Transitions

So, we're moving. Which is weird because wh still has 7 more months of nursing school left. Doesn't seem like the most obvious time for a transition. It went down like this:

While looking at houses for my soon-to-be sister-in-law and brother, we happened by an open house on some condos in a co-housing community (no, we're not living in one house with 12 other people--we have our own stand alone unit and share a common unit--parties, out-of-town guests, etc...-- with the other folks next door) a block and a half away from our house. What the hell? In we went. Dare I say, I felt it--that "it" thing you feel when you feel like you've found home. Which is weird. I, generally speaking, do not feel that "I'm home" feeling in structures built after 1940. Don't get me wrong...many of my close friends live in homes built after 1940 (wink, wink), and I love visiting them. But somehow, nothing says home to me like slightly slanted floors and a corroding brick fireplace.

So, moving wasn't on the agenda. Until I walked into the open house at the co-housing community down the block and fell in love. Okay, one of the big selling points is this:


















All of the window and door trim is made out of "freshly hewn" wood from a giant tree that fell in Vancouver. The window trim and the lack of yard. NO MORE YARD WORK!!! There are people out there, Lelo/Sassy Gardener, et al, who love to get down with their bad selves out in their gorgeous gardens. I love my garden, and dare I say, it is just now at a point where I'm happy with it; however I don't cherish the work it takes to create and maintain it. I'm more of a garden enjoyer...not a garden worker. I could live with the garden work. Not the lawn, I HATE MY LAWN. Check that: I hate dandelions. Almost as much as I hate chemicals to kill dandelions. So, each year, my lawn becomes more overrun by those nasty violators who taunt me with their waggin yellow heads. Bastards.

I digress. After touring the condo, sis-in-law-to-be (siltb??) and I ran back to get wh. Which wasn't much of a trip, being that we're about two blocks away. He resisted at first, despite the fact that HE has been itching for a move for quite some time. He went so far as to instigate a search for new home construction after we had to have some minor repair work done on the house a few years ago. He convinced himself that stuff doesn't break in new houses (he'll learn quickly...it's never ending...no matter where you live...the constant fight against structural deteriorion).

Anywho...we finally talked him into touring, and wouldn't you know, he loved it too. We decided to put our house on the market and see what happened. Everything fell into place and now we'll be moving this weekend.

Sadly for me, I spent most of last night on the toilet. The stomach flu has ripped through our family. First ss, then wh...now me. It is nasty. I have been okay for a few hours. Pepto helps. Wh says I licked my son's toothbrush so I'd get sick so I wouldn't have to help move. I told him it serves him right after I had to wash linen he sullied when he had a stomach-flu-related accident while sleeping last week. Too much information?

We're in transition.

More transitions tomorrow. Milo. Yep...stay tuned.