So, we're here. We wake up here, we receive mail here, we go grocery shopping for foods that we will eat today and next week and possibly next month. We're not visitors here. Taking up residency in the Tennesizzle when the boiling pot of July is starting to bubble over has been difficult. I don't know if it's a combination of adjusting to this new elevation and this new steambath that is making me woozy and limp, but I am suddenly this Victorian damsel who might be prone to fainting if she has to (sigh) lift another box of paperclips.

By the way, it really is a cruel irony that the South is both sultry hot and super conservative. The more I see women at the grocery store wearing longish skirts, their faces made up for a debutante ball, the more I seem to leave the house with no make-up or pants.

Cranky moments aside, I've been in pretty good spirits since we left our home empty in Boston. I'm just ready to feel established and know where all the playgrounds are with good shade coverage, to have my coupon envelope all loaded for grocery shopping, to have a plan for the week and not just a tentative hint of what might happen during the afternoon. I am ready for the next program to begin. The packing and the driving and the living out of suitcases and the unpacking and the craigslisting like woah--I am ready for our new normal.

But we're only on day 3 here. And things are going pretty beautifully.

I mean, today, for example, two gentlemanly deliverers from Lowe's brought us a new washer. Then! Two minutes later? Two SEPARATE gentlemanly deliverers delivered a dryer. That's some crazypants tandem delivery. When the one fellow left saying, "Well, John, it was nice to meet you," you really thought maybe he meant it....?

Super cliched observation of Southern living: Life moves incredibly slow, and yet rather than be annoyed by it, I'm really refreshed by it. People take the time to not just notice Oh, she's carrying a baby and pushing a shopping cart and then acknowledge Oh, ma'am, you need some help with that?. Refreshing after the bitter, busier-than-thou attitude that often prevailed in our former home.

Our little rental home here on a hill is probably my favorite thing so far, though. The front lawn cascades from a lovely brook that functions as a storm drain. Our driveway is long and is aligned with flowering trees. There are two dogs next door, Sally and Sophie, and they are worth getting out of bed to greet. The rooms of our new place just feel ahhh. A nice change.

I'm hopeful about our future here, and I'm trying my best to not let my antsypants dictate my outlook. We all know it's too hot for pants here right now, anyway.

*** You need some high-octane vehicles for grassmowing in the Tennesizzle.

Diesel, Dual Steering.

Little Man, are you? Yes you are. Double spooning it.

Land, ho.

Many thanks to our pal Wee Wainer who graced our new hearth with a reminder that we are....