Welcome home

#1 Daughter decided that our farm table needed to be in our new house to greet OilMan when he got to Sonoma County from the moving wars. She showed up at the farmhouse with her minivan, seats stowed away, determined that we would wrestle that table into it and take it to our new house. I thought it was much too heavy but she overrode me, and we fairly easily carried it out and wedged it into in the van. It fit perfectly.

Next we had to call our splendid realtor to arrange to get the key. She said all she had to do was feed her Newfoundland puppy, Banjo, and she would meet us there. When we arrived, we met Banjo, she gave me the key and we walked into our house. She had turned on the heat (it's raining) and all the lights and arranged a giant basket of food, specially chosen beers for OilMan, wine for me, cheese in the fridge, an arrangement of sunflowers and a promise to return tomorrow with lunch for the movers. She helped #1 cary the table into the house and it was as if it was made for that space...definitely a good omen. #1 was right--it was the perfect touch.

OilMan has arrived from Berkeley and is in the same euphoric exhausted mood I was in yesterday. I'm making tomato sauce with the last of the tomatoes from the garden , we'll eat dinner and probably be tucked up in bed by 8pm!

Ozzie will spend the night dreaming about how to get into the "water feature" on the "lanai" (according to labels on the stereo system, which we'll probably never master...) I think we'll be very happy in the resort....