Raising Reagan

What a great afternoon. It's absolutely pouring down rain, and The Girl (Reagan), is asleep in her tent in the bathroom.
I thought of just leaving the post at that, but felt I should explain. God knows she'd end up on some 'weird, bathroom-sleepin' kid' list that may circulate to a college we'd love for her to go to, and she'll argue with us about...

The Mom, Sarah, took a great job for her and our family to a new city. Reagan and I had to stay at the old house until someone either purchased our house, or decided to borrow it for a while in the form of a lease. That period of time lasted for about four months...the wine cooler was filled and emptied many times, and most sharp objects were hidden from plain sight.

Either way, we made it out safely, and we're ALL together...staying in a small 1-bedroom apartment, a lot like the Residence Inn off the main drag in Sopchoppy, FL. (never been to Sopchoppy...just like saying the name...and assumed they had a Residence Inn). So at night, The Girl sleeps in said tent in the living room, The Beast (our Shih-Tzu, Maggie) in her kennel, and we sleep in the bedroom. Naptime comes, I drag the tent into the bathroom, turn on the cave-like shower light and fan, and she sleeps like a college girl that partook from the sorority beer/malt liquor bong one too many times and ended up on the floor of the bathroom.
Oh. Don't worry. I can hear if she were to miraculously awake and decide to voluntarily bathe herself and turn on the tub water.

We do have a bid on a place that we really like, and will hopefully being moving out of this cell, er, 'condo' soon. But in the mean time, we've been making it work for a little while now.

It's funny, you put so much time into finding the right Realtor (I just recently found out that is capitalized), who will find 50 places that would be right for your family, with the right number of bedrooms and bathrooms, and the right sized kitchen with the right appliances, etc...and all you need is the right tent. One that could even be used on a vacation to Sopchoppy. SOPchoppy. Sopchoppyyyy...

Well, the girl is asleep with her nap, and I figured this was as good a time as any to get started. The girl being Reagan. Me...I'm her Dad, Chuck. She's now four years old as of yesterday, and I'm 40, going on 60...or maybe it's just the effects of a cold...swine flu...who knows...that I'm feeling.

I'm no web expert, professional writer, previously failed blogger looking to try a new one or anything like that. I'm a 'work' from home Dad that also takes care of 'The Girl', as we endearingly like to call her. Oh, I put 'work' in quotation marks like that, because I do commercial voicework for radio, I've also dabbled professionally in photography, etc. Some consider it work...others look at me curiously as if I may as well be standing at the busiest intersection in town with a weathered fedora in my outstretched hands and a cardboard sign asking for your change. I've actually considered that, and would it would probably be more profitable for me to do just that.

Regardless, Reagan's Mom, Sarah, said this would be a good idea...in an obvious attempt to get me to be a little busier. She is a die-hard professional...the kind any of us would like to be like. She has the motivation, enthusiasm and drive to make million-dollar decisions every day. MY 'drive' is to the grocery store to get more Easy-Mac.

Reagan's the best. And I'm hoping that this will be a nice outlet to introduce her life to you, as well as mine as a father...or at least my attempt at it! So welcome to RaisingReagan.com. Look for a lot more to come, and feel free to contribute, make suggestions, etc, when you feel the urge.
Well The Girl is up now. She's frowning at me as if to wonder where my fedora of change is...gotta go and update that cardboard sign.

Of the Raising Reagan blogging system! This is only a test.