Strike two.

Dejected, I entered Tuesday wondering if we were being overly ambitious. What was I thinking? Who would possibly rent to the mish-mash that is us?

Our first try out of the gate and we were declined on the basis of the very point of getting together. We are two families, trying to be one very large, largely-happy family. It was easier trying to get pets into that place than our kids. Of course, showing up to view the house with four kids wearing medieval armor was probably a bad thing. I see that now.

Stiffening my upper lip (but allowing the lower one to quiver ridiculously) I decided to keep-on keeping on. This couldn't have been the only home in the Fresno area to house our brood. Another perusal of craigslist told me that I was right-- the PERFECT house that declined us was one of 3 houses available in the Fresno-Clovis area.

THREE WHOLE HOUSES. Such variety. On to house two.

Honesty is an important and vital value, one of the core values that build character (according to some camp my kids went to last summer). After suffering the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, we decided to promptly DROP that value on its arse. Okay, sure we're married. Yes, we had 3 kids. (Each.. shh!) Yes, we have a pet. SINGULAR.

House number two was big and lovely-- a little dark, what with the formal window coverings made by the stay-at-home mom who home schooled her kids there. Each room was carefully painted with edging that would make a professional envious. The backyard had a gorgeous pool with that pebbly-stuff on the bottom. Next to that was a mini basketball court. The yard did back up to a busy street, but hell-- the kitchen was granite, stainless steel and had double ovens. Who the flippin' cares about traffic noise when you got double ovens?

There was an interesting museum-like quality to the place. Perhaps it was the dank scent. Or maybe it was all the Jesus paintings that gave me that impression. Not sure, but I think he was a direct relation or something because he was everywhere. In fact, he was all that was there. Instead of family photos, nature prints, or even a calendar, there was Jesus and his mom, when he was an infant; one of him a little older, single guy, on his own, glowing heart kinda-thing; and then some extended family paintings of Mary in her waning years, Mary praying, and an action shot of Jesus preaching.

I tried to imagine the best spot for put my liqueur-swilling monkey print... and maybe where they had the painting of them in front of the giant tabernacle of some sort would be the perfect spot for my Marie Laveau voodoo pen and ink.

On the way to seeing the place, my partner in crime's car was rear ended by a truck. He called with severe whiplash saying he might be a bit late.

Truthfully, I was really relieved to learn the landlords didn't accept pets. Dark, close to traffic noise and the car collision should have been enough to dissuade my interest. Plus, in the end, the no pets gig made it so much easier than explaining to the uber-Christians that I was about to live in dirty, filthy sin in their amazing house.