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     We've moved!  Literally, across the country.  My husband loaded up our Hyundai Sante Fe, National Lampoon's style--with both kids, our dog, a metric asston of toys, and a hamster and we DROVE 2,000 some odd miles from Louisiana to California.  There were moments when the Beverly Hillbilly's theme song popped into my head, I'm not going to lie.

     Nobody was strapped to the roof in a rocking chair though...even though I wanted to ride outside of the vehicle on many occasions.  There's only so many farts a person can endure in one road trip before becoming severely, mentally impaired.  I blame my family's collective colons for any ramblings in the present or future.

     So far, California has been lovely.  Though they did confiscate my potted plant at the border!  Apparently my half-dead, frostbitten houseplant was too threatening.  My money's on that they saw it and just felt sorry for the poor thing.  Sure, you "saw" a "bug" that was potentially "harmful" to your "agriculture." I bet!
   
     Plant nabbing aside, there were only a few hitches that made it a mostly smooth transition.  We did manage to lose Michael's security blanket on our first overnight stop.  Luckily he didn't notice until we hit Roswell, so he totally bought into the scam that the aliens took it to repair it.  But it's apparently a blanket crocheted with yarn made of pure gold and souls of the innocent because it's really expensive to supply.
     I felt extremely douchey about this because I might as well have left a family member back at that rat trap of a hotel.  (Add it to the list...we left our geriatric beagle we've had for the last decade at an animal shelter before we left the state, too)  Michael's blanket has been the staple of bedtime since he was an infant; he even named it "Cal" when he started talking.  Hearing him ask about it the first few nights was pretty heartbreaking.   Hearing him tell strangers that aliens took his blanket right after explaining that his dog "was bad" and had to go to a shelter...was some embarrassing insight to my character.  I don't think I'm human any more.

     We have managed to get everything unpacked (even the garage!) and it looks like we actually live here now.  Though there are a few details here and there that need some attention.  But overall, it feels like home.  Except we have no friends and I only have conversations with my husband, children, and the occasional, oh-so-lucky cashier.  It's totally fine.  Everyone here is super nice and don't seem to mind that the crazy lady buying fat-free refried beans by the case is still talking about the weather.

     So I'll leave you with that...because a kajillion other things have happened in the last month and a half that I should fill everyone in on (i.e. my mother came back from the dead and is now healthier than she's been in the last decade...you know...the usual).  But that stuff will take another 45 days or so for me to type 3 crappy sentences, so yeah, don't get all excited just yet.