Today is a very good day. Today, my friends, we are a launching a new Mighty!

Cut to me assuming various pseudo martial arts postures, and then flexing my spellbinding muscles.

Welcome to Mighty Haus:

Many, many dozens of you took our polls, and it turns out the thing you wanted most was a house site. And so, Mighty Haus is our shopping site for nesters. We’re focused on designs that solve problems for you, and mundane objects made beautiful.

Also, the new site has a couple of new features available on Mighty Goods and Mighty Junior as well. First, you can now sort objects by price! You’ll find the much-requested View by Price link under the “Looking for a Gift?” header in the left column. Second, we’ve added Kirtsy this buttons to our posts and articles, for ease of Kirtsy-ing.

Anyway, how are you still reading? Go look! Go look! We’ll wait here.

My fun thing for yesterday was stopping by the Julia Rothman/Caitlin Keegan opening at Rare Device. There were so many women there who I’ve admired at a distance online but had never met in person, and every one of them was exactly as charming as I’d imagined them to be. Strange, no? You’d expect at least one of them to surprisingly catty, or awkwardly silent, or falling over drunk — something. But no! They were just fun, and well scrubbed, and generally happy with life. It was nice.

Among the pleasant run ins was Elizabeth from Browner Brown and Apartment Therapy San Francisco, Natalie who makes beautiful things for her shop Miss Natalie, and Evany who always makes everything better than it was before she got there.

I was especially thrilled to see Grace of DesignSponge, who was out from Brooklyn for the show. I’ve been wanting to meet her for years, and it turns out she’s aptly named. I refrained from grabbing her by the shoulders and cheering, because I’m so excited about everything she’s done in building her business. I held back mostly because I was wearing shoes that made me four feet taller than her, and I thought yelping in her face might be a little much on first meeting. Perhaps next time.

I also ran into Shoshana, the founding editor of ReadyMade Magazine, whom I’d never met — despite working on the ReadyMade blog, exchanging emails about cool old houses for sale, and having lots of friends in common. We started talking because I was making faces at her baby, and it took us a few minutes to figure out that we already knew each other.

All that, and I was in bed by 10:30. What a great night.

The time has come to buy new underwear. However, since having that cute baby and then losing the pregnancy weight, something has gone awry. All currently fashionable underwear is now made to go up my butt.

Bikini undies? Sure! If you like them up your butt. Tap pants? Sounds good, assuming you enjoy that extra material nestled up your butt. Boy shorts? Why waste effort walking around for 10 minutes? Just wedge them up your butt immediately so you can tug uncomfortably at your jeans for the next eight hours.

Listen, I’m already wearing shoes that make my feet bleed. The underwire on my bra is probably jabbing my ribs. You don’t want me any more irritated. It’s taking all my willpower not to cut someone. Introduce up-the-butt pants to this precarious scenario, and I can’t be held responsible. I also probably won’t be able to operate a motor vehicle.

Do you hear me, Universe? Take me to your comfortable yet stylish underwear! You drive.

A few friends and I have been reading a book on wellness that suggests eight ways to improve your life. It says you should choose a few and run with them, so I decided on:

Meditation:
Me thinking about light flowing into my head, and then thinking how nice it would be to nap.

Visualization:
Me thinking about how well things are going, then wondering when disaster will strike.

Conscious eating:
Me conquering food allergies by doing a restricted diet for 21 days, then remembering that I have hives because I really like to eat the stuff I’m not supposed to have.

Doing Fun Activities:
Me doing things that make me happy.

For the record, doing fun things is better than denying yourself caffeine. Should you choose to follow this path, I’d recommend starting with the fun stuff and worrying about your gluten intake later.

I’ve decided to do one fun thing a day, and it turns out that fun stuff is awesome. Yesterday I went down to City Hall to celebrate gay and lesbian couples getting married. There was a huge crowd, and lots of happy tears, and much merriment. Added bonus: no one yelled ugly things at the newlyweds.

So you see, we’re all evolving as a team.

Right before I got pregnant, we decided we wanted to own a home. We tentatively put bids on a couple of San Francisco fixer uppers. The first one was a unit in an empty six-unit building, and we offered asking price.

We waited anxiously while the owner ignored us for a week, and then he countered $30,000 above asking. We asked our agent, “Were there other offers?” He said no. We asked our agent, “Where does this guy live?” And then we drove over and punched him in the teeth.

Next, we fell hard for the top floor of a Victorian with hardwood floors, vaulted ceilings, window seats, and wish-granting fairies who lived in the dumbwaiter. It was a tenancy in common, which means you share a mortgage with total strangers. I kid you not. In many cases, you may not even meet the people with whom you will share the house and a mortgage before you put in a bid.

If your bid is approved, you take out life insurance on each other in case something happens to one of you. Later, they hire someone to kill you so they can afford to own the whole building. Anyway, we wrote a heartfelt letter about raising our children there, bid a ludicrous amount over asking, and came in seventh out of thirteen bidders. I still feel bewildered.

It was around this time that we happened across a perfect little cabin in the wine country, and decided we could afford the modest mortgage and still pay rent on our apartment in the city. We bought a vacaaaation home. I say this with a long cigarette holder perched between my fingers as I bathe in organic cream.

The nearby town used to be a resort destination in the 1920s and ’30s, and in some ways, it still has that feel — like a big summer camp for grown ups, except most people living there are locals now. And the locals, they make life a lot more fun.

Once, on a morning walk with Hank, we noticed one of our neighbors had stuck a decaying boar’s head on a post in the driveway, Lord of the Flies style. Presumably to warn the other boars? Perhaps so they can dance around it at night chanting? I’ve been meaning to ask. Maybe I’ll take some muffins over.

Recently, we saw these excellent flyers posted everywhere:

In case you can’t make that out, it goes a little something like this:

$REWARD$
For information
Leading to the
Beatdown of
whoever tryed to
steal my G.M.C. Truck
in between 11:00 PM 5-9
And 7:30 AM 5-10-08
Call (number painstakingly obscured in Photoshop)
$REWARD$
I will find you!

Of course, this happened last month, not seven days from now, but shut up. You knew what he meant.

I’ve decided Information Leading to a Beatdown is the highest classification of information. The essence of news you can use: News you can use to assault someone.

In short, we finally found a place to call home. And if you touch our car, you know what to expect.