I am coming to you live from the baby's junk room. I mean, the baby's room. Oh, who am I kidding, it is the yellow storage room. But someday, God knows when, our baby will sleep in here. Do I feel a draft? Is it too close to the street? Will the baby be scared of the gorilla with the guitar? I can't imagine what other colors will look good in here. Should we buy white furniture or a pale wood. I think it is cold in here...
We are leaving in the next hour or so for our first interviews at our adoption agency. R is taking a test for his business management course, and it sounds like he is finished. We will now pack and head off to Mesquite, Texas to stay at the Fairfield Inn that dear, pseudo-crunchy Christine recommended. It will be our home away from home for the next few months. (I hear my husband zipping up his computer bag, and soon he will catch me sitting in here on the floor admist piles of stuff that we need to store somewhere.)
Oh, goodness. He is ready to pack. He's packing. I can hear him packing.
Funny how when you look forward to something for a long time, that when the day actually comes it seems like no big deal. It also feels strange. All those trips we made to the fertility doctor for ultrasounds, shots, surgeries, etc. are a distant memory and now we are interviewing with an adoption agency that we actually chose and really did all the paperwork in application.
Here is a picture of us in our home away from home after our orientation meeting last October.
Do we look bewildered? I can't believe it's been four months since then. This interview seemed so far away then.
So, off we go! It is a very rare 36 degrees in Texas today, so we're leaving early so we can go slow if we run into any weather. It will be before dark when we get there, so I know we'll be fine. It's not raining right now.
Tonight we will get dinner somewhere and then carry on our nightly tradition of watching The Golden Girls on DVD on my laptop in bed. Tomorrow after the interviews we will eat at Randy's favorite restaurant, Taco Bueno, and probably end up carrying back a stack of burritos for the freezer. This man is a fan.