Someone once said, "a house is just a house until you make it a home."

That same person also said, "a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush." Come to think of it, I think it's the same person who heeded us the warning, "don't count your chickens before they hatch." Hey wait a second. He/she also said, "don't pee into the wind." Wow, now that I think about it, he/she is a seam-bursting pant load of witty/advising antidotes. Perhaps I should see if this gender neutral person would like to buy my house.

Oh yes, my house.

It is with a heavy heart that make this blog entry. A few months ago, the Mrs. and I came to the dreaded realization that our much cherished home wasn't cutting the mustard for the needs of our ever-growing family. Simply put, the house was a wee bit too small. Plus (as you saw in my previous post) we could use some more secret storage space. We now find ourselves perched atop the cliff of real estate opportunity, overlooking a vista of excitement, anxiety, and the unknown. Oh man, that was a good line. Did you guys feel it? I felt it. Tingled a little.

After making the decision to move, we began to crunch some numbers. The calculator told us that it was absolutely imperative that we sell our home sans a realtor in order to afford the size/price we would be looking for in our new home.

Okay, so here we are. That can't be that difficult, right? All I really need to do is integrate verbiage such as adorable, charming, quaint, lovely, cuddly, odorless, delightful, darling, winsome, and twee into my daily speak. In addition, I just need to learn the skillful art of turning negatives into positives. No, that's not a papaya-sized goiter on that man's forehead that begs the bile from the deepest corners of your stomach to flow heavenward. It's a beauty mark.

Looks like I'm ready to sell. Without any further adieu, I present to you...

The crib.



I've also produced a little website to aid in the cause. If you, or anyone you know, could benefit from living in this heavenly slice of heaven's heaven, let a brother like unto myself know.

Ask anyone with children and they'll tell you that a sudden decrease in house volume is usually cause for alarm.

Such was the case in my home this morning. In the midst of my morning preparation I noticed that I could no longer hear Berlin running around, screaming and causing a rukus. I quickly decided to investigate. What I discovered, commanded the only two words I could muster.

OH CRAP!



"Whoa, I've never seen Kama Sutra on Elmo's World!"

Apparently she found some kama sutra book that was given to us as a gag wedding gift over 5 years ago in some dusty ol' box under the bed. (I guess we should clean our house more often). She couldn't stop giggling and pointing at various anatomical points of interest. I quickly grabbed the book from her and returned it to its obscure hiding place, followed by a gentle verbal reprimand. Ovbiously, the little 19-month old was confused, but ran out of the room to play with her toys nonetheless.

Having had her eyes opened by partaking of the forbidden fruit, I can't help but wonder if Goodnight Moon will now be her second favorite book.

What actually happens when Steve, in fact, happens?

I realize a lot of you have tarried many a sleepless night over such dubiousness. And while I don't have a generalized answer for said inquiry, I do have a specific circumstance to help shed some light on the question.

Home improvement.

It's no secret that every woman wants a handyman in the house. Someone to fix a clogged sink. Someone to drywall the laundry room. Someone to program the automatic sprinkler system. Someone to scale the side of the house to adjust the swamp cooler. Until this week, I wasn't any of these Fabios-in-nothing-but-a-toolbelt. But now I am. Why? Because Steve happened. Check out the following before/after images of a bathroom remodel job I undertook in my basement.







Come to think of it, I'm not even wearing the toolbelt anymore.

Do two Steves make a right?

According to one individual, they do. This morning I logged onto my myspace account only to find an e-mail message/friend request from a guy named Steve. In his message to me he claimed that we have a lot in common, including our names. Because of these similarities, it would be a crime against humanity if I didn't accept his e-friendship via myspace and begin a soulmate journey that would expand beyond the depths of time. While I don't intend to play hard-to-get here, I just can't help but question these claims of common ground.

First of all, my myspace profile doesn't even mention any of my interests, hobbies, etc. It does state that I work in Advertising. Meanwhile, his profile is also sans any relevant information. It does say he majored in Criminal Justice. So, I guess the only ballpark for similarities would be our physical appearance.



What do you say? Do two Steves make a right? Should I accept his request for e-friendship? Advise me, oh wise and wonderful bloggers. I've never felt so confused and lost in my life.