in celebration

There was something joyous in the air. I was sitting out at the dog run, on a bench, soaking up the afternoon sun on the hottest day of the summer, watching Colbs pant and romp and eat grass like a small cow. Tanning/burning my whitey white whale legs and ignoring the drops of sweat trickling down my skin.

And sipping on a blue rasperry slurpee. You see, I was celebrating. Simply because of the calendar.

A day known by the numbers 7-11 should be celebrated by the greatest icy, sugar-loaded drink in all the land.

These days I like to celebrate. Everything and anything I can.

Round about the time the humidity was plastering my hair to my face and fogging up my sunnies, I got a call from the husband.

You see, Jonnybabes and I have spent the last 4ish weeks-night and day, day and night, looking for a place to call home. Our 5th home, to be exact.

You see, he is currently living in a cramped old house, with 8 boys. Boys of the college variety. Smelly, stinky, boy-ish boys. Its just the way it worked out.

And I, well. I am living alone in our little townhome, much-too-much large for my own good. I sometimes wander the halls aimlessly, getting lost in the west wing for lack of human voice to guide me back to the heart of it. If not for my canine companion, I would be hopeless.

And when the day finally does come (no one's counting or anything, but its 36), for when I pack up whats left and join him in Idaho, I will not want to live in the dirty Boyhouse, thankyouverymuch.

All we want is a room somewhere, far away from the cold night air.

Tangent alert- My Fair Lady.

But really, all we want is a nice little place, a safe place, a place with (preferably) everylittlething we ever could dream of having in a home.

It has been a grand search, a harrowing tale, a drama of epic proportions to find and secure such a place. It has involved many prayers and many internet miracles.

It seems that the rental market in Boise is a currently a fish tank.

Wherein giant sharks graciously offer up a crack in the coral reef for a tiny fish family to take residence. The dilemma being that there are thousands of such brave fishfamilies... all darting in and out, out and in, flipping and flopping and swimming dangerously close to the sharks. They are begging, pleading and promising the lives of their firstborn guppies if the giant shark would just please choose them to find safety in that crack. To which the giant sharks smile their giant smile, and squint their giant eyes and... arbitrarily choose a fishfamily they like best. Perhaps the one who looks tastiest.

Well, my courageous underseahusband was calling with the best of news. We had finally won ourselves a crack!

And its a lovely crack, I say. Not perfect, but nearly.