Hey guys, I’ve been real quiet on social media since our move to Georgia as we worked out some issues, headaches, hiccups – whatever you want to call it – the kind always bound to happen in one way or another when you take on a big change.
So, always being a bit socially-awkward and nervous about entering a room where everyone is already hanging out, I’m just going to crank up the old blog here to unload some thoughts. So scootch over and let me fire up the slide show and then we can all get back to chatting again.
Here are 8 observations on our move to Georgia, exactly 3 weeks in:
- If it feels like there is a bug on you, go ahead and look, because there is definitely, 100% a bug on you.
- Speaking of bugs, move fast because half will bite, sting, or latch, with one MAJOR exception: fireflies (aka: lightenin’ bugs) – they make everything magical. **MA.GI.CAL.** 10/10 my favorite insect infestation.
- My heart goes out to everyone who has to learn a new grocery store. My last track for groceries mapped like a two-year-old’s coloring sheet. Oh, you need vinegar? Uhhhhh, just give me two months.
- There is one intersection where I always turn the wrong way at least once, occasionally twice. For now my TX tags still serve as my SORRY EVERYBODY, JUST YOUR AVERAGE OUT-OF-TOWNER, HAHA excuse, but I’m well aware that me and those suckers are on borrowed time.
- Even knowing the old definition of insanity, I still occasionally try to blowdry my hair straight, like maybe THIS time I can slip past the heavy Southern humidity without getting held down for a frizz-noogie. But I’m 0: every millionth time I’ve tried since age 14.
- Introducing our new useful phrase: “I’m going into town, need anything?” We had everything from schools to dance studios to a dozen restaurants within a 2 mile radius of our old house, using any of the six-lane roads surrounding our old neighborhood. Daily miles on my car have tripled, but with hardly any traffic lights on back roads, I don’t feel like I’m in the car all that much longer. (Unless I’m behind a tractor.)
- Georgia red clay is really a thing, and everything is tinged in a shade of it, including -but not limited to- our porch and Buddy’s fur. RIP, white paws. You are forevermore reddish-brown.
- My kids will still argue through the summer, no matter where we are or what we are doing. But at least they all have their own rooms now to be sent to and their own doors to slam.
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A few more pics: