High on Paint Fumes and Life

I am a disgraceful Kentuckian. I completely missed the Kentucky Derby this evening. That hasn't happened since...well, since I got so drunk on mimosas in college that I had already passed out by the time 6:00 rolled around. Unfortch, that was not the case today.

Since Champagne Friday last Friday, we have:

• secured a Very Brady bungalow on Robins Air Force base (it screams 1975...but I'm thinking...since I've never seen that year, perhaps it will be like new to me. It's a rental so I refuse to paint, but I think I can decorate around brass lighting fixtures. Maybe.)
• met and had a "power dinner" with the colonel and most of the officers of the new unit. The colonel's wife makes a mean Butterfinger Pie and has already scouted out the best Urgent Treatment Center in the area. I wish they weren't moving, too.
  
• been to Macon, back to Warner Robins, back to Macon, back to Warner Robins, and back to Macon...and finally back to Bluegrass Country
  
• put about 1100 miles on Patty the Prius (who continues to brake without fail).
  
• chased down the mailman from 10 houses up because I thought the last piece of paperwork that we needed to finalize Neal's orders was in that day's mail. It was. I have no regrets. Except that maybe I should have put on a bra first.
• finally received orders for the move which means....yeah...we're stuck like peanut butter in the roof of your mouth. Another way to look at it: it's official. Official means money in the bank and a moving date. For sure. For sure is hard to get in the Army.
  
• met with our Realtor who is honest about the ivy sitting on the kitchen cabinets and loves our house...but maybe with a mulch bed.
  
• planted a mulch bed.
  
• painted the master bedroom (complete with 12' cathedral ceilings). Twice. (Today we realized that we will never again use dark tan for a wall color...perfect for beer, bad for 1-coat painting. Also? Cathedral ceilings are meant for cathedrals. Not for suburb cookie-cutter houses. We are so done with anything over 9'.)
  
• separated out what is staying here in the condo (...the most rockin' awesome condo we're going to buy after Chez Miller sells. I picked it out last week. If we lived downtown I would be doing daily drive-bys. But that's far and I don't even have time to shower regularly right now.) Having to divide everything out...this pot stays, this pan goes...this drinking board game stays, this Monopoly game goes...makes me realize I never want to get divorced. I do not want to have to do this again.
• packed every spice, spatula, and saute pan we have so that cooking is now an impossibility. I'm going to weigh 4938 lbs by the time we get to Georgia.
• pushed our departure date for vacation back. Twice. We will get on that plane.
  

So...yeah...the Derby didn't even occur to us until the radio DJ (who is actually one of my sorority sisters) said "did your horse win today?" Horse? What horse? That's where we are right now. We forgot to pick a horse for the Kentucky Derby. We live in Kentucky...like 90 miles from the Derby. I blame the paint fumes.

Time to Google "how to stage a house for maximum selling potential" but I'll check back in soon. And post pics of the new digs. If, at first glance, you don't break out into the theme song for My Three Sons, you're a better person than I am. But it's 4 bedrooms and won't suck up our entire housing allowance. So, what's not to love?

And please go check out my girl Cher @ The Only Girl. She reviewed a necklace she bought from me last month (the very fun, very funky Not Your Mama's Pearls) and she stumbled across some celebrities wearing the same piece! If her...er..."find" doesn't make you giggle and squeal with delight, then you just don't get it and there's not enough hours in the day for me to explain it.

Just remember...I'm not dead. Just moving, selling a house, obtaining a Georgia business license, and generally only sleeping about 4 hours each night. But Neal's got a job (that he's wicked excited about so that makes me wicked excited) and we are leaving all of our winter clothes here. Life is a Buffet song.