We are alive and well. We are very busy. Forgive us. I wish I had the energy to tell you about our new life but I don't. I wanted to tell you (and remind me for the next time Jace suggests a 5th wheel for temporary residency) about how I have to haul and deliver our dirty laundry to Addie's non-coin operated laundry mat in trash bags and then haul the clean laundry back home in the same bags, turned inside out. I also wanted to tell you about how I have to wait for Jace to come home to light the pilot light in the oven before I can use it for dinner. I should also remember for next time that while our new trailer home boasts of a miniature shower and toilet, we are on strict instructions not to use the toilet. We must walk into the "regular" house and use the one item we did not haul to the dump during demolition, the master bathroom toilet. One must be sure to bring someone to "stand guard," the doors have not been hung and the 2 Hispanics that have been tiling bathrooms for the last week arrive early, stay late, and recently moved their operations into the above mentioned bathroom. I will also add that I can't ever remember to turn off the a/c unit before trying to run the microwave in the trailer....something about tripping breakers. I wish I had the time to whine to someone about how I must measure containers at the grocery store to be sure they will fit in my dainty fridge and how my food is starting to taste just like that dainty fridge and that temperamental microwave. My boys follow, converse, and eat the food the Hispanics packed in their lunch. The Hispanics don't seem to mind when their lunch gets eaten or the part left out of the contracted deal- babysitting. Jace is proud of his trailer park family. The children are in heaven. Filthy. Tired. In need of haircuts. And finally have a full time father. Macy loves school. And I am thrilled about it. The cashiers at Home Depot and Lowes know my children and I by name. I also remembered a story a while back I wanted to share with you and if I had the energy I would tell you about eating dinner at the new neighbor's house, the Radiology Dr. (husband) and the Pharmacology student (wife). As the nervous, young and childless wife seated us at her large, expensive dining room table with matching white, velvet upholstered chairs-I was praying. Praying she wouldn't notice I had rudely brought with me - 3 children under the age of 8. After sitting the "gentlemen across from gentlemen" and then the "women across from women" she ended up seated next to my Noah Baum. I was praying she would invite us back to her lovely home after sitting thru an entire meal by him. With every snort, snore, and allergy-rattling breath the nervous wife would crank her head in Noah's direction, not knowing if she should offer a Kleenex or perform CPR. About half way thru the meal, I explained that Noah can't breathe. I told her Noah suffers from life long allergies and not only is he enjoying her cooking but that his breathing is perfectly normal. She politely excused herself to a 7:00 appointment before apple pie was served. But I'll save that story for another time. It was classic. There was also that time the boss of the Hispanic rock/tile laborers was here explaining things and in my presence told his employees that I (Lindsay) was the "Hefe." He then turned to me and asked if I knew what that meant? "Yes, boss....... or maybe hefty one?," I said. "NO, NO not hefty....Boss!" he said. I'm still not sure he meant boss though. His Hispanics still refuse to look me in the eye when I'm "bossing" them. I have a feeling the phrase "gorta hefe" has been used when I'm not around. Just a feeling. One of these days when I live in a real house I will do a real update on our life, with real pictures. Until then.
