Ever since we started telling people that we're moving to Texas (and before when we were telling people that we wanted to move to Texas), we've gotten all sorts of comments.
Comments like, "Why on EARTH would you want to live there?"
or
"Why would you want to leave the most beautiful place on Earth for THAT?"
or
"I heard that the crime rates in Texas are horrendous."
or
"The property taxes there are astronomical."
or
"Only uneducated people live in Texas."
or
"I heard that everyone in Texas is rich and stuck up."
or my favorite
"Why did you get married so young? You have your whole life ahead of you!"
(Well, except for that last comment... That's just the most frequently asked question of the year... I tell them I did it solely for the tax break. Works like a charm.)
The Mr. is a lot more patient with these people. He explains how I'm from Texas, how he loves Texas, and how he recently got a job there. Then he tells them his life story in between...because he's wordy like that.
I just look at them with a smile and say "Bless your heart".
Just kidding...I don't say that.
It's really not nice.
Seriously, though. After about the tenth time, I started to get annoyed by people's comments. I really didn't want to hear them. I just wanted them to utter a vague "Oh, that's nice" and walk away.
But people, unfortunately, never do what I want them to do.
They just keep talking and talking and talking about everything they assume they know about Texas.
And the heat. The horrendous, "you're going to hate it", "worse than living in Hell" heat.
(Too bad they don't know that's exactly how I describe winter in Colorado.)
So, in an effort to save my sanity (and Josh's), I've decided to come up with a response to all of those well-meaning Coloradoans that won't offend them or make them argue their point to the ground. Next time someone asks me why I could possibly want to move back to Texas, I'll just tell them this:
Because George Strait lives there.
After all, no one could possibly argue with George.
Friday, April 19, 2013
Thursday, April 11, 2013
4 Reasons Moving is More Stressful than Taxes
Tax day is in T-4 days.
Around here that means I'm trying to figure out how I'm going to send two estimated quarterly tax payments with only one check left.
First world problems... I know.
Typically, tax season is exciting for me. I get a rush every time I push the "Next" button in Turbo Tax and get really giddy when it tells me that I've won a brand new car.
Just kidding.
I gave it back after they told me how much the taxes would be.
For real, though. Tax season can make you want to pull your hair out. This year I figured out what it really means to be self-employed. Like that you have to pay income tax in addition to self-employment tax on your income.
That one should've been obvious.
Then again, common sense isn't that common in my life.
Thank God for Turbo Tax.
Tax season is stressful, but I'm pretty sure moving cross-country takes the cake.
(Is Colorado to Texas even considered to be a cross-country move?)
(As far as I can tell, they are completely different planets...so I'm gonna go with yes.)
For argument's sake, I've developed a list of the biggest reasons moving is more stressful than the taxes you may or may not be waiting until the last minute to pay.
Yep - I called you on it.
1. Breaking a lease. My husband seemed to have the idea that this would be the easy part. Don't worry - I totally knew better. I had already planned on giving them my firstborn.
Let me just say that it is not easy. Or cheap.
Not. At. All.
Apparently we decided to move at the time no one (and I mean no one) is looking for an apartment. Snow seems to be quite the deterrent. Who'd a-thought?
We finally just went over and paid them WAY more money than I'd like just to be done with it. Because I'm tired of crying about it. And fighting about it. And checking the website everyday to see if it's still available. And trying to convince everyone I meet into leasing it.
I have to admit, though, that I am a little sad no one wanted to lease it before our time was up.
(Well, unless you count the felons that didn't get approved. Or as the Mr. likes to call them, the convicts.)
I took it personally for awhile. I mean - come on - we are awesome renters! How could you not walk in and want to move in immediately? Princess didn't even pee under the bed this time!
Although Dunkin did throw up on the carpet quite a bit. And broke the blinds. But we replaced those.
I swear, he's like having a child that I can't even claim as a dependent.
We're done with it though and with that comes the end of the apartment stress.
And rent. I really like not paying rent.
2. Packing, packing...and more packing. I love moving. I really do. I love the experience of discovering something new, getting out of the routine, and just seeing where life takes you.
I like new things, but I'd prefer for someone else to get me to the new things.
Like, if we could hire movers to pack and move our stuff, I would be happier than Dunkin looking out the window through the broken blinds.
And that's pretty happy.
The Mr. and I are go-getters. If we make a decision, we figure out how to get it done as quickly as possible. We don't like waiting.
Delayed gratification is so not our thing.
So when we found out on March 14th that if we moved out early (by the 20th) we'd have a better chance of not having to pay as much, we jumped.
Actually, more like dove off of the cliff into the waters of the crazy and insane.
I started packing that day. And the next day. And the next.
We were out by the 17th. Which is crazy, even for us.
Josh had to work, so it was just me, Dunkin and Princess (those two were not any help, in case you were wondering). To top it off, Josh got sick.
I think he packed a total of 3 boxes.
But I'm not bitter. Not at all.
In a matter three days, our belongings were all packed and ready to be moved into the Mr.'s parent's garage. And between moving and cleaning up Dunkin's puke every 5 minutes, I was about to have a nervous breakdown.
Thankfully, Josh came home early that day with Chick-Fil-A.
Chick-Fil-A always makes me happy. It's totally the reason I married him.
3. Being homeless. I've decided that whenever we buy a house, our apartment move out date and house move in date will coincide perfectly. Because I really just can't deal with being homeless for very long.
Not that we're homeless, per say. We just don't have our home with our stuff.
Well, we do have our stuff but since it's out in the garage sealed with tape a nuclear explosion couldn't even break, I'd have to say that's a moot point.
We are so blessed to be able to have somewhere to live while we are in limbo, but it's still hard.
And stressful.
Because I can't go thermo-nuclear with three other people in the house. I mean, we've only been married a year and a half. I don't want to scare anyone away with my crazy just yet.
Josh keeps saying that we'll just be more appreciative of our apartment and our time together when we do finally get to move in.
I keep saying that I was more than appreciative, and he must have been the problem.
God is obviously refining him at my expense.
4. Not being in control. I am a self-admitted control freak. I am fully aware of my tendencies and will totally fess up to them.
Here's the thing about moving - there's not much you have control over. At least, not in our situation.
We planned on moving in September; we're moving in May. We planned on moving out of our apartment, driving the truck down, and moving into our apartment in one cohesive timeframe. Instead, we moved out of our apartment, moved into the Mr.'s parents' house, are driving one car down on the 28th, moving in with my parents for a week, having Josh's parents drive the U-haul, the holy terror (Dunkin) and the last car down, and moving into our new apartment a week later.
So not my plan.
But apparently God had other plans. Ones that involve me having very little control and lots of heavy-duty breakdowns.
It's a gift. What can I say?
Around here that means I'm trying to figure out how I'm going to send two estimated quarterly tax payments with only one check left.
First world problems... I know.
Typically, tax season is exciting for me. I get a rush every time I push the "Next" button in Turbo Tax and get really giddy when it tells me that I've won a brand new car.
Just kidding.
I gave it back after they told me how much the taxes would be.
For real, though. Tax season can make you want to pull your hair out. This year I figured out what it really means to be self-employed. Like that you have to pay income tax in addition to self-employment tax on your income.
That one should've been obvious.
Then again, common sense isn't that common in my life.
Thank God for Turbo Tax.
Tax season is stressful, but I'm pretty sure moving cross-country takes the cake.
(Is Colorado to Texas even considered to be a cross-country move?)
(As far as I can tell, they are completely different planets...so I'm gonna go with yes.)
For argument's sake, I've developed a list of the biggest reasons moving is more stressful than the taxes you may or may not be waiting until the last minute to pay.
Yep - I called you on it.
1. Breaking a lease. My husband seemed to have the idea that this would be the easy part. Don't worry - I totally knew better. I had already planned on giving them my firstborn.
Let me just say that it is not easy. Or cheap.
Not. At. All.
Apparently we decided to move at the time no one (and I mean no one) is looking for an apartment. Snow seems to be quite the deterrent. Who'd a-thought?
We finally just went over and paid them WAY more money than I'd like just to be done with it. Because I'm tired of crying about it. And fighting about it. And checking the website everyday to see if it's still available. And trying to convince everyone I meet into leasing it.
I have to admit, though, that I am a little sad no one wanted to lease it before our time was up.
(Well, unless you count the felons that didn't get approved. Or as the Mr. likes to call them, the convicts.)
I took it personally for awhile. I mean - come on - we are awesome renters! How could you not walk in and want to move in immediately? Princess didn't even pee under the bed this time!
Although Dunkin did throw up on the carpet quite a bit. And broke the blinds. But we replaced those.
I swear, he's like having a child that I can't even claim as a dependent.
We're done with it though and with that comes the end of the apartment stress.
And rent. I really like not paying rent.
2. Packing, packing...and more packing. I love moving. I really do. I love the experience of discovering something new, getting out of the routine, and just seeing where life takes you.
I like new things, but I'd prefer for someone else to get me to the new things.
Like, if we could hire movers to pack and move our stuff, I would be happier than Dunkin looking out the window through the broken blinds.
And that's pretty happy.
The Mr. and I are go-getters. If we make a decision, we figure out how to get it done as quickly as possible. We don't like waiting.
Delayed gratification is so not our thing.
So when we found out on March 14th that if we moved out early (by the 20th) we'd have a better chance of not having to pay as much, we jumped.
Actually, more like dove off of the cliff into the waters of the crazy and insane.
I started packing that day. And the next day. And the next.
We were out by the 17th. Which is crazy, even for us.
Josh had to work, so it was just me, Dunkin and Princess (those two were not any help, in case you were wondering). To top it off, Josh got sick.
I think he packed a total of 3 boxes.
But I'm not bitter. Not at all.
In a matter three days, our belongings were all packed and ready to be moved into the Mr.'s parent's garage. And between moving and cleaning up Dunkin's puke every 5 minutes, I was about to have a nervous breakdown.
Thankfully, Josh came home early that day with Chick-Fil-A.
Chick-Fil-A always makes me happy. It's totally the reason I married him.
3. Being homeless. I've decided that whenever we buy a house, our apartment move out date and house move in date will coincide perfectly. Because I really just can't deal with being homeless for very long.
Not that we're homeless, per say. We just don't have our home with our stuff.
Well, we do have our stuff but since it's out in the garage sealed with tape a nuclear explosion couldn't even break, I'd have to say that's a moot point.
We are so blessed to be able to have somewhere to live while we are in limbo, but it's still hard.
And stressful.
Because I can't go thermo-nuclear with three other people in the house. I mean, we've only been married a year and a half. I don't want to scare anyone away with my crazy just yet.
Josh keeps saying that we'll just be more appreciative of our apartment and our time together when we do finally get to move in.
I keep saying that I was more than appreciative, and he must have been the problem.
God is obviously refining him at my expense.
4. Not being in control. I am a self-admitted control freak. I am fully aware of my tendencies and will totally fess up to them.
Here's the thing about moving - there's not much you have control over. At least, not in our situation.
We planned on moving in September; we're moving in May. We planned on moving out of our apartment, driving the truck down, and moving into our apartment in one cohesive timeframe. Instead, we moved out of our apartment, moved into the Mr.'s parents' house, are driving one car down on the 28th, moving in with my parents for a week, having Josh's parents drive the U-haul, the holy terror (Dunkin) and the last car down, and moving into our new apartment a week later.
So not my plan.
But apparently God had other plans. Ones that involve me having very little control and lots of heavy-duty breakdowns.
It's a gift. What can I say?
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
To the Land Where the Grass is Green and the Girls are Pretty
It's snowing outside right now.
I've really tried to like the snow. Really, I have. But to someone who used to sit outside at the skate park every workday with a plug-in heater and seven layers of blankets in 60 degree weather, snow is not a friend. It's an enemy.
Because it's cold. And wet. And really quite impossible to drive in, if you ask me.
So it's with great enthusiasm that I can say I will soon be leaving the snow behind for far more favorable things.
Like armpit sweat.
To be honest, it's a bittersweet experience. Moving, that is. Not armpit sweat.
While Texas will be my forever home, Colorado still has half of my heart. Or a quarter. Or maybe an eighth. Let's not get technical.
It's the place God called me to three years ago. It's the place where I've experienced many moments of failure, life-changing moments of victory, and all the spectrum of emotions in between. It's the place I met my soul-mate, the place I married my soul-mate, the place I found the perfect job, and the place I will forever be grateful for.
We're leaving behind a lot of good things: family, friends, comfort, security, and good ole Serious Texas B-B-Q.
It's true. My favorite Texas barbecue is located in Colorado, not Texas. Yes, the irony is not lost on me. Don't worry though - I'm planning on stocking up on plenty of Cherry Chipotle Salsa. If you don't know what that is, you need to go here and buy it right this minute.
It's life changing. Seriously.
All in all, it'll be hard to leave Colorado but we're excited for this new adventure. I honestly thought I'd be back in Texas a LONG time ago, but then I had to go and meet the Mr. and put my all of my grand plans on hold.
Men... always stirring up some kind of trouble.
We hit the road in 19 days, and I'm just praying that the snow doesn't decide to make one last appearance on the 28th. I'm pretty sure Josh doesn't want to sit up front all alone while I sit in the back seat and bawl.
Because that's what I do when we drive in the snow.
Really, it's quite mature.
So if you think about it, lift up a prayer that the Abominable Snowman will stay away from the Colorado-New Mexico-Texas line that last week in April.
Josh would really appreciate it.
P.S. Ten bucks says that you started singing the song as soon as you saw the title to this post.
You're welcome.
I've really tried to like the snow. Really, I have. But to someone who used to sit outside at the skate park every workday with a plug-in heater and seven layers of blankets in 60 degree weather, snow is not a friend. It's an enemy.
Because it's cold. And wet. And really quite impossible to drive in, if you ask me.
So it's with great enthusiasm that I can say I will soon be leaving the snow behind for far more favorable things.
Like armpit sweat.
To be honest, it's a bittersweet experience. Moving, that is. Not armpit sweat.
While Texas will be my forever home, Colorado still has half of my heart. Or a quarter. Or maybe an eighth. Let's not get technical.
It's the place God called me to three years ago. It's the place where I've experienced many moments of failure, life-changing moments of victory, and all the spectrum of emotions in between. It's the place I met my soul-mate, the place I married my soul-mate, the place I found the perfect job, and the place I will forever be grateful for.
We're leaving behind a lot of good things: family, friends, comfort, security, and good ole Serious Texas B-B-Q.
It's true. My favorite Texas barbecue is located in Colorado, not Texas. Yes, the irony is not lost on me. Don't worry though - I'm planning on stocking up on plenty of Cherry Chipotle Salsa. If you don't know what that is, you need to go here and buy it right this minute.
It's life changing. Seriously.
All in all, it'll be hard to leave Colorado but we're excited for this new adventure. I honestly thought I'd be back in Texas a LONG time ago, but then I had to go and meet the Mr. and put my all of my grand plans on hold.
Men... always stirring up some kind of trouble.
We hit the road in 19 days, and I'm just praying that the snow doesn't decide to make one last appearance on the 28th. I'm pretty sure Josh doesn't want to sit up front all alone while I sit in the back seat and bawl.
Because that's what I do when we drive in the snow.
Really, it's quite mature.
So if you think about it, lift up a prayer that the Abominable Snowman will stay away from the Colorado-New Mexico-Texas line that last week in April.
Josh would really appreciate it.
P.S. Ten bucks says that you started singing the song as soon as you saw the title to this post.
You're welcome.
Just Google It
Last Sunday, Google saved my life.
And my marriage.
And quite possibly my relationship with Jesus.
Unlike most Sundays, this Sunday actually began on the right foot. My outfit was chosen the night before, saving Josh from having to re-hang my entire closet after I've declared it all "no good". I woke up with hours to spare, meaning I could dilly-dally to my heart's content and still make it to church on time. I was refreshed, energized, and ready to face the day.
It was, after all, Easter. The day we celebrate new life, freedom, and joy. The day we remember what exactly our Savior gave up for us. The day we focus outward instead of inward.
The day we shouldn't throw fits 45 minutes before church.
My make-up was done, my hair was big, and my spankin' new heels were already starting to form blisters on my "she-lives-in-flats-only" feet. My top was ironed out, the sweater fixed just-so, and my accessories were planned to the T.
And then I turned around.
There - right under my rear - was a crease. Not just one - but four. Like big giant fat rolls. With fabric.
Bright pink fabric.
I tried not to freak out. I really did. But when you're used to loose and flowy, tight pink rolls kind of freak you out.
So I did what any other girl would do; I threw a big, fat hissy fit.
Yeah... not my best moment ever.
Here we are getting ready to leave for church on Easter, and I'm stomping my feet because my pants aren't fitting like I think they should.
Josh - bless his heart - tried to intervene. He tried to redirect my attention to the things that matter. He tried to convince me that the pants were just made that way. He tried to remind me that it didn't really matter what I was wearing (because it didn't).
Lord knows he tried, but I wasn't having any of it.
After I compared the pants to something Mary Magdalene (if she were alive today) would wear, Josh just walked out. Apparently he'd had too much crazy for one Easter Sunday morning.
Much grumbling and complaining later (after I realized he wasn't coming back to relieve me of The Great Pants Debacle), I decided to take matters into my own hands. Pulling up the Safari browser on my phone, I went straight to Google and typed in the only logical search term that applied to my situation:
"Kate Middleton's Butt in Pants".
Yes, I know. I entered a whole new level of crazy with that search.
But y'all... I was desperate. And who better to guide me through the murky waters of fashion do's and don'ts other than THE most fashionable lady on the planet?
It took a lot of scrolling (after all, she is a classy lady), but I finally found what I was searching for. And it turns out - Kate Middleton's pants do that funky crease thing too.
So my pants were ok.
Life was good.
It was time to go to church...and celebrate Jesus.
Who, I'm pretty sure if you asked him, would have been totally concerned about The Great Pants Debacle of Easter 2013.
And my marriage.
And quite possibly my relationship with Jesus.
Unlike most Sundays, this Sunday actually began on the right foot. My outfit was chosen the night before, saving Josh from having to re-hang my entire closet after I've declared it all "no good". I woke up with hours to spare, meaning I could dilly-dally to my heart's content and still make it to church on time. I was refreshed, energized, and ready to face the day.
It was, after all, Easter. The day we celebrate new life, freedom, and joy. The day we remember what exactly our Savior gave up for us. The day we focus outward instead of inward.
The day we shouldn't throw fits 45 minutes before church.
My make-up was done, my hair was big, and my spankin' new heels were already starting to form blisters on my "she-lives-in-flats-only" feet. My top was ironed out, the sweater fixed just-so, and my accessories were planned to the T.
And then I turned around.
There - right under my rear - was a crease. Not just one - but four. Like big giant fat rolls. With fabric.
Bright pink fabric.
I tried not to freak out. I really did. But when you're used to loose and flowy, tight pink rolls kind of freak you out.
So I did what any other girl would do; I threw a big, fat hissy fit.
Yeah... not my best moment ever.
Here we are getting ready to leave for church on Easter, and I'm stomping my feet because my pants aren't fitting like I think they should.
Josh - bless his heart - tried to intervene. He tried to redirect my attention to the things that matter. He tried to convince me that the pants were just made that way. He tried to remind me that it didn't really matter what I was wearing (because it didn't).
Lord knows he tried, but I wasn't having any of it.
After I compared the pants to something Mary Magdalene (if she were alive today) would wear, Josh just walked out. Apparently he'd had too much crazy for one Easter Sunday morning.
Much grumbling and complaining later (after I realized he wasn't coming back to relieve me of The Great Pants Debacle), I decided to take matters into my own hands. Pulling up the Safari browser on my phone, I went straight to Google and typed in the only logical search term that applied to my situation:
"Kate Middleton's Butt in Pants".
Yes, I know. I entered a whole new level of crazy with that search.
But y'all... I was desperate. And who better to guide me through the murky waters of fashion do's and don'ts other than THE most fashionable lady on the planet?
It took a lot of scrolling (after all, she is a classy lady), but I finally found what I was searching for. And it turns out - Kate Middleton's pants do that funky crease thing too.
So my pants were ok.
Life was good.
It was time to go to church...and celebrate Jesus.
Who, I'm pretty sure if you asked him, would have been totally concerned about The Great Pants Debacle of Easter 2013.
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