Since I met Andy I have moved eleven times. Yeeesh, writing that number makes me a little sick to my stomach...the things you do for love. Anyway, thankfully five of those times have been with professional movers. I would give our most recent crew a C+ due to damage and some packing practices that left me scratching my head raw. All in all, however, the move itself went smoother than many, and we had a wonderful time visiting with family on the way to our new home in the middle of nowhere (by the way, "nowhere" is actually a refreshing place to live, a fact which you don't appreciate until you reach the wise old age of 32).
Whit and Great Grandma Charlene enjoying some
long-overdue quality time together
Whit's favorite part of moving has clearly been the paper. He spent the morning one day reading to Bear while I piled it higher and higher on top of him, to which he responded with yelps of glee.
Whit and Bear trying out the new swing
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