Nothing says thank goodness we have insurance ....

....like six Filipinos moving a flat screen.  

Yes yes ...I know there are only five here.

But that was before I said, "Do you mind if I take your picture?"  Sometimes, I really love this country :)

I have to give Mr. Simple Pleasures credit though - he didn't really even flinch through the whole process.   I feel sure he would have lurked over them if they were using the mounting system but thankfully, we decided on the ol' TV stand.  

Having Nieva around does not suck.  She even tolerates Cassie's box...um..."problem" really well.  I swear I don't know why we even buy toys.  All she ever wants to do is eat cereal and beer boxes. 

I love this picture for so many reasons.  First, Cassie's butt can barely be seen under the stool, still exhibiting OCD tendencies where cardboard boxes are concerned.  Then there's my husband who, when I said "pose", made THAT face.  And finally, you can see our movers are still figuring out how not to drop our flat screen. Anything could have happened but nothing really did.  Cassie didn't eat the frooooot loops, Zach didn't have a heart attack and the movers didn't drop our third child (the dog and the coffee machine being child one and two, respectively...depending on the day and caffeine requirements).  Sometimes I wonder if I make sense to anyone but myself.  Then again, who gives a crap.  If no one reads this, I can go back to doodling flowers and puppy dogs.  Whheeeeeeeeeee.  Er....perhaps just a wee too much rain for me the last few days.  CABIN FEVER is dangerous.  Why don't they do public service announcements?!?!

Moving day was a long time ago.  What can I say, I am woefully behind on the blogging I guess.  One of my dear friends (who might not remain dear for much longer) called me a "trophy wife" the other day.  Bastard.  But I have taken up oil pastels, curtain sewing, dog training, cooking, and collaging (is that even a word) so I guess, I can't really argue and in some ways, maybe I should take it as a compliment?  I'd rather be a trophy wife than simply a kept woman and don't you DARE try to tell me they're the same.  Oh....btw...I WILL have a job again one day soon dammit.  But until then, I am blogging and painting and teaching my damn dog to sit.  Oh...and watching the flat screen while doing my nails.  Padow!

The Grumpus Under The Rug

I have a sickness.  I don't think it's yet been identified in the DSM-IV (do they even call it that anymore?) but I'm fairly certain it's incurable.  I love to unpack.  Like really really really love to unpack.  Suitcases, groceries, shopping bags, mail orders....

But mostly, I love unpacking boxes after a move.  It's like Christmas but with stuff you've had for years yet forgotten about.  Then, just when I think the fun is over, I remember I get to organize it all.  WAHOO! See?  I am sick.  Who likes this stuff? 

There's something even more satisfying about unpacking when you only have some of your stuff.  Back in May, we went to our storage unit in the States to pick out the stuff we wanted shipped to Manila.  Needless to say, it was a hurried and frantic process and we left the facility having no clue what we actually put in the Manila "pile".  Fast forward to July and you'd be right if you guessed that we had 100% forgotten what we had shipped out here. 

As you can imagine, this temporary amnesia has both an upside and a downside.  Downside?  LOTS of forgotten essentials.  Curtains but no rods.  Iron but no board.  Vacuum but no bag.  You get the idea.  The upside?  Random shit that I love but haven't seen in years.  I have NO idea how some of this stuff got here but I couldn't be happier.  For instance, Earl Wyatt Armedadillo (a story for another post) made it.  As did The Grumpus Under the Rug, my favorite book as a child. 

Which brings me to what was SUPPOSED to be the original subject of this post.  But first, since I have go so far afield, if you were packing up all of your worldly belongings but could only bring certain things to your new home, what could you absolutely not do without??  For me, it's at least one photo album/scrapbook with pictures of everyone I love, my favorite shoes/purses/scarves, and legit bath products. 

Now, back to the task at hand.  What was YOUR favorite book as a child? What did you always force your poor parents to read or what did you read yourself so many times that you wore the edges off and the ink was so faded, you had to "read" from memory?  Mine was The Grumpus Under the Rug.  I vividly remember my mom reading that to me as a kid and if she didn't do it with enough enthusiasm (which was rare, given she was an elementary school librarian.  she wouldn't have been worth her salt if her own daughter was bored.), I would make her read it again.  Later, of course, we read it together and then I'd read it by myself when I missed her.  I've held on to that book all these years and every time we move, I am always overjoyed to rediscover it.  We didn't bring many books here to the Philippines.  Kindles and ipads and weight limitations precluded that.   But some gems did make it and Grumpus is one.  I'd love to hear your bedtime story....stories.  What did mom and/or dad read to you?

Sorry Honey - I have fallen in love with someone else

....and her name is Nieva.  She is our housekeeper here in the Philippines but "housekeeper" doesn't COME CLOSE to describing what an asset she is already becoming to us.  She is quickly becoming a part of our little family.  Cassie adores her, Zach is beside himself that she makes him two sandwiches a day.  You know, in case he gets hungry later in the day.  "You're a growing boy Mr. Zach." :)

But you know how I knew right away that she was "the one" and that my love for her would quickly outshine my love for my dear husband?  She did this to my sock drawer: 

Please note, those are folded neatly AND arranged by type.  

And she did this to my t-shirts: 

I'd show you my underwear drawer because it's equally spectacular but that's a little personal even for how much I tend to overshare.