24 July 2006


I attended a 2 year private college. I posted on this a little last summer, here. This coming weekend is my 10 year reunion. Truth be told, in the midst of our moving and craziness (I’m blaming a lot of things on the move still), I forgot all about it. Until, of course, I made plane reservations to visit my close friend, Bekah. That’s when I remembered and looked up the dates—the same, of course. And, I have been looking forward to this reunion for several years now. I was almost in tears. Then I began my mental wonderings: I wondered if I was supposed to go, if I would make it even if I wasn’t scheduled to fly out, and if we’d be able to find a place to stay on such short notice. My hubby and I talked it over, and he said that if the flight-change fees were reasonable, move the trip out a bit and arrange for the reunion. He is so good to me.

For a couple days, I checked the fees and contemplated a new date for my trip. During those days, I realized that my poor husband would be suffering if I left him high and dry so fast after moving in—there is still a good bit we’re working on with unpacking and such—sigh. So, I will be making my first girls-trip (only Miss C will go along with me!) for Labor Day weekend. And, I am excited!

I began arranging for my reunion trip, paying for the dinner and lookinig into accommodations (which fill up fast since there is a huge annual fair at the same time). It’s only about a two hour drive, and staying one night up there is sufficient. My dad has a man he does a lot of work for who owns a luxury condo at the resort where my reunion will be held. He arranged for us to stay there for that one night. Free.

Now, I am faced with the age-old question of what to wear. I loathe this decision. And, of course, I want to look good.

The reunion starts at 6pm, likely not overly formal; it is a “gourmet buffet”, but children are included. Everyone will be outside a few hours prior at other homecoming functions. I’m guessing a little black dress would be overkill. But, shorts might be a bit too casual. Flattering jeans and a black linen top? A dress? I want something that can be dressed up or down. And, did I mention I loathe this decision?!?!?!

If anyone has any suggestions, I would gladly take them. And, yes, it’s this Saturday.

22 July 2006


(Beware, boring details may be ahead.)

We have had five—FIVE—offers to date.
We have been on the market for just shy of 6 months.
Almost consistently, we are the second choice (“if the first one doesn’t work out, we’ll be back”). Ha. Even their agents aren’t so sure about why we’re the 2nd choice rather than the 1st.
Now, I am almost afraid to believe in the offers we get.

1. The second week on the market (mid-February), we had an offer that was asking us to drop way down in price and they were unwilling to bend or meet in the middle. They were also very slow about making the offer and responding to our counter offer. As in, they took three and four days rather than the allotted 24-48 hours. It was believed they would have been the same way if we’d accepted—that they would not have made it to the closing table.

2. Many months later, we finally got a second offer—the last day in May, to be exact. It was a full price offer and they wanted to close fast—you heard a bit of it in previous posts. We moved; they folded. We now own two houses and things are getting stretched really, really thin.

3. There was a verbal offer the day after we accepted the above one. Obviously, it was not something we could consider since we’d already verbally committed to that one. But, I still say it counts, and they were disappointed. I am, too, in hindsight.

4. This past Monday, we got an offer that was several thousand less than our asking price, MINUS closing costs, MINUS a carpet allowance*. The bottom line on that offer: we would go down in a hole by $14,000! We countered offering partial closing costs. They came back again with a slightly less offensive offer (only minus $9,000 this time, for us). We countered the same as before. I mean, come on, COMPROMISE. If they’d have come closer, we’d have tried to worked it out. They said they’d be back if they couldn’t find something else. You know, we could have paid for a YEAR or more on that house before we could afford their first offer! Cripes.

5. Yesterday, we got a lovely, reasonable offer—within a thousand or so of our asking price, but they wanted full closing costs. Since we’ve been stretching ourselves with two house payments, it’s not quite so easy to come by at the moment, however we took it (we’re also spending untold hours keeping up the yard and interior which is valuable time when you have two little kids). We’ll scrape it up any way we can and get that house off our back. As an incentive, they are pre-qualified (offer #2 was having trouble with this which meant we didn’t even get to keep their earnest money! ARGH.), and can close in 10 days (deliberate choice on their part to encourage us to accept their offer). Hallelujah! That’s enough to not counter, take it and RUN.

*No one commented on the carpet until our furniture was moved out, then everyone noticed wrinkles and spots, so last night my hubby and parents stretched it and shampooed the living room--until after 1am. I stayed home with the two kiddos who’d have been in the way and bored. Truthfully, other than the need to be stretched, it was comparable to the carpet in our "new" house, so we just got hit by whiney people.

In the meantime, I’m working to trust and praying that it goes through. You must admit, the track record isn’t so hot. (I'm usually afraid to post or tell people about news of any sort, because it seems that the second it leaves my mouth, it changes. However, I give up. I will just expect it to change and hope it doesn't. If I were superstitious, which I'm very much not, I'd say I jinx things!)

21 July 2006


I admit it. I loved pigs in High School. As in, I collected pig items, not that I loved boys who were pigs. Pigs were my “thing”. (I even dreamed of owning a pet pig, but now when my son asks the same thing, I cringe!)

Now, as the years have waned, I find myself adoring them a little less than in my formative years. For the most part, I prefer that people not remember how much I liked them, lest they try to impart a pig-gift on me. You know, enough is enough and all that.

Well, I have this wonderful, dearest of heart-friends, Kim, who traveled out of the country on various occasions and brought back fabulous pig figures, earrings, etc, over the years for me. She had a “thing” for cows, so we kinda stuck, I guess. Anyhow, Kim understood the pig affair better than anyone else. To this day, I pack the pigs she gave me with extra care and stop to gaze at each one, or grin, as I pass. They have flair of their own, for sure.

Today, I received a package from Kim. It has been a long, long time since she’s given me a pig, but I once more beheld a fabulous pig in my hands as a housewarming gift. It’s a skinny piggy-face, carved with squinty eyes and great flopped ears that are almost straight out. Behind his eyes is a very deep “wrinkle”—he holds my glasses! He gets my tickle bone and brought bubbles of laughter; I must say he’s fantastic. Once again, she understood the love accurately. And, my new bathroom has enough counter space for him to have his very own spot!!

Thanks a million, my dear!

15 July 2006

all before ten

So, my husband had already gone to the old house (the contract fell through and we're back at square one with twice the expense as before) to work on mowing, weed-eating and simoultaneously smelled gas in the house--an agent who saw it last week had as well, but we dismissed it since we'd disconnected our service (in actuality they left it on for a bit as a curtesty to the new owner, only ther IS no new owner). Then there was trouble with the mower and he had to borrow one from a neighbor. Now, he's having trouble with knowing how to use that one. I believe our plan was that he'd be almost finished by now. . .Later, we're supposed to buy flowers to replace the very dead ones that are still hanging around. In theory, a simple plan. In reality, not so simple, as usual.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch (I have not told my husband any of this yet. . .he has enough to deal with before he gets home):
Little B, finally dressed for the day, comes to me with an odd look on his face, "Mommy, you need to see come something. It's in the hallway." Okay, I haven't eaten, am feeding Miss C a banana, and doing a dozen other little things, but in a hallway, it couldn't be too big of a deal or take long to look at, right? Wrong. Drip. Drip. Drip. More than half a dozen gray spots on the ceiling and the dripping is coming from the light fixture. I rush upstairs to check. There is a full bathroom upstairs above the hallway. We love the fact it's there, but um, the water is supposed to stay in the toilet. But, it seems the seal is old and not working anymore. Great. I rush down for rag towels, back up to soak what I see and turn off the water. (I found someone's old p*nties wedged behind the toilet which cracked me up!) Little B joins me, dramatically proclaiming it's his first time with real panic. Huh. He doesn't know anything yet. And little did he know he'd be feeling more "real" panic only moments later.

I was on the phone discussing the toilet with my mom when I asked Little B to go back down and watch his sister. Within a minute or two, I went back down to the persistent sound of Miss C crying and Little B talking. Rounding a corner, I find that she has climbed on top of the table and my little hero was holding her there so she wouldn't fall off. Bless his heart. The moment I took her, he burst into tears, first saying she'd pulled his hair, but eventually I realized he was just -- panicked. Poor baby.

After I consoled them both and changed a smearing diaper, I looked at the clock and thought, "It's not even ten?"

Then, at long last, Little B and I had our breakfast.

10 July 2006

water and toes and such things

I love my new house. Love. It. As in, we want to stay here for the next 20 or so years. At least. It is essentially the house of our dreams and I could not ask for more. Well, except better water pressure maybe. But even the easily clogged toilet is something I am learning my way around--apparently it's a "common problem" in this town. Huh. That's just wrong, my friends. I did solve the issue with the shower being too cold (unlike my friend Slush who has "instant hot water"--harumph!) , too little pressure, and too little water coming out--a new shower head that beat any I've ever had. I guess the old one had a water-saver, but no thanks, give me a good shower, please. My first two showers left me chilled on half my body (the stream of water was that narrow--and I'm not big by anyone's standards!), but now, I can shower in comfort.

Our days are spent unpacking and trying to decide on homes for various things--I have so many cabinets now that I even unpacked my grandmother's china (I'm not a china cabinet kinda girl, so it's just on a top shelf and I'll use it sometimes, too). Of course, I have no pantry now, so some cabinets are delegated for that type use, as well. Our kids love this place as much as we do, and it's so QUIET--we're in a tiny neighborhood of two streets, close to a cul-de-sac, and we never, ever hear traffic. We heard every car going down the old street--and we were at the front of a deep subdivision with only one entrance. This is like a taste of heaven to me.

We're also in the process of gathering the many papers needed to register Little B for kindergarten--am I really ready for this?? I cannot believe my little boy is reaching this threshold in life. Amazing. as for locating things like a birth certificate in the myriad of boxes still to unpack. . .well, we're just going to get a new one, what can I say? Sheesh.

We are still "borrowing" the 'net for the next couple days, so it's been terribly iffy--it works some days, but not others, and often is selective throughout the day as to whether it's available, too. Oh well, life could be worse, but I'm looking forward to consistency again!

In the meantime, I'm pampering a broken toe. The pinky toe, no less. I managed to be fully responsible for leaving a toy partly sticking out of the play room in the center of the hall way between all the bedrooms, and I smashed my toe into it while going to get Miss C at 4am Saturday morning. I kept thinking it'd be okay in a minute, and once I got settled into my bed again, I gently probed it. My friends, the pain that seared through that tiny toe shocked me! My dear husband brought me ice which honestly didn't help it at all. It took some time to go back to sleep, and when I got up in the morning, it throbbed. I called my friend who works for a podiatrist and explained that lifting the foot hurt so bad I was dragging it in the shower and could barely stand to move it around. Let me tell you, tape and motrin have been my best friends for days now. (Speaking of motrin. . .I think I need to find some in a minute.) I also got a little lecture on getting an x-ray if it stayed that painful (it didn't), and also if it was not improving within 2 weeks (that remains to be seen, but I'm hopeful). I guess if toe breaks in the wrong place or wrong way, it can require surgery! Yikes. No thanks! However, it is a lovely, deep shade of red and purple right now. I'd swear it was marker if I didn't know better.

Back to unpacking, I guess...