Greetings from ATX

A lot can happen in the few months (cough, over a year) that one steps away from blogging. Like accepting a job with a team of people always held in high esteem, selling a house, moving, living in an apartment for a year and then finally buying another house. We're going to skip over the whole apartment bit because it was just that awful. I look around, and frankly, wait for the cameras to come out and tell me the show's over. Rob and I have always dreamed of living on the greenbelt and spend our Saturdays listening to the shrieks of happy kids as they charge through the underbrush with foam swords. Of course, there's cactus. And snakes. And coyotes. They're learning, and Santa will be dropping off some walkie talkies to give momma a little more peace of mind. I'll be the first to know when Wile E. is on the move. So much happened in the eight years we spent in San Antonio, and yet in many ways, so much in Austin is exactly as we left it in 2004. It's been surreal, and beyond my capacity to communicate. So much easier to explore and pick apart the mundanity of everyday life. Which, if I can grab a quiet moment here and there, I'll try to do. We're firmly ensconced in elementary, staring middle school in the face, and all too aware that Ashton has less time before college than she has behind her with us. It's a sobering thought, and one that takes my breath away if I dwell. Her chubby little arms and round face are gone, replaced by slender, pensive gorgeousness that I can hardly believe. We can see the "teen" in her face now, and hear it in her voice. There is door slamming, and the requisite litany of angst (who cares, you don't understand, I hate it here) and in the next breath "will you snuggle and tuck me in". She is a master of argument and can turn any discussion on a dime, choosing at every turn to pounce on the minutiae. My mother, predictably, takes no small amount of glee in watching this. Sage is still "little" and of course secure in her role as the baby. Except don't say baby, or cute, or sweet, or cuddly. Or buy anything pink, refer to princesses or ask if she'll wear a dress. She has taken to heart her size (small) and age in class (close to youngest) and decided to prove the world wrong in every way. Marissa Mayer should start looking over her shoulder. So. House new. Children older. Time shorter.