New Partypad

This past weekend, Traci, her mom/Rita/Oma, and I were sitting with a realtor (trying to buy a new house) in Jacksonville, FL (because Traci and I both got teaching jobs at the same university).

The realtor was telling us how our kids wouldn't swim between October and March (because we're thinking about adding a pool), and he was quite insistent. At one point he looked away and Traci made the funniest face at him. Her facial expression communicated frustration, a dislike of his stubborn opinionosity, and a clear message that we were getting done with him and his know-it-all attitude. I kinda guffawed out loud, but turned it into a poorly executed fake cough.

Oh, by the way, we're moving this summer. Across the country. To Florida.

Aah, Florida, where a mother-of-the-year candidate was the getaway driver for her son's robberies.
(Photo included. Definitely not attractive.)