Now that we are officially "moved in," I have been spending entirely too much time thinking about decorating the place. For one, it's a very, very old house and kind of ugly (read: extremely hideous) so we need to make it a little more pleasant. But then, after a few days of fretting about the expense of new sofa slipcovers and paint and all that, I get depressed about wasting money. On the other hand, according to some mommy blogs, my Christian duty is to make a beautiful and organized home for my family. On the other hand, maybe I am just too cheap and lazy to do that.
Whatever. All I know is, my crumbling and abused house--and my healthy hooligan offspring--are in good company.
Unpacking is actually very time-consuming. That might seem obvious, but every time I estimate how long it will take to pack or unpack our belongings, I consistently fail to factor in how much emotional energy (and extra time) required to sift and sort items of sentimental value. Maybe it is also the fact that we haven't seen any of this stuff for over a year.
On top of this, there was only one week between the time that the moving truck arrived and the kids start school. That's right, kids plural. My littlest girl is going to start Kindergarten on Monday. Phew. Hopefully this will be easier on the mama the second time through and I won't be having the month-long cryfest I had two years ago, geez.
The 90th Annual Intertribal Indian Ceremonial is taking place right now. A neighbor told us that Indians from all over the Americas attend (like, even the Andes). So far, I have only gone to see the night parade in downtown Gallup and a violent monsoon interrupted that one and we all had to flee. Actually, it was pretty cool to be part of the drenching, squealing mob running for cover in a desert town at night, with all the terrifying lightning and thunder chasing us down. I'd do it again.
I am about a dozen chapters into Jane Smiley's One Thousand Acres. Anyone read it? She is a true artist and I want to keep going, but I worry that I am being infected too much with The Melancholy and lord knows I don't need more of that.
Yesterday was St. Clare day and I forget it every year. You'd think I'd remember that one.
But earlier this week we celebrated the feast of St. Edith Stein and I even got to go to Mass. An elderly neighbor has taken a liking to me and we walk part of the way home from church together.
Jer and I both have colds and I decided to try to sleep mine off with a little nap earlier this afternoon. A. joined me in my bed (my almost-Kindergartner) and before she drifted off, she rolled over to ask: "Which is faster, a steamroller or a regular ole' bicycle?"
Can't she please stay five forever?
It's about a gazillion degrees in my house and even with the fan on, I am sweltering. The over-heated laptop is on my lap and I sweat and I sweat, but still I type. This is dedication, folks. Maybe I will actually get around to writing up one of those promised posts sometime soon. My brain will have to come back to re-visit me for that to happen, though. It seems to have gotten lost in the mounds of bubble wrap and boxes.
(more takes over at Jen's)