Getting There

Somewhere around the time Sir prepares to retire, I'll probably get the moving thing down pat.  I'm in awe of my friend G - she was done with the boxes, fully decorated and entertaining folks two weeks after the moving truck pulled out of the driveway.  I, on the other hand, have a severe case of WhatdoIdowithblankwallsparalysis and Icanwalkaroundalldaywithsomethinginmyhandandnotmakeadecisionaboutwheretoputitdisorder.  The only cure I've found is to invite patient girlfriends over and beg them to make these choices for me.  At the end of the day, I'm completely embarrassed at how I sweat the small stuff because really, who cares?  None of the three houses I've lived in since beginning the Army adventure will grace the pages of Southern Living, and praise the Lord for that because STANDARDS, people.  Decorating is not my gift. 
That being said, there's not much I enjoy more than having people in our home, so I've had to come up with a way to balance my perfectionism with my complete lack of talent in order not to be mortified by the fact that most of the time my house would qualify for the home interiors version of "What Not To Wear."  My solution is twofold: to delight in the few material possessions that travel with us,  pretending that this cobbled-together nest is tres chic rather than tres shabby  (if I hauled a photo of you in my two suitcases of worldly goods that went from coastal Carolina to Seattle to Germany to Washington DC, you'd better believe I love that photo) - and to remember that I'd rather spend my time and pennies on eternal stuff.

The house we rented here is ridiculously large for just the two of us, but it was really close to work for Sir, and we're grateful he's not sitting in traffic for hours each day.  I never thought we'd expand to fill the space, but somehow we have, and it's not completely bare anymore.  Yesterday I spent the afternoon placing our few Christmas decorations, and last night we enjoyed having friends over for dinner. 
Whether it's two for salmon and veggies in this big house, or 15 crammed into a stairwell apartment in Germany for Thanksgiving dinner, or our favorite neighbors and their huge dog on an indoor-outdoor kitchen table scarfing pizza in Seattle, I'm completely convinced that the concept of HOME has, in my case, nothing to do with what's in it, and everything to do with who's in it.  So come visit, early and often, y'all.  In my book, the portable nest is best when full - and you'll never have to wait your turn for a bathroom here!  (more to follow on that story.)

Merry Christmas.