Detours and Delays

I know, I said the store would be open again by now, or within a day or two. So of course this post is a list of excuses and reasons that I was wrong.

First, when you move long distance, it only makes sense to move the minimum amount of stuff possible. So the cupboards are bare around here. I ran through all the raw materials before we left, then sold off all the stock, so I'm starting over.

Most of the suppliers I use were closed until the first week in January - so I couldn't even order anything until then. Things are arriving now - we've had a parade of trucks dropping pallets in the driveway, which is of great interest to all the neighbors and has given me plenty of time to practice with the hand truck.

And then there's the ergonomics of setting up the workspace. Deciding what goes where takes a few attempts and plenty of shuffling, either moving big heavy boxes and pails or lots of little tinkly glass bottles full of expensive essential oils.

And the dehumidifier should be arriving in a few days. It wasn't in stock, of course, but it's a necessity here in Florida. Oh, and the office has to be organized. And all the business paperwork has to be terminated in California and re-filed in Florida.

It's like starting over from scratch, really. And I'm old and slow. But I'm pushing, hard, and I'll be back as soon as I can. Really really.

Neighbors, and Why I Usually Hate Them

We've been pretty quiet for a few days, I know.

We're finishing up with the unpacking chores, plus unpacking and inventorying for the business, and getting a new workroom set up, all while Jesse is job hunting. Then there are the supply orders, which are a) enormous, at least by my piddly standards and b) urgent, because we were out of everything and I am due to reopen. It's a LOT to take care of.

While this is going on, we learned something. Fireworks are legal in Florida. This is something I never considered, because when we lived in California, anyone with a firecracker would be shot on sight. One spark during dry weather and half the state would burn down. So it never even occurred to us that you could buy fireworks everywhere. There's an aisle for them in the supermarket, for pete's sake.

This is only a problem because it turns out that we live directly across the street from three hell-born urchins. If you saw Talladega Nights, and you remember the two unwashed brats that were in that movie, you can picture these kids. I've never seen their parents. What I do see is a six year old - maybe seven - out in the front yard every evening after school, with a shopping bag full of firecrackers and a lighter.

And of course, it turns out that the dog is afraid of firecrackers. I have no particular desire to be the lady who runs around the neighborhood telling all the kids to knock it off, but seriously, you let your second grader spend all his free time trying to earn the name Nine Fingered Willy?

I do know that their house is on the market, so I can only hope that they move on to torture somebody else. Or it's going to be a long, cranky summer.

Happy New Year, too!

Well, happy-ish.

I am sad to report that things did not work out with Sandy. The two dogs started out tolerating each other, then moved on to being grumpy with each other, then open dislike. Within a couple of days we were experiencing physical violence, and had to break up a couple of nasty dogfights. Sandy actually bit Bander, which stunned me - they're both so very sweet with people, but hoo boy, not each other.

I talked to a couple of experts and got confirmation of my fears - that the best course of action was to return her to her owners, and give up on the adoption attempt.

I hated doing it. She was a great dog, and as far as the people part of the equation, we were an excellent match for her. But the stress was just too much for Bander, and the poor guy has been through too much to have his home turn into a place where he gets attacked.

So she's back with her former owners. They'll be looking for a home where she can be the only dog. If you want a great girl that loves kids, and don't have a dog right now, drop me a line and I'll hook you up. In the meantime, she gets all my mojo for a good home.

Bander's Christmas Present

Meet Sandy.

Although we might change her name, because it's too close to Bander and they don't know which one we're calling. She's a half-lab, half-St. Bernard girl, about 2 years old. She's a good 30 pounds smaller than Bander-boo, which puts her at about 60 pounds.

Of course, just because we got him a girlfriend doesn't mean that Bander is entirely on board with the idea.

They're learning, and having the usual jostling for position. Well, actually, Bander is quite clearly the alpha, which doesn't surprise me a bit; but she's young, and has to learn not to be in his face all the time. It's only been 24 hours, and she's here on a one week trial, so we have time to see whether they work it out.

They do well chasing squirrels together. Bander spots them and barks, and Sandy runs over to see what all the fuss is about.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Jackie is prepping the Thanksgiving feast as we speak.

She had a dream that she left the giblets in the plastic bag and in the bird. Whilst I'm s'pos'd to be peeling apples and potatoes I have craftily, shrewdly, deftly, furtively, and almost succinctly, managed to be thrown out of the kitchen.

So, I would love to take a pilgrimage into the past, and discuss Jackie's Calvinist and Hobbes post from last Día de la Gracias.

You see, it's a true story, and it happened like this:

A long time ago, on a continent, far, far, far away (by yesterdays standards, for in those days, they measured distances by having someone run as fast as they can and yelling, "Faaaaaar!" and when you could still barely hear him, that was considered far; which is why mother's always told their children not to run off to far) a ship set sail for the Americas. It was a long and boring journey, and not really important to the rest of the story. But they got there and set up a colony.

There was this guy named John Smith, who met an emo tween named Pocahontas (which was not her real name, by the way). You might say they hit it off right away, he liked her 'cause she was young and exotic, and she liked him for all the bling he wore.

Her family did not approve, and decided to have him whacked.

Miss P. stepped in and saved him, of course. Her father, Wahunsunacawah (which means Capulet), forbade her from ever seeing him again, and that would have been the end of that, if not for John Rolfe.

True story.

Oh yeah. We're having turkey for lupper today because we were packing on the real Thanksgiving.

Connectivity!

Aaaaaand we're BACK!

A big shout out to The Geek Squad and our new router, and once again we join the computer age. Just in time for another rainstorm with dog antics, and just in time to wish everyone a Merry Christmas.

I might have more to say later, but right now I have to go deal with giblets. And probably the rest of the turkey while I'm at it.

(I may live in the South now, but I refuse to deep fry the damn thing. I will, however, serve biscuits. Mmmmmmm.)

Pluses and minuses

Plus: The pod arrived, three days early. Excellent!

Minus: Crap, it's raining. Gotta run through the rain with my belongings on my back like a crazed carpenter ant.

Plus: Got about half of it unpacked, and tomorrow will be the major furniture (such as it is).

Minus: Deepest puddle in the panhandle? My front driveway. Have to stand in it to close the gate after I pull the car in.

Plus: Hey! A Starbucks drive-through, with holiday latte flavors in season! Today we'll go with Eggnog. Gingerbread tomorrow.

Dog Heaven

Well, we picked up the keys to the new place this morning. The rooms in the house itself are smaller than we thought, but the floorplan is great and the garage/laundry room is ideal for my soaping needs.

The best part of the whole thing, though, is the yard. The wonderful yard. The front yard has this huge amazing beautiful tree:

Best part?

Dozens of squirrels live in the trees. As far as the Bander-Boo is concerned, this is winning the canine lottery. He was the happiest he's been since we loaded up the car a week ago.

I love the climate here, even rainy and foggy like it's been. We'll see how the summer goes, of course, but so far I'm really feeling good about things. This has been a long roll of the dice, but I think we did well. Change was upon us no matter what we did, so there was nothing to do but embrace it.

We'll see how we feel once hurricane season arrives.....

Rain, Rain, Go Away

Well, it's raining on everybody right now, except the people who are being snowed on, so I guess it's too much to ask for the rain to stop just for us.

We're in the home stretch of our trip now.

A couple of notes about today's drive: one, the South is all really, really pretty. I've spent my whole life in either Nevada or Southern California, so deserts are what I find normal.

If you see a bucket of water in the desert, two people are about to have a two-year lawsuit over water rights to the bucket, during which the water will evaporate and one will sue the other for emotional distress due to the lost water. Also, trees are all managed carefully with a sprinkler system, and are spaced in a very careful grid, like the fake pores on band-aids.

So my first view of a Louisiana swamp had me gawping like I just saw Bigfoot riding a unicorn. Water and trees and green stuff for miles and miles. Gorgeous to look at, even if they are most likely full of bugs and squishy stuff.










I liked the greenery of Mississippi and Alabama, too, and downtown Mobile has a stunning skyline. Plus you get to drive over a finger of the Gulf, which is freaking awesome.

The only downside is that it was grey and rainy. But it didn't rain too hard, the dog once again behaved like a champ (thank god), and we made it safe into Florida.

Tomorrow we get to drive around and look at our new home.

Wheee!

Texas In My Rearview Mirror

Alarm clocks are for people who don't have dogs.

We enjoyed our day off in San Antonio. We looked at the Riverwalk, took a short sight-seeing drive, ate a ton of barbeque, and went to bed at a reasonable hour.*

At about five in the morning, Bander let us know that it was time to get up. Since there's no point in arguing, we got up, packed the cars, and took off. Part of our strategy was to miss any sort of rush hour traveling through Houston.

That turned out to be a good thing, because whoever handles road maintenance in Texas is on a wild tear-ass spending spree. More of the I-10 was chewed up and in the process of revamping in Texas than I could believe. I wanted to explain to the chowderhead in charge that instead of ripping everything out and then starting repairs, you do one freaking section at a time.

The crown jewel in the asphalt crown of freeway fuckery is the center of downtown Houston, where the I-10 - a major cross country artery that carries scads of long-haul trucks and a big chunk of travelers - is squeezed into a single ultra-narrow strip that clearly used to be the bike lane. It took quite some time to get through, and I can't imagine how long it would have taken during normal traffic hours.

We did indeed like San Antonio, but the traffic alone put Houston on the list next to El Paso of places that we don't need to visit again.

What seems endless hours later, and we've finally finished crossing Texas. We're in Lafayette, LA, and we found a restaurant that will deliver deep-fried alligator nuggets for dinner. Louisiana is pretty country, and they have fried gator.

I'm happier already.