Our First House

As many of you may know, The Chockleyblogs are attempting to get the heck out of our nice East Memphis neighborhood. No, our burglar friends are not the real reason for this, but I can't say they (or he, whatever) haven't provided a gentle nudge. We've long discussed what it would be like "when we live in Midtown," usually in the context of bitching about too much time in the car. Most of what we do-- daycare, Steph's work, my work, friends, shady honky-tonks we frequent-- are in the western half of the city, and we live in the eastern half.

So, around our house we now have lists, spreadsheets, paint splatters, plastic storage bins galore, stuff dragged out of hiding places, cleaning supplies, tools and lots of other stuff that comes with deciding to sell your house. And damaged fingernails. Why is it that the human fingernail is such an essential part of so many home improvement projects?

I'll do another post with pics of my kitchen tiling project, once I get around to taking some. I feel some sense of accomplishment in finishing it, but hate the idea that I did it for someone else's enjoyment.

It's a big deal (for me, at least) to let go of our big house, which was probably always in the wrong place for us. We really poured lots of time and effort into it to make it home. The prospect of doing that all over again, with a house that will probably be considerably smaller, is tough to process, but I know it's time.

This has nothing to do with all that, but I never posted any pics from our friend Charlie's first birthday party.

Charlie picks through his dad's head lice

"See Chloe, you can actually wipe your snot on something as small as this leaf..."