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Talk about a roller coaster of emotions.

Things have been a bit on the crazy side around these parts. For starters, I’ve been working like a dog, and not like my dogs who are lazy and sleep in the same spot so often that there’s already a spot on our year-old carpet (yes, really). No, I’ve been working like one of those cattle dogs who runs through the herd nipping at heels to keep things moving and together and all of a sudden realizes she’s been going and going and going for so long that, holy hell, she hasn’t even had time to go to the bathroom. And how did it get to be dinner time? And thank goodness she has a husband who cooks for her, or she’d be subsisting on a lot of PB&J.

And yes, I’m talking about me and not the dog now. Sorry if I lost you.

It’s exciting to be so busy, but also tiring, which doesn’t leave me in the best position to receive news that’s either really good or really bad. Or make decisions.

Case in point — we accepted an offer on our condo! You know, the one we moved out of almost a year ago and busted our asses (as did our moms) to fix up quickly for a quick sale (excuse me while I LAUGH MYSELF SILLY). So yay! An offer! For lower than our asking price, which was already considerably (CONSIDERABLY) less than we paid for it. But you know what? I’m not complaining for a second — an offer is an offer, and I’m totally happy, although, until the papers are signed and we no longer have the keys, I’m not going to celebrate. Just in case.

So that’s great, right? The same day this happened, we were set to have dinner at our friends’ house, so I got dressed (in real clothes, even), and went to put on my jewelry, which included a diamond ring made from the stones that were in my grandmother’s wedding ring — she died when I was very young, and my mom had the stones reset in a ring that she gave to me for Christmas my senior year of high school. However, when I slid it on my finger, it didn’t feel right, and as I looked down, I saw that it was missing the center stone. Admittedly, it wasn’t large, but it was the largest of the stones, and more importantly than that, it was my grandma’s. Yes, I checked the case it was in, and the last time I’d had it on was at a wedding. In Daytona Beach.

With the ups and downs, the only logical thing is to do is, of course, sign up for a race for which I’m not at all prepared, right? No? Well, too bad, because that’s what I did. I’m now participating in a triathlon. On Saturday. And no, I didn’t sign up while I was drinking, in case you wondered. I just thought it would be fun. Oy.


Alright, those of you who don’t feel like making the effort to come visit me but still wanted to see the house, here’s your chance. Jared put a bunch of pics up here. Check it out! You know, if you want …

Have you ever found that you have duplicates of the most random crap when you empty out your house to move? For example, we have two three-hole punches. We Seymours are not really an exceptionally hole-punchy family. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I used one. No, wait, I can — I used ONE of the three holes to punch a hole in something a couple of years ago. And so, why we have TWO three-hole punches is beyond me.

What is also beyond me is why I don’t get rid of one, because I distinctly remember having this same revelation the last time we moved.

And, because you’ve been asking so nicely (or at least most of you have been nice about it … I’m not naming names here, but you know who you are …) here’s a pic of the house:

and another …

Who’s coming to help unpack boxes visit?

Okay, folks, I have some fabulous news — we’re moving! Not far, just to a different part of town, and into a new, much bigger house! With a fenced yard! As you can imagine, the dogs are very excited (and so are we).

But, you know what that means … MOVING. I really don’t like moving. Don’t get me wrong — I live being in a new space and getting it all set up, but the actual process of moving turns me into the world’s biggest Bitch. That’s right — with a capital B. I don’t know why, but something about it really just makes me get fussy.

It doesn’t last long, but you’d better pray nothing drops on my foot or breaks my nail because GOD HELP ME I will just go nuts. If you’re anywhere in the Southeast, and you hear a ridiculous profanity filled rant early next week, it’ll probably be me.

That being said, I’ll totally get pictures posted of us moving in and me being an enormous ass. Maybe Jared will even want to chime in, who knows? But, in the meantime, if you don’t hear a lot from me, that would be why.

Oh, yeah, and there’s this little thing about being asked to model in a catalog and getting a free trip to NYC, but you’d rather hear about my batshit crazy moving meltdown, I’m sure … right?

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