I'm saddened by how long it's been since I've written - and I'd love to be more philosophical. The truth of the matter is that I've been insanely busy and time has been at a premium.
In short, I've spent the time since I've last written purchasing a home, moving, hanging with my mother who ostensibly came to "help" and working.
What I can tell you is this: This is not the first home that I've owned, but it is the first home I've owned on my own. No one helped me, no one else made it possible, it's mine.
I can also tell you this: I have loved most of the places that I've lived for one reason or another - I've made them all my own. However, the house I loved most was this kitschy little 1920's Travis Heights bungalow that couldn't have been more than 800 square feet. We sold it when I was pregnant with Bear because it would have been a miserable house to have a baby in.
BUT fuck, I loved that house. I loved the pink stucco. I loved the dark wood walls. I loved the black floors and the built-in cabinetry. I loved the back porch. I loved the front porch. I loved the way the walls beat with my heart in that crappy little casa.
Here's what's funny - I never realized, throughout this long and laborious process, that I was completely recreating that little bungalow that I've always missed. BUT, that's just exactly what I've done. Yes, it's an updated version. Yes, it's an upscale version...but....it's that house that I loved so much, only this time, it's all mine.
I love it here. I'm very happy. It feels so much like me.
