We really did.  We made an offer on this one.  It’s perfect for us.  The basement has almost the exact same square footage as the house does.  And a sink, a big one.  I’m going to have one hell of an art studio.

It sits on a little over 2 acres.  On one side is corn.  On the other side is mountains.  The yard has apple and cherry trees and is beautifully landscaped with lots of flowering plants and vines.

I’m going to get to have chickens.

There is a hot tub on the back deck.  Did I mention you can’t see any neighbors from the back and only one neighbor’s yard is visible from the front yard?  Privacy, I haz it.

The house was built in 1982, but I didn’t hear the first creak on any of the floors or on the steps going down to the basement.

The woman who painted it was apparently fucking color blind.  That will be the first thing I do.

Riding around looking at houses is more exhausting than I realized.  I’m still brain dead.  I went to the grocery store today to pick up bachelorette food and couldn’t figure out why the damn place was so fucking crowded.  It wasn’t until I was checking out and heard a cashier wish a customer a ‘good weekend’ that I realized it was Saturday.

Jat is in VA now, he starts his new job Monday.  He’ll be working a 4 on/4 off schedule, which will be nice, because that means he’ll be home more.  I stayed up as late as I could stand it last night because I hated the idea of going to bed alone for the first of many nights.

I miss my husband.  Damnit.

I hope they accept our offer.  I really do.

So the move looks like it’s probably going to be happening.  On the one hand I’m excited about living in a different place.  On the other hand I’m terrified of leaving all that I know and love here.  I really like Georgia.  I like it a lot, and I’ve been here my entire life.  My family (the part I care about) is here and my friends, some I’ve known for decades.

The likely potential move has put me in a weird mental place.  It’s this Never-Never Land of feelings of inadequacy, insecurity and helpless sadness.  It’s like being a fucking teenager again.  It sucks assholes.  A whole hat full.

I can’t decide if I want to go or if I want to stay.  I’m of the mind that the Universe will deliver what we need when we need it.  All along I’ve had the attitude that if we’re meant to move the money will appear for us to do it.  Saturday I had a check for a little over 2k in my mailbox.  A stipend from school, I’ve apparently been carrying quite a large credit balance with them for some time.

I’m not one to ignore obvious signs of what will be.

Of course if we don’t end up moving I’ll be going shopping.  Hard core.  Or maybe that’s just my self-indulgent, petulant, immature side coming out to say, “Howdy, fuckers!”

Meh, I don’t know what I want.  I know I want this maelstrom of teen-ish angst to go the fuck on already.

Deep down I know moving will be a really good thing for us both.  That doesn’t mean I have to like it.

My cup runneth over.  Seriously, in many ways, all good, mind you.

I got my wheel, so I’ve been doing that and taking breaks for things like peeing, eating and homework.  The housework, well, we all know I’m not much of a housekeeper as it is.  Dishes are getting done.  Mostly.  Dinners are spotty, we’ve been doing a lot of takeout.

I’ve got a ton of handspun to show off, but I only have pics of my most recent.  This is a wool/mohair lock blend that I carded and spun as one continuous single.  I managed 6 oz of singles and then Navajo plied the whole lot into about 400 yds give or take.

My husband is an amazing man.  He bought me a Dell Vostro, a 17″ with 4g of RAM and a dual core 2.0ghz processor.  Have I mentioned how much he fucking rocks?  Have I?  Because he so does.  It should be delivered either today or Monday.  Probably Monday, but I’m hoping for today.

I had my middle nephew over on Wednesday.  He’s 7 and all about learning to knit.  He was fascinated by the spinning wheel and I asked him if he wanted to try it and he did, of course.  So I let him treadle while I drafted.  He was too cute, “I’m doing it!  I’m really doing it!  I’m making yarn!”  After he used up the fiber I had in my hand we took his yarn off the bobbin and I wet it and gave it to him and told him to go whack it around on walls and whatever.  He went outside and whacked it on the side of a tree and against the house and loved every second of it.  He couldn’t believe we were smacking around something we’d just made.  Too cute.  They’re all cute and fun, but god, I am always so glad when it’s time to take them home.

I have lots of spinning projects in the works.  I have a shitton of fiber, pounds and pounds of it.  I have purchased very little of it, however.  It was mostly gifted/bonuses.  So I’ve been blending and dying and trying all sorts of experiments and having a great time doing it too.

My dyed batts.  Let me show you them.

That is a blend of BFL and tussah, about a 60/40 blend.  Dyed with Wilton’s.  I have some acid dyes now, the primaries and black.  I’ll be playing with those later.

And yes, that is a shredded batt, or rather a combination of shredded batts.  When I dyed them I did something incredibly retarded that ended up felting them in several spots.  I actually lost very little of the batts themselves, but I did have to tear them into pieces in order to recard them.

Sorry, but everything’s probably going to be about spinning for a while yet.  Jat says I’m just working my way further and further back in the process so I don’t actually have to knit him the socks I keep promising him.  I’m pretty sure he’s wrong.  He’ll get socks.  Eventually.