It's starting to feel like home.

But if I have to hang another curtain rod, or laser-level another towel rack I'm going to drill a 1/8" pilot hole into my skull.  Nevertheless, everything is starting to be put in it's place.  I hoisted about 900 pounds of books, old stuffed animals and baseball cards (including my coveted 1992 Fleer and my more coveted 1987 Topps sets -- even my Upper Deck Comic Ball Cards I remember trading in the Stevenson Elementary School Library in 1991).

Jeez, he's tiny.

When the place was being built I kept imagining myself cooking complex and exciting breakfasts and dinners in the new kitchen, and I'll be damned if we haven't had pizza or Subway most evenings.  Between unpacking, putting stuff away, work, swim lessons for Miles (he now jumps into the water, goes under, and blows bubbles while submarine), the passing of Dave Niehaus (arguably the best broadcaster of all time and an unofficial member of this family), it's been insanely busy.

We're starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel.  And just in time too.  Next weekend is out last somewhat normal one before Thanksgiving, Rachel's annual Black Friday extravaganza, Miles' (sigh) 4th Birthday, our Christmas Party, Christmas and New Years.  The events just start piling up. And I'd be lying if I said we weren't a little excited about all of it.  There's a 22 pound turkey in our freezing just waiting to be stuffed.

So, here we are: a garbage bag full of stuffed animals in our kitchen, a Rubbermaid tub full of...something...and a pate of half-eaten home-made nachos to my left.  And best of all, my kids asleep in their very own rooms and my bride has succumbed to the sofa and Sunday night TV.

Home Sweet Home.

 

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