Fiesta!

Happy Cinco de Mayo!  The day of the year we can all guiltlessly stuff ourselves with chips, salsa, tacos, and more while happily blaming it on a holiday we don't know much about.  Hey - any reason to eat more Mexican food sounds great to me!

This year, we stepped up our fiesta planning skills and took on Cinco de Mayo Pardy style!  Well, truly it was Tres de Mayo...but, we ran with the theme and turned it into a housewarming celebration to open our new home up to our family and friends.

Beautiful banner made by my sis-in-law!
Pardy Casa Es Su Casa!

This was an incredible blessing for us, and a real dream come true for me and Josh.  Sure, it was a blast to be able to show off our new digs (we painted this, replaced this, yadda yadda yadda).  But, it blessed us the most to be able to have the space to welcome in multiple people who have brought joy, support, prayers, and new friendships into our lives.

Piñata Time!

Just a year ago, I was starting to pack up boxes in our California apartment and beginning to get the word out that our little family was making the cross-country move to Music City.  Now, here we are, planting roots in our new city and building relationships that will shape our family in our new time and place.  To be able to extend hospitality in a setting that nurtures togetherness, laughter, fun, and community was beyond our wildest imaginations at this point in our journey, and we are so, so grateful!

I'm thrilled to share some fun snapshots from the first Pardy Party in our new home!  I hope it's a start to many more.

I pray our home is a place where everyone feels they can drop by and always count on enjoying good conversation (and most likely good coffee/food/dessert).  I pray when people enter our home they notice the presence of the love of Jesus, that there is something oddly welcoming beyond our own hospitality, and that they can sense a loveliness in the difference that is marked by this divine interference.

I hope you all have a fantastic Cinco de Mayo - gathering with friends around a giant chip bowl and setting new records of hot sauce consumption!  Our fiesta was a big hit, but I ended up making so much food that I think we'll be celebrating taco night until Memorial Day.  Hey, I'm not complaining!

¡Salud!

By the way, want a quick review of what this holiday is actually celebrating?  I found this fun video on History.com that sums it up:

Won't You Be My Neighbor?

This last weekend, I finally got around to doing something I've wanted to do for the past several weeks:  make cookies for my new neighbors.  Ever since closing on our new house just over a month ago, we've been fiddling and dilly-dallying about our home like little squirrels preparing for winter.  Fix this, repair that, paint here, unpack there, and so forth.   I'm sure our neighbors have been wide-eyed at their windows a bit, wondering just who we are and what we're up to.

I'm not used to neighborhoods.  I grew up on a farm in the middle of Kansas, where our closest "neighbor" was a couple miles away and I only saw them if they needed to borrow a tractor or let us into their cellar for a tornado (no, I'm not kidding).  Needless to say, I didn't grow up with that "Wonder Years" experience of riding bikes until the street lights came on or strolling down sidewalks on my way home from school.  

Since then, I've either lived in dorms or apartments, and while we've experienced community throughout the years, this is our first true neighborhood that we can call our own.  Yay for neighbors!

I wasn't exactly sure how to get to know my neighbors.  I've officially met a few of them as we got our mail at the same time or arrived in our drive ways coming and going.  But, there were still many houses on our block that I had yet to see whom lived inside.  I wanted them to know that the new residents of this little house were happy and loud, and obliged to offer an extra egg or cup of sugar should the need arise.

So, we made cookies!  I figured, at worst, I'd rather be known as "that lady with the loud kids who once brought us cookies" than anything else they could come up with from witnessing me from afar.  What could we lose?  It might be awkward and uncomfortable, but at least they would know we tried to make an effort and introduce ourselves.

Most people weren't home.  We walked around on a beautiful Saturday, knocking, and eventually leaving a ziploc'd plate of cookies tagged with our "Happy to be in the neighborhood" slogan written on top.  We did meet a few new people, who informed us of their joy of living in the neighborhood.  We were also thrilled to find out that a total of three police officers live within a block of our house, which made us feel all the more safe living in our cozy nook.

And, then, we walked up to our elderly neighbors with whom we very nearly share a yard.  While our yard is fully fenced, on one side of it it slopes up to another yard which we both have clear views of from our homes.  I had met the wife who lived their, and she was quite happy to meet us and our little girls, glad to see someone using the yard with such jubilant delight.

There were a few people standing outside the home as we approached with our cookie-giving entourage, and we noticed an unusual amount of cars in the driveway.  My first thought was, "Oh, how nice to have people over on such a lovely day!  I hope they like the cookies!" which quickly turned to sadness as I got closer.  The elderly husband had passed away that same morning, just hours before.  

We politely handed over our feeble plate of cookies and sent our prayers and sympathies to the family as we left.  My goodness, it was such a shock, we were so very sorry for disturbing the moment.  Nevertheless, I was grateful to know of the news and glad we could offer our condolences. 

You just never know who you will touch, what timing might be set up before you, or exactly why you might be prompted to take action.  I had meant to deliver those cookies weeks before, but if I had, maybe I would have never known about our neighbor mourning.  And, what if I never bothered to introduce our family at all?  Who knows how those little cookies might be used...but, at least that morning they made a difference to one family, no matter how little a piece of distraction or joy it may have brought.

Later that day, while I was out running errands, the sweet neighbor lady came out to the yard and spoke with Josh, thanking us for the neighborly token.  I sure hope this is only the beginning of how we integrate ourselves into this little neighborhood.  It might be a long time before we get to know everyone, but it only took a morning for us to let everyone know a little bit about us.  

Sure, years ago it used to be common for neighborhoods to be the one to bring cookies to the "new kids on the block", but we just don't live in that era anymore.  I'm thrilled to flip the tables and take the opportunity to reach out and see what happens.  Yep, it was awkward.  Yep, it took time and energy.  But, I'm thankful God prompted my heart to take that step outside my comfort zone and privileged to have witnessed the difference it made already.

It was a good reminder to me that sometimes you don't need to wait for an invitation...you just need to step out. The truth is, you just never know who might need a cookie. 

Empower Tools

This last weekend was P-R-O-D-U-C-T-I-V-E.  Whoa.  My folks were in town and we all went full-throttle on some home repairs/upgrades that required the expertise of my dad's handyman skills.  My husband, Josh, and my dad truly went above and beyond.  They put up bead board, assembled a dresser, built an entire playground in our backyard, fixed a mower, and the list goes on.  If there had been a camera crew here, it would have been "Home Makeover:  Pardy Edition" no doubt.

When Josh had to go back to work, I took over a couple chores with my dad to finish up some of the smaller tasks.  We hung doors to our laundry area, installed a dimmer light, and hung curtains.  But, when my dad stepped outside to look at the mower, I decided to tackle some simple shelving for myself!

In the spirit of March being Women's History Month, here is my feeble attempt at addressing feminine empowerment.  We live in a privileged age:  amazing women before me have gone to great lengths to provide paths for voting, education, and work equality that I take for granted daily.  I don't necessarily consider myself a feminist, but I certainly consider myself privileged to be a woman.  (Roar.)

As a married gal (going on 8 years, woot woot!) I conveniently defer difficult, "icky", or muscle-requiring tasks to my husband.  While our marriage is rather egalitarian, it's practical and easy for us to slip into traditional gender roles when it comes to chores.  He takes out the trash, I do the cooking, that sort of thing.  No bigs, whatevs, it works for us. *shrug*

But, this weekend I was reminded at just how long it had been since I had picked up a drill and hung my own darn shelves.  A LONG TIME.

I love that I have a husband who will hang shelves for me.  I love that I can count on him to care for me through acts of service that help make our house a home.  But, I also love the fact that way back when, my daddy taught me how to use a drill, hammer a nail, and learn the difference between bits and pliers and nuts and bolts.  So...this weekend I hung some silly shelves all by myself and high-fived my feminine self. (Yes, drilled, anchored, screws and all - and perfectly level and centered.  This might not impress you, but I am proud, so let me have my moment!)

The thought occurred to me that as I am raising two girls, they should see their mother hang some shelves now and then.  It's awesome and important for them to know that they can depend on their daddy and to see his skills at work; but, if I always defer to him in my need, how would they ever even learn the fact that I could, indeed, hang the shelves if I wanted to?

I want my girls to grow up with several skills in their toolbox for life.  I want them to witness and learn many things that they decide to develop for themselves.  I want them to understand that skills like empathy, compassion, and forgiveness are vital to relationships.  I want them to feel worthy, valued, and understood when it comes to being well-rounded humans.  And, I want them to know that they can learn any skill they like, and the fact that they want to learn is far more important than how good at the skill they actually are.

Ladies - maybe you are the "handywoman" of your home and your children get to witness those kinds of skills daily.  Or, maybe you are like me and there are some foreign areas of your life and skill-set you haven't visited in a while because you got stuck in a rut!  Regardless, I hope that this little reminder serves as an example of how important it can be to step outside our comfort zone and show our girls that we weren't always people who waited for someone else to take out the trash.  And, let it be a reminder to us that it's okay to let our hubbies off the hook now and then and step up to the plate.

We've come a long way, gals.  Let's continue to make steps (even tiny, baby steps within our home!) that help raise up another generation of strong girls who will care well for themselves and others.  One of the greatest things we can give our girls in their tool box for life begins with empowerment at home.

Welcome to the Play Room

It's definitely taking quite a bit of time to figure out where everything goes in our new house.  As first-time homeowners, I feel a great sense of pride and obligation to give everything a very specific "spot" in our home so that we are surrounded by the feeling of "belonging" as well as trying my best to maintain a sense of sanity amongst the chaos.

With three bedrooms and two children, we had the choice of how to use the "extra" bedroom.  Would we split the girls up?  Would we use it as an office?  Or storage until another potential baby (or not) would possibly designate the space?  I'll tell you, it didn't take us long to decide to utilize this space for one thing we desperately longed for:  A PLAY ROOM.

Since the girls got bunk beds for Christmas, we gave them the smaller room to be their sleeping space.  This third bedroom, then, would be exclusive PLAY area for them to store their books, toys, and crafts.  I didn't want to fill the space too much so that it could never be used as anything else in the future, but I knew they had plenty to fill out the room that was there (spoiled much?)

This was the first room that we really put together, so that the girls would ideally have their own space to occupy themselves while we focus our attention to other areas of the house.  I'm excited to share pics of their new play room - a colorful combination of new and old toys, nods to both vintage and classic childhood belongings, and a nostalgic place that can be comfortably ruined by mischief and fun!

Make no mistake, I am NOT a designer or even suggester of how in the world to decorate.  I get my ideas from magazines, pinterest, and problem solving just like most moms out there.  I try to "shop my house" as much as I can before buying new things, and I'm all about utilizing spaces for multiple purposes.

These shelves were CD racks in our last apt.  But, with cute matching books/characters and some fabric drawers, they add some sweet decor that is both useful and adorable.  Horton Hears a Who is my copy from childhood, and my grandpa made the wooden cut-out bunny and chipmunk on the right middle shelf.  

Love art!  I found these "Creative Thursday" prints about 6 years ago in Urban Outfitters and bought them on a whim to put up in a nursery long before I was ever pregnant with my first.  They hung in the girls' rooms until now, and they are the perfect compliment to this new ABC primary color picture I found on sale at Target!

Another "Creative Thursday" (there's another on the opposite side of the window as well) and these "new vintage" toys give a friendly nod to both generations in our home.  I already had everything, but just decided to display these choices.  I updated the lamp with a new shade that matches both the chevron curtain and the green chair, helping pull the room together a bit more.

And just in case you had any illusion that our play room was feeling more like a museum than an actual living space - this is what it looks like about 10 minutes into the day.  

WHEW!  Reality, people!  

Give EVERYTHING a space - including your children.  

Fun times get messy and crazy, but I feel much more sane knowing that there is a spot to put it all.  

Let's PLAY!

We Bought A House!

Sooooo.... WE BOUGHT A HOUSE!

The new Pardy Palace!

I can hardly believe it is real.  This is a long time coming and an enormous dream come true!  God's provision and generosity in our lives continues to blow me away.  I can hardly believe that mere months ago we were moving into an apartment sight-unseen, jobless, and had many question marks in our future.  

Now, we are holding keys to our new HOME, ready to sink deep roots into Nashville and establish our family in a real neighborhood.  Not to mention, we can let our girls run wild and scream with reckless abandon without apologizing to our neighbors later!

Closing Day!

We closed on the house LAST WEEK and have already started painting walls.  We are incredibly blessed that the home is rather move-in ready, so we are having a blast looking at swatches and new door knobs and curtains...little things to make it ours. 

Here is a little slideshow of the house...BEFORE photos, anyway!  I will be sure and post updated photos after we move in (2 weeks to go) and get all our changes made.  

The New Pardy HOME! 

Come visit us!

It's a small, 3 bedroom, 1.5 bath ranch style home with a BIG, fenced backyard!  I can't wait to kick the kids out into the yard once it's above freezing!  As you can see, these are photos from when the home was "staged to sell", but at least it gives you a glimpse inside.

I can't wait to share more about this HOUSE journey with you!  

Piles

As I walk around my apartment (well, trip more than walk, would be a better description maybe) I notice how my daily life appears to be summed up in big piles everywhere.  Laundry piles, dish piles, toy piles, pillow piles, paperwork piles, and so on.  PILES.

These piles are everywhere, seemingly spring up out of nowhere, and I swear they are multiplying by the minute.  HOW does this happen?!

Between school work, toddler chasing, dinner making, and doing my utmost to sustain my sanity with the occasional coffee "break" (is it really a break if you reheat the same cup eighteen times?) I feel like I'm dodging mountains and creating mole hills everywhere I turn.

Ya feel me on this?  Are we all caving ourselves in with these clutter volcanoes or is it just me???

There are often days where I feel like motherhood is two steps forward and twenty steps back.  I'll capture a moment of my daughters hugging and I'll say a prayer of thanks for getting a glimpse of heaven here on earth.

The next minute, I'm pulling my hair out as they topple over stacks of just-neatly-folded laundry onto a crumb-ridden floor.  And then they hit each other.  And then they're crying.  And then they hit their heads as they run toward me.

And so, I shove everything out of the way into one giant pile and attend to their screaming.  Siiiiiiigh.

But, maybe, through the tears and the confusion, it's ME who is making mountains out of the crumby-laundry-mole hill...and not my crazy kids.  Maybe it's worth all the mess to stop and see that hug, to be the one they run to when they cry, and to side-step those mines of chaos that truly clutter up our minds more than our homes.

Sure, there's times when I need to ask for help and clean up those piles.  Organization and cleanliness can feel great and help us all sustain necessary order.  BUT...in the meantime...as the dishes and toys pile up, I need to take a deep breath and let myself off the hook.  I need to just hug my kids and keep focused on the path between the piles.  That's the journey that really matters.

After all, that pile isn't going anywhere.  

Lightness

Last week I wrote about how my family was feeling under spiritual attack.  We walked through our home and took turns praying over the various spaces of our home.  Spiritually, it felt like we were sweeping out the cobwebs of despair.  It seemed discouragement was lurking in corners we hadn't yet uncovered, and only the name of Jesus could clean out the crevices unseen to us.

Yes, there is something mightily creepy about all this.  I'm not denying the "creep factor" here at all.  It should be creepy.  Satan is real, and as bad as it gets.  The fact that he exists at all should render a constant creepster-hair standing on the back of all our necks.  Yikes, right?

I might just avoid the subject all together if it didn't effect me...but it does, and it will, and there is an answer.  And, so avoidance is not only impossible, it's futile.  So, we fought back.  We prayed.  We continue to pray.  I can have nights riddled with nightmares that have no founding except the evil that would love to keep me up worried at night, doubting the power of my God.  Then, my husband speaks the name of Jesus over me, or I pray aloud and ask for peace.  And peace comes, peace is available, peace is always there right in the midst of the cloudy chaos that surrounds me.

Life is a series of steps through light and dark.

Here's the truth, right after we gathered and paraded around our apartment praying like southern preachers preparing for a revival...a burden was lifted, and a lightness entered our home.  Personally, I was so amped up that I kinda felt like a kid who just walked off the bus from church camp.  God was real, and present, and the power of the Holy Spirit was part of the Pardy home.

Guys, I'm not really into "hyper-religion" or "super-spiritual" or "pentecostal apocalypse" happening around me all the time.  I don't speak in tongues or heal people.  I tell the truth.  I'm normal (even a little boring) and honest.  That's it.

So, believe me like you'd listen to your best friend telling you about the latest sale at Nordstrom when I say this:  Prayer has power.

I've loved Jesus for a long time.  I've been talking to Him for years now, and I still don't exactly totally absolutely without-a-doubt completely understand how prayer works.  I know God hears me.  I know He can relate and speak back to me.  I know He cares.  I know He interacts and intercepts and interrupts me when I need it, regardless of what I think I need.  I know prayer can change feelings and futures.

That's enough for me to know to get on my knees and keep being honest with God about all my thoughts and questions and desires and fears.  That's more than enough.

And, this new lightness in the Pardy home...well, it's hard to describe.  "On paper" nothing has changed since last week, really.  Daphne is feeling better (thank you, Lord) but, a job is still on its way and not in our grasp, we still have the same struggles as last week.  So, it goes without saying that technically we should be feeling just as discouraged as ever.  But, we're not.

There's a new lightness among us.  There's a divine presence of protection that we're constantly interacting with.  It's okay if this post weirds you out a bit.  It's also okay if you go home and pray aloud over your furniture and invite Christ to be part of your literal, tangible, everyday life.

Tomorrow, I'll move beyond furniture and share with you how the prayers of people are making a difference.  This lightness is extending far beyond the Pardy home...and I hope it finds you today.

Klutz

I've been known to be sort of accident prone.  It's ironic that my middle name is Grace, because rarely do I live up to the expectation it may precede for me.  Usually this adds up to funny, self-depricating, occasionally embarrassing moments that I can chuckle about and turn into a good story later.  And, while I'm about to tell one of these stories, I'm not quite laughing about it yet.

Ten days after we made our gigantic move across country from Southern California to Nashville, Tennessee, I fell down the stairs.  But, I mean, I really fell down some stairs.  Obviously, I've lived to tell about it, so I'm fine. (Thanks, Jesus!) And usually I wouldn't want to linger on something so depressive...but, this really made an impact on my life (pun intended) so I'd be remiss not to share the experience with you.

It was stupid, really.  I wish I had a glamorous tale to tell of how it all happened, but I don't.  It was about 10pm and I was already in my jammies heading to bed.  Mind you, I'd been reprimanding my daughters ALL WEEK about stair safety and they even had a small topple of their own that led to some stern talkings-to about how we behave going up and down the steps.  (It's okay, you can laugh at that!)

I had heard our cat Zuzu (the painfully shy one) running around upstairs, so I went up to snag her.  No reason.  Just simple, stupid, normal-life stuff.  I went upstairs and picked her up, and turned to go back downstairs.  On the second step, I felt my left foot slip and in one of those awful-slow-motion-moments, I knew I was falling.  It was a perfect slip-on-a-banana-peel sort of klutzy move that perfectly landed me on my back about five steps down from the top, and then I slid a few more steps on my back.  If I was auditioning for a Buster Keaton film, I definitely would have nailed the part.

I gasped to draw breath for a laugh, when instead my face turned to utter anguish as I felt the most debilitating pain I've felt in my whole life.  I'm not kidding.  (And I've gone through natural labor pains for hours and hours.  I've felt pain!)  Josh was at the bottom of the stairs, his facial expression a mixture of disbelief and fear.

"Call 9-1-1.  Something is wrong."  I've never uttered those words in my life, so he knew I meant it.  I couldn't move the right side of my body.  He couldn't move me to the couch.  I was stuck on the stairs, crumpled over on my side, and my lower back and right hip felt like they were on fire.  What in the world did I do???

By the time the paramedics arrived, I was in shock.  I had vomited and nearly blacked out, and they couldn't find a pulse or my blood pressure.  But, I could move my toes and state my name...Thank you God, I thought.

Moving me was excruciating.  I've never heard myself sound the way I did.  I kept involuntarily screaming in pain, tears bursting out of my face.  I was screaming at the top of my lungs and my daughters' bedroom was 15 feet away where they were sound asleep.  And I'm the person who, on a normal night, will mute theme songs and commercials on the TV a whole story away just to ensure they don't wake up from the sound of the television!  It is a miracle in and of itself that the girls slept through the entire ordeal.  Again, thanks be to God.

I'd never ridden in an ambulance before.  I barely remember it because my eyes were shut almost the entire time as I focused all my physical resources towards tolerating the pain.  My brother had rushed over as soon as Josh called him (after calling 911) and so, he stayed there until my sister-in-law and their kids came over to stay at our place to be with the girls in case they woke up.

Josh and my brother followed the ambulance to the medical center just a couple miles away (though, it seemed like one of the longest rides of my life).  Everything was bright and weird and blurry and unsettling.  I just wanted answers.  Answers and massive amounts of pain killers, please.

Two CAT Scans, an IV, a catheter, and about six hours later, I was released with a very boring diagnosis.  A bruise.  Okay, not exactly just a bruise...a to-the-bone-deep severe contusion on the right side of my lower back/hip.  The muscle had basically been ruptured by the blow of the fall, and so I was sent home with four prescriptions of pain killers and muscle relaxants.

I had no idea what was in store for me when it came to recovery.  All I knew was, I'm going to be okay.  And for the moment, that was enough relief for all of us.  The healing process would be a whole other ballgame.

(Stay tuned tomorrow to hear what I learned through my recovery and how I'm doing now.)

Home Sweet Home

Well, as you can imagine, I was just itching to get inside our new home.  Since we'd travelled over 2,000 miles and waited weeks and weeks to see inside our new home, I was at my wits end to get inside this apartment I'd rented for our family sight unseen.

I think I exhaled the deepest sigh of my life upon entering our new abode.  Parquet flooring (real wood! no laminate!) welcomed my eager feet on our first level.  The space was clean and open and smelled of fresh paint (ah, sweet relief!)

The dining area was ample, with a new light fixture hanging in the middle of the room.  And the kitchen was small but adequate.  I quickly noticed it's charm in some of the mismatched cupboard doors and a piece of the counter that was completely different than the rest.  I love those sorts of things - signs that life has happened here, and it welcomed us with all our creativity and flaws.  Character, if not love, makes a home.

Dining area, just to the left when you walk in

The upstairs bathroom. Yay!

Jesus mug, making his home in the new kitchen :)

And this place has plenty of character!  Some quirky tile in the bathrooms (yes! plural! a whole half-bath upgrade from our last place) and non-turning door knobs on the closets in the bedrooms (as in, they are just knobs) soon began to tell me that this was exactly the perfect place for us.  Not perfect, but charming...quite a bit like us.

The bedrooms are both good size, and for once, our massive king-size bed actually has room on both sides for walking around it.  The carpet upstairs was new too, just awaiting the many juice and crayon stains I'm certain my girls will mark their territory with all too soon.

Breaking in our space, one messy meal at a time.

And, above anything else, was the one space that captured my heart:  the laundry room.  Innovatively tucked beneath the stairwell, was a little closet that would hold my soon-to-be new best friends (Mr. Washer, and Mrs. Dryer).  We didn't have a washer and dryer in our last home, and so it genuinely is a game-changer to our lives as we get to wash and dry our clothes in our very own space.  Not only that, but there is a dishwasher in the kitchen!  Yahoo!  No more scrubbing out sippy cups!  So help me, I am determined to never take these appliances for granted.

Dance PARDY in the living room!

All in all, our new home is AWESOME.  We just adore it, and are eagerly and slooowly making it our own.  As we hang pictures and fit all our belongings into their new spaces, we're grounding ourselves into new habits and routines that will soon become "normal".  But, for right now, it's fun exploring all the new crevices of our castle.  We proudly hang our "P" on our door, marking our territory (pun intended) for all to see where we reside.

The closets are filled with clothes.  The cabinets hold our dishes.  And as these early days fly by, we're doing our best to fill the rooms with prayers and laughter.  These walls await many memories we're about to make.  Thank you, Lord, for providing our new home.

Come visit!

Sight Unseen

One takes many risks when deciding to pick up and move across the country.  Sure, there's the cost, the inconvenience, and even the courage you have to muster in order to conquer the distance.  But, in our case, there was an additional mystery added to our venture.  We had never seen the apartment we were about to move our lives into.

Now, I've moved into a new space "sight unseen" before; but, that was way back before a husband or children were in the picture.  I figured I could just about get by living anywhere, and indeed I did.  But, this was a whole new ballgame.

When the final decision was made that, yes, indeed, we were officially moving to Nashville.  I started scouring the internet in search of our next home.  I had limited criteria, "safety" and "location" being at the foremost of my priorities.  Certainly, "cost" was a MAJOR factor as we anticipated the probability of moving without a job in place.  But, the nice thing was that when you live in California, just about anywhere is going to be cheaper than your used to, so that was a huge bonus in our favor.

I clumsily bounced around various websites, filtering out the scary ones and weeding through the unattainables.  Still, I wasn't really finding anything that seemed to fit our needs.  Then, a friend of mine in Nashville emailed me a very casual "maybe check out this place" as a friend of a friend of ours lived there years ago.  The thing was - there was no website, no photos, no nothing to go on what this apartment complex actually looked like from 2,000 miles away.

It was a Friday when I called their leasing office.  Against all odds (and the manager actually told me, they never have openings for their 2 bedrooms) there was an opening in mid-June.  On Sunday, I emailed our application.  On Monday morning we got a call that we got the apartment.  Done deal.  Whoa.  What had I just gotten us into???? 

This is when it started to really sink in that we were going to move.  We had a new home waiting for us.  We just didn't know what it looked like.

Fortunately, I was able to have my sister-in-law and my friend drive-by the complex and scope it out a bit.  It appeared well taken care of, and nothing scary on the outside.  I got a few photos sent to me of the premises and even our new front door.  But still, the inside was a mystery!

So...you can only imagine my anxiety, my hope, and my relief when we pulled up and I saw a clean, stable, brick building before me.  The grass was mowed, the cars in the lot were normal (nothing up on cinder blocks, thank goodness) and a few nice big trees dotted the lawn in front of our new home.  The time had come....ENTER!

Tune in tomorrow for a look INSIDE!  :)