Man this was a rough weekend! We started some major projects, but really haven't finished anything. Tom was feeling pretty discouraged about his drilling abilities, and I kept reminding him that these are learned skills; people get paid to know how to do that stuff. We've never had a big reason to learn, so now we're stretching our brains.
As I worked along on the priming and painting, I was thinking about other things. Maybe that's why I didn't get as much done as I'd hoped. However, it was all worth it because one of the things I pondered (again) was my birthday. So in a relatively happy moment (right after he'd finally gotten about 99% of the paint off the patio), I told Tom that I should really get a do-over for my birthday. I explained that if he didn't do something to make up for last week I'd be forced to buy him a pack of Altoids for his birthday, and that I wouldn't be able to tell anybody about it and feel good about myself... especially his mother. We chose next week on Monday night as his time to create a lovely evening for me. Naturally I'd forgotten that I'll be teaching on Monday nights now, so I had to text him today and ask for a new do over date. We'll see what happens.
Back to work... by Sunday evening, I was feeling less than thrilled with our progress. The one thing I did think was cool is that one of our cupboards was finally done (well, minus the inside of the door, but that'll be a snap). The color is gorgeous. If I have a spare second, I'll snap some pics and put them up here so you can check it all out. That'll probably be after we're done. Back to the cabinet... I had done all the touching up I could see the need for and had Tom double-check me. It was done. I removed the tape from the back... where the refrigerator will be covering. It came off beautifully! I wouldn't say that my heart was pounding; it was more a quiet satisfaction. I pulled the tape from the bottom, which was no big deal because I'd accidentally pulled it loose earlier. Then I removed the tape from the front.
Oh holy hell, it pulled paint off with it!!! Argh!
There are a few theories and at least twice as many remedies that people have showered on us today to explain and resolve this situation. All I know is that was the moment that Tom and I switched places. I declared that I was "going away" and promptly took myself upstairs. Unfortunately I didn't bring my cell phone, which needed to be charged, so I had to go back down, where I declared that I was "not staying. I'm still going away." I got into bed. Tom was there a few minutes later, snuggling me and telling me we'd get it all worked out soon enough.
Yeah, Kim. I think you're right.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Adventures in Homeowner Land
We have so many projects going on around here, from installing curved shower bars (love them!) to anchoring bookcases and getting our washing machine hooked up (it might have been worth the cost of a new one just to have a couple of professionals drag it up the stairs and set everything up). Despite all of these things, I am still thinking of new projects I'd like to do. We've already selected a few walls for painting, and I've added the stairway. It's cool that the house is all tan with white trim instead of just white, but why they chose to paint it all in flat paint is beyond me.
Another potential project is our back patio. It has braces for a patio cover, and we considered using part of the eight grand we're getting back to have one installed. We've decided to cut our credit card debt down by about 2/3 instead. Nance suggested that we get some terra cotta-looking plastic pots, cut holes in the bottom for the braces and then plant over them in the meantime. I like that idea. I was also thinking it would be cool to stain the patio concrete.
Yesterday was semi-productive. We just have to work on our time- and project management skills. I was supposed to sand kitchen cabinets on Friday, but never did manage to locate our sandpaper. We started off slowly yesterday and didn't get truly started in the kitchen until mid-afternoon. So it's no surprise that we only have two and a half cabinets sanded and primed; one of them has its first coat of "Dried Violet," an exceptionally dark bluey-purple. Seven or eight doors and drawers are done on one side, too.
Until we get the cabinets done, we can't really put any kitchen stuff away. Tom pointed out last night that our big house feels just as cluttered and tight as our old tiny apartment.
This morning he let me sleep in, and I love him for it. About an hour ago we started moving our project into the garage because the winds are blowing today. We can't hear anything, but we could see the neighbor's trees moving gently. Still, we didn't want anything to blow onto the paint. Tom lined the garage floor with plastic and headed out back to get the paint and supplies that we'd left on that plastic liner.
Apparently our windows are excellent at keeping outside sounds outside. The better part of a gallon of "Dried Violet" is now worthless. The wind apparently knocked it over and the lid wasn't on tightly. Even more exciting is that there's now a 2x4 space of paint on the patio.
Tom did not see the humor in the situation. He thinks it might be funny later. He went to Home Depot (this place is quickly becoming our home away from home) and found something that will hopefully clean it up and not toxify the ground when we rinse it off.
He's back now, so I'd better get out there and get going on the painting again. Next weekend we're supposed to have rain and the weekend after that we're having our housewarming and Mad's first birthday party here at the house (yes, we are that crazy).
Another potential project is our back patio. It has braces for a patio cover, and we considered using part of the eight grand we're getting back to have one installed. We've decided to cut our credit card debt down by about 2/3 instead. Nance suggested that we get some terra cotta-looking plastic pots, cut holes in the bottom for the braces and then plant over them in the meantime. I like that idea. I was also thinking it would be cool to stain the patio concrete.
Yesterday was semi-productive. We just have to work on our time- and project management skills. I was supposed to sand kitchen cabinets on Friday, but never did manage to locate our sandpaper. We started off slowly yesterday and didn't get truly started in the kitchen until mid-afternoon. So it's no surprise that we only have two and a half cabinets sanded and primed; one of them has its first coat of "Dried Violet," an exceptionally dark bluey-purple. Seven or eight doors and drawers are done on one side, too.
Until we get the cabinets done, we can't really put any kitchen stuff away. Tom pointed out last night that our big house feels just as cluttered and tight as our old tiny apartment.
This morning he let me sleep in, and I love him for it. About an hour ago we started moving our project into the garage because the winds are blowing today. We can't hear anything, but we could see the neighbor's trees moving gently. Still, we didn't want anything to blow onto the paint. Tom lined the garage floor with plastic and headed out back to get the paint and supplies that we'd left on that plastic liner.
Apparently our windows are excellent at keeping outside sounds outside. The better part of a gallon of "Dried Violet" is now worthless. The wind apparently knocked it over and the lid wasn't on tightly. Even more exciting is that there's now a 2x4 space of paint on the patio.
Tom did not see the humor in the situation. He thinks it might be funny later. He went to Home Depot (this place is quickly becoming our home away from home) and found something that will hopefully clean it up and not toxify the ground when we rinse it off.
He's back now, so I'd better get out there and get going on the painting again. Next weekend we're supposed to have rain and the weekend after that we're having our housewarming and Mad's first birthday party here at the house (yes, we are that crazy).
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Family Tradition
My in-laws moved into their first home on my mother-in-law's 30th birthday. Tom and I have been together for about nine years, and I've probably heard this story a couple of times a year. I don't mind actually; it's a cool story. It's come up more frequently with our home buying excursion. Why? Well, my birthday was on Monday. (No, not my 30th.)
I have complex feelings about my birthday. When I was a kid it was easier for my parents and grandparents to have a combination celebration for my mom, sister and me. My birthday is first, then Mom's on the 6th and Shelly's on the 21st.
The thing is, Shelly's birthday would often come right after my parents received their tax refund. So we'd have some sort of family only group thing, then there would be money for a trip to Farrell's, and Shelly could bring a friend or two along. I've never been upset with Shelly about this. She and I are the same age, and neither one of us tried to win out over the other. Still, it was hard not to notice. One year I did get to invite friends, but I froze. I invited my best friend, Mary, who was like part of our family and probably would have been there anyway. I didn't invite anyone else.
And when it came to gifts... I know I received them from my parents. I know I liked them and appreciated them. But I also remember that things were always done at the last minute. I know this because of the countless gifts "wrapped" in a rolled up paper bag. For some reason I often had a hard time asking for anything special. Pretty sure that it comes from my mom. I could tear through the Toys R Us catalog and make long lists, but I couldn't say "I want a Walkman" to save my life. On the flip side, giving gifts that I was sure other people would like was at least as difficult. As a teen I broke up with boys before any gift-giving occasions.
Once I realized that, I tried to work it out within myself. Still, Corey had 10 full years of big birthday parties. He'd probably still be having them, but he was such a butt at his 10th that I vowed never to do it again until he reaches a milestone birthday.
These days I try to take a more pragmatic approach. I think I'm a pretty good gift giver. I do avoid the office birthday celebrations, but that's only because this office has some weird things. For example, the restaurant is chosen based on what's most convenient for certain people, rather than whether the birthday girl likes it or not.
When it comes to my birthday, I tend to revert to my single mom days. "I don't want anything, but I could use XYZ." The problem is that I also resent that I do this and no one else in the family does it. It's not like we're poor and I need to do it; it's a habit. However, when you're buying a home or having a baby at birthday time, it seems especially hard to say, "Please treat me special."
Last year I was more than eight months pregnant on my birthday. My mom gave me a gift card to get my hair done and my mother-in-law gave me a check. I used it for baby stuff that we needed. I honestly don't recall what Tom got me. I just remember that it was Easter and I made dinner for my family and my mom without any help.
For his birthday I arranged for us to see a Cubs/Dodgers game... it happened to fall on his birthday, so that was extra cool. But you can't just show up at the stadium on game day and get three good seats together, so I bought those tickets a couple months in advance. The year before I happened to hear that Prairie Home Companion was taping at the Greek Theatre, also on his birthday. I believe I purchased those tickets several months ahead.
So my birthday was on Monday. Tom had frequently pointed out in advance that I was getting a house for my birthday just as his mom had long ago. I reminded him that he was also getting the house, and that having a major event happen right before one's birthday shouldn't mean that a person's birthday wasn't celebrated. I had asked for the soundtrack to Juno, so not exactly extravagant.
By noon that day, the only people who had wished me a happy birthday were my coworkers. They offered to take me to lunch, but I declined. Things had gotten a bit screwed up with the move, so I ended up spending a lot of time Monday cleaning the apartment with my mom and Corey. Tom was supposed to meet me there at 3:00 to wrap everything up. We spoke at 10 'til, and he was just getting ready to leave work. Over 90 minutes later, I was pissed and out of there. We spoke on the phone and he complained about having so much to do still... as if we hadn't done everything but load the remaining crap into his truck... we'd even pulled up most of the carpet since I knew it was being replaced! I "thanked" him for the lovely birthday and he whined that he was out running an errand related to my birthday and that was why he was late.
And what was this 90 minute errand? (Okay, I exaggerate a little... it was probably a 40 minute drive from work to the apartment.) He bought me a card, in which he did write a lovely note and not one, but two packs of TIC-TACS! The only saving grace is that they were the Cherry/Passion Fruit packs, not breath mints. And then he didn't have the nerve to hand them to me. He left them with the card at the bottom of the stairs. Instead of making dinner for everybody, I had a couple slices of cold pizza by myself.
Disappointed is not the word to describe my feelings. Pissed scratches the surface. And the thing is, I don't care how much money he spends on me. Again, Juno soundtrack. Not asking for a lot here. But you have to figure you're not going to walk into any music store that still happens to be standing and pick it up. You have to put a little effort in... special order it, or buy it online. Think ahead a little.
Here's the thing, too: Tom used to give wonderful gifts. They were well-thought out and lovely.
We haven't spoken about it. I probably won't bring it up, either. And as much as I'd like to, I just can't see handing him a couple boxes of Altoids for his birthday in a couple months.
I have complex feelings about my birthday. When I was a kid it was easier for my parents and grandparents to have a combination celebration for my mom, sister and me. My birthday is first, then Mom's on the 6th and Shelly's on the 21st.
The thing is, Shelly's birthday would often come right after my parents received their tax refund. So we'd have some sort of family only group thing, then there would be money for a trip to Farrell's, and Shelly could bring a friend or two along. I've never been upset with Shelly about this. She and I are the same age, and neither one of us tried to win out over the other. Still, it was hard not to notice. One year I did get to invite friends, but I froze. I invited my best friend, Mary, who was like part of our family and probably would have been there anyway. I didn't invite anyone else.
And when it came to gifts... I know I received them from my parents. I know I liked them and appreciated them. But I also remember that things were always done at the last minute. I know this because of the countless gifts "wrapped" in a rolled up paper bag. For some reason I often had a hard time asking for anything special. Pretty sure that it comes from my mom. I could tear through the Toys R Us catalog and make long lists, but I couldn't say "I want a Walkman" to save my life. On the flip side, giving gifts that I was sure other people would like was at least as difficult. As a teen I broke up with boys before any gift-giving occasions.
Once I realized that, I tried to work it out within myself. Still, Corey had 10 full years of big birthday parties. He'd probably still be having them, but he was such a butt at his 10th that I vowed never to do it again until he reaches a milestone birthday.
These days I try to take a more pragmatic approach. I think I'm a pretty good gift giver. I do avoid the office birthday celebrations, but that's only because this office has some weird things. For example, the restaurant is chosen based on what's most convenient for certain people, rather than whether the birthday girl likes it or not.
When it comes to my birthday, I tend to revert to my single mom days. "I don't want anything, but I could use XYZ." The problem is that I also resent that I do this and no one else in the family does it. It's not like we're poor and I need to do it; it's a habit. However, when you're buying a home or having a baby at birthday time, it seems especially hard to say, "Please treat me special."
Last year I was more than eight months pregnant on my birthday. My mom gave me a gift card to get my hair done and my mother-in-law gave me a check. I used it for baby stuff that we needed. I honestly don't recall what Tom got me. I just remember that it was Easter and I made dinner for my family and my mom without any help.
For his birthday I arranged for us to see a Cubs/Dodgers game... it happened to fall on his birthday, so that was extra cool. But you can't just show up at the stadium on game day and get three good seats together, so I bought those tickets a couple months in advance. The year before I happened to hear that Prairie Home Companion was taping at the Greek Theatre, also on his birthday. I believe I purchased those tickets several months ahead.
So my birthday was on Monday. Tom had frequently pointed out in advance that I was getting a house for my birthday just as his mom had long ago. I reminded him that he was also getting the house, and that having a major event happen right before one's birthday shouldn't mean that a person's birthday wasn't celebrated. I had asked for the soundtrack to Juno, so not exactly extravagant.
By noon that day, the only people who had wished me a happy birthday were my coworkers. They offered to take me to lunch, but I declined. Things had gotten a bit screwed up with the move, so I ended up spending a lot of time Monday cleaning the apartment with my mom and Corey. Tom was supposed to meet me there at 3:00 to wrap everything up. We spoke at 10 'til, and he was just getting ready to leave work. Over 90 minutes later, I was pissed and out of there. We spoke on the phone and he complained about having so much to do still... as if we hadn't done everything but load the remaining crap into his truck... we'd even pulled up most of the carpet since I knew it was being replaced! I "thanked" him for the lovely birthday and he whined that he was out running an errand related to my birthday and that was why he was late.
And what was this 90 minute errand? (Okay, I exaggerate a little... it was probably a 40 minute drive from work to the apartment.) He bought me a card, in which he did write a lovely note and not one, but two packs of TIC-TACS! The only saving grace is that they were the Cherry/Passion Fruit packs, not breath mints. And then he didn't have the nerve to hand them to me. He left them with the card at the bottom of the stairs. Instead of making dinner for everybody, I had a couple slices of cold pizza by myself.
Disappointed is not the word to describe my feelings. Pissed scratches the surface. And the thing is, I don't care how much money he spends on me. Again, Juno soundtrack. Not asking for a lot here. But you have to figure you're not going to walk into any music store that still happens to be standing and pick it up. You have to put a little effort in... special order it, or buy it online. Think ahead a little.
Here's the thing, too: Tom used to give wonderful gifts. They were well-thought out and lovely.
We haven't spoken about it. I probably won't bring it up, either. And as much as I'd like to, I just can't see handing him a couple boxes of Altoids for his birthday in a couple months.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Up the Hill
That's what we call it; the High Desert is "up the hill" from where I used to live. Of course, up the hill is really up and over a mountain range that doesn't go quite so far down on the other side. It's about a 50 mile drive from here to there. A lot of people make that drive, so I have expected that the morning commute would be something awful. However, we live far enough out and I start late enough in the morning that it's not been too bad.
We've been here a week... and what a week it's been, too. Here's how it all went down:
The appraiser required that a range and dishwasher were installed prior to close of escrow. This put us in a bit of a jam because we knew what we wanted, and planned to charge them at Home Depot to get the one-year-same-as-cash deal, but we couldn't buy them until after we closed or risk being kicked out of escrow. Dave said he probably had a range in storage. Tom and I bought a dishwasher with some of our make-the-house-our-own money. However, it couldn't be delivered until the end of this month. Home Depot actually lent us a dishwasher in the meantime (I love those guys!). Dave realized he did not have a range in storage, so he went to the Sears outlet and bought the cheapest one he could find. It turned out that they'd had a run on cheap ranges that weekend, so he spent a cool grand with the understanding that he could return it "if his wife didn't like it." Dave also borrowed his neighbor's truck and drove up the hill to install the range and put the dishwasher in place. A few days later he went up (again in the neighbor's truck) and pulled both pieces out.
Dave did get the seller to pay for the appliances, but getting them to sign that paper took so long that he requested an extension for close of escrow until yesterday, in which he stated that it was because of the delay in signing that form. They signed the extension within an hour!!! Ugh!
We freaked out at the extension because all of our moving plans were set for the end of last week. I was going to be off Thursday and we were both off Friday, and I'd arranged for three of my friends to help us get the first load of boxes moved on Friday. Saturday we had about a dozen people set to help us move, including my dad who was borrowing his old trailer from a friend. And about half the people who were signed up for last weekend would not be available this weekend.
Dave the realtor and Joe the lender had been positively haranguing the escrow company to get their stuff together. Dave and Joe are seemingly mild-mannered, however, I have a track to the inside story. Joanie, my coworker, is Dave's wife. So whenever things went haywire (which they did a lot at the end), Joanie would regale us with tales of Dave cursing loudly at his computer in the morning or late at night. And Joe, who I have learned is more tatted than I "could imagine" (and I'm the daughter of biker types, so this really makes me imagine, haha) told us that he was on the phone late one night with our underwriter.
"I think I might have... well, I'm pretty sure that I... uh... I might have used some four letter words. Yes, I'm pretty sure that I did. But I had a set of docs come back last Thursday for a loan that I had to put together with bubble gum and spit... and it went out after yours and yours should have sailed through!"
Wednesday of last week we finally got to sign loan docs (we were supposed to close the night before), but not the papers for escrow. Thursday brought the rest of the paperwork through. Tom was able to sign and fax these from work (no, I'm not sure why original signatures weren't required, but they weren't) and I dropped in (from work... no point in being off, right?) and signed them at the lender's office. As I was signing, the finance person noticed that the appliance money was listed as a credit, which is apparently not right. So I called Tom and caught him just before he wired the remainder of our down-payment. He increased the amount accordingly and sent it off.
We were told that night... and Friday... and Monday... and Tuesday... that we would be funding that day or first thing the next morning at the latest.
The next bit of drama was about those freaking appliances again. The seller was committed to paying us $750 for them, but they wouldn't just write out a check in our names for some reason. They wanted an invoice, so Dave sent over the receipt for the dishwasher, which was about $100 more than the check. No good. They wanted an unpaid invoice (what the hell is that?! we had to have the damn thing in before escrow could close, remember?!). So Dave went ahead and whited out the paid amounts and submitted that. Problem solved.
Tom's parents sent us a housewarming gift in the form of a check. A considerable part of that went to our new range.
In the meantime, Dave spoke with the seller's agent and pleaded our case. A deal was apparently struck that the other agent wouldn't come near the house over the weekend. Dave called that "agent speak for go ahead and move in, but I don't know anything." We are conservative adventurers, but this was a desperation moment. We went ahead and did it.
Later that weekend I spoke with Dave who told me about another client of his who had done the same thing over a month ago. Their original mortgage was sold right before it funded and everything got jacked up, so they were back in escrow with a new company. The upside... and to us it was miniscule... was that they were living in their house "rent free" for a couple of months. Dave said the wife only spoke to him in monotones. I'm pretty sure that information snagged about five hours of sleep from me that night.
Monday morning I was informed that escrow had also forgotten to include our first year of home insurance in the downpayment, so I had to run over and take care of that, too.
Mid-Tuesday we finally funded. Dave and Joe both said we were free to purchase the remaining appliances we needed, but we weren't taking any chances by charging even something small until it was all over.
Wednesday morning we recorded and it was finally done. That night we went to Home Depot and had a rather fun shopping spree. We bought a new dryer (just the gas version of our old one, which was a low-end GE), an over-the-range microwave/convection oven/warmer (ooh yeah), a bazillion blinds for the (21 freaking) windows that need them, paint, paint supplies, primer, a baby gate that we're hoping works at the top of the stairs (the railing is too low for most of 'em) and a new new front door lock (the first one was malfunctioning).
The other day we finally got the operating system and software reinstalled on our computer. Earlier this week our dishwasher finally arrived and so did the DirecTV man. Today we received the microwave and dryer, along with FIOS.
Tomorrow we'll get caught up on laundry, sand and prime some cabinets in the kitchen and hopefully get some of the blinds installed. The plan is to get all the blinds up and the cabinetry painted by the end of the weekend. Now, except for all the packed boxes and wide open views through our windows, this place is really beginning to feel like home.
We've been here a week... and what a week it's been, too. Here's how it all went down:
The appraiser required that a range and dishwasher were installed prior to close of escrow. This put us in a bit of a jam because we knew what we wanted, and planned to charge them at Home Depot to get the one-year-same-as-cash deal, but we couldn't buy them until after we closed or risk being kicked out of escrow. Dave said he probably had a range in storage. Tom and I bought a dishwasher with some of our make-the-house-our-own money. However, it couldn't be delivered until the end of this month. Home Depot actually lent us a dishwasher in the meantime (I love those guys!). Dave realized he did not have a range in storage, so he went to the Sears outlet and bought the cheapest one he could find. It turned out that they'd had a run on cheap ranges that weekend, so he spent a cool grand with the understanding that he could return it "if his wife didn't like it." Dave also borrowed his neighbor's truck and drove up the hill to install the range and put the dishwasher in place. A few days later he went up (again in the neighbor's truck) and pulled both pieces out.
Dave did get the seller to pay for the appliances, but getting them to sign that paper took so long that he requested an extension for close of escrow until yesterday, in which he stated that it was because of the delay in signing that form. They signed the extension within an hour!!! Ugh!
We freaked out at the extension because all of our moving plans were set for the end of last week. I was going to be off Thursday and we were both off Friday, and I'd arranged for three of my friends to help us get the first load of boxes moved on Friday. Saturday we had about a dozen people set to help us move, including my dad who was borrowing his old trailer from a friend. And about half the people who were signed up for last weekend would not be available this weekend.
Dave the realtor and Joe the lender had been positively haranguing the escrow company to get their stuff together. Dave and Joe are seemingly mild-mannered, however, I have a track to the inside story. Joanie, my coworker, is Dave's wife. So whenever things went haywire (which they did a lot at the end), Joanie would regale us with tales of Dave cursing loudly at his computer in the morning or late at night. And Joe, who I have learned is more tatted than I "could imagine" (and I'm the daughter of biker types, so this really makes me imagine, haha) told us that he was on the phone late one night with our underwriter.
"I think I might have... well, I'm pretty sure that I... uh... I might have used some four letter words. Yes, I'm pretty sure that I did. But I had a set of docs come back last Thursday for a loan that I had to put together with bubble gum and spit... and it went out after yours and yours should have sailed through!"
Wednesday of last week we finally got to sign loan docs (we were supposed to close the night before), but not the papers for escrow. Thursday brought the rest of the paperwork through. Tom was able to sign and fax these from work (no, I'm not sure why original signatures weren't required, but they weren't) and I dropped in (from work... no point in being off, right?) and signed them at the lender's office. As I was signing, the finance person noticed that the appliance money was listed as a credit, which is apparently not right. So I called Tom and caught him just before he wired the remainder of our down-payment. He increased the amount accordingly and sent it off.
We were told that night... and Friday... and Monday... and Tuesday... that we would be funding that day or first thing the next morning at the latest.
The next bit of drama was about those freaking appliances again. The seller was committed to paying us $750 for them, but they wouldn't just write out a check in our names for some reason. They wanted an invoice, so Dave sent over the receipt for the dishwasher, which was about $100 more than the check. No good. They wanted an unpaid invoice (what the hell is that?! we had to have the damn thing in before escrow could close, remember?!). So Dave went ahead and whited out the paid amounts and submitted that. Problem solved.
Tom's parents sent us a housewarming gift in the form of a check. A considerable part of that went to our new range.
In the meantime, Dave spoke with the seller's agent and pleaded our case. A deal was apparently struck that the other agent wouldn't come near the house over the weekend. Dave called that "agent speak for go ahead and move in, but I don't know anything." We are conservative adventurers, but this was a desperation moment. We went ahead and did it.
Later that weekend I spoke with Dave who told me about another client of his who had done the same thing over a month ago. Their original mortgage was sold right before it funded and everything got jacked up, so they were back in escrow with a new company. The upside... and to us it was miniscule... was that they were living in their house "rent free" for a couple of months. Dave said the wife only spoke to him in monotones. I'm pretty sure that information snagged about five hours of sleep from me that night.
Monday morning I was informed that escrow had also forgotten to include our first year of home insurance in the downpayment, so I had to run over and take care of that, too.
Mid-Tuesday we finally funded. Dave and Joe both said we were free to purchase the remaining appliances we needed, but we weren't taking any chances by charging even something small until it was all over.
Wednesday morning we recorded and it was finally done. That night we went to Home Depot and had a rather fun shopping spree. We bought a new dryer (just the gas version of our old one, which was a low-end GE), an over-the-range microwave/convection oven/warmer (ooh yeah), a bazillion blinds for the (21 freaking) windows that need them, paint, paint supplies, primer, a baby gate that we're hoping works at the top of the stairs (the railing is too low for most of 'em) and a new new front door lock (the first one was malfunctioning).
The other day we finally got the operating system and software reinstalled on our computer. Earlier this week our dishwasher finally arrived and so did the DirecTV man. Today we received the microwave and dryer, along with FIOS.
Tomorrow we'll get caught up on laundry, sand and prime some cabinets in the kitchen and hopefully get some of the blinds installed. The plan is to get all the blinds up and the cabinetry painted by the end of the weekend. Now, except for all the packed boxes and wide open views through our windows, this place is really beginning to feel like home.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Madaladalyn
I just can't say how much I love her. She is blooming and growing and learning at an amazing rate these days. Two days ago I tried to let her walk up to Grandma's door from the driveway. About 2/3 of the way there, she faked a fall(!!!), got up and dashed off in the other direction. This morning I told her she could walk to our car, but if she went anywhere else, I would pick her up and carry her. Girlfriend tried to walk right over the rail tie that edges the grass in front of our place. I helped her and, sure enough, she walked straight over to our car. Same thing at Grandma's; I told her she could walk all the way in, yada yada yada. She needed help getting up the driveway, which has a mild slope (for me... not so much when your legs are less than 12 inches long), and again needed a little help getting up the step to their porch. Once there, she went straight in and talked to the dogs. Like it's how she does things all the time. When I said I would have to leave, she took off for the door. I picked her up, smooched her and she was ready for Grandma.
We are in the last stages of limbo regarding the house. We're supposed to sign loan docs this week, but apparently they're not in yet. If we don't sign today or tomorrow, we'll have to wait to get the keys until Friday of next week. Hopefully it will be early Friday, because Tom took the day off to get some painting and moving done before everybody comes out on Saturday. And I had been planning on taking Thursday and Friday off to change locks and paint.
Today I painted one of the walls in Corey's bedroom in preparation for our move. I know our apartment manager will have to paint the whole place anyway, but I couldn't leave whatever-the-hell-that-was on the wall in good conscience. I may go ahead and paint the rest of it. We'll see.
Oh, and I got my hair all lopped off. The same woman who cut my hair nearly two years ago is the one who cut it the other day. She gave me the same haircut this time. Last time she cut my hair, I got knocked up a few weeks later. We'll see if the same thing happens this time (uh... seriously, don't hold your breath... I'll have to have her cut my hair again this summer if that's the goal). I have relegated myself to the back burner quite a bit since getting married. Not that anybody's asked me to or made me feel like I should. It's just what I do. When there are needs, I don't deal in wants. And the six months or so of our marriage were pretty tight financially. After that, I just didn't make a big deal about it... until I couldn't take it anymore. That's where I was the other day. I had told Tom I wanted my hair cut for my birthday. Then I decided that nobody should have to wait for special occasions to get their hair cut. Certainly the guys don't.
When I got to Elham, my stylist, I pulled my hair out of it's perpetual bun. She gasped and said, "Okay. We're going to do something completely different. We're going to give you... uh... style!"
Sure, some people would be offended. I cheered.
When it was all over and she had straightened my naturally curly hair and then curled it with a flat iron (my friend's husband was completely perplexed as to why she would do that, haha), she said, "Don't wait so long next time. Get a trim." Will do.
I'd post photos of the before and after, but the before is lost on my computer and the after is... well the hair is great. The face... ugh! Let's just say it's been easier to say no the past few days.
We are in the last stages of limbo regarding the house. We're supposed to sign loan docs this week, but apparently they're not in yet. If we don't sign today or tomorrow, we'll have to wait to get the keys until Friday of next week. Hopefully it will be early Friday, because Tom took the day off to get some painting and moving done before everybody comes out on Saturday. And I had been planning on taking Thursday and Friday off to change locks and paint.
Today I painted one of the walls in Corey's bedroom in preparation for our move. I know our apartment manager will have to paint the whole place anyway, but I couldn't leave whatever-the-hell-that-was on the wall in good conscience. I may go ahead and paint the rest of it. We'll see.
Oh, and I got my hair all lopped off. The same woman who cut my hair nearly two years ago is the one who cut it the other day. She gave me the same haircut this time. Last time she cut my hair, I got knocked up a few weeks later. We'll see if the same thing happens this time (uh... seriously, don't hold your breath... I'll have to have her cut my hair again this summer if that's the goal). I have relegated myself to the back burner quite a bit since getting married. Not that anybody's asked me to or made me feel like I should. It's just what I do. When there are needs, I don't deal in wants. And the six months or so of our marriage were pretty tight financially. After that, I just didn't make a big deal about it... until I couldn't take it anymore. That's where I was the other day. I had told Tom I wanted my hair cut for my birthday. Then I decided that nobody should have to wait for special occasions to get their hair cut. Certainly the guys don't.
When I got to Elham, my stylist, I pulled my hair out of it's perpetual bun. She gasped and said, "Okay. We're going to do something completely different. We're going to give you... uh... style!"
Sure, some people would be offended. I cheered.
When it was all over and she had straightened my naturally curly hair and then curled it with a flat iron (my friend's husband was completely perplexed as to why she would do that, haha), she said, "Don't wait so long next time. Get a trim." Will do.
I'd post photos of the before and after, but the before is lost on my computer and the after is... well the hair is great. The face... ugh! Let's just say it's been easier to say no the past few days.
Saturday, March 07, 2009
Is It Hot In Here Or Is It Just My Temper?
I cannot wait until the whole house-buying process is over. Not that it's been bad, mind ya, it's just that we can't do anything with the computer until we take care of the house. Truly, the process has been reasonably stress-free, all things considered.
Had one house sold before we put in an offer because it was too freaking awesome to wait for us.
Found an equally awesome home and got it.
Found a busted water main.
Seller fixed it (god I love our real estate agent!!).
Appraiser is requiring a stove and dishwasher be installed prior to the loan funding.
Sister has offered to loan us her dishwasher. It leaks, so we'll rent one if we have to instead.
Realtor is loaning us a range he happens to have in storage and he got us $700 toward appliances from the seller.
Dave says that for every problem there is a solution. We just have to find it. As he also says, home buying isn't stressful if everybody does their jobs. Did you hear that, TOM?!
Argh!!
We all have our jobs. One of Tom's is to deal with money from our investments. We've known for a month that we'll be signing all the docs about a week before closing. We knew a week ago that we'd have to have a cashier's check with the rest of our down payment. We knew by Wednesday that we should be ready early- to mid-next week. So please explain to me (anyone? anyone? do I hear crickets?!?) why he waited until yesterday morning to request the transfer?
So yesterday morning when I was making sure his check had hit our bank account, I was thrilled beyond belief to see that it was several thousand dollars more than he makes. I was even more thrilled to discover that our tax refund (thank you Madelyn and Corey) had come in a week sooner than we'd anticipated.
This meant that we wouldn't have to borrow a range or rent a dishwasher, we were going to buy our appliances this weekend. No worrying about credit card purchases throwing us out of escrow. Blam. Done. Resolved. Next?
What's that, Tom? As I was on the phone telling you the good news, you were on the computer transferring money? It's not going to be there until Wednesday or Thursday of next week? Even though transferring money from these accounts has always taken 3-4 business days, you thought it would be quicker this time?!? WHAT?!?
*deep breath* Ohmm.
So I got off the phone extremely quickly, cursed him with some very foul language, apologized to Nance (who was laughing... she knows the deal) and spent the next ten minutes reminding myself that it was all going to work out. Does my face seem red to you?
And while I'm on a (hopefully rare) Tom rant, I have to say one more thing. He's got a cold. Certain people should just have to go to a cabin or motel or something in times of illness to get away from those they love and who love them. It's a freaking cold, you didn't lose a limb! No fever, so all of your brain cells are in tact! So blow your freaking nose, would ya?! If you'd do that, you'd speed the healing process by ridding your body of the germy yuck and also you'd COUGH LESS. Plus, I don't want to eat with you while you're sniffle-cough-cough-sniffling. And no, I don't want you to make dinner.
*sigh* Ohmm.
Had one house sold before we put in an offer because it was too freaking awesome to wait for us.
Found an equally awesome home and got it.
Found a busted water main.
Seller fixed it (god I love our real estate agent!!).
Appraiser is requiring a stove and dishwasher be installed prior to the loan funding.
Sister has offered to loan us her dishwasher. It leaks, so we'll rent one if we have to instead.
Realtor is loaning us a range he happens to have in storage and he got us $700 toward appliances from the seller.
Dave says that for every problem there is a solution. We just have to find it. As he also says, home buying isn't stressful if everybody does their jobs. Did you hear that, TOM?!
Argh!!
We all have our jobs. One of Tom's is to deal with money from our investments. We've known for a month that we'll be signing all the docs about a week before closing. We knew a week ago that we'd have to have a cashier's check with the rest of our down payment. We knew by Wednesday that we should be ready early- to mid-next week. So please explain to me (anyone? anyone? do I hear crickets?!?) why he waited until yesterday morning to request the transfer?
So yesterday morning when I was making sure his check had hit our bank account, I was thrilled beyond belief to see that it was several thousand dollars more than he makes. I was even more thrilled to discover that our tax refund (thank you Madelyn and Corey) had come in a week sooner than we'd anticipated.
This meant that we wouldn't have to borrow a range or rent a dishwasher, we were going to buy our appliances this weekend. No worrying about credit card purchases throwing us out of escrow. Blam. Done. Resolved. Next?
What's that, Tom? As I was on the phone telling you the good news, you were on the computer transferring money? It's not going to be there until Wednesday or Thursday of next week? Even though transferring money from these accounts has always taken 3-4 business days, you thought it would be quicker this time?!? WHAT?!?
*deep breath* Ohmm.
So I got off the phone extremely quickly, cursed him with some very foul language, apologized to Nance (who was laughing... she knows the deal) and spent the next ten minutes reminding myself that it was all going to work out. Does my face seem red to you?
And while I'm on a (hopefully rare) Tom rant, I have to say one more thing. He's got a cold. Certain people should just have to go to a cabin or motel or something in times of illness to get away from those they love and who love them. It's a freaking cold, you didn't lose a limb! No fever, so all of your brain cells are in tact! So blow your freaking nose, would ya?! If you'd do that, you'd speed the healing process by ridding your body of the germy yuck and also you'd COUGH LESS. Plus, I don't want to eat with you while you're sniffle-cough-cough-sniffling. And no, I don't want you to make dinner.
*sigh* Ohmm.
Monday, March 02, 2009
I Had It Coming
... and I knew it, too! I called it 14 years ago. You see, Corey was the model baby. Born 24 minutes past his due date, learned to latch on the first time he tried it, mild case of jaundice, but nothing else to worry a mom throughout his infancy. The toddler years were peachy-keen, too. If he was heading toward something he shouldn't, I just turned him around. If he had his hands on something I didn't want him to have, I simply traded for something else. Of course, the past 10 years have been a roller coaster that hasn't always been exciting in a way one would like.
Madelyn, however...
Tom says she gets it from me.
I say he's absolutely right. I have an ability to focus on a goal and achieve it, big or small.
Tom says that's not what he's talking about.
Let's go back a little way, shall we? Not too far, because she's only 10 months old (oh alright... and a half). Tummy time is the catch phrase used to remind parents of newborns that babies still need to practice being on their tummies, even though they shouldn't sleep that way. Tom is a believer in practicing... anything. So Mad had lots of tummy time. In the beginning, she spent the whole time (a minute or so) yelling and trying to lift her head as far away from the floor as possible.
It has always been simple to tell that Mad's learning something new. Why? Well, because she always combines the learning process with lots of yelling.
Learning to roll over? Aaaaaahh! Now the other way? Aahh! (There's a learning curve, apparently.)
Crawling? Sitting up? Cruising? Walking? Yelling.
She's learning to talk now, so the yells are coming out in different ways. But for a girl who was born with a collapsed lung, she never was a quiet one. And hanging out at Papa's house all day isn't making her any quieter. It's like they're related or something (sort of a joke, sort of serious here... of course he's my dad, but he and I have no blood between us).
This weekend Madelyn grabbed my lip balm. I was holding her and the deal (I thought she understood) was that she could hold it as long as she was in my lap. "No deal!" she declared with loud bawling yells and lots of tears. I believe my daughter... six weeks from her first birthday... has had her first temper tantrum!
Yesterday evening we took her outside to enjoy the great weather before things cool off and the rain comes back. She walked back and forth on the sidewalk for nearly 45 minutes. When there was more falling than walking and we realized dinner time was upon us, I merely suggested that we go inside. "No deal!" she howled again. Tom decided to try things in a way I'm surprised I didn't come up with... he would let her walk in by herself instead of me picking her up.
Ten minutes later we were dragging a yowling, tear-drenched baby into the house. I believe she has had two temper tantrums!
I know I couldn't have handled tantrums from Corey back when I predicted that a second child of mine wouldn't be so easily managed. I was nearly a wee babe myself, so I am grateful that he didn't have them. And I'm so grateful to have someone to share Madelyn's with since she is clearly about to give us a real run for our money.
My latest goal? Not laughing while she's yelling.
Madelyn, however...
Tom says she gets it from me.
I say he's absolutely right. I have an ability to focus on a goal and achieve it, big or small.
Tom says that's not what he's talking about.
Let's go back a little way, shall we? Not too far, because she's only 10 months old (oh alright... and a half). Tummy time is the catch phrase used to remind parents of newborns that babies still need to practice being on their tummies, even though they shouldn't sleep that way. Tom is a believer in practicing... anything. So Mad had lots of tummy time. In the beginning, she spent the whole time (a minute or so) yelling and trying to lift her head as far away from the floor as possible.
It has always been simple to tell that Mad's learning something new. Why? Well, because she always combines the learning process with lots of yelling.
Learning to roll over? Aaaaaahh! Now the other way? Aahh! (There's a learning curve, apparently.)
Crawling? Sitting up? Cruising? Walking? Yelling.
She's learning to talk now, so the yells are coming out in different ways. But for a girl who was born with a collapsed lung, she never was a quiet one. And hanging out at Papa's house all day isn't making her any quieter. It's like they're related or something (sort of a joke, sort of serious here... of course he's my dad, but he and I have no blood between us).
This weekend Madelyn grabbed my lip balm. I was holding her and the deal (I thought she understood) was that she could hold it as long as she was in my lap. "No deal!" she declared with loud bawling yells and lots of tears. I believe my daughter... six weeks from her first birthday... has had her first temper tantrum!
Yesterday evening we took her outside to enjoy the great weather before things cool off and the rain comes back. She walked back and forth on the sidewalk for nearly 45 minutes. When there was more falling than walking and we realized dinner time was upon us, I merely suggested that we go inside. "No deal!" she howled again. Tom decided to try things in a way I'm surprised I didn't come up with... he would let her walk in by herself instead of me picking her up.
Ten minutes later we were dragging a yowling, tear-drenched baby into the house. I believe she has had two temper tantrums!
I know I couldn't have handled tantrums from Corey back when I predicted that a second child of mine wouldn't be so easily managed. I was nearly a wee babe myself, so I am grateful that he didn't have them. And I'm so grateful to have someone to share Madelyn's with since she is clearly about to give us a real run for our money.
My latest goal? Not laughing while she's yelling.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
The End of Christmas
What?! It's the end of February, so how can I still be talking about Christmas?!? 'Cuz I just gave my last gift, that's how. With money being tight, Tom and I talked our families into cutting back on the gift exchange. When it came to my mom, she said we didn't need to give her anything, but if we wanted, we could clean out her shed.
Oh, she's a crafty one, my mom. And I don't mean that she's into doing crafts, either. She's probably been asking me to clean the shed since... oh... ahem... when I lived here more than three years ago. Most of the crap in there was hers, some of it was mine and all of the mess was Corey's. So today he and I spent two hours or so pulling everything out and sorting it into recycling, trash, donation, keep and hey-that's-mine.
One of the boxes that I'd assumed was more of her Christmas decorations turned out to be a box of kitchen stuff from my old apartment. Most of it I went ahead and "donated," but there were a few things I could still use more than someone else.
So I am covered in dust and webs, but Mom's letting me use her computer anyway. Pretty sweet, that woman.
In the room adjacent to this one, there is a massive collection of boxes. I have lost count, but a serious quantity of our kitchen stuff has been packed up and brought over. Some time this weekend Tom's supposed to pack up our office. Once he does that, I'll hopefully be able to use some of that space instead of bringing so much over here.
In Mad-a-news, she's starting to get the hang of the whole "where's your nose" thing... but we're just at the very beginning. This morning as Tom and I were playing with her in our bed, I kept pointing out our noses and also the nose on Pooh. For the remainder of the morning when asked, "Where's your nose?" she would grab Pooh and touch his nose while looking like she wasn't quite sure that's what we wanted.
In Coreyland, the day hasn't been so great for him. He spent the morning helping me pack. We attempted to make hash browns, but came out with one batch of hash grays and one of hash blacks instead. (Now I recall why I don't make them from scratch.) Then he and Tom had a minor spat, but it resulted in Tom realizing how messy Corey's room is... thus he was to spend the rest of his "free time" cleaning it. (Personally I say we wait another 10 days before having him clean... then there's less chance of it being as bad right before we move.) Cleaning the shed wasn't fun, but it was really a nice time that he and I had, all things considered. However, now that the work is done and he knows he'll be staying the night at Grammy's, he found out that his best friend, Ricky, is grounded. Grr!
And in bigger news related to Corey, it seems that his counselor and psychiatrist are coming closer to making a diagnosis of bipolar disorder. Part of me feels like saying, "Who cares?! Call it what you will, we've been living with it since nearly forever." The rest of me doesn't want my baby to struggle with mental illness his whole life.
Oh, she's a crafty one, my mom. And I don't mean that she's into doing crafts, either. She's probably been asking me to clean the shed since... oh... ahem... when I lived here more than three years ago. Most of the crap in there was hers, some of it was mine and all of the mess was Corey's. So today he and I spent two hours or so pulling everything out and sorting it into recycling, trash, donation, keep and hey-that's-mine.
It turns out that the recycling program that her park used to run is kaput, and I'm not jamming four years worth of dust-covered crap into my car. So I had Corey put it out near the dumpster. Same with the donation stuff.
One of the boxes that I'd assumed was more of her Christmas decorations turned out to be a box of kitchen stuff from my old apartment. Most of it I went ahead and "donated," but there were a few things I could still use more than someone else.
So I am covered in dust and webs, but Mom's letting me use her computer anyway. Pretty sweet, that woman.
In the room adjacent to this one, there is a massive collection of boxes. I have lost count, but a serious quantity of our kitchen stuff has been packed up and brought over. Some time this weekend Tom's supposed to pack up our office. Once he does that, I'll hopefully be able to use some of that space instead of bringing so much over here.
In Mad-a-news, she's starting to get the hang of the whole "where's your nose" thing... but we're just at the very beginning. This morning as Tom and I were playing with her in our bed, I kept pointing out our noses and also the nose on Pooh. For the remainder of the morning when asked, "Where's your nose?" she would grab Pooh and touch his nose while looking like she wasn't quite sure that's what we wanted.
In Coreyland, the day hasn't been so great for him. He spent the morning helping me pack. We attempted to make hash browns, but came out with one batch of hash grays and one of hash blacks instead. (Now I recall why I don't make them from scratch.) Then he and Tom had a minor spat, but it resulted in Tom realizing how messy Corey's room is... thus he was to spend the rest of his "free time" cleaning it. (Personally I say we wait another 10 days before having him clean... then there's less chance of it being as bad right before we move.) Cleaning the shed wasn't fun, but it was really a nice time that he and I had, all things considered. However, now that the work is done and he knows he'll be staying the night at Grammy's, he found out that his best friend, Ricky, is grounded. Grr!
And in bigger news related to Corey, it seems that his counselor and psychiatrist are coming closer to making a diagnosis of bipolar disorder. Part of me feels like saying, "Who cares?! Call it what you will, we've been living with it since nearly forever." The rest of me doesn't want my baby to struggle with mental illness his whole life.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Checking In
So the knickknack formerly known as our computer has no real chance of being saved and, from what I can figure out, I may have accidentally donated our operating system and program disks when I got rid of some other programs that we don't use. I could be wrong. Maybe we've both just missed them. My inability to find anything when it's staring me right in the face has been rubbing off on Tom, so I guess it's possible.
In other news, the busted water main is being repaired by the sellers. That's good news because all of our available cash and much of our credit will be going toward other things we need for the house.
Tom and I are anxious to get back up there and finish the inspection. Today we decided on the dishwashwer and range that we'd like to get. The range is about $700 more than our previous first choice (naturally) unless we buy it at the Sear's Outlet. Then it's the same price as the other one. Hopefully they'll still have some in stock when we are ready, about three weeks from now.
Madelyn has been walking for more than a month now. She has it all down, too. From getting up in the middle of the floor to walking on grass to walking on a grassy hill (up and down, thank you very much). And I'm guessing she will not be another ADD child based on this one simple difference between her and Corey when he was around this age: If Corey was doing something he shouldn't, I would just turn him around and he'd get interested in something else right away. For Madelyn, touching the TV is a game that she wants to play and play. She isn't supposed to have much of a long-term memory yet, but she walks over, puts her hand near the TV, stops to look at me and smile before touching it. She is 10 months old and has already been called by her full name about half a dozen times! God I love her!
Corey is doing alright. He's slowing down on his schoolwork again. I notice that this keeps happening whenever he's given a quantity of work and a timeline in which to complete it. Very frustrating, but I'm on to him now. I had him start doing some of the preliminary cleaning in his room today.
And in packing news, we're up to about 30 boxes, four folding chairs and two beach umbrellas at Mom's house, 7-8 more boxes ready to go (why did I leave them at home when I came here?!?) and a plan for what's next. Today I packed up most of the utensils that we don't use regularly and that felt good.
I guess that's about all for now. No word on when we'll be dealing with the computer. Tom's parents offered to buy a laptop because he needs computer access for a business he's trying to start up. Initially I said no because he and I have a deal: he can get a laptop when he's making progress on completing his thesis (or, as I call it, "The Damn Paper"). He's been a thesis away from his Master's degree for seven years now. But we may need to break the deal in order to be able to take care of what needs doing. Mom lets us come here (thanks Mom... and this time I mean it, lol), but her Internet is spotty lately. Plus we won't always be four miles apart. Argh!
**I don't have time to spell check this sucker, so if it's whacked out, I apologize.
In other news, the busted water main is being repaired by the sellers. That's good news because all of our available cash and much of our credit will be going toward other things we need for the house.
Tom and I are anxious to get back up there and finish the inspection. Today we decided on the dishwashwer and range that we'd like to get. The range is about $700 more than our previous first choice (naturally) unless we buy it at the Sear's Outlet. Then it's the same price as the other one. Hopefully they'll still have some in stock when we are ready, about three weeks from now.
Madelyn has been walking for more than a month now. She has it all down, too. From getting up in the middle of the floor to walking on grass to walking on a grassy hill (up and down, thank you very much). And I'm guessing she will not be another ADD child based on this one simple difference between her and Corey when he was around this age: If Corey was doing something he shouldn't, I would just turn him around and he'd get interested in something else right away. For Madelyn, touching the TV is a game that she wants to play and play. She isn't supposed to have much of a long-term memory yet, but she walks over, puts her hand near the TV, stops to look at me and smile before touching it. She is 10 months old and has already been called by her full name about half a dozen times! God I love her!
Corey is doing alright. He's slowing down on his schoolwork again. I notice that this keeps happening whenever he's given a quantity of work and a timeline in which to complete it. Very frustrating, but I'm on to him now. I had him start doing some of the preliminary cleaning in his room today.
And in packing news, we're up to about 30 boxes, four folding chairs and two beach umbrellas at Mom's house, 7-8 more boxes ready to go (why did I leave them at home when I came here?!?) and a plan for what's next. Today I packed up most of the utensils that we don't use regularly and that felt good.
I guess that's about all for now. No word on when we'll be dealing with the computer. Tom's parents offered to buy a laptop because he needs computer access for a business he's trying to start up. Initially I said no because he and I have a deal: he can get a laptop when he's making progress on completing his thesis (or, as I call it, "The Damn Paper"). He's been a thesis away from his Master's degree for seven years now. But we may need to break the deal in order to be able to take care of what needs doing. Mom lets us come here (thanks Mom... and this time I mean it, lol), but her Internet is spotty lately. Plus we won't always be four miles apart. Argh!
**I don't have time to spell check this sucker, so if it's whacked out, I apologize.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
It's the Economy, Baby
Today I helped move some of Mom's furnishings from her office at the church, where she will work until Sunday. As I was schlepping her credenza up the stairs into her home, her neighbor came out and we chatted for a few minutes. Her husband has already been laid off. I know of no fewer than a dozen people within my extended circle of friends and family who are recently unemployed due to the economy.
The other morning I woke from a dream wondering if we were going to start seeing bread lines and soup kitchens.
And in the midst of this, we are buying a house. Assuming we can each hold on to our jobs, that is. I have spent less than half of our grant so far at work. Spend it or lose it. Lose it and lose everything. Meanwhile, Tom is still having a couple of days off unpaid a month.
Those incredibly short-sighted state workers here in California irk me like you can't believe. So you have to take two Fridays off each month without pay. Otherwise your job's pretty secure, right? Suck it up and deal, just like the rest of us. There's no need for whining to the media.
And for the people who were inconvenienced by the offices being closed last week... grow the freak up, would ya?!? We all have inconveniences. It's not like the people who work there wanted to be off. I know. I read the news.
Argh!
Again I say, in the midst of all this, we are buying a house. C'mon Saint Patrick's Day! C'mon job security! It's the ultimate hopeful action these days. We hope it works out. I feel like it will. I have packed over 20 boxes and labeled them with the contents and the name of the room where they should be placed when we move them up the hill. I can picture our washer and dryer in the laundry room. I know which room is who's and what will happen should we have another child next year. I am starting to believe.
The other morning I woke from a dream wondering if we were going to start seeing bread lines and soup kitchens.
And in the midst of this, we are buying a house. Assuming we can each hold on to our jobs, that is. I have spent less than half of our grant so far at work. Spend it or lose it. Lose it and lose everything. Meanwhile, Tom is still having a couple of days off unpaid a month.
Those incredibly short-sighted state workers here in California irk me like you can't believe. So you have to take two Fridays off each month without pay. Otherwise your job's pretty secure, right? Suck it up and deal, just like the rest of us. There's no need for whining to the media.
And for the people who were inconvenienced by the offices being closed last week... grow the freak up, would ya?!? We all have inconveniences. It's not like the people who work there wanted to be off. I know. I read the news.
Argh!
Again I say, in the midst of all this, we are buying a house. C'mon Saint Patrick's Day! C'mon job security! It's the ultimate hopeful action these days. We hope it works out. I feel like it will. I have packed over 20 boxes and labeled them with the contents and the name of the room where they should be placed when we move them up the hill. I can picture our washer and dryer in the laundry room. I know which room is who's and what will happen should we have another child next year. I am starting to believe.
Sunday, February 08, 2009
Thanks, Mom!
This has to be quick. I'm at Mom's house, using her computer because ours has gone from sick with at least 15 viruses (viri?) to anybody-know-the-Last-Rites? Well, it's not really dying as much as it doesn't matter that it's alive. I can turn it on, log in and watch it start to load for about 15 seconds before it logs me off again. "Windows" is not a recognized file. That's bad, right?
And how did we come to have such a meltdown while we're in escrow and can't spend an extra cent on anything otherwise how will we pay for the new appliances and blinds the house requires? I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say my son was porn surfing... again. I'm not just saying that because he's my favorite scapegoat. I say that because the names of the infected files that brought the computer down (back when I thought it was still salvageable) pretty well spelled it out.
Last night Corey stayed here at Mom's house. He also got to come here for a few hours on Friday afternoon. My mom and I have had a standing rule that Corey can use her secondary computer... the one without Internet access while he's here. Makes sense, right?
Imagine my chagrin when I called this morning and asked what he was up to... he was playing his game on this computer. "It's okay. Grammy let's me."
Oh, hell no!
So I called her... she was already at church. She works there (for now, damned economy), and leaves Corey at home until the second service. Corey wasn't making it up. She does let him.
How many times have we talked about the need for him to be supervised if he's on this computer? Or if he's at work with her, because yes, my boy has stolen from the church. But it's as if those things are so far in the past as to not be of concern anymore.
With all the recent problems we've had... and they've been huge... you'd think she could truly be helpful, instead of trying to be his friend.
So I have appealed, yet again, to her desire for his well-being, and how that does not include porn surfing. As an extra measure, I pointed out the damage done to our computer and that she can't afford to have to repair this one again. Less than a month ago she had to get a new tower and all the bits that go into it. She had gotten a virus somehow. Anybody want to guess how?
And how did we come to have such a meltdown while we're in escrow and can't spend an extra cent on anything otherwise how will we pay for the new appliances and blinds the house requires? I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say my son was porn surfing... again. I'm not just saying that because he's my favorite scapegoat. I say that because the names of the infected files that brought the computer down (back when I thought it was still salvageable) pretty well spelled it out.
Last night Corey stayed here at Mom's house. He also got to come here for a few hours on Friday afternoon. My mom and I have had a standing rule that Corey can use her secondary computer... the one without Internet access while he's here. Makes sense, right?
Imagine my chagrin when I called this morning and asked what he was up to... he was playing his game on this computer. "It's okay. Grammy let's me."
Oh, hell no!
So I called her... she was already at church. She works there (for now, damned economy), and leaves Corey at home until the second service. Corey wasn't making it up. She does let him.
How many times have we talked about the need for him to be supervised if he's on this computer? Or if he's at work with her, because yes, my boy has stolen from the church. But it's as if those things are so far in the past as to not be of concern anymore.
With all the recent problems we've had... and they've been huge... you'd think she could truly be helpful, instead of trying to be his friend.
So I have appealed, yet again, to her desire for his well-being, and how that does not include porn surfing. As an extra measure, I pointed out the damage done to our computer and that she can't afford to have to repair this one again. Less than a month ago she had to get a new tower and all the bits that go into it. She had gotten a virus somehow. Anybody want to guess how?
Friday, January 30, 2009
Get Your Pens Handy
I took the day off yesterday mainly because I didn't get done what I needed to accomplish on Wednesday, what with all of the Corey stuff (I'd taken Wednesday afternoon off, too, naturally). What stuff didn't I get done? Well, work stuff, actually. Yes, I took the day off from work so that I could... work... for my job.
Okay, I understand how lame that is, especially since I essentially worked from 9:00 in the morning until 7:00 in the evening. But I didn't have to take any calls, go to any schools or see any employers. And I did it at my home in my PJ's and my mom's house in my slippers. Corey was at school most of the time. If I have one less "sick" day because of my weird choices, I don't really care.
We decided to let home choice number 1A fall by the wayside. If things don't work out with our first choice, it has occurred to us that there are other homes out there with new carpet and paint. Plus, the bank that is selling house number 1, which we now call the Gobi house (because of the street name, not because it spans two countries or anything... even if it is fricken huge!) has negotiated until we can't negotiate any further. We signed their last counter yesterday morning, and last night we signed the loan docs.
People keep calling us homeowners, but I really won't feel that way until we have the keys in our hands and they work in the locks!
Our lender, Joe, had told us when we first met that he will repeatedly call us for "one more thing"... to the point that we'll want to meet him in the parking lot after work! So before we left last night Tom asked what sorts of things we should keep handy. We are fairly compulsive about putting things in the shredding pile, although not as compulsive about actually shredding it, so nothing should get too far away if we need it. But it turns out we mainly need to turn in bank statements and paystubs as they come in. Hopefully that will be enough from us to keep things going smoothly.
Dave and Joe say that home buying isn't really stressful, it's just a matter of doing your job and of them doing their jobs. I wonder if I'll agree when this is over.
One thing that has turned out to be even better than we'd planned is that our mortgage will be about $20 less than what we now pay for our cozy little apartment. And the house is roughly two and a half times the size of this place. People keep asking if we have enough furniture for such a place. Absolutely not. But we'll get there... over time. At first we'll be focusing on the necessities: Appliances and window coverings. Then I imagine it'll be a couple of hide-a-bed type couches or something like that for guests. Somewhere in there we'll need to landscape the backyard and get patio furniture. And put up a patio cover.
Oh, and we need to buy dishes. Not because it's a new place, but because I live with guys. What started as a service for eight is now three! dinner plates, five salad plates and seven mugs. I've never been a huge fan of Corelle, but even if I have to get those gawd-awful duck-bordered ones, that's what I'm getting. I need plates that last.
Tom's parents have the same dishes they bought 30 years ago. That's what I need. Not that I expect them to last that long for us, but 10 years would be awesome. Heck, I'd be happy with five years at this point.
Speaking of kitchen items, I have had my eye on a dining table for the past two years now. It seats six without the leaves and up to 12 with them. Depending on the wood, we can get it for $450-$1300. Since that doesn't include the chairs, we'd definitely be going with the $450 variety. It's the same wood as our current table (which seats four to six comfortably as long as you don't want to put any food on it).
Hmm... what else can I add to my shopping list? Probably a lot, but I think I'll stop now. Shopping's tiring!
Okay, I understand how lame that is, especially since I essentially worked from 9:00 in the morning until 7:00 in the evening. But I didn't have to take any calls, go to any schools or see any employers. And I did it at my home in my PJ's and my mom's house in my slippers. Corey was at school most of the time. If I have one less "sick" day because of my weird choices, I don't really care.
We decided to let home choice number 1A fall by the wayside. If things don't work out with our first choice, it has occurred to us that there are other homes out there with new carpet and paint. Plus, the bank that is selling house number 1, which we now call the Gobi house (because of the street name, not because it spans two countries or anything... even if it is fricken huge!) has negotiated until we can't negotiate any further. We signed their last counter yesterday morning, and last night we signed the loan docs.
People keep calling us homeowners, but I really won't feel that way until we have the keys in our hands and they work in the locks!
Our lender, Joe, had told us when we first met that he will repeatedly call us for "one more thing"... to the point that we'll want to meet him in the parking lot after work! So before we left last night Tom asked what sorts of things we should keep handy. We are fairly compulsive about putting things in the shredding pile, although not as compulsive about actually shredding it, so nothing should get too far away if we need it. But it turns out we mainly need to turn in bank statements and paystubs as they come in. Hopefully that will be enough from us to keep things going smoothly.
Dave and Joe say that home buying isn't really stressful, it's just a matter of doing your job and of them doing their jobs. I wonder if I'll agree when this is over.
One thing that has turned out to be even better than we'd planned is that our mortgage will be about $20 less than what we now pay for our cozy little apartment. And the house is roughly two and a half times the size of this place. People keep asking if we have enough furniture for such a place. Absolutely not. But we'll get there... over time. At first we'll be focusing on the necessities: Appliances and window coverings. Then I imagine it'll be a couple of hide-a-bed type couches or something like that for guests. Somewhere in there we'll need to landscape the backyard and get patio furniture. And put up a patio cover.
Oh, and we need to buy dishes. Not because it's a new place, but because I live with guys. What started as a service for eight is now three! dinner plates, five salad plates and seven mugs. I've never been a huge fan of Corelle, but even if I have to get those gawd-awful duck-bordered ones, that's what I'm getting. I need plates that last.
Tom's parents have the same dishes they bought 30 years ago. That's what I need. Not that I expect them to last that long for us, but 10 years would be awesome. Heck, I'd be happy with five years at this point.
Speaking of kitchen items, I have had my eye on a dining table for the past two years now. It seats six without the leaves and up to 12 with them. Depending on the wood, we can get it for $450-$1300. Since that doesn't include the chairs, we'd definitely be going with the $450 variety. It's the same wood as our current table (which seats four to six comfortably as long as you don't want to put any food on it).
Hmm... what else can I add to my shopping list? Probably a lot, but I think I'll stop now. Shopping's tiring!
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Note on the Front Gate
Dear Corey,
Please come home. Whatever you did today is something we can talk about. You are my son and I love you. No one has asked you to leave. Everything has been going so well, so I know we can work this out. We've certainly been through tougher, although nothing would be tougher than having you leave.
Please come home.
Please call.
Mom
PS Of course the door will stay open for you.
Yeah. It was a rough one yesterday. He is home. We are "okay." Although I have heard him explain why he left, I do not understand it at all. But that goes both ways, I guess. While he heard me explain why taking a walk during the day instead of doing homework was not great, but not at all comparable to leaving in the middle of the night and running around town, banging on people's doors because he thought he was being followed by gang members... I don't think he sees the difference.
I have not gotten a promise that he won't just leave again. I don't suppose I would believe it anyway.
Of all the thoughts that floated and ran and paced through my brain yesterday, the primary three were:
It turns out that knowing your child has run away doesn't bring any comfort. Not like you thought it would, right? But if you had to think about your child running away versus being kidnapped, maybe you'd tell yourself "at least I'd know he/she left of their own will" or "at least they're not under anybody else's control." But the truth is, you only know they were safe when they left. You have no idea how things went once they walked down the street. There's no way to know which way they headed.
There is no comfort.
Please come home. Whatever you did today is something we can talk about. You are my son and I love you. No one has asked you to leave. Everything has been going so well, so I know we can work this out. We've certainly been through tougher, although nothing would be tougher than having you leave.
Please come home.
Please call.
Mom
PS Of course the door will stay open for you.
Yeah. It was a rough one yesterday. He is home. We are "okay." Although I have heard him explain why he left, I do not understand it at all. But that goes both ways, I guess. While he heard me explain why taking a walk during the day instead of doing homework was not great, but not at all comparable to leaving in the middle of the night and running around town, banging on people's doors because he thought he was being followed by gang members... I don't think he sees the difference.
I have not gotten a promise that he won't just leave again. I don't suppose I would believe it anyway.
Of all the thoughts that floated and ran and paced through my brain yesterday, the primary three were:
- Will he go up to the mountains like he had planned to last time?
- How he handle the cold? It's supposed to be in the 20's to 30's here tonight... How much colder will it be at a higher elevation?
- Will I ever see him again?
- If we get the house, are we supposed to move if he's not home by then? He knows how to get to Grammy's house, but what if something happens to her and he has no way to reach us again... ever? Should we just stay here until we know where he's at?
It turns out that knowing your child has run away doesn't bring any comfort. Not like you thought it would, right? But if you had to think about your child running away versus being kidnapped, maybe you'd tell yourself "at least I'd know he/she left of their own will" or "at least they're not under anybody else's control." But the truth is, you only know they were safe when they left. You have no idea how things went once they walked down the street. There's no way to know which way they headed.
There is no comfort.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Fear
We are at a crossroads. We went out with Dave on Saturday and looked at 18 more houses. We had 26 on the list, but many of the ones we didn't see were short sales (which are anything but short when all is said and done). A few others had offers going and one (that I really wanted to see) has been recently thrashed. So with "only" 18 homes to check out, we had a little extra time to spend (ha!). Sort of. I taught that morning, so we didn't get up the hill until after 11:30.
We reviewed Dave's rules, but still ended up spending more time than we should have at the first house. I think it just had to do with it being the first house of the day. Oh, and there was a man and his teenaged daughter walking their dog. They stopped to speak with us, and I think they made the house more appealing than it really was. Once we got out of there, the next 10-12 houses were a bust. We never made it up the stairs in any of them. In some, just walking in and seeing that the "backyard slope" was really a wall of dirt taller than the eight foot high sliders was enough to send us right back out. As Dave said, "Why would you buy that house? Who the hell bought it to begin with? What were they thinking?"
Another house was too ornate inside. It reminded me of the homes I've visited of people I've met who are from Pakistan and Egypt; lovely, but certainly not my sensibility. Plus, there were two massive "sheds" built out back that were not complete, and based on the workmanship, proximity to the house and the fact that they blocked access to the air conditioning unit, not likely permitted either.
We did check out a couple of one-storey homes. They weren't bad. One would have definitely been in the running if it really had the four advertised bedrooms. The other was equally awesome, but up against a drainage ditch. In California these are cemented, so I'm not worried about erosion and sliding as much as that Corey would explore the length of it. And Mad has her own independent, somewhat feisty little spirit, too. We can't be sure she wouldn't scale that fence as soon as possible. She's just nine and a half months old and has already been taking her first unassisted steps for nearly a week. So a house with a drainage ditch? Out of the question.
Somewhere around three-quarters of the way through Saturday's agenda we finally started to find some decent homes. We had a run of good, better, best and hey, this wouldn't be too bad either! Once it was all over... around 4:00... we stopped for what turned out to be breakfast, lunch and dinner. We rehashed the possibilities, laid out a plan and went back to check out the two we were most interested in considering. They have been ranked as our number 1 and 1A choices. Number 1 is clearly better (brand new paint and carpet, but missing all appliances), but number 1A really only needs paint downstairs (why do so many people think that salmon is an appropriate color for a house? and what the hell is up with three shades of progressively worse/more neon salmon?) and to have a fence repaired. Plus it has a covered patio. We decided to put offers down on both of them and see what might stick.
Dave ran the comps and decided that we should offer about $6000 less than the asking price on each home. We heard from 1A this morning. They countered with a higher price, but said they'd pay closing costs. We have to decide by noon tomorrow.
Dave then caught up with the agent for house number one. They had an all cash offer, but it was lower than ours. He could let us know soon, possibly by Wednesday.
If you're going to have a worst case scenario, this is not a bad one to have. Say we take 1A while waiting one 1, are we then obligated to stick with our second choice if the first choice accepts our offer?
As we were debating the issue over Madelyn's playtime this evening, Dave called again. House 1 had countered... still well below asking, but they'd only pay 3% toward closing costs. It means putting about $3000 more out at the onset than we were expecting. It's not impossible to gather the money together, but we still have to buy a new stove, oven, dishwasher and window coverings. Ack! We want this house, but what are we willing to give up to get it?
A little, but not much, is the answer. My brilliant husband has countered their counter, saying we'll pay an additional $2000 if they'll pay another percent toward closing (which should just about cover it). We'll submit the offer en la manana and should hopefully find out mas rapido. The bank wants a shorter escrow of 30 days, but we're also asking for 36 days to give our broker enough time to get everything done on our end.
Please keep your fingers crossed, put good thoughts in your hearts and wish us the best. We might actually be able to do this.
We reviewed Dave's rules, but still ended up spending more time than we should have at the first house. I think it just had to do with it being the first house of the day. Oh, and there was a man and his teenaged daughter walking their dog. They stopped to speak with us, and I think they made the house more appealing than it really was. Once we got out of there, the next 10-12 houses were a bust. We never made it up the stairs in any of them. In some, just walking in and seeing that the "backyard slope" was really a wall of dirt taller than the eight foot high sliders was enough to send us right back out. As Dave said, "Why would you buy that house? Who the hell bought it to begin with? What were they thinking?"
Another house was too ornate inside. It reminded me of the homes I've visited of people I've met who are from Pakistan and Egypt; lovely, but certainly not my sensibility. Plus, there were two massive "sheds" built out back that were not complete, and based on the workmanship, proximity to the house and the fact that they blocked access to the air conditioning unit, not likely permitted either.
We did check out a couple of one-storey homes. They weren't bad. One would have definitely been in the running if it really had the four advertised bedrooms. The other was equally awesome, but up against a drainage ditch. In California these are cemented, so I'm not worried about erosion and sliding as much as that Corey would explore the length of it. And Mad has her own independent, somewhat feisty little spirit, too. We can't be sure she wouldn't scale that fence as soon as possible. She's just nine and a half months old and has already been taking her first unassisted steps for nearly a week. So a house with a drainage ditch? Out of the question.
Somewhere around three-quarters of the way through Saturday's agenda we finally started to find some decent homes. We had a run of good, better, best and hey, this wouldn't be too bad either! Once it was all over... around 4:00... we stopped for what turned out to be breakfast, lunch and dinner. We rehashed the possibilities, laid out a plan and went back to check out the two we were most interested in considering. They have been ranked as our number 1 and 1A choices. Number 1 is clearly better (brand new paint and carpet, but missing all appliances), but number 1A really only needs paint downstairs (why do so many people think that salmon is an appropriate color for a house? and what the hell is up with three shades of progressively worse/more neon salmon?) and to have a fence repaired. Plus it has a covered patio. We decided to put offers down on both of them and see what might stick.
Dave ran the comps and decided that we should offer about $6000 less than the asking price on each home. We heard from 1A this morning. They countered with a higher price, but said they'd pay closing costs. We have to decide by noon tomorrow.
Dave then caught up with the agent for house number one. They had an all cash offer, but it was lower than ours. He could let us know soon, possibly by Wednesday.
If you're going to have a worst case scenario, this is not a bad one to have. Say we take 1A while waiting one 1, are we then obligated to stick with our second choice if the first choice accepts our offer?
As we were debating the issue over Madelyn's playtime this evening, Dave called again. House 1 had countered... still well below asking, but they'd only pay 3% toward closing costs. It means putting about $3000 more out at the onset than we were expecting. It's not impossible to gather the money together, but we still have to buy a new stove, oven, dishwasher and window coverings. Ack! We want this house, but what are we willing to give up to get it?
A little, but not much, is the answer. My brilliant husband has countered their counter, saying we'll pay an additional $2000 if they'll pay another percent toward closing (which should just about cover it). We'll submit the offer en la manana and should hopefully find out mas rapido. The bank wants a shorter escrow of 30 days, but we're also asking for 36 days to give our broker enough time to get everything done on our end.
Please keep your fingers crossed, put good thoughts in your hearts and wish us the best. We might actually be able to do this.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Vacation Stories
I'll admit that I'd forgotten I was going to blog about the trip. Life has just been so busy lately that our limited down time has been spent sleeping. Lucky for you (yeah, I know that's questionable at best), I got a nap this afternoon, so I'm wide awake tonight. I already did a couple loads of laundry and responded to a few emails, so now I'm all yours.
Wait... where are you going?
I was going to have a step-by-step guide to our vacation, but I figured it'd be better to just give you some distilled nuggets of knowledge gained along the way.
1. Driving until you're exhausted... which happens to coincide with 15 minutes after the baby has fallen asleep in her carseat... is never a good idea. If you choose this option anyway, when you do get everyone unloaded and into your third floor outside walk-up "hotel" room in six degree weather, do not be surprised if your teen and your toddler have crawling contests to help them unwind. Hope there is no one in the room below you. Further, do not expect said toddler to fall asleep for at least 90 minutes after everyone's in bed, because she could not be more awake right now.
2. Giving a baby a teething biscuit while going through the hillier areas of Missouri is only good as long as someone is in the back seat with her to know that she's choking on it. Thank you, Corey... you saved your sister's life, even if you felt helpless at the time.
3. Watching your husband introduce your daughter to snow is beautiful.
4. Those puffy kids jackets that you hate because they get staticky and also because they make it hard to fit your daughter into her carseat? They are great as something to hide behind in a photo.
5. No matter how grateful you are that your son helped keep your daughter from choking to death, you will be extremely upset and embarrassed when you walk in a room to find him rifling through your in-laws belongs. Quadruple those feelings when you discover what he's pocketed. Feeling lost and unsure of where to go from here comes when, a few days later, you realize that he just ripped a bunch of nude photos out of an art book at Borders, where you've all gone to spend some Christmas gift cards. Relief and frustration, on the other hand, come when the store manager accepts payment for the book, but you know she would have just let you leave without anything worse than, "Thank you for letting us know."
***Note: I don't have a problem, per se, with the nude photos. He might have been able to purchase the book whole if he'd asked.
6. You're never too young to learn about cards.
7. There's nothing like a full belly and Daddy's lap to relax a girl. There's also nothing like putting your daughter to sleep to make Daddy proud.
8. Sometimes it's hard to remember the difference between knitted and crocheted... but with enough time in Wisconsin, you'll figure it out.
9. Traveling is not fun when you're sick. It's worse when your baby is so sick, you're in frequent contact with your pediatric nurse mother-in-law to make sure you're doing everything you can. It's cruel and unusual punishment if your husband is also ill.
10. Changing pads are required for diaper changes, especially when traveling. If you choose not to use one, know that you will:
Wait... where are you going?
I was going to have a step-by-step guide to our vacation, but I figured it'd be better to just give you some distilled nuggets of knowledge gained along the way.
1. Driving until you're exhausted... which happens to coincide with 15 minutes after the baby has fallen asleep in her carseat... is never a good idea. If you choose this option anyway, when you do get everyone unloaded and into your third floor outside walk-up "hotel" room in six degree weather, do not be surprised if your teen and your toddler have crawling contests to help them unwind. Hope there is no one in the room below you. Further, do not expect said toddler to fall asleep for at least 90 minutes after everyone's in bed, because she could not be more awake right now.
2. Giving a baby a teething biscuit while going through the hillier areas of Missouri is only good as long as someone is in the back seat with her to know that she's choking on it. Thank you, Corey... you saved your sister's life, even if you felt helpless at the time. 3. Watching your husband introduce your daughter to snow is beautiful.
4. Those puffy kids jackets that you hate because they get staticky and also because they make it hard to fit your daughter into her carseat? They are great as something to hide behind in a photo.
5. No matter how grateful you are that your son helped keep your daughter from choking to death, you will be extremely upset and embarrassed when you walk in a room to find him rifling through your in-laws belongs. Quadruple those feelings when you discover what he's pocketed. Feeling lost and unsure of where to go from here comes when, a few days later, you realize that he just ripped a bunch of nude photos out of an art book at Borders, where you've all gone to spend some Christmas gift cards. Relief and frustration, on the other hand, come when the store manager accepts payment for the book, but you know she would have just let you leave without anything worse than, "Thank you for letting us know."***Note: I don't have a problem, per se, with the nude photos. He might have been able to purchase the book whole if he'd asked.
6. You're never too young to learn about cards.
7. There's nothing like a full belly and Daddy's lap to relax a girl. There's also nothing like putting your daughter to sleep to make Daddy proud.
8. Sometimes it's hard to remember the difference between knitted and crocheted... but with enough time in Wisconsin, you'll figure it out.9. Traveling is not fun when you're sick. It's worse when your baby is so sick, you're in frequent contact with your pediatric nurse mother-in-law to make sure you're doing everything you can. It's cruel and unusual punishment if your husband is also ill.10. Changing pads are required for diaper changes, especially when traveling. If you choose not to use one, know that you will:
- realize that she just peed all over the bedding in yet another motel;
- watch, fascinated, as your daughter craps all over the bed, the diaper you were about to put under her and... yes, your hand because you were too shocked to move; and
- know that you are cursed as she pees all over you during an in-car diaper change somewhere in Denver on your way home... and thanks to the stomach bug she has, these are your last clothes that have not been peed, pooped or vomited on, so expect to spend the next 1300 miles or so in your pajamas.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Taking My Proud Moments Where I Can Get 'Em
Corey's 15 and in need of something to fill his time while we wrap up the independent study program. Let's face it, the kid needs to be supervised, but there are no babysitters for people his age who aren't immobile or ill. So he needs a job. At his age, the best bet is volunteer work. His availability is awesome, he could develop some outside relationships and *trumpeting fanfare* he could learn something.
My job, for the better part of the past decade and a half has been related to pre-employment and basic job skills. So I'd be the ideal teacher of this information for you. Or your spouse. Or your kid. Or that crazy lady down the street. But not for my son.
I asked my coworker, Jill, if she would work with him and she agreed. They met, oh, about two months ago and laid out a plan of action. Of course, very little of it has occurred since then. Jill sent out a reminder email the other day, which Corey just got to read. He was then compelled (ahem... by his mother) to finish up some of the tasks. One of the "easy" ones is getting references.
He made a list of people to ask. I nixed the teacher he had from third to fifth grade as too long ago to be relevant. Then I made him actually dial the numbers and talk to people. The first one didn't go well at all. He called his instructor and apparently started off with, "My mom said I should call...," which resulted in Derek asking if he could speak with me. So I had to explain it all to him. Then Corey and I role-played asking the next person. Twice. Corey was pretty nervous, but he called her and got her to agree to a letter of recommendation.
Too bad he'd forgotten to get her contact information to use her as a reference. So he spent nearly 10 minutes trying to get out of calling her back, but eventually he did do it. As if it wouldn't be embarrassing enough to forget that in the first place, the person he was calling works at my mom's church. As does Mom. Grammy answers the phones there, in fact, so he had to go through her twice, too.
But *more trumpeting fanfare* he did it! Woohoo! I couldn't hear the whole thing, but what I could make out sounded great, even the second time around. I'm pretty pleased.
In other news, the house hunt is taking up nearly all of my free time. We went out last week on Monday and saw 22 houses, three of them twice. Why so many? The area we're hoping to buy in is about 45 minutes away. So we try to get our realtor for the day and knock 'em out like crazy. I love our realtor, Dave. He has three rules:
Last week we found the house. Fricken huge, new paint and carpet, two years old, great neighborhood, views of mountains, desert and even some "city" lights. Bedrooms and bathrooms for all the people we now have and all the people we hope to have (including company). Ginormous backyard. Dual a/c. Ahh, yes. Love, love, love. We knew immediately where we'd put the Christmas tree.
But we wanted to check out the neighborhood in the evening when residents would be in residence. That couldn't happen again until Thursday night. We submitted our offer first thing Friday morning. That afternoon we learned we'd been beat to the punch.
We probably could have increased our bid or something, but it was at the top of the amount we want to spend, and there some 4000 homes in the region to consider. We hope the new owners are as happy there as we would have been. We hope we find something just as wonderful and happy-making when we go out on Saturday after my classes.
Tom and I compiled a list of 26 homes we're hoping to see. Since we're starting later in the day, we might not be able to get to them all. Homes are rather difficult to check out in the dark. Wish us luck!
My job, for the better part of the past decade and a half has been related to pre-employment and basic job skills. So I'd be the ideal teacher of this information for you. Or your spouse. Or your kid. Or that crazy lady down the street. But not for my son.
I asked my coworker, Jill, if she would work with him and she agreed. They met, oh, about two months ago and laid out a plan of action. Of course, very little of it has occurred since then. Jill sent out a reminder email the other day, which Corey just got to read. He was then compelled (ahem... by his mother) to finish up some of the tasks. One of the "easy" ones is getting references.
He made a list of people to ask. I nixed the teacher he had from third to fifth grade as too long ago to be relevant. Then I made him actually dial the numbers and talk to people. The first one didn't go well at all. He called his instructor and apparently started off with, "My mom said I should call...," which resulted in Derek asking if he could speak with me. So I had to explain it all to him. Then Corey and I role-played asking the next person. Twice. Corey was pretty nervous, but he called her and got her to agree to a letter of recommendation.
Too bad he'd forgotten to get her contact information to use her as a reference. So he spent nearly 10 minutes trying to get out of calling her back, but eventually he did do it. As if it wouldn't be embarrassing enough to forget that in the first place, the person he was calling works at my mom's church. As does Mom. Grammy answers the phones there, in fact, so he had to go through her twice, too.
But *more trumpeting fanfare* he did it! Woohoo! I couldn't hear the whole thing, but what I could make out sounded great, even the second time around. I'm pretty pleased.
In other news, the house hunt is taking up nearly all of my free time. We went out last week on Monday and saw 22 houses, three of them twice. Why so many? The area we're hoping to buy in is about 45 minutes away. So we try to get our realtor for the day and knock 'em out like crazy. I love our realtor, Dave. He has three rules:
- If we pull up and you don't like it, we leave.
- If we go in and you don't like it, we leave.
- This is a cursory inspection, so we're not opening every cupboard and drawer.
Last week we found the house. Fricken huge, new paint and carpet, two years old, great neighborhood, views of mountains, desert and even some "city" lights. Bedrooms and bathrooms for all the people we now have and all the people we hope to have (including company). Ginormous backyard. Dual a/c. Ahh, yes. Love, love, love. We knew immediately where we'd put the Christmas tree.
But we wanted to check out the neighborhood in the evening when residents would be in residence. That couldn't happen again until Thursday night. We submitted our offer first thing Friday morning. That afternoon we learned we'd been beat to the punch.
We probably could have increased our bid or something, but it was at the top of the amount we want to spend, and there some 4000 homes in the region to consider. We hope the new owners are as happy there as we would have been. We hope we find something just as wonderful and happy-making when we go out on Saturday after my classes.
Tom and I compiled a list of 26 homes we're hoping to see. Since we're starting later in the day, we might not be able to get to them all. Homes are rather difficult to check out in the dark. Wish us luck!
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
I Feel Like Rachael Ray...
when I say, "Yummo!"
Okay, so here's how it went down: Jeremy arrived while I was putting Mad down for a nap. When I came out, he was instructing Corey and Richard in pan selection and proper heat. Then he had them prepare the meat and some veggies and liquid for braising. Knife skills were demonstrated and practiced. When Richard lopped off his fingertip, safety rules were re-demonstrated and practiced some more (not before he was bandaged and dry, folks). Once everything was in the oven, they headed off to the farmer's market in Claremont (oh sure, I jotted his license plate and verified insurance first). Mixed greens and assorted other delish goodies were purchased from "the hippies." I don't know if they went to the groc, too, but Corey didn't spend nearly what I'd expected.
It smelled so wonderful here all day. While they were gone, it was very difficult not to just go open the oven and peak. I figured doing that would ruin it somehow and I wouldn't be party to that.
They came home and chopped and mixed and joked and learned. It was a truly wonderful time for them all... and for me as I sat here, 10 feet from all the haps. The boys washed up all the tools and equipment, including Jeremy's knives and such. I think they would have washed his car and done his laundry if he would have stayed on for a dinner lesson.
Tom arrived just as everything was being served, but Mad was having a hard time getting her second nap, so it was just me and them. I very clumsily tried to figure out if Jeremy was eating with us.
"Nope. I'm not eating, but I am going to hover."
"What?!? Like the cooking shows?" As if I hadn't already pictured him on Top Chef a dozen times.
"Yes. They (the boys) should be hovering, too, and they will in the beginning, so go ahead and have a seat."
Ordered around in my own home, ha!
I sat and Corey "presented" each of the meal's dishes. Then the boys sat and we ate everything up. Well, not really. We each ate about half of our portions. Jeremy said it was because, although the food is great winter food, it was about 85 degrees out.
That's alright. Winter'll be back in a week or two and we can try it again, right? My mouth is watering just thinking about it all.
Then Richard presented the dessert, chocolate pudding cake. It looked divine! It smelled amazing! The boys and Tom convinced me to just let nursing go for one afternoon and try the darned thing. (I feel a little guilty... I probably should have been harder to convince.)
Corey and Richard had a great time. Honestly, so did I, and I really wasn't part of the whole thing until the end.
Oh, and to top off that day? My mom and I had plans to watch the Rose Parade together. It's an annual tradition with us. We've had to tweak it ever since the biennial trips to the Midwest for Christmas. She had Tivo'd it and waited to watch until I could join her. We were supposed to have dinner together, but after that lunch, there was just no way I could eat anything else (and I've got an appetite, let me tell you!). So we drank tea (she'd had a late lunch, too, as it turned out), watched the parade and Extreme Makeover Home Edition and talked about life. It was very peaceful and lovely (well, until I came home and had to deal with my Jekyll and Hyde child... grr!).
Okay, so here's how it went down: Jeremy arrived while I was putting Mad down for a nap. When I came out, he was instructing Corey and Richard in pan selection and proper heat. Then he had them prepare the meat and some veggies and liquid for braising. Knife skills were demonstrated and practiced. When Richard lopped off his fingertip, safety rules were re-demonstrated and practiced some more (not before he was bandaged and dry, folks). Once everything was in the oven, they headed off to the farmer's market in Claremont (oh sure, I jotted his license plate and verified insurance first). Mixed greens and assorted other delish goodies were purchased from "the hippies." I don't know if they went to the groc, too, but Corey didn't spend nearly what I'd expected.
It smelled so wonderful here all day. While they were gone, it was very difficult not to just go open the oven and peak. I figured doing that would ruin it somehow and I wouldn't be party to that.
They came home and chopped and mixed and joked and learned. It was a truly wonderful time for them all... and for me as I sat here, 10 feet from all the haps. The boys washed up all the tools and equipment, including Jeremy's knives and such. I think they would have washed his car and done his laundry if he would have stayed on for a dinner lesson.
Tom arrived just as everything was being served, but Mad was having a hard time getting her second nap, so it was just me and them. I very clumsily tried to figure out if Jeremy was eating with us.
"Nope. I'm not eating, but I am going to hover."
"What?!? Like the cooking shows?" As if I hadn't already pictured him on Top Chef a dozen times.
"Yes. They (the boys) should be hovering, too, and they will in the beginning, so go ahead and have a seat."
Ordered around in my own home, ha!
I sat and Corey "presented" each of the meal's dishes. Then the boys sat and we ate everything up. Well, not really. We each ate about half of our portions. Jeremy said it was because, although the food is great winter food, it was about 85 degrees out.
That's alright. Winter'll be back in a week or two and we can try it again, right? My mouth is watering just thinking about it all.
Then Richard presented the dessert, chocolate pudding cake. It looked divine! It smelled amazing! The boys and Tom convinced me to just let nursing go for one afternoon and try the darned thing. (I feel a little guilty... I probably should have been harder to convince.)
Corey and Richard had a great time. Honestly, so did I, and I really wasn't part of the whole thing until the end.
Oh, and to top off that day? My mom and I had plans to watch the Rose Parade together. It's an annual tradition with us. We've had to tweak it ever since the biennial trips to the Midwest for Christmas. She had Tivo'd it and waited to watch until I could join her. We were supposed to have dinner together, but after that lunch, there was just no way I could eat anything else (and I've got an appetite, let me tell you!). So we drank tea (she'd had a late lunch, too, as it turned out), watched the parade and Extreme Makeover Home Edition and talked about life. It was very peaceful and lovely (well, until I came home and had to deal with my Jekyll and Hyde child... grr!).
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Merry Christmas To Meee
Corey is a typical 15-year-old boy in some regards. For example, his room is a complete freaking disaster about 95% of the time. (Again, I say, never, NEVER give a teen boy a room with a bathroom.) So when it comes to birthdays and Christmas... or any gift giving situation, really, we look for experiences instead of things that will end up on his floor, regardless of how cool they were 15 minutes ago.
This year we were going to focus on his interest in seeing plays. However, I stumbled upon something even better. I knew it was something he would love. I didn't realize it would be something I would love just as much.
What is it, you ask?
Why nothing less than a personal chef coming into our home (today!... now!) to teach Corey and a friend how to prepare a meal. After much emailing back and forth between myself and Jeremy (who looks like he's one or two years older than Corey, but who has, in fact, classical French training), and after surreptitiously gathering information from Corey ("Hey Corey... I know you like a lot of different kinds of food. What would you say is something you don't like?" "Um... probably anything spicy. I don't like if things are too spicy"), the menu was determined:
And what will it cost us? Groceries, $50 for the lesson and an afternoon of scrubbing up around here. A fricken bargain!
The first thing they did was talk about why one does not need... in fact, shouldn't... cook everything on the highest temperature (thank you!). Oh, and once they get the meat braising, the guys are all heading over to the Claremont Farmer's Market and then to the groc for anything they couldn't get there.
Even more exciting, Jeremy has spent the past 15-20 minutes working on knife skills with Corey and Richard. Of course, someone had to loose a fingertip, and it was Richard, so he's got the blue glove of shame upon his hand to protect himself from any future willy-nillyness.
I will let you all know how it goes... and how it tastes (sure smells good already). I'll have to imagine how the cakes taste, because I'm still nursing and I still can't have chocolate. Mad got a rash the one time I did dare to give it a try.
This year we were going to focus on his interest in seeing plays. However, I stumbled upon something even better. I knew it was something he would love. I didn't realize it would be something I would love just as much.
What is it, you ask?
Why nothing less than a personal chef coming into our home (today!... now!) to teach Corey and a friend how to prepare a meal. After much emailing back and forth between myself and Jeremy (who looks like he's one or two years older than Corey, but who has, in fact, classical French training), and after surreptitiously gathering information from Corey ("Hey Corey... I know you like a lot of different kinds of food. What would you say is something you don't like?" "Um... probably anything spicy. I don't like if things are too spicy"), the menu was determined:
- Mixed Greens with a creamy Dijon vinaigrette
- Creamy Polenta in a browned butter and sage
- Sauteed Mushrooms in a white wine sauce
- Braised short ribs in a red wine reduction
- Chocolate Pudding Cakes
And what will it cost us? Groceries, $50 for the lesson and an afternoon of scrubbing up around here. A fricken bargain!
The first thing they did was talk about why one does not need... in fact, shouldn't... cook everything on the highest temperature (thank you!). Oh, and once they get the meat braising, the guys are all heading over to the Claremont Farmer's Market and then to the groc for anything they couldn't get there.
Even more exciting, Jeremy has spent the past 15-20 minutes working on knife skills with Corey and Richard. Of course, someone had to loose a fingertip, and it was Richard, so he's got the blue glove of shame upon his hand to protect himself from any future willy-nillyness.
I will let you all know how it goes... and how it tastes (sure smells good already). I'll have to imagine how the cakes taste, because I'm still nursing and I still can't have chocolate. Mad got a rash the one time I did dare to give it a try.
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
Christmas Letter
This year, for the first time ever, I am writing a Christmas letter. Yes, I realize I am either a couple of weeks late or several months ahead. All the same. So many of these letters that people write focus on health concerns, scares and other bad things. They tend to end with something like, "we're looking forward to things being even better next year." I'm putting my own spin on the concept this year, and will instead focus on one aspect of life: The Family Photo Christmas Card:
(yes, she was almost three months old and, as my dad liked to point out, everybody already knew she was here), the idea of a family photo Christmas card was something I looked forward to creating. I even had an idea, carefully crafted in my (apparently pea-sized) brain, that would allow me to get everybody in the photo without fighting Corey to smile, damnit! or stress out about the fact that no one is looking in the same direction as the baby: A "stack" of our upturned hands... first Tom's, then mine, then Corey's... each hand at a different angle, so most of our fingers would show. On top would rest Madelyn's chubby little starfish of a hand. I even had the perfect sentiment to accompany such a photo.
Eventually it became clear that the shoot was over.
This really was the last night that we could get it done, so I sadly put down the camera (okay, I was sort of giggling about that last shot) and walked away. Maybe next year I'll be able to make it work. I mean, really, how hard could it be? Mad'll be 20 months old by then. She'll cooperate, right?
Quit laughing, would ya?
Anyway, about a week later, I was looking through what we'd done and chuckling to myself about how it had gone. There was a small feeling of regret that we weren't able to make this happen. And then I saw it...
Dear Family and Friends,
With the birth of our Madelyn, and perhaps more so, with the creation of the world's cutest "announcement photo"
(yes, she was almost three months old and, as my dad liked to point out, everybody already knew she was here), the idea of a family photo Christmas card was something I looked forward to creating. I even had an idea, carefully crafted in my (apparently pea-sized) brain, that would allow me to get everybody in the photo without fighting Corey to smile, damnit! or stress out about the fact that no one is looking in the same direction as the baby: A "stack" of our upturned hands... first Tom's, then mine, then Corey's... each hand at a different angle, so most of our fingers would show. On top would rest Madelyn's chubby little starfish of a hand. I even had the perfect sentiment to accompany such a photo.
We had a pretty awesome camera and a fairly puny budget, so DIY was definitely the way to go. After several missed opportunities, I decided to force the issue. This method has always worked well for me in the past, right?
Yeah, no. But time was running out for us to get the photo cards made and mailed. So Corey and I worked together to choose the room with the best lighting (of course it had to be the world's smallest kitchen) and then to figure out the camera settings. We put a red blanket on the floor for our background and took a few practice shots.
Then we added Tom to the mix. You can see Mad's nearby, ready for her close-up.
Madelyn was a little tired that evening, but she was doing alright.
Once we were all set up and ready to go, the next step (and perhaps, the most crucial, yet least well thought out) was to deal with logistics. 
How do you get a kind of tired, sort of hungry eight month old little girl with a mind of her own to stretch out her hand and leave it there long enough for the shutter to click? We tried everything.
That's not it.
Mad tried to help, too. (Yes, Corey's hand is bleeding because in the fracas he re-opened a wound from earlier in the day.)
At times, we got close to the elusive shot.
Then we added Tom to the mix. You can see Mad's nearby, ready for her close-up.Madelyn was a little tired that evening, but she was doing alright.Once we were all set up and ready to go, the next step (and perhaps, the most crucial, yet least well thought out) was to deal with logistics. How do you get a kind of tired, sort of hungry eight month old little girl with a mind of her own to stretch out her hand and leave it there long enough for the shutter to click? We tried everything.That's not it.Mad tried to help, too. (Yes, Corey's hand is bleeding because in the fracas he re-opened a wound from earlier in the day.)At times, we got close to the elusive shot.Eventually it became clear that the shoot was over.
This really was the last night that we could get it done, so I sadly put down the camera (okay, I was sort of giggling about that last shot) and walked away. Maybe next year I'll be able to make it work. I mean, really, how hard could it be? Mad'll be 20 months old by then. She'll cooperate, right?Quit laughing, would ya?
Anyway, about a week later, I was looking through what we'd done and chuckling to myself about how it had gone. There was a small feeling of regret that we weren't able to make this happen. And then I saw it...
May the spirit of the season bring your family together.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
