My Favorite Room

So. I have this post I've been working on, complete with a million pictures of the house, the baby and our Alabama adventures. It's taking me a while to get it all done, so in the meantime I thought I'd share a picture of my favorite room in our new little house.
Are you ready?
Here it is:

Yes, it is true. My favorite "room" is not a room at all, but the closet in our office. I love it. So. Much. In every place we've lived previous to this little house, my sewing stuff has been migratory, moving where ever it would fit and then moving again to be "out of the way" when we needed the space it occupied for something else. I have longed for a permanent place to keep my sewing machine and all my many sewing books, tools and other things. When we started to organize our things, it became apparent that this little closet wasn't needed for actual storage and so I commandeered it and it became my sewing room. I have all my books, my patterns, my tools and projects IN ONE PLACE. The only things that don't fit in this tiny little closet are my giant bins of fabric, but they are just outside the door in the hall closet. It is AWESOME.

On one wall, I can hang my rulers. Observe:

On the other, I have an organizer for my bobbins, little tools of various kinds and scissors ( I have a lot of scissors):

The little lamp down at the bottom of that picture is sitting on a little table upon which also sits various things I am using for my current project. A little table. With a lamp. That doesn't have to move every time I need to use the dining room table. AWESOME, I tell you.

Sometimes, I come into the office just to look at the little closet and all my things neatly stowed away in their permanent home. Because it is so awesome.

And that is all for this Tuesday.

I Stand Corrected

So. As anyone who knows me knows I don't often admit that I am wrong (this is largely due to how rarely I actually am wrong, but that is beside the point). However, I have recently come to the conclusion that I was wrong about one very important issue and I am now admitting this fact. Publicly. Well, as publicly as my little blog which is read by approximately 10 people, can be considered "public". Anyway. I was wrong and I can admit it.

You see, almost 2 years ago Isaac got this brilliant idea that he was going to be a Warrant Officer Aviator. Brilliant, except for the little detail that becoming a Warrant Officer Aviator would require him and us to live in Alabama for an extended period of time. This little detail made me feel more than a little bit queasy. I have lived in many places in my life and have managed to never, ever spend a significant amount of time in the "Deep South". Since discovering that I would likely have to spend almost 2 years living in the "Deep South", I have loudly, frequently and with great passion decried the weather, the culture, the people, the politics, the craziness etc... and, well, I was wrong. About almost everything.

Yes, it is incredibly hot and humid here. But, it is also beautiful, with amazing, huge trees and plants and flowers and lakes and the ocean just an hour away. It's lovely. Aside from one unfortunate encounter with a snake and a squirrel (shudder) I've spent a great deal of time in absolute awe at how pretty everything is here.

Yes, there are some very interesting people here. But, I have never met people who are, as a whole, more kind, considerate and loving. I am not, as a general rule, a "people person" and yet I cannot help but chat and visit with people wherever we go. This is, of course, partly due to Levi being adorable and the world's biggest flirt, but people are also just genuinely friendly. I'm learning to adapt. I have been asked with absolute sincerity, more times than I can count(by complete strangers no less), if Levi is okay and, often, if there is anything they can do to help. Some days, this happens more than once. Almost always our short conversations about Levi and his helmet end with promises to pray for us. Sincere promises.

Yes, the ward is tiny. But, they have welcomed us like no where else I have ever been.We, quite literally, had a dinner invitation for every night of our first week here. When people at church found out we were still waiting for our furniture to arrive, several families offered to loan us furniture they were using (like the couch from their living room-"Take it! We're never home! It just sits there!") just so we'd have the things we needed. I took Levi to his first 'play group' just 3 days after arriving here because the women at Church wouldn't take "no" for an answer when they invited us to join them ("You have no furniture! You must be so bored! Levi needs friends! You must come. I'll be over at 10:30 and we can go together!" And she was. And we did). It was a little overwhelming, but also kind of amazing that complete strangers would take such an interest in our well being.


For nearly all of the past 2 years I have felt quite certain that living here would mean gritting my teeth and "enduring to the end". But, I was wrong.  I've lived a lot of places, and very few have felt like  "home". Our tiny house, on a tiny Army post, without family or friends nearby, in Alabama of all places, feels like home. I was wrong and I am glad I was.