50 Days Until Colorado: The Blog Begins in the Cardboard Era

There are exactly fifty days until my husband, our three feline supervisors, and I are supposed to leave Arizona.

I say supposed to because this is a military move, which means our departure date is currently written in pencil, good intentions, and whatever Uncle Sam had for breakfast that morning. At the moment, my house exists in a strange in-between state.

Half home. Half warehouse.

Entirely Chaos.

There are boxes that need packing, walls that need patching, closets that need sorting, things that need donating, and approximately seven thousand tiny objects that apparently possess deep emotional significance now that they're about to be wrapped in newspaper.

The brainworms have unionized and are insisting every random trinket is "sentimental." I remain unconvinced.

Mostly. 😶‍🌫️ 

We've lived here for about five years. This was the first house my husband and I called home after we got married (although we didn't actually move in until almost a year after the papers were signed because, once again, military life likes to keep everyone on their toes.)

 It was also the first place I'd ever lived where some part of my family wasn't just a short drive away.

This house watched us become mostly functional adults. It watched us raise two kittens and their mother. It watched me learn how to bake without being terrified of rejection when I gave it to other people. It watched countless craft projects slowly consume every available surface.

And now...It's time to let someone else make memories here.

I'm being incredibly normal about this.

(By "normal," I mean I've become emotionally attached to random corners of the house and have spent an embarrassing amount of time wondering if I should take a picture of the kitchen pantry because "what if I miss it?")

((The answer is probably no. The answer my anxiety gives is absolutely yes.))

✨🐇✨

I've been telling myself I was going to start this blog for years. I bought the domain. I paid for the website. I designed logos. I obsessed over fonts.

I changed the color palette approximately forty-seven times.

I dreamed about recipes, craft tutorials, cozy corners, tiny adventures, restaurant reviews, art projects, and collecting all the little things that make life feel magical. And then…

I kept waiting. Maybe I was waiting for the perfect recipe. The perfect craft room. The perfect camera. The perfect kitchen.

The perfect version of myself—the one who wakes up refreshed, drinks water before coffee, and confidently announces,

"Today, I shall become a well-organized internet person." 

Unfortunately...I have reason to believe she is fictional. 🫠

I think part of me was also waiting to feel better.

Unfortunately, chronic illness has this incredibly inconvenient habit of not checking my calendar before rearranging my plans. Some days my body is simply a haunted Victorian child who somehow has Wi-Fi. Other days I have enough energy to bake, make art, and convince myself I've finally figured things out.

Then Tuesday happens. So, maybe waiting until everything is perfect isn't actually waiting for the right moment. Maybe it's waiting forever.

So...Maybe this is where the scrapbook begins. Not with a perfectly organized studio. Or a dreamy Pinterest craft room.

Not with an immaculate pastel kitchen, a life that's all figured out.

Maybe it begins here.

In the cardboard era. With moving boxes are soon to be stacked higher than my motivation,  three mildly confused cats supervising every packing decision; where chronic illness, uncertainty, excitement, fear, too many hobbies, entirely too many tiny spoons, and the stubborn little hope that life can still be beautiful in the middle of complete chaos exists all together somehow.

This blog isn't about pretending life is perfectly aesthetic. It's about finding the whimsical bits anyway.

The cozy recipes. The craft projects. The restaurant adventures. The silly little collections.

The victories that deserve celebrating—even if they're as small as finally unpacking the kitchen or baking something without forgetting the vanilla. If you've somehow wandered into my little corner of the internet…

🎉 Welcome.🎉

Kick off your shoes. Ignore the moving boxes. 

The goblin cave is under construction.

Still, I'm really glad you're here.

Stay safe, don't die—and, if you can help it, stay whimsical.

Xoxo 💖💖💖
—Babsie