Making me sad, making me happy

Sad (because it’s so true that the satire barely softens the blow): The Onion.


1) Oh so happy! Bronte is glowing and growing and making me pine for her, but I am SO happy that she’s in a place where she is loved.

2) It’s silly, but retail therapy is sometimes the most potent kind. We lost all four of our diaper bags in the fire, and with this many kids (and the fact that the diaper bags, thanks to their dozen pockets, also end up as dog bags) that was a huge loss. We’ve been carting Zoob’s stuff around in plastic grocery bags for the last two and a half months, for serious. Now that it looks like we’ll be out of the house even longer (see below), I HAD to get something.

I use diaper bags that are roughly large enough to carry a young calf–packed to the very top with an outfit for each child (yes, even Meri–because I can GUARANTEE that she will spill a noxious mixture of coal tar and, I dunno, raspberry jam over herself in the first 15 minutes of a seven-hour errand run), a shirt for me (because the kids came by their clumsiness honestly), a minimum of three outfits for Zoob, a dozen diapers, entire container of wipes, five snack cups, three sippy cups, four water bottles, at least one leash in case I see a stray dog… and that’s just the standard packing. Add in board books, toys, chew toys if we have the dog(s) with us, digital camera, hairbrush, and a thousand other things depending on the length and complexity of the trip.

So you may understand my glee when I found a sale at Fleurville and I was FINALLY able to get the bags that are famous for being the size of the trunk of a VW. Therefore, coming to me for about 75% off are



Doug says the patterns on both of them will force him to examine his feminine side, but I am totally seduced by the fact that they’re like fifteen inches long and twelve inches high. I can stuff them both and load up the kids like pack camels. Whee!

3) This is the big one: We’re coming to the end of our first three months out of the house after the fire.

Yeah, remember how the insurance guy told us we’d be back in the house after three months? Oh, me too! Good times, good times.

NOTHING HAS HAPPENED. Absolutely zero.

Realistically, even if we could start construction April 1 (and it’s not looking like that’s going to happen) we’re looking at four months of construction alone. And adding in the inevitable surprises (there is an elephant in the room called “asbestos wallboard” that nobody is talking about–we think it may be there, as do the contractors, but the contractors have to “discover” it; they can’t just go test the wallboard…and if we have to do asbestos abatement “that’s a whole new ballgame,” as our insurance guy says) and we’re talking five to six months from now.

It was a mutual decision to not continue to live here–we initially contracted for three months and both the homeowner and we are ready to part as amicably as possible. So we had a week of anxiety as we looked for an apartment that would take a short-term lease and would accept Clue. It also had to have low utilities because we have to continue to pay utilities at the House of Fire.

We looked at a bunch of stuff, were told no by another bunch (either wouldn’t accept a short lease or wouldn’t accept Clue), got VERY worried (the second-to-last place we looked at estimated between $400 and $500 for electricity and heat, PER MONTH), and yesterday finally found “home” for the next six months (or maybe five, but the lease is for six and we’ll eat the last month’s rent if we need to). We were just approved this morning and will be moving this week.

It’s a beautiful apartment in a converted mill, with twelve-foot ceilings and giant windows. It’s very small (just over a thousand square feet) but that’s OK because utilities are teeny. About a hundred bucks a month. Amazing.

Two bedrooms, two baths, washer/dryer, tiny perfect kitchen. We’ll be stuffed in there like sardines but it’s in a very quiet area and you can walk out the exterior door (the apartment is right next to one of the doors out, so we won’t have to walk dogs through the building–a big plus) to a lovely paved riverwalk that extends three miles along the Powwow River. It’s completely safe, no cars, so we can let the kids bike and rollerblade and walk the dog and relax.

AND… oh joy, and this is something we never anticipated… they will take TWO dogs. Which means that sometime in the next couple of weeks we get to go spring Ginny from the boarding kennel, which we honestly can’t even talk about because as soon as anyone mentions it we have to stop and bite our lips because we get teary. We have missed her so incredibly.

Bramble will stay at the kennel, which is a choice no one likes but it makes no sense to have him be the second dog. He’s still a puppy, with normal housetraining issues, and he’s a chewer and a digger. The new apartment has a hefty security deposit and cream carpet. So he’ll stay there, continue to go to daycare every day so he won’t go nuts, and (oh my gosh!) we get Ginny back.

So one sad, three happy… I’ll take it!


6 thoughts on “Making me sad, making me happy

  1. Ginny! I can’t imagine how happy the kids will be. I can’t even begin to imagine how we’d be in this situation… such a nightmare!

    Your comments on the diaperbags really made me giggle. As the oldest of 5, with other kids often in the home cared for by my family (Or of course being the oldest, me!), the “loading the kids like pack camels” comment brought back vivid memories!

    With my kidlet being quirky, I refused to use a diaperbag, so either used a canvas bag, or backpack to carry her things, and everything else. Kind of like my quirky “I’ll never drive a mini van, or station wagon” comments… now look, I’m a happy station wagon owner 😉 I love hearing about your kids, since it really reminds me of growing up. I have to say, 4 dogs and a kid are MUCH easier than 5 kids! heehee

  2. I’ve never seen the Onion website before – so I don’t know what their spin is.

    Was that column meant literally or sarcastically? I certainly hope the latter. Because if it was the former, that author should be banned for life from owning animals of any kind.

    Welcome home, Ginny!!

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