Howdy Y'all

It's official -- the Man and I are residents of Kentuckiana.

And if I have to open/close/breakdown/move/lift/touch one more box, I'm going to lose my mind.

As we currently do not have internet at home, (I'm trying to convince the Man that while I support his simplistic approach to life, I cannot function without some sort of connection with the outside world other than the mailman and Wal-Mart greeter), I am writing this post in a Starbucks overlooking Churchill Downs. Not too shabby, eh?

I'm slowly adjusting to life down here. We don't have a GPS, so finding ANYTHING outside of the interstate and Veteran's Parkway is an adventure. I still haven't found our local bank branch and I almost ran out of gas trying to find my way home from Target. I've managed to forget my debit card at an ATM in downtown Louisville and I'm pretty sure my neighbors think I'm a hermit.

But it's not all bad. There are some really nice people around here; genuinely nice people. Today, when I was almost run over by a giant pickup truck in the Aldi parking lot, the guy jumped out to apologize. "I'm so sorry, ma'am. I didn't see you. Are you alright?" I'm pretty sure anyone in Chicago would have yelled and flipped me the bird. And just a few minutes ago, the guy sitting at the table next to me asked if I wouldn't mind proofreading the introduction to his paper. A complete stranger asked me to edit his paper. In a Starbucks. A stranger! I can't wrap my mind around this.

Complete strangers will strike up a conversation with me as if we've been friends for years. The Wal-Mart associate's brother in Atlanta is trying out for America's Got Talent. The Starbucks barista loves sweeping and mopping floors but hates cleaning bathrooms (can't blame her). The other Starbucks barista was born with his heart on the opposite side of his chest. The woman in line at Target can't seem to find twin-sized Colts sheets for her grandson's bedroom. Such nice people.

So...we're here and we're trying to find our niche. I feel much better about life now that my living room is put together and I only have to unpack a few more fling-flangin' boxes. I still can't find garbage bags or dishwasher detergent, but we'll survive. At least I know my way to Starbucks and Chic-Fil-A.

Until next time...

Almost There...

So...

Many...

Boxes...

It's been a week since my last post about procrastinating, and I can honestly say I've made some significant progress. Well, I should say my parents made some significant progress. I helped by staying out of the way and getting Jimmy John's for lunch. Seriously though, I cannot thank my parents enough for all of their help in this undertaking, since the Man thinks pursuing a career and fulfilling his dream is more important than helping his wife move. Hu-rumph.

The house is just about packed which has left me in quite a pickle in terms of living day to day. I've already had to tear open two boxes because I packed all of my scarves and winter hats (thank you -10 wind chill). My brother and I have been eating PB&J and noodles for almost every meal since the entire kitchen is packed away. And I can't say I haven't bribed my friends slash coworkers slash grandparents to take me out to lunch. Desperate times.

Oh and I have to wear the same 3 outfits to work because I'm the dingus who packed everything and disconnected the washer/dryer. Awesome.

Procrastination is an Art

Ok, so it's no big secret that the Man and I are moving south. He moved in with friends and has been in police academy for over a month now. We found a wonderful town home in southern Indiana, I submitted my resignation letter, booked a moving truck, and have December 18th circled in red and labeled "MOVING DAY" on my refrigerator calendar. It's no surprise that we're moving.

So then why didn't anyone tell me that moving requires packing and cleaning?

Ever since the Man accepted his new job, I've been putting off the fact that I had to pack and clean. I keep saying to myself, "Oh we're not moving until Christmas. We've got plenty of time to pack." Thanksgiving has come and gone and even so, I was thinking that December 18th was eons away. After looking at my calendar this morning, I have exactly 10 days to pack up and clean my entire house.

10 days. Entire house.

Enter panic mode. I wasn't trying to procrastinate, it just kinda happened! I've been busy looking for a new job, finding a place to live, driving 520 miles every weekend to visit the Man, and keeping up with the new season of House. Priorities. But now the heat is on and I've gotta get my act together. Luckily, my wonderful parents have agreed to come down this weekend for a packing blitz. Hopefully we can get everything done so I don't have to end up packing like the Man does and just shove everything into the truck all willy nilly.

I think that's the first time I've used willy nilly in my blog. Ha ha!

Ok, I need to stop procrastinating and get to packing! Here I go...wish me luck!

America's Crossroads: Who Cares?

I guess this whole "moving south and establishing a new life together" thing is really happening. The Man and I got a call from our landlady confirming our move-in date. We have a new address. And it's in Indiana. Here's another shocking piece of information about me: I don't like Indiana. It's flat. It's boring. And the resident drivers don't take advantage of the 70 mph speed limit.

Seriously though, as a Chicagoan, Indiana is like our pesky neighbor. They're not cool enough to be invited to the barbecue so they just linger at the fence and stare into our backyard. They have weird rules and rituals and they dress funny. They probably give out Bit O' Honeys on Halloween. Not cool, Indiana.

BUT...the Man and I are out to change all that (ok, maybe not so much the Man as he really doesn't care either way). With Starbucks in hand and lead foot on the gas, I am on a mission to make Indiana cool again. I will drive 10 over the speed limit, wear pants that go past my ankles, and maintain proper hygiene for all of my teeth. I will make Indiana a proud state once again.

I just need to figure out how to get to our new house first.

What I Learned at School Today

Every night on his way back from academy, the Man calls to tell me what cool new things he learned that day. Most of the time it's just law mumbo jumbo with a little bit of physical testing thrown in. (By the way, he got 2nd place in the Physical Standard Test and received the coveted black shirt. He benched 295 and did 109 consecutive pushups. He's awesome, I know.) Anyway, here are a few of the standout lessons he's learned thus far:

1. When frisking a female suspect, always check behind the bra as she may be hiding a .40 pistol between her shoulder blades.
2. In the South, a winter hat is called a toboggan. The poor Man spent the entire scenario project wondering why a perp would carry around a sled after robbing a gas station.
3. According to the sex crimes/abuse case worker, a woman's vagina is very accommodating.
4. Never try to slap handcuffs onto someone's wrists. It will hurt. (I may or may not have learned this lesson on my own.)
5. Lint is evil and wrinkles are the spawn of Satan.
6. Be mindful when frisking a gangsta with saggy pants. What may appear to be a weapon behind the belt buckle may be something very different...
7. Don't fall asleep during the taser lesson.
8. You can never use enough shoe polish.

All laughs aside, I am incredibly proud of him and what he's accomplished so far. He absolutely loves academy and is thriving in the environment. Just a few more weeks until we can move into our own place and be a family again. It will be so nice to spend more than 48 hours together. Until then, I'll keep learning about frisking, southern vernacular, and what items I can hide in my bra.