Being surrounded by the near constant sounds of traffic, I am daily reminded that my life is not anywhere near being in the fast lane. Everyone keeps asking me for updates and there really isn't anything to tell. But yet I seem to be busy all day long. No one wants to know how many diapers I change each day or how long it takes to get all three of us girls dressed for the day. Nobody cares how many loads of clean laundry are waiting in the hallway for me to fold and put away. I could keep going but I think you get the picture and I don't want to sound like a big whiner, because honestly I'm happy with my slow paced life. The point is just that it doesn't leave a lot to talk about.
Taryn is hilarious, but most of the time her antics cannot be adequately conveyed in print or even in verbal conversation. She is getting pretty good at singing her favorite songs. She mostly has the tunes down but the lyrics evade her. Usually she'll fill in jibberish between words she knows. For example: "Tweetle, tweetle,
Today I had to get up at Insane AM and take Tim to work so I could have the car. The good news is Burger King also opens at Insane AM, and I do love me some fast food breakfast but am rarely out and about during breakfast hours. Tim isn't actually at regular work this week or next week. He has FTAC. I'm not sure what that stands for but what it means is: sit around and listen to briefings about stuff that is either common sense or he already knows anyway. It's supposed to help airmen transition from tech school to regular duty. So the reason I needed the car was that they finally decided we could have the rest of our stuff that didn't fit on the first moving truck, and all trucks like that have to be searched at the gate and escorted by someone.
They were supposed to arrive between 9:00am and 9:30am. About 10:30 I had heard nothing from them. Then Tim called to say he was on lunch break early because someone who was supposed to give a briefing didn't show up or couldn't make it or something. So we decided I should pick him up for lunch and then drop him off whenever the movers called even if it wasn't time for him to go back. You never know how long you'll be waiting at the gate. Well you know how when you put your life on hold to wait on something, as soon as you stop holding, the something happens? I got Tim and we pull in the driveway and get the kids out of the car and walk through the front door and the phone rings. Since Tim had two hours until he had to be back we took the risk and he went with me to the gate to escort the truck. I think we waited like 20 minutes, so it worked out.
So now we officially have all of our stuff. Except the leaf to our dining room table and the legs to the desk in the office. But those got left in the house so Papa is going to hold on to the leaf for now and mail the legs hopefully. So far it looks like we only lost a couple empty rubbermaid containers. But we gained a fairly nice pair of sawhorses, a really old beat up folding camp table and one of those doobises that you put at the foot of your bed and hang a fancy quilt over. It seems wrong to keep or donate that stuff, but what else are we supposed to do with it?
Somewhere out there, someone's quilt is lying in a heap on the floor.
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