Titleist

So sorry. This isn't really a blog about golf balls. Or golf at all. It's merely a title-less post, and when I went to put "Title-less" in the [title] box, I thought, "hee hee...title-less. Sounds like Titleist." And there you have my baaaad humor.

But I digress. It's not that the content of this post doesn't warrant a title. (It will [eventually], I promise.) It's more that I couldn't decide between these beauties:

"Are you freakin' kidding me!?"

"Crap!"

"Is that SNOW?!"

Flying Solo

See. Aren't you glad I went with "Titleist"?

So here we go.

Thursday was go-to-Louisville day. The Plan (notice the dual capitalization here, peeps) was to leave around 3 pm and roll into Daina and Jeff's about bedtime. The Plan was for me to take a whole vacation day (I had to go to Target and the bank and pack my weekend bag and do laundry) and Jim would take a half-day. The Plan was working great until about 8:35 am when Jim called to tell me he was in the kitchen. Of our house, not his office building. Why? Why would he be in the kitchen at 8:30? This was not part of The Plan. But apparently The Plan meant nothing to Jim's (former) boss, who let him go to work!!! on Thursday, just so she could escort him right back out, permanently! without notice! Ack!

So now The Plan included Jim and I both driving (as in, he with the truck and trailer and me with the minivan) to Louisville because -- surprise! -- Jim was going to stay in Nashville and start work on Monday. I decided I didn't much like The Plan anymore.

So, off we go, earlier than expected and very much in separate cars. Boo. Stupid former boss. We drive, drive, drive, and pull into Louisville in time to enjoy not just dinner with Daina and Jeff, but also The Office, too, so I guess The Plan - Thursday Installment redeemed itself.

Friday, Jim headed to Nashville with All of The Stuff to close on our new house, and Daina and I kicked off our girls' weekend. And that deserves its own post, which it will get in a bit (but without pictures, because we are big dorks who didn't take any).

So, fast forward 10 hours, to Friday night. Jim calls, and I think the enormity of what we're doing hits us both. We decide he should drive back to Louisville to spend the night (a decision that makes more sense when you realize that the carpets you just had cleaned aren't dry yet, so you can't move in your bed yet, so you have nowhere to sleep). So, Jim drives the 2.5 hours back to Louisville. In the meantime, Daina graciously lets me cut our girls' weekend short, and it is decided that I will return to Nashville Saturday morning with Jim, to help unpack, clean, and shop for necessities.

The Plan isn't looking remotely like it did Thursday morning.

Saturday we unpack, clean, and shop for necessities. (Hey! That's what we planned to do!) We marvel at the size of our rooms, the gunk in the oven, and the absence of the microwave we were sure was above the range. (Yeah, not so much.)

Sunday, we cleaned some more, and then drove to Bowling Green, KY, for lunch and a trip to Home Depot. Wow. We are living large the hillbilly stereotype already! ;)

I kissed Jim goodbye in the Arby's parking lot, and told my butt to kiss some nerve endings goodbye, because I wasn't stopping until I was in my driveway. (As it turns out, I lied, because I stopped in Dayton, OH, for coffee when I was informed it was snowing north of Findlay!

I didn't cry at all the whole trip. Well, not until I got home to my disaster of a half-packed home, and a cold, empty bed. Listening to the strains of Seth's lullaby CD coming through the heating vent is what really pushed me over the edge. That, or him crawling around the house going "Da? Da?" in every room. Here, honey. Just play with the thousand peices of Mommy's heart that are laying here at her feet.

It's just six weeks, and we'll be together for a few hours each weekend. But oh my. There is a lot to do in six weeks.

At least now I know not to bother with a Plan.