(Because then it's not the parka, right?)
And so with an insult I venture into the blogging world. This is almost entirely for the benefit of my sister, who might be one of three human beings capable of laughing at the level of humor that I sadly continue to display at my almost-thirty age. And yes, I counted myself as the other two humans. So thank you, dear sister, for propping me up with your confidence and kind words. I'll come crying to you later.
During the last 6 months or so, my husband (who I'll probably refer to simply as "C") and I decided to leave our family, friends, house, and my job to venture to the great white north, where parkas are most certainly a forgone conclusion (ergo "parka-butt"). While this move is a healthy, positive advance in many ways, there have been some challenges to our migration. For example, in the spring of 2008, during what we thought was the rock-bottom of the housing crisis, we purchased our first home. It was like dreaming of sugarplums and the tooth-fairy: "It's a great time to buy!"... "You never lose money on a house"... "The market will only go up from here". Well, the tooth-fairy is a farce, and I've never even seen a picture of a real sugarplum, so I shouldn't be surprised that in the real world, there are always extenuating circumstances. So here we are, three years later listing the house of our dreams at a fifteen thousand dollar loss. And that's only the asking price - who knows where we'll settle. ACK.
As a latest development in our home-selling venture, we were down at the house about a week ago, taking a walk around the neighborhood when we saw that the storage facility across the street had a new tenant. Oh, the storage facility. Have you ever been around a person who, in the face of some horribly embarrassing disclosure, is unable to laugh naturally and instead produces an awkward shrieking sound not unlike someone in the midst of an asthma attack? That is my general display when I am required to talk about our neighbors across the street. This "storage facility" is an army of rusting big-rig containers parked in the plot across from our yard. So there is a new tenant at the storage facility. It is a large U-Haul type truck painted white, with the words "The We Suck Band" stenciled on the side. I think it will help sell our house, don't you? Money in the bank.
In closing, I must tell you that right now I hear C giggling in the background while he is attempting to "toast" a slice of bread by stabbing it with a kitchen knife and holding it over the 4-inch flame of our Jetboil. Did I mention that we have no kitchen here? Only parka-butt.
Until next time.
