Tuesday, May 10

Evil Amy, Personal Space, and Math

Alright, Amy, it's not funny anymore! You just may get more of the Realtor Rants you so enjoyed from before. Our realtor, it seems, in spite of my fairly clear-cut (and, dare I say, articulate?) email explaining the mojo/ghost/glamor bath thing (I didn't mention your bizarre bathroom experience, though), has seen fit to send me a link today with the caption, "Take a look at this!" So. I looked. And I growled and said a few things I seriously hope the boys don't repeat. Less than half the acreage we told her was our "minimum", for TWICE the amount of money we set as the ceiling!! Wow, is somebody bad in math or what?

Speaking of math, the boys are having a great time diving into lessons, but the math lessons in particular are just plain wonderful. John's skip counting and addition skills are taking off. James danced gleefully around the table today because I "let" him do an extra page of math. Ah. May it always be this easy, right? Don't covet, our bad days will come. It's cyclical, but I've learned to really roll around in the good parts like a dog let loose in a field.

And now, for a note on our personal space. There isn't any, you see, and I'm starting to feel the effects of it. This problem is due to no fault of my great children or of my wonderful Zorak. It's just that, wherever you turn, there's someone. Right there. In your face (or, in Smidge's case, in your kneecaps). I have decided to start walking (I don't run unless I'm followed by malicious creatures with teeth) in the mornings, but that will entail getting to bed before the morning to begin with. So as you can see, we do have some adjustment left to make. It's all good, though, and will come together soon.

Oh, and a little geography tidbit for ya: I cannot gauge altitude. When asked to take a stab at the elevation of Huntsville, I thought, I speculated, and I came up with the reasonable (or so I thought) guess of 3500 feet. *snort* WRONG! 600 feet. I forget that things aren't as tall this side of Texas. When you live ON the ocean, it's pretty easy to guess the elevation of your backyard (ours was something like three feet below sea level). But this totally blew me away. It's so pretty and seems so textured with mountains and valleys. Huh. You can do a lot with just a thousand feet or so of leeway!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

3 comments:

melissa said...

Hey girl!
You are on my radar screen, there is no escape, I WILL call. Can't wait to talk to you, and catch up a bit.
Definitely get out and walk and breathe deeply.It DOES help.

Big changes for you lately,eh? No worries, it will all feel like home eventually.

Sheila said...

That reminds me of my friend who came from Salt Lake City, Utah to visit me. She was sjocked that that my elevation was only 63 feet. I actually live below the river.

I have a cool neighbor that is a realtor. If we ever move...I'm using her. She's knows us. If she can'.

Amy said...

It was only a silly comment, I promise. I never prayed or wished such a clueless realtor upon you. I'M TELLING THE TRUTH!

I promise to pray that you find Hacienda Mojo very quickly.

Those boys of yours are precious. Luke dances not for a second page of MUS, but for seconds of salmon.

You still coming through the Lone Star State in June. You and Steph and I can have a grand time if you do! Email with the specifics if it's in the schedule.

lpmom at sbcglobal dot net