For all of you who are not familiar with Utah language, the name "Tooele" is pronounced: "Two-ill-uh," and I know it doesn't make sense, but neither does it make sense calling "Hurricane" "hurr-i-cun" and "Hooper" "huh-per." So, get over it already.
This weekend was fun--we're all moved in to our new home, minus a few of my potted plants and misc. gardening stuff. Friday, we spent the day packing everything left in the whole house, loaded my uncle's trailer, and then headed to the new house by about 4:30/5:00. My mom, brother Tommy and his girlfriend? (Ashley), and our friends Trevor and Laura Garn(who are expecting their first baby in 1 week) all came to help us unpack. Laura mostly focused on putting things away in the kitchen, while Ashley took care of a slightly-grumpy Giada. We moved in what we could, but just focused on finding the basic things in our boxes--clothes, deodorant, toothbrush, (i never did find my makeup that day), because the next day we spent the biggest portion of the day cleaning the Bambrough's house before they came home. I (mostly) scrubbed, bleached, vacuumed, scoured...the whole house. My lower back was killing me by the end, reminding me that I'm pregnant, but it was all finished. Its nice to have it done! Sunday, after church, we got Giada to sleep and then chipped away gradually at the piles around the house. You can see the floor now! We'll send some pictures soon.
Its so fun to see the Bambroughs! Paul and Ann have some hilarious stories of people they met in Indiana--namely, the crazy lady who was addicted to listerine (because it wasn't officially drinking alcohol) and wanted to dedicate the grave of her cat, which was a stray, and had only been in her house for a week or so. Well, she's now in county jail for 5 years on DUI charges, and awaiting more years in another county for DUIs too. Then there was the missionary who got attacked by a pit bull and had plastic surgery, and then they had to drive him back and forth between cities in order to find him some pain meds. Poor kid! Then there was the pastor across the street from their house who came looking for people to attend his congregation, and Brother Bambrough invited the whole lot of them to their church, where they'd all fit just fine. I think the pastor walked away a little confused. :) Good stories... but more than anything we are very grateful for their generosity in letting us stay in their home while they were on their mission. They're the reason we could afford a house!
Pictures of our (box-filled) home, sweet, home soon!