Oh Deer.

No, the title of this post is not a typo. You know me better than that. I am merely pointing out that there are many, many, many deer in this area and I cannot be responsible for the safety of each and every one. So I am cosmically imploring them to stop jumping in front of my car. I have found that generally speaking, it is never a good idea to jump in front of any moving vehicle…and to compound the error by jumping in front of MY car…a gal who is much more interested in taking in the scenery and not getting lost…well, that’s just plain stupid.

That said, here I sit. My trusty window-scarf-replacing-the-non-existent-telephone-book is a little more compressed than yesterday. I guess this means I’ve managed a bit more time on my trusty laptop. I’ll need to address this issue soon, me thinks.

Well, I’m secretly loving all the worrying some of you did on my behalf when I temporarily fell off planet Earth…I even had someone who sheepishly admitted to checking out the OBITS for my name. I am not making this up. Evidently, I didn’t come up….always good to know. I didn’t mean to worry anyone…but those of you that know me, know I’m not exactly the most organized efficient time-effective planner of the bunch…so, it takes me a bit longer to get my act together.

That’s not to say that I’m by any means unpacked, or anything....just to be clear.

I’m on a break. (Takes sip of Cloudy.)

Are you wondering about the move itself?

I will say this: I do not advocate moving.

As a matter of fact, I suggest you all just stay where you are till you die. Trust me…it’s just easier that way.

Say it with me now: “Moving is a bitch.”

I mean, KABOOM.

It rained buckets that day. But…that’s good luck…right? All I know is that rain makes everything get soggy...and not in a good way, either…and it’s also a good idea to find a puppy-sitter the day of your move or you’ll be locking your dog in a shower stall so he doesn’t scratch deep, painful grooves in the bathroom door in an attempt to make a break for it. And don’t even get me started on the crying and the whining….

And the dog was pretty upset too….

Kidding. Just kidding.

Okay, not totally. I did a decent amount of whining…both verbally and (unbeknownst to those hanging with me that day) in writing on the packing boxes themselves.

I do believe this is a much-underutilized form of venting for people in the process of moving…it’s also a great source of entertainment for the moving guys. They had a profound understanding of my feelings on moving by the time the truck was loaded, I’m sure of that. And I'd like to think that they appreciated an unexpected source of amusement to their otherwise exhausting and tedious work. I know I definitely heard a chuckle or two...

Both Jack and Tonia were a tremendous help to me that day…with Jack talking me down off many ledges over endless hours and Tonia acting as not only good friend but assuming the role of my Clinton Kelly, (my perplexingly-silent IV) summarily dictating what goes where and even having the patience to later explain to a clueless me the “why”.

All in all, the actual move itself took around 14 hours…and that’s only moving about 17 miles away. Geez…imagine if I’d really moved.

And so ends part deux. Of course you know there’s much more to this tale….yes?

I’ll leave you with the current view from my front porch. Not too shabby….no, not bad at all.

It's goah-geous....right? Make no mistake: I'm loving it. I'm thinking autumn will be breathtaking....now, if only winter didn't have to follow it...

Till tomorrow-