake up call- George had to go outside.

After cleaning up his mess in the backyard, feeding him and packing up his crate and 1,000 items I have managed to buy this dog in the last week- I dropped him off at my little brother's for the week.

I miss him.

After that, I headed back to my folks' house, filled my van to the brim with suitcases and crap- and drove like a bat out of hell to Matt's aunt's house- an hour away.

Got the kids settled, did 2 hours of work and then did a conference call with an account where we scored a major deal that leaves me with more work than I can imagine.

Dumped kids in car and hoofed it over to our new house for a final walk through. Kids added to the joy by completely freaking out and scaring my kid-less realtor.

Drove back and changed my clothes to drive 45 minutes in rush hour to Back To School Night. Realized halfway through the drive that my breath smells like George's. Not good.

Attended Back to School night and tried not to freak out over not sending Annie to kindergarten this year.

Went out for quick bite to eat with hubby.

Wandered aisles of Whole Foods at 9:30pm to find random things to pack for lunchboxes.

Came home, try and convince my kids to sleep, do laundry, unpack and do one more bit of work. Figured out that this is the seventh time this summer we have unpacked our suitcases. That's seven strange beds and seven different locations where my kids refuse to sleep unless they are partially laying on top of me.

Wondered if my life would ever feel normal again. Not sure.

Nomads

I'm packing our suitcases again today. I am so sick of packing suitcases, and loading cars, and convincing kids to sleep in strange beds. It almost makes me excited to unpack the thousands of boxes that will soon be arriving.

We've been crashing at my parents' house for the last five days. Matt stayed behind to work, and we have missed him. My folks have an easy house to stay in- lots of new exciting toys, sugar cereal and a pool in their backyard. They've been very kind about my George, and welcomed him with open arms. Unfortunately, school starts tomorrow, and my parents' house is just too far away.

Luckily, Matt's aunt said we could stay with her, so off we go- to another house to crash and make a mess of until our stuff arrives. The logistics of this whole thing is starting to wear- I spent most of my Labor Day weekend researching washers, dryers ad fridges- and can quote you Consumer Reports verbatim.

Gotta go pack the car. This is getting old... yes indeedy.