I feel like we are in limbo. Waiting to find out where we're going, which should be very soon. Waiting to find out when we are going, which could be very soon or not until next year. At any rate, I'm getting pretty tired of the tiny main bathroom in this house. I've dropped three make-up brushes in the toilet this week alone. We've been scrambling to find a piece of property in Spokane to buy before we go, so Mitch can get started on the design of our dream house. Now, don't get a picture of a big old mansion with lots of rooms and fancy crap. We want something modern and functional and with a tiny carbon footprint. Simple. But with a huge closet. And two ovens inside and a wood-fired pizza oven outside. And the world's greatest mud room. Is it weird that I drool over mudrooms? Shoes and coats and backpacks tossed on the floor give me hives. The awesome thing about being married to an architect is that I can change my mind a zillion times and it won't cost me a red cent. Oh, sure, I'll pay in other ways, but I'm sure they'll be mutually enjoyable (steak! I'm talking about ribeyes, people. Sheesh.).
I've volunteered to foster dogs being evacuated from Cairo because I'm crazy like that, and Olivia would die from happiness with extra furry friends around, so I'll keep you posted about that. I'm sure they'll be barfing dogs, at any rate. And speaking of dogs, I'm missing the Puppy Bowl, so I'm signing off.