It's Official

 

Marty and I have spent a week looking for a new place to live. Well, we've actually spent months in analysis, conversation and discernment figuring out where we wanted to live. I wanted a small town vibe. He wanted a place where there's more chance for employment. When we came to Florida in May, we found a few areas. When we came this week, we (finally) found a house. 

We are moving to DeBary, Florida. The place is part of the greater "Deltona, Daytona Beach, Deland, Debary Metro" area (yes, really). DeBary is half way between Orlando and Daytona Beach. The population is 22,000--but the entire metro area population is closer to the size of Mesa or Tucson. Because of the bottleneck into the Orlando area caused by waterways, DeBary feels like it's on the outskirts of town instead of Orlando/Sanford adjacent. I'm totally okay with that. So far, the people are friendly. The area is clean. Oh yes! They have a dinosaur named Clayton. 

What I've Learned This Week

1. I'm not a patient person. 

2. I'm not at my best when I'm on the verge of homelessness. 

3. Marty is a patient husband and a better person than me. 

4. I've seen every floorplan imaginable since 2003. I can walk into a home and instantly know if it will work. I shop for houses the way I shop for toasters. 

5. I decided on Monday which house I wanted. Marty decided Tuesday. The offer was written. It's Friday morning and I'm told the sellers "will sign it soon." 

6. I have no desire to live in this hotel any longer. And, if they don't "sign soon." I'm probably going to be in this hotel for another four days. 

7. See bullet item 2. 

Our Random Wednesday

While waiting for the sellers to get back to us on our offer (still waiting as I write this), we did a bit of Goodwill hunting. You see, I have a pyrex mixing bowl set. The 9" bowl went to its Great Reward after a row with gravity. I've been trying to replace it for the past year. Though I could buy a brand new one online, I haven't because I don't trust the delivery folks in Texarkana to safely deliver a glass bowl. 

Anyway, Marty and I have been scouring thrift stores in multiple states on the Great Bowl Hunt. I've found 12" bowls and 4" bowls, but never my treasured 9" bowl. And to be fair, I didn't realize how much I used that particular bowl until I didn't have it. 

While killing time yesterday, Marty and I wandered into a Goodwill. He said to me, "If there's a bowl here, it must be a sign you are destined to move here." 

A bowl for me and a spare for Gravity. 

My mother sent me another snake text. She sends them often. I feel confident she won't be coming for Thanksgiving this year. 

I'll Mention This to Mom Later

An example of the random snake texts Mom sends me.

I don't like snakes. I get this from my mother who continues to send me wild text messages, chronicling every snake adventure she's ever had or thought about having. None of them, mind you, has ever resulted in anything other than seeing a snake. As I pointed out to her, she's made it 80 years and never been bitten. She's winning. 

Anyway, Mom wants to move to Florida (I'm lobbying for her to live near my brother in Boca Raton) but the thought of a snake is enough that she's hesitating. Okay, who am I kidding, there are a lot of reasons for her hesitation, but she only talks about snakes being around every corner as her latest reason. 

Yesterday, I felt compelled to send her an unsolicited text: "I've been here three days and haven't seen one snake. I think you'll be safe." 

And then, as if I jinxed it, twenty minutes later, I was inspecting the back yard of one home we were looking at, and out slithers the longest black snake I've ever seen. To its credit, it slithered under the fence and away from the property. However, as a public service, my scream warned everyone in a 500 mile radius the damn thing existed while Marty said to our agent, "Well, we won't be putting an offer on this house." 

Actually, we are putting an offer on this house. But I'm reserving the snake story to share with my mother at a later time. 

It Can Only Go Up From Here

Marty and I arrived to our final destination today and began stalking the homes we've picked out. My absolute favorite that I'd fallen in love with, is a complete dud. And let me just say, the realtor's photographer did an outstanding job of hiding the gross neighborhood. 

Tomorrow we head out with our agent to look for our next home. Marty is asking me to be optimistic. I'm ready to pivot. In the interest of marital harmony, I'm optimistically ready to pivot. Marty is optimistically ready to leave me in a swamp. I can't say I blame him. I'm tired of me too. 

I did find this sign as we were driving around through one neighborhood. 

 

A Week in the Sunshine Life

Roosevelt, having opinions.
This suitcase is on top of our unacceptable bedspread, Tessa covered up with her "acceptable" one.  

This past week: 

Sunday: we had a good-bye party for Sherman, who is starting law school in Washington DC.

Monday: we had an accepted offer on hour house and planned on leaving for Florida on Wednesday. Polly helped Sherman pack his apartment and take care of this and that. 

Tuesday: we no longer had an accepted offer on our house and I raced over to Buckaroo's job to tell him not to quit just yet. He said, "Does that mean you will be home Thursday? I'm only asking, because I planned a party because I didn't think you'd be home." I helped Valerie in her sewing class.  

Wednesday: we accepted another offer. Marty and I spent the day staring at homes and trying to figure out where in Florida we wanted to live. Polly helped Sherman get his belongings together. 

Thursday: In order not to infringe on Buck's party, and the fact Sherman and Polly would soon be parting, we took off for Natchitoches Louisiana. It's two hours away and we needed to reset from the crazy week.  It was a French fort back in the day, before the Louisiana purchase and the area is chock-full of interesting history. Polly helped Sherman finalize his move. 

Friday: We came home to the aftermath of Buck's party--a few pizza boxes, a bag of stale chips, and a very full trash can. We also heard from Polly, who was doing a quick turnaround trip with Sherman to Atlanta to visit his folks before turning North towards Washington DC. I went to Corona night, ate way too much sugar and laughed like I'd never laughed before. I got home at 11:30, after coming in third in Mexican Train. Oh yes! I finalized my book. The Redeemed comes out September 22, because why not launch a book in the middle of another major life event? 

Saturday--today: I got up around 5 a.m. Marty and I drove to Quincy Florida, where I'm writing at this moment. Marty is watching some Spiderman movie. Polly is back from her turnaround trip, as she flew into Shreveport today, and a friend picked her up and took her back home. Buck assures me the Overlords are fine and he isn't planning on having a party tonight. I've talked to my Florida real estate agent and we have a game plan for Monday.

I'm tired. 

A few Natchitoches pictures. The last two are Fort Jean Baptiste. A very interesting place, which was settled in the 1700s. 

My Coronas

I sent a note out on Tuesday, saying I wouldn't be at Corona Night. We had a contract on the house and Marty and I were leaving Wednesday to Florida to buy a home. 

Messages poured in. Love notes about how much they would miss me. And how could this really be happening? The text messages were the kind of friendship a girl could ever ask for. Their notes made me feel happy, loved and wanted. 

Then Tessa called and said something along the lines of "Remember that offer? Well, it is no more." 

About that time, Corona Krissy chimed in with a private message about how much I mean to her and how she'd miss me, not only at Corona Night but in general. So I told her we no longer have a deal, I just didn't feel like updating about how life had changed. Krissy asked me if she could do it for me. So, she did. It just said, I'd be at Corona night because I'd just gotten word the deal fell through. 

Tuesday afternoon, just about every Corona reached out to me, offering me love and support. Some notes were private. Some were public on the group thread. All messages were kind and made me feel happy, loved and wanted. It was all the friendship a girl could ever ask for.