Moving! We've spent every waking weekend minute getting ready for the big move to our new house. Which means boxes and boxes and cleaning and yard work. And constant companionship from animals that I thought loved me, but are, in fact, trying to kill me. Always underfoot when carrying a fifty pound box of exposed knives or my terrarium of highly poisonous angry geckos.

I took care of our rental yard which had sort of become a jungle, too. And the weed whacker wasn't plugged in correctly and started to smoke from its outlet. I thought I was just doing a really good job. Really whacking those weeds. But the smoke wasn't a sign of skill, just an early electrical fire.

And I'm limping. I talked Aaron into a final Redmill burger fest last night since we won't be living near one anymore. Afterward, as we were walking to the car he complained that he felt awful after eating food like that, like bricks were in his stomach. I felt fantastic and to show him so I leapt to the car like a gazelle. A beautiful, graceful gazelle UNTIL my last leap which landed in a pothole and crunched my ankle and slammed me to the pavement. So now I'm a limpy troll with two scraped and bruised knees limping around with my boxes of knives and a half open bag of frozen corn kernels tied to my left knee. Maybe gazelles watch where they're leaping to.