The Big Move

My sister moved yesterday.

Ya know, you just feel guilty if you don't offer to help...and you always cross your fingers thinking that they will say "You don't have to help".

NOT SO!! But my sister helped us move out of our old house and into this one...so we were screwed from the get go. She did so much for us when we moved that this pay back was destined to happen.

My husband is a partner in a trucking company, so he brought a HUGE truck and luckily we made the move in one giant trip. My husband was absolutely thrilled at the prospect of spending his entire day off loading and unloading boxes and furniture...and he got his wish!!

It was a family effort and with the help of two Latinos we picked up at a gas station that serves as our local "Temp" agency...we began the day.

My thirteen year old daughter was thrilled to ride to my sister's house in the "BIG" truck with her dad, and by the time I got there, she had a "HOG" hat that my sister had given her, and a bird's eye view of the packing process from her perch on the top floor of the house we were moving them out of.

I told Massey that if my sister tried to give her ONE MORE THING...refuse it. I know the game. Offer a thirteen year old all the junk that you don't want, and suddenly the moving truck has more open space and I need another vehicle to cart home all the "Crap" that she has unloaded on my daughter.

It is the "Mema" syndrome.

When we were younger, we would go to my grandmother's house and come home with a box of junk that we thought was precious cargo.

We would try to refuse her offers of the amazing treasures...and she would sweetly reply "I am just going to throw it away, so TAKE it"!!

So home we marched, with our potholders made off of those little weaving frames with the stretch loops, baskets of dried flower arrangements that were twenty years old and King Edward cigar boxes full of S&H green stamps and Doral coupons.

The old woman was smart. It was even better than a yard sale. She did nothing but hand us her junk and we thanked her profusely for being so gracious to give us her treasures.

My daughter would have taken every piece of junk my sister tried to pawn off on her, had I not shown up after she received the Razor Back helmet.

Once the big move was made, we transitioned to the unload phase.

My sister and her husband bought a century old farm house, including six acres of orchards, vineyards, gardens and a coy pond. It has a barn with a loft and an old smokehouse, surrounded by magnificent old trees and every flower and plant that you could imagine.

My daughter was immediately over helping us in any type of way or fashion, but roamed the acreage , discovered every nook and cranny and spent most of her time swinging on the tire swing...hollering for a "PUSH PLEASE".

Once we unloaded the truck, there was furniture that couldn't fit into the house and my husband and our new friends Omar and Jose loaded it back onto the truck so that Tim could pull the truck back to the barn to store it there (until my sister could pawn it off to other unsuspecting relatives).

The driveway curving around the house was a tight turn, but my husband who has been in trucking for over twenty years seemed to manage the tight squeeze pretty well until he asked our daughter to stand in front of the truck and let him know if he was about to hit anything.

He stopped the huge truck and began to back up as my daughter emphatically motioned "come on"!!

My sister and her sons were saying "Why is he backing up? What is he DOING"?

When he put the truck into park, he was about three inches away from three live power lines that ran from the barn to the house.

My daughter replied that she was just looking down and no one told her to check above the truck.

Once the electrocution of my husband was avoided, we unloaded the rest of the truck and by the time we got the last piece out of the truck, I swear I heard tires squealing as my husband turned the corner of the house to take the truck back to his company . He said to himself "I AM OUTTA HERE"!!

We didn't get her settled in, but we got her moved in.

It was a day of adventure, it was a day of family and it was probably the longest day that my husband has seen in a while.

I am glad that it is over, and I am glad that we could help.

Moving is NEVER fun...and it truly lets you know who your friends are.

Oldest Son Moves Out... (AGAIN)

Almost two years ago, our eldest child came limping back home with a broken heart and an English bulldog in tow.

He left his girlfriend after she cheated on him...took the $3000 puppy she had given him for Christmas and headed back to the nest for some TLC.

He was almost as sad looking as the fat little "UGA" he had brought with him.

We took both of them back into our home and heart, and gave up the cozy den we had made in his former bedroom.

He said he just needed to be somewhere that he was loved. (He got me with THAT one).
He only needed a couple of months to regroup and he would be moving on again.

Two years later...He regrouped.

After the first year, we decided to get him a bed to sleep in, we were hoping that the uncomfortable couch he had been assigned to sleep on would encourage a quick move (it did NOT).

During this time, we began to get weary of his presence(when he DID decide to stop by for clean clothes, a free meal and to pat his dog on the head).

His room was always a wreck, and if he didn't have a sweetie at the time, he'd be home. If his love life was swinging...we wouldn't see him for days on end, all we had to remember him by was the total wreck of a room that he left with dirty clothes piled four feet high and empty soda cans and chip bags.

When he FINALLY found a place with some frat bros. we started to dread him taking the dog. We are all big dog lovers and although it was tough to make "Charlie" realize his pecking order with my two boxers...after he got his butt beat a few times from jumping on my dogs, they settled into a happy co existence. We came to call Charlie, and my male boxer, Ham... our own little "Sigfried and Roy". Their game was 'I'll hump on you for a while, and then I'll give you your turn'. Meanwhile, my female boxer Rosie...just lay in the yard and looked at them like they were idiots (which they are, but we love them anyway).

The big day arrived...THE MOVE OUT!!

I was just waking up for my Friday day shift, when my sixteen year old son came into my room and forlornly said "Well, TJ is all moved out".

I leaned over the side of my king size bed and looked underneath...the bulldog was snoring loudly, happy in the spot that we referred to as "his cave"...because my two boxers were too big to get under the bed. I got up to start a pot of coffee and looked into my son's room. All the furniture was still there, his computer, shoes,trophies, plaques, radio and all his books and such. I remarked to my younger son "You mean that your brother took some clothes and left".

My young son said "Oh, he'll be back for his stuff tomorrow".

I had already bought a couch from a co worker, two nice club chairs and had a butterfly table in the garage ready to re assemble my den.

When I got home from work, I told my two younger kids that we were going to help TJ by moving all of his things into the garage so it would be easier for him to pick them up the next day. We took apart his bed (that he wasn't taking, because it was my parent's and he had already gotten another) and I had Zach move it upstairs piece by piece to re assemble it in his room, where he had been sleeping the floor after out growing the futon he had had since he was nine.

We moved every bit of sports equipment, posters from the wall , trophies clothes and shoes out to the garage and dusted vacuumed and cleaned the entire room and began to move my couch, chairs and table into my new den.

After one hour, I had my den back , and if I can say so myself...it looked GREAT!!

The next night I got home from work, and TJ was sitting on my new sofa in my new den, watching TV (he came back to wash his four foot high pile of clothes while he still had access to free detergent and a washer and a dryer).

I could tell that he was a little miffed at how quickly I had changed things, but he had the good grace to say "the room looks nice".

My daughter told me later that when TJ first came back...he made the comment "It looks like an old lady's room".

Guess what? It is NOW !! and 'This' ole lady is LOVIN it!!

My only regret is that he took the bulldog... we miss him.

My son seems happy in his new digs...and I know that I am happy in mine..."My ole lady's room".

You never know with kids...he may be back...and we'll let him come back, but if he does, he will be sleeping in an 'ole lady's' room and it will stay that way.

I love him, and we do actually miss him now that he is gone, but it is nice to not look at a mess of a room; but be able to walk into my 'ole lady's paradise and feel comfortable and put my feet up, give myself a manicure and enjoy doing my laundry while I watch whatever channel I want on the TV.

But I still miss the dog...

Til next time... OLE LADY COTTON