Right...sooooooo, we're definitely moving back to Colorado. I fought saying that we were moving "back home" for a long time. I really wanted "back home" to be somewhere in the South.
Where Paula Dean and I could live as neighbors the way baby Jesus intended for us to.
PB reads these posts and panics just a little. He's afraid I don't really want to move. He shouldn't worry.
I'm not going to lie and tell you that I won't miss my pool. On gray, snowy Colorado days I will press a picture of it to my bossom and know that it misses me too. BUT, then I will turn to my hot tub, Alfredo, and soak happily while the snow piles up on my head.
Because it's really fun to sit in a hot tub while it snows. At night.
I'm looking forward to fall days and pumpkins that won't rot on my porch in the 90 degree heat. Christmas will be all cold and Christmassy again. I mean, I'll actually be able to drink my hot buttered rum without breaking out into a sweat. Unless I'm drinking a hot buttered rum while sitting in Alfredo, my hot tub.
There won't be any more scorpions.
No more haboobs (an unfortunate term for large sand storms).
No more second degree burns from my van's leather seats.
...I don't think you need a picture of that.
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