From the Heatherlea to the Tornado House

The door to the Heatherlea has closed and I no longer have a key. What I do have, is my family. Solid. I left the Heatherlea on Monday and came back to Iowa. We call our house in Iowa the Tornado House. This isn't etched over the door like the house names of Edinburgh, but it might as well be. W named it the Tornado House while we were looking at houses in March of 2009 because it looks exactly like the farm house in all the old movies that gets destroyed by a tornado. (We bought the Tornado House over the Mansion, the Nightmare on Elm Street, and the Money Pit.)

When I return to Edinburgh, we'll be taking up two rows of a jet-liner. Right now, my dear wife is on a well deserved vacation with two friends. She tries to go every year but the first year she missed it because I made her move to New Mexico. Last year she missed it because I made her move to Iowa. This year, she's back.

Right now, I hope she's drinking a single malt, like a Bowmore 17yr or maybe a Balvenie 21yr, and thinking, "Damn I deserve this." However, she's probably drinking a beer or something girly and thinking, "Damn, I hope he remembers how to take care of the kids." Actually, she hasn't called since she left...

I am happy to report that the kids are all asleep, no one bled today, meals of reasonable nutritional value were consumed by all, grocery shopping was attempted, and the downstairs is cleaner going to bed than it was when I got up. Speaking of getting up, I am also happy to report that although the alarm didn't go off, the girls were dressed when they woke me up and said, "Dad, we need to eat breakfast so we can go to school." Not only did they eat breakfast, but they left with lunches and a simple "How 'bout a head band?" compromise sent them off on time.