The time Team Small Dog had to move their blog via sonic motorbike or some such device and useful insight into how that's going.

Allright. So by now you all know about this moving project over here at Team Small Dog and how we are getting ready to move our blog somewhere. A sort of vague, undescribed, somewhere someplace that is known as a server but the specifics beyond that, misty and hazy, as if in a shouldn't have had tequilla before rum drink haze.


So yesterday, decided to work hard on this project by going and looking for new servers. Homes. For the blog, for all of you. Because by golly, if this blog is going to live on post-it's on my refrigerator, the least I can do is show you where all the motels are in my neighborhood.


There are bunches of motels around here, down by the Boardwalk. People come from miles around to stimulate our economy; ride the rollercoaster, do some surfing, buy a little meth, shop at New Leaf grocery store. I'd host the domain and all of you at my house, except it's really small. And I can't figure out what is a DNS nameserver. Also I am pretty sure Gary does not want me inviting the internet to sleep over.


He does know my blog has to move and I dramatically explained the whole FTP problem to him via expressive narrative dance about the futility of understanding how one makes a subdomain on a server to the mournful singing of Neko Case. Who is Canadian. The dance ended with a dramatic swoon onto the couch. SWOON. That's what FTP issues do to me.


I don't even have time to go into the whole part about the cop. This domain moving story, just going all over the place.


It was Superbowl day, which I was sort of whatever about, although it seems weird not one single person invited me to a Superbowl eating party? Isn't this what Americans are supposed to be doing? And instead me and the dogs are out on the streets trying to create a top level subdomain which may be called a CNAME and just a matter of pointing the domain nameserver there.


If I was a domain, I would probably enjoy being hosted at the Dream Inn. My sister's family stayed there last summer, and it's all redone in sort of swank hipster mid century inside. Think bean bag chairs, Nelson benches and vaguely Eames-ish light fixtures, all sort of light and beachy. Also, giant tv's!


Possibly no giant tv's at the Terrace Court. I bet their pool isn't even heated.


Now that this is turning into some kind of play by play, here the dogs are stayed in front of that newish bed and breakfast across the street from the Dream Inn. It's frilly. Someday, I would like to stay in a hotel like these of such grandeur and little mini bars with free beer and snacks. Where you don't have to wear socks at all time to avoid touching floor germs. And they give you towels. Just to use, but still.


Wait. Now I'm all messed up. Who is moving here? We used to be moving to a ranch and there was this whole thing with money and we didn't. Then the blog was moving but I don't know where and it's not realistic to move it to a hotel. I guess you don't have to actually move, but in case you wanted to visit the blog if it ends up on the refrigerator, living next to my internet which still lives on the kitchen counter, after I delete all the files when I'm moving it where?


So far, the closest I've gotten to figuring this out is the panic room. Welcome to the Facebook safety meeting place where everyone goes in case of file deleting emergency. Susan Garrett will be there, too, and I just learned me and her have the exact same birthday. Party on Garth!

Blog moving? I think this is going to take a while.