Thought it would be nice to start cross-posting to livejournal (username: angelboord)when we'd closed on the new house and finally had our "new beginning" here in New York. Unfortunately, this new beginning seems to be a lot like the beginning of one of my novels. The characters get dumped on, and it's heavily in need of revision. Of course, none of our odd roadblocks would ever make it into print because they don't make any sense.

First there was the lack of attention to detail which resulted in our late closing date. Fortunately we have one now -- or at least a tentative one, considering the next development. The bank lost our money. This is the same check from the sale of the house in Missouri that was delivered to the farm across the street instead of to us, so we got it late. It was deposited Tuesday, apparently cleared, and then... *poof*. Into thin air.

They are working to resolve this issue.

Ahem.

Then last night right before bed Ethan spiked a fever of 103 in about 15 minutes flat. For a long time it didn't look as if the Motrin would bring it down, so we were both holding our breath in case he had another seizure. Fortunately the medicine did finally begin to work, there were no seizures, and he slept well all night while we hovered nervously over him like mother hens and got very little sleep.

It also looks as if Hurricane Dennis, in one form or another, may be parked over Memphis by the time Andy's mom is supposed to fly out to help us move this week.

Assuming, that is, that the bank discovers our money in time for us to close on Wednesday.

Recently I read Anne Lamott's book Traveling Mercies. In it she relates the story of a woman who was traveling to Russia. This woman was trying to be a trooper, but all sorts of weird and bad things kept happening to gum up her trip. Finally she could no longer maintain her good humor and she began unloading all her troubles to a man sitting next to her on the train. This man (coincidentally?) happened to work for the Dalai Lama (one wonders why I never run into these people.) The man who worked for the Dalai Lama told her that whenever something big and beautiful is trying to be born, all sorts of little bad things happen to distract us so that "something" can gestate.

I am not sure about this story. On one hand, it gives me hope. On the other hand... this seems like a crummy way of doing things on the part of the universe.

Anyway, I'm writing. The way my concentration has scattered over the past several months, and especially the last week, it is like trying to catch gnats in my teeth, but at least I'm mostly sticking to my marathon goals.