We now live in Utah.
I am truly a Gypsy mom/wife/woman. I started this blog when we lived on Saba in the Caribbean. This blog then chronicled our very transient life to Utah, then to Kansas, then to New York, and now back to Utah. In eight months, I’ll be blogging from somewhere else.
I am a master at packing, moving, and de-junking. Not because I want to be a master at those things, I’ve just had a lot of experience picking up my life (which includes two little people, a dog, and a spouse) and transplanting it from spot to spot.
After what seemed like an ETERNITY driving through Nebraska (we drove past Cabela’s worldwide headquarters for all you outdoor fans. They have a GINORMOUS water tower out front, so you can’t miss it.) and Wyoming (which, by the way, has got to be the most barren and freezing cold state in the USA) we arrived in Utah after 18 hours of driving. We drove through Kansas, Missouri, Iowa, Nebraska, and Wyoming before we hit Salt Lake Valley.
It was a lot of driving through a lot of states.
Fortunately, the trip was very pleasant thanks to our new dual DVD players.
BRILLIANT. (Dallin even watched Barbie movies. He’s such a good little brother.)
I’m not sure how we EVER traveled without them . . . Oh yeah, both kids cried because they were tired and bored.
We miss our friends in Kansas so much. Many friends brought us dinner or had us over for dinner during the last week we were there.
Hannah misses her “too many friends” already. Who is she going to play sidewalk chalk with now?
Who’s going to blow bubbles with her?
ME? GRANDMA? DALLIN?
I don’t know, but she needs someone to fill the friend void for her.
Here are some pictures of Hannah’s “too many friends” (Who all happen to live on my street in Kansas.)
Hannah doesn’t care if you are a boy or a girl, or like 15 years older than she is. If you can play hide n’ seek, tag, sidewalk chalk, blow bubbles, or ride a bike, you will be counted among her “too many friends.”
Basically, if you have a pulse, you’re in the club.
Looking for new club members . . .