Dragging my Feet...

A while back I posted a whole diddy about being content, embracing living in our small house, starting to do more projects, yada yada yada.

That didn't happen.

The house is still on the market (for sale by owner now).  We are getting several calls, but doors aren't opening right now.  To say I'm "okay" with this would be a lie.  BUT, I am trying to put on my optimistic glasses and stay focused on the positives.  Lower mortgage, less house to clean, rubbing elbows with the loved ones, you know the sappy things people say when they live in small houses (and for the majority are true but at times you just want to scream GET UP OUT OF MY SPACE!!).

Truth be told, we are fine.  We know there is a reason we aren't moving, unbeknownst to us.  Someday we will look back and that reason will be so clear and we will be thankful.  But, one must not live in the future or one will miss out on the present.  So...  I do what I do best, I make a list.

I had a come to Jesus with the husband last night and went over the list with him.  I have categorized things by monthly goals and waved my hooray pennant in attempts to fire him up to get on board of the project "keep my wife from going insane by renovating and changing a few things in the house."  Up first is the guest room.

Our house has two, technically three, rooms.  Our tiny room is devoted to Henry's space.  This used to be our office/library (because we have more books than we know what to do with).  So, when Henry was cooking in the oven, we decided to keep the guest room as is, move the desk to the living room, store several books, and transform the tiny space to a lovely nursery.  Because we would totally be out of here by his first birthday.  Note to self, don't put a timeline on life events.

Now that Henry is getting a little older and his toys are TAKING OVER MY LIVING ROOM, plan C is going into action.  Our guest room will be changed into an office/play room by the end of September, so help me.  Because we have a tiny house, the bed has camouflaged nicely as a storage unit.  Under the bed are several bins of shoes, wrapping paper, and who knows what else.  Project purge is underway currently.  I am finding new homes for the shoes (and getting rid of several pairs, sigh), selling my large stash of gift bags in a garage sale, and clearing out closet and drawer space.

The donate and sale boxes runneth over.  

Once I have cleared out under the bed, the bed itself and my beloved bedding will be posted for sale.  Then, the magic happens.  A blank slate to do with as I wish.  Painting will happen (cough, cough, husband doesn't know this yet), a new furniture piece will be bought, and I will have my office space back.  Not to mention the toys will have a home. 

So, here's to the first thing on the list.  Now I finally have something to write about!!! 

If you know of anyone looking for a magnificent queen bed, adorable gray bedding, and striped sheet set, you just let me know. 

Road Trippin'

My car has gotten some miles on it in the past two weeks. I've been to a small town close to Arkansas for a home study (such a sweet family, I really love my job), Henry and I adventured to KC to see my college gal pals and all their littles, and we are currently on our way back from OKC where we attended my cousin's wedding.  Through all of this time in the car I've come to terms with something about myself...

I HATE BEING IN THE CAR!

Oh good gravy people!  According to my husband, I am quite the backseat driver. Which is silly.  I like to consider myself as extending my roll as his helper in all areas of our time together. So why not in the car?  Aren't statements such as; "You're driving like a grandma, speed up!", "You have no idea where we are! Why don't you EVER look up directions!?", "Seriously, if ya drive over the butt tingles again, guard yourself cause you're gonna get hit."  helpful?  He totally loves it and it draws us closer and closer with each passing mile. 

Just last night while venturing back to our hotel... Late... Following my brother in law (who didn't know where the heck we were)... In a city we are never in... I revealed to Chris I die a little each time we are in the car.  All the while placing the seatbelt over my forehead and leaning forward.  Dramatic?  I think not. 

I like to keep things interesting and the husband on his toes. 

Now, driving by myself can be both good and bad. I love controlling the radio, I love my quiet space, but I hate having a numb butt after 30 minutes and knowing I am trapped for the next x amount of miles. Add a kid to the mix who hates stop lights and being restrained and I'm surprised I still have hair. 

But, alas... The past two weeks of traveling have been filled with a rewarding meeting with an amazing adoptive family, tons of laughs and love with the ladies I did life with during my growing up years, and a sweet reunion with family I don't see enough.  So, I am cursing the Dunkin' Donuts coffee which is not decaf and which is making me feel like I am crawling out of my skin. Because I've still got 3 and a half hours in the car and the warm fuzzy feeling I currently have can only last so long.  Freaking toll booths and husband who wants to be the next American Idol are bound to wear on me. (I love my husband. And he loves my sarcasm. Have no fear.)