I see it in your eyes

I wish I could tell you this past week was been fantastic.  Or different.  Or productive.  Or something.  But besides a couple hail storms in the afternoons, we are singing the same ol' tune.  Work.  Work.  Work.

Sunday night we saw Jace's parents.  They live in Mexico and farm chili.  Random, I know.  We usually never see them this time of year because they are busy picking chili but on Sunday night we found them on our doorstep with some friends from Mexico.  These friends are peach farmers.  We loaded up all these farmers and took them out to our new Casa.  Jace's parents were impressed with our progress.  The peach farmers on the other hand, were stumped.

The 1st question they asked when they had walked thru was "Why?"

Jace and I glared at these foreigners suspiciously.  Why?  What kind of question was that?

As my Mother-in-law and I discussed paint colors, furniture arrangements, and the how-tos of concrete counter tops, I continued to notice a look of utter confusion on Mrs. Peach farmer's face.  She couldn't figure it.  She did not seem to understand what was going on.

I explained that this was all Jace's idea and I just have to follow him around the country remodeling dump houses because I have too many children that need a father.

And he is good looking.

Cue the crickets.
Awkward silence.

Apparently Peach farmers don't think I'm funny.

Monday night our neighbors came out to the new Casa for a cook out and to see what all this hubbub was about.  They have warned and pleaded with me for months not to take my children away from our friendly street.  I may have even shed a tear or two recently just thinking about moving away from these nice people, so when one of my neighbors stood up tall, looked me right in the eyes at the end of the tour and said, "Lindsay, you're so smart."  I choked on my trail burger.

She explained, "We will miss your kids so much but there is no question your kids will be happier out here.  This is going to be so great for you guys."

I most of the time think that all this moving and child rearing has sucked all intelligence right out my ear.  And I sometimes wonder if I have the wrong house for sale.  This past week especially.  But then all I have to see is that look in someone's eyes that they get it.  They get what all this crying, and moaning, and work is all about.  They have caught the vision of what the house could be.


Oh, and it is going to be great.

The view from my back window tonight

While making dinner tonight, this back window sight had my heart singing.

It's a fact.  You can't pick your neighbors.  Jace and I have hit the lottery on neighbors many times.  And other times.....well? Hmmm.  I guess the odds are you will find at least one slob of a neighbor when you move every year like we tend to do.  This current house we reside has a back yard approx. 8 ft. deep.  I repeat - 8 ft.  This has posed a few problems.  One being, we get an up close look of our neighbors back yard.

Jace took it upon himself to do some "community service" tonight in that back yard.  Our neighbors were perfectly OK with Jace going thru their trash and driving his equipment around their yard - so long as they did not have to help him or pay him.  I can't wait for tomorrow morning, when I can look up over my bowl of cereal and see a clean yard.  Someone should tell these neighbors of mine they just might have hit the jackpot with Jace as their neighbor.  It is what I tell myself every night - "Jace is my jackpot."

Mikael's back door view - Millie the dog.

The dog catcher laid the smack down.  Millie the dog now calls the back porch home.  Mikael still hasn't figured out what keeps looking back at her.  I am enjoying this new view of the dog on my back step...it means she is not squeezing herself inside the front door every time it cracks opens.

Noah's beloved Converse shoes.

It's a fact.  You do not get to pick what kind of feet hang at the bottom of your legs.  Noah inherited his Mother's feet.  Blocks.  We have been on a shoe buying rampage since December when the beloved Converse shoes started falling apart.  Noah will take a lap in the new pair of shoes, then declare, "They don't feel so good."  After 57 pairs not feeling so good it was decided that this was a battle I was not going to win. And I did what I should have done months ago - I ordered the exact pair of shoes for the kid.  Size 2, brown, 3 strap, Converse shoes.  He acted thrilled.

As I kissed him good bye this morning on his way out the door to school I glanced down at his feet.  For the love - it was the old ratty tatty shoes hanging there.

When he wasn't looking tonight, those beloved Converse shoes made their long anticipated way to the trash can.  I almost think I heard them sigh.