Fancy Footwork

I am a yankee (a screaming liberal yankee as my boss likes to call me). Mike is a yankee. Zoe, while born in the south will be raised yankee as much as possible. Before we moved to Savannah, the word yankee only had one meaning and it was usually used in sentences like, "I can't believe we blew a three-run lead against the bleeping Yankees." But living in the south, surrounded by Confederate flags (I wouldn't know a Union flag if I used one as a bedspread) and declarations such as "the sand gnats are here to keep away the yankees" has given us yankees a new understanding of the word.

Don't get me wrong, we like Savannah. We enjoy the small-town feel, the people, and calling our family and friends back home and giving them a weather report in March ("Yeah, we are pretty unhappy that it only reached 68 degrees today *snicker, snicker*"). Heck, we even own a pickup truck. But the truth of the matter is, it is time for us to return home; a home without sweet tea and chicken for breakfast. For those of you who always ask us when we are moving back, this news will come as a nice surprise (although don't think is has gone unnoticed that no one really cared when we were moving back before Zoe arrived). But please temper your excitement with the knowledge of the state of the housing market. Just know that we are trying and that this blog post is probably one of the first public announcements of our plans unless you have taken notice of the subtle link on this blog to the one with house photos.

The truth of the matter is, we would very much like for Zoe to have what we both had growing up, crazy family gatherings, snow days, and nights spent at grandma's (ok, that last one is a little bit for us). The things, that no matter how stunning the weather is, Savannah can never provide.

So, if you or someone you know, is in the market for a home in Savannah, we've got a real gem. We'll leave a glass of sweet tea by the door.