A Room with a View

How well are you feeling right now?  Any lethargy?  Congestion?  Depression?  Do you have a headache?  The fact is it can be hard to feel consistently well during the winter months and it may have little to do with germs.  Depending on where you live, you may go days, or even weeks without adequate sunshine.  Even on sunny days the cold temperatures, snowy conditions, or job requirements may keep you from really getting to benefit from the sun.

That's why surrounding yourself with beauty is so important.  How beautiful is the room you are in right now?  Do you feel uplifted?  Inspired?  Peaceful?  Are you making it a priority to surround yourself with abundant natural light, colors that relax and inspire you, and objects that are useful, beautiful, and comforting?

I didn't realize how critical this was until I moved from a home I loved in Cincinnati: a home that was flooded with sunlight thanks to its southern exposure, plethora of windows, and high ceilings, to a home in Toledo that was deeply shaded by beautiful trees but had dark stained window and wall trim, low ceilings, fewer windows, and a western exposure.  I frequently felt depressed in that home.  I felt restless.  After the discovery of my brain tumor I felt like the low ceilings pressed down on me and the dark woodwork sucked out all the light.  If that house hadn't had a sunroom I wonder if I would have had the mental strength to bounce back after brain surgery.

I began a quest to improve that house.  You can imagine how thrilled Steve was with the endless list of home improvement projects, but even he had to admit that as the days and weeks went by and I painstakingly painted every inch of that dark woodwork a fresh white, removed any heavy window coverings and improved the lighting to lighten and brighten each room that the house began to feel happier.  It wasn't just my perception, though perception is very important, it was a feeling shared by friends and neighbors who visited too.  In fact when we went to sell that house every realtor who came through remarked upon how unusual it was to find such a light, bright house in such a heavily wooded neighborhood.

I love the home I am in now.  Once again I have a southern exposure, many windows, high ceilings, and now the addition of a magnificent view.  I make it a priority to surround myself with things I truly love and I continually feel uplifted when at home.  It has taken me many years and a lot of trial and error to get to this point and I know it's a continual evolution but it's worth it.  My mental, physical, and spiritual wellbeing are worth it.

What inspires you?  Are there any simple changes you can make to your home, office, car, or view that will make it more uplifting for you?

One drill, 8 screws, 2 curtain rods & me

Let me begin by stating: I love my home. I think the previous owners did a fantastic job picking out paint colors, wood finishes, designing the floor plan, and choosing the carpeting. The previous owners did not, however, have a talent for putting up curtain rods.

"Please leave all curtain rods and associated hardware." we wrote in our contract when we bought the home. I was trying to save myself from having to move in, fill a bunch of huge-drywall-anchor-sized holes, paint, and then be able to put up new hardware. Ironically I am having to do exactly that because you see the curtain rods are mounted four inches below the top moulding of each window. That's right, I said below. It is the most unusual placement of a curtain rod I have ever seen. Rather than elongating the window it bisects the view. Most standard 84" curtains drag the floor (as opposed to puddling on the floor in a display of decadence and luxury), and it is disconcerting to have the curtain rods below the moulding.

Well I'm no slacker, I'll just get Steve's trusty drill and move those rods up about 6 inches. Easy, right? Wrong. It's important now that you know that when we hung the curtain rods in our daughter's freshly painted room we broke the Phillips Head drill bit for the drill so when I went to remove the screws on the oddly-low rods in the family room I had to use a bit that was not made for the drill and is therefore too small. So it kept falling out. So I kept trying to tighten it back in and try again. It kept losing traction on the screws and falling out. Now I like to keep at problems like this for a good 5 minutes or so - you know just enough time to thoroughly round out the screw head so that I when I finally decide to just get the &*^% screwdriver and take the screw out manually I no longer have enough traction to do so. But maybe that's just me.

So I go back to trying the drill (having learned nothing from my previous 100 failures). This time I decide to push that button on the drill that Steve always pushes when he has failed 100 times. I don't know exactly what the button does, but when Steve pushes it, grunts, curses a bit, and pushes the drill really hard into something he seems to get success.

I pushed the button. I grunted. I cursed. I pushed the drill really really hard into the screw. The drill bit slid right off the screw and punched a decent sized hole in the wall. Hmm. I get the spackle out of my big center apron pocket and patch that hole right up. I try again. This time I decide (wisely) to hold a small cork coaster next to the spot I'm drilling. Yep, it worked like a champ because this time after I pushed the button, grunted, cursed, and pushed the drill really hard into the screw it flew right off the top of the screw and punched a decent sized hole in my hand that was holding the coaster. I didn't have any band-aids in my big apron pocket so I decided to forego the medical attention and just stick to the cursing. Besides by now the drill feels a little hot and I'm thinking the blood running down my hand may cool the bit, kind of a like a morbid wet-saw.

I am having a harder time holding the drill now. My arm is tired. One hand is bloody. The screw-heads are completely rounded out - so much so that I actually contemplate using an Allen wrench instead of a screwdriver. I cursed a blue-streak, grunted, and pushed that drill into the screw as hard as I can yet success eludes me. I briefly consider going to Lowe's to buy the appropriate drill bit for our drill, but I've wasted the afternoon now, school is almost out, and I have to return to my real job.

Drill, screws, curtain rods = 1.
Beth = 0.

But on the bright side, at least I didn't wet my pants this time!

Okay, I'm Home again...Now What?

This is the view I have from my great room, kitchen, bedroom, and deck. Pretty magnificent, eh? I get to see this view all day long. Every day. You see, it's over: the kindergarten job that just would not end has, well, ended. I'm home again. I feel relieved, excited, exhausted, and completely and utterly without purpose. How did this happen? I have been a stay-at-home mom since my daughter was born 10 years ago! Well, except for 4 years ago when I worked as a substitute teacher at her school. And oh yea, except for 2 years ago when I decided to go back to school to get a Master's in ...well, I never did figure that out. And except for the past 2 years during which I have been a professional volunteer at my daughter's school.

I'm very good at not having a job, but I'm not very good at staying home.

I think I'm going back to the basics of what I do best: work out and decorate my home. I can't imagine a more perfect fit for me than to work on my health and create peaceful, warm, inviting, and welcoming spaces for my family and friends. I have resisted this very calling since we moved to Massachusetts for various reasons: we were renting, we were unpacking, we were on vacation, I was at work, but I am home now and there are no more excuses not to get busy. Yet still I resist. Why? Well, I'm a little gun-shy. I have worked on me and my home and then sold the home, worked on a new home, sold that home, got a new home, sold that home. Part of the reason that I'm not so good at staying at home is because home keeps changing.

Be resilient. Start over. Have faith.

Show up. Do the work. Let go of the outcome. Enjoy the journey.

Stay home.

Well, I'm home, and right now home is a 4 bedroom colonial with a great view.

Eat your veggies. Meditate. Do yoga. Let go of the outcome. Enjoy the journey. Sanctify yourself and your surroundings will be sanctified with you.

I'm a practicing vegan. I have the class schedule for my gym tacked to the cork board in the kitchen and my workout shoes are by the door. I am drinking water and forgoing sugar. Right now my body is a 39 yr-old slightly flabby model with great potential. I love potential.

Show up. Slow down. Get motivated. Stay home.

Breathe. Yeah, it's always the breathing that I forget to do.

Beth vs. Bob

New house. New floor plan. New room sizes. New furniture, right? So off we went to look for a chair to "fill up" the Great Room. We looked in at least 5 different furniture stores before we found Bob's. Bob's was a little different as furniture showrooms go: huge fish pond in the middle of the store, ice cream parlor in the back, great furniture, and really laid back salespeople who worked on commission but didn't hover. It was like heaven. We didn't stop with just one chair, no sirree, we bought 2 chairs, a chaise, 3 counter stools and matching desk chair, a desk for Steve with matching Barrister bookcase, 2 end tables, a coffee table, and 2 bean bag style chairs for the basement!

Bob's hit the jackpot with us that day. The prices were good, the salespeople were helpful, and the delivery would take place in 3 days. So far, so good.

For the record I was a little worried about the delivery because the movers we had hired had not been all that great and they took a "bang and toss" approach to getting our furniture in the house and I wasn't sure my nerves could take another crew with a bad attitude. My nerves need not have worried because Bob's delivery guys were great. They came in a Bob's truck (as opposed to the mysterious unmarked van in which other furniture stores have delivered furniture) wearing a uniform with name tags and they carefully unwrapped each item, helped us to inspect the item, and then gently loaded it into our home. I was so amazed I actually called the store to compliment them on their delivery personnel. It was during the inspection of one of the chairs that the damage was noticed: the fabric on the arm of one chair was pretty unravelled. "No problem" said the wonderful delivery guys "we'll take it back with us now and you can either arrange to have a new one delivered or be credited for the return."

We decided that the room would be too crowded with the 2nd chair and to simply have our AmEx card credited.

That was when the trouble began.

We called Bob's and they were extremely pleasant: sure we'll credit your AmEx card, no problem, so sorry that happened. I check AmEx, no credit. I wait 3 business days. No credit. I wait 5 business days. No credit. I call Bob's: sure we'll credit your AmEx card, no problem, so sorry that happened. I wait 3 business days. No credit. I wait 5 business days. No credit. I call Bob's: my goodness we don't know what went wrong ma'am, we'll credit your card immediately. The next day I receive a credit card receipt in the mail showing they have credited an AmEx card with the correct amount. Unfortunately the card number is wrong. I call Bob's: sure we'll correct the error, no problem, so sorry that happened. I wait 3 business days. No credit. I call Bob's: the office manager is out today but we'll take care of it tomorrow and call you back. Tomorrow comes, no call. I call Bob's: the office manager is working diligently to correct the error ma'am. No, she isn't in the office right now but I'll have her call you back with the status of your account in an hour. I wait all day, no call.

Now for those of you keeping count I have called Bob's a total of 6 times so far regarding the same issue and it still isn't resolved. Nearly 3 weeks has elapsed. I spend about 10 minutes of time each day checking my AmEx statement online for the credit then calling Bob's to find out why they haven't made the credit. The time is adding up and soon the amount of time and energy I have put into getting the credit will exceed the price of the chair! So I ask you, why? Why can a store charge money to an account within minutes of the purchase but it takes 3 weeks (and counting) to get a refund for merchandise that never even entered my home? Why is it that the salespeople and delivery guys can be so great but the business office so inept?

It's the Battle of Beth versus Bob and right now Bob is winning. He's wearing me down. I find myself becoming more and more reluctant to call Bob's yet again. I feel the drag of apathy and I am fighting against it, I mean this is real money folks! I can see why this tactic works: it is draining to battle the polite-and-helpful-and-apologetic forces of evil. I have actually wondered a few times if I am somehow to blame for all this. Tomorrow will be Round 7. I'm down, but not out. My fingers are bloody from dialing their number again and again and my head aches from their chipper-yet-completely-ineffective-apologies but I feel confident I will prevail. Truth and justice are on my side.

I may not be a big franchise or have a cute bobble head doll representing me but with my Rocky theme song playing in the background I will win! I will get my AmEx card credited!

But just in case, maybe the next time I call them I should wear a cape?

Oh so that's what we are supposed to do in bed!

New house. New bedroom. New bed including mattress and box springs. Scene set for a night of ...TV watching? The new house also came with another new feature: the wall mount TV bracket. I abhor the wall mount TV brackets on many, many levels as I will detail for you in a moment, but first let me ask: what is it about an empty TV bracket that instantly turns men into beings obsessed with filling that space? We haven't had a television in our bedroom for 8 years and suddenly Steve cannot live another moment without watching the news while he gets dressed each morning. Now I'll admit that with all the "together time" we've had over the past 2 weeks that he was on vacation he probably he fears having to talk to me for any length of time, but I don't know that putting a television in our bedroom will solve this problem because I have no problem talking over the TV.

Now about these wall-mount TVs:
1. The bracket isn't centered over a fireplace or other architectural structure it is in the corner of the room just like in a hospital. With our green-painted walls and white bedding the whole hospital look may just be too much for anyone but especially a recovering hypochondriac like me.

2. The television is ugly. It is a blank black box. It is not aesthetically pleasing. It cannot be masked, mounted in the corner as it is. It is an aberration in my beautiful, peaceful room.

3. First comes the TV. Then he'll need TiVo. Then a DVD player. The corner that was supposed to house a beautiful chair for relaxing, reading, and looking at the mountains will become a shrine to technology. It is inevitable.

4. Sleep and sex. That's all I need to do in bed. I would prefer not to do either with a laugh track playing in the background. (Although studio audience applause, if well placed, could be kind of encouraging...)

5. Feng shui says this a definite no-no and y'all know how into Feng shui I am.

But...I don't live alone (for which I am thankful) and I don't have complete control over the contents of my home (something which I am striving to change through nagging), and I suppose that anyone lucky enough to live in a home with a view of the mountains could perhaps, just perhaps, be graceful enough to suck up having a television in the room.

Then again...if nagging works....

Grace #22 Princess the Cat

I am not a cat person. Don't get me wrong, I always liked our cat, but I would not have considered myself a cat person because I'm allergic to cats, I don't like hair on my furniture or clothes, I despise emptying a litter box, and I think cat food stinks. Our cat Princess came to live with us four years ago as a kitten. Steve and our then-6-yr-old-daughter went to a shelter and rescued her. My requirements for the cat were that they pick a litter trained, short haired, female. I didn't have any breed preference. I didn't have any color preference. I didn't even go with them to pick her out. Our daughter instantly fell in love with Princess, even though the cat bites if you try to pet her, runs if you try to hold her, and basically ignores us except when it's feeding time. Did I mention that I'm not a cat person?

Correction: wasn't a cat person.

During the move we had an almost tragedy: Princess went missing! We had put her in a storage room so she wouldn't get scared or run outside while the movers were going in and out of the house. Then we made the poor decision to let the movers put some boxes in the storage room figuring that Princess would hide and they wouldn't even see her. Then the movers left. A few hours passed. Where was Princess? We looked everywhere inside, everywhere outside, called her name, rattled her food dish.

Still no Princess.

A day went by. A day and a half. I'll admit, I lost faith. I thought she was living in the woods behind our house and either having a great time or scared or worse. I found myself incredibly sad at the prospect of not seeing her again. Her presence in my life had quietly become a constant, a feeling of all being right in the world. Somehow, in the past four years I had to come love the cat that I couldn't pet without getting hives. The cat whose litter box I bemoaned emptying each day. The cat whose food smells "icky." The cat whose fate I now worried about, cried about, and for whom I found myself constantly looking all throughout the day. I loved our new house but I couldn't fully enjoy it because it felt like gaining the house had come with a terrible loss. The whole family was in mourning.

Then I heard a faint meow. Steve and I quickly looked all around the backyard. We called. We searched. We rattled the food dish. No Princess. I figured I was now hearing phantom meows because I was missing the cat so much and so feeling more than a little foolish I decided to check the storage room once again.

Out strolled Princess! She had been in the storage room the entire time. She had gone into deep hiding, just as all her little cat instincts had told her to do. She was back! My world was set to rights once more. My family was complete.

Don't ask me how this small bundle of shedding fur who rarely gives me the time of day and makes my eyes water and my skin itch when she does touch me became a source of joy in my life, I just know that she did. Her presence makes me feel happy. Makes our house a home. She is with us where she belongs and I am grateful.

Grace #21 Our New Home

It's quiet right now. In just another hour our little rental home will be descended upon by a team of professionals: people trained in the art of packing a truck like a 3 dimensional puzzle, driving that puzzle carefully down the road, and unpacking it in record time. Their tools of the trade are heavy blankets, furniture dollies, fantastic spatial awareness, and strong backs.

Today is moving day.

Like many new homeowners I have composed, edited, thrown out, and recreated list upon list of all the things I need for my new home. I have taken into account our current possessions, lifestyle, goals for the new house, neighborhood, and checking account. Thousands of things were evaluated, considered, and rejected. I have narrowed it down to the 5 most important things I must have for my new home:

1. Love. We must fill this house with love just as our boxes are filled with packing peanuts. If it's love that takes up all the extra space we won't have to worry about anything getting broken.

2. Peace. Wrapping peace around our lives will act just like those heavy-duty furniture blankets: it will soften all the blows, cushion the times we rub each other the wrong way, and keep our souls from getting knicked.

3. Health. Our boxes are made of triple-layer corrugated cardboard. They have packing suggestions, weight limits, and are meant to be used again and again. This really sounds a lot like my own body. I took really good care of those boxes I purchased when we moved from Toledo. I kept them dry, flat, and away from insects. I didn't let any harmful substances leak into them that would compromise their structure. Every one of those boxes served me well for this move. If I went to all that trouble for a box it seems only right that I could do at least as much for my/my family's health.

4. Faith. Sometimes when a really heavy load or multiple small loads are being carried a hand truck or furniture dolly is used. It makes maneuvering all that weight manageable. It doesn't look like that relatively small tool can move that gigantic sofa ... but it can. Faith is just like that for me: I am always amazed at what a little faith, used properly, can do. It can mend relationships, heal brain tumors, make cross-country moves work out okay, and ease a worried mind. A home filled with faith is automatically filled with hope, dreams, and miracles.

5. Gratitude. Miles and miles of tape went into making, securing, and binding our boxes. I think Gratitude is like that tape: it binds all of our good intentions, positive feelings, and productive emotions into a nice secure structure. We can remove the Gratitude, re-position it as necessary, and it will still stick us together.

I intend to fill my new home with all of these necessities. If you're surprised that I didn't mention new bedding, furniture, lighting, and decorative accessories well don't worry, I'll be sure to add all of those things as well. It's just that for right now. In the quiet. I am able to listen and hear what's really important.

And I am Grateful.

"Me" Time

Today is the last day for uninterrupted, at my own leisure, on my own schedule "me" time. Tomorrow school is over at 11 a.m. and my real job revs up from 11:01 a.m. on June 19 to 8:29 a.m. on August 26th. I am ready for this school year to be over. This has been a year of ups and downs, excitement and sheer terror, sadness and loss coupled with wonder and gain.

I think 4th grade is a hard year no matter if you move 800 miles and start a new school or not. I know my 4th grade experience was terrible: I was extremely awkward looking, my parents were having a lot of marital problems, my best friend Maria didn't want to be best friends anymore as she discovered her 'inner jock' and I discovered loneliness. My homeroom teacher Mrs. Gatchell had favorites and I was not among them. My math/science/gym teach Ms. Toby was scary beyond all reason. I was struggling academically, emotionally, and socially. I had absolutely no one to turn to at home but school was also a battleground of loneliness, isolation, being excluded, and feeling baffled about how it had all gone so wrong so quickly.

Needless to say I am glad that's over.

Now the dreaded 4th grade year is ending for my daughter. Our "newness" in Massachusetts is wearing off. Our closing date on our house is approaching. I am consuming a little too much sugar, exercising too little, and worrying a lot but I know it's all symptoms of stress and that too will soon end as soon as the moving truck arrives. A new kind of stress will take its place: the stress of full-time parenting. Decorating. Not enough time for myself. Too much time with the neighbors. The good kind of stress. The kind of stress on which I thrive.

Needless to say I can't wait for it to begin.

Some things just need a 4 letter word to describe them!

Ahhh the joys of buying a home: the search, the anticipation, the excitement, the tear-your-hair-out-frustration-at-the-sellers-who-can't-seem-to-get-their-heads-out-of-their-&%@! Okay, that was a little cathartic. I have been rather preoccupied of late by the purchase of our new home. We found the home, we put a contract for asking price on the home, we waited. We waited. Finally the sellers deigned to respond to our offer...with a counter offer! How does one counter a full price offer, you may ask? Well, if you're these sellers, you attempt to add in a clause saying that if they don't find a house they want to buy then they get to take their old house back no matter how late into the proceedings we are. Obviously we didn't agree to that clause. We countered with our original offer but extended the closing date for another 31 days. We waited. We waited. We figured they weren't going to respond and began looking for another house. Finally, again, they deign to answer, agreeing to all our terms and wanting the original closing date. Ooooo-kaaaay?

Of course that can't be the end of that, they then want to add a clause to the contract saying that if the home inspection of the property they found to buy doesn't go well, then they can stop the sale of their house. Haven't we been down this road before? Don't we all understand that there is some risk inherent in the process of buying/selling a home? Our realtor keeps reassuring us that they are just 'a little nervous' and we should be patient. Umm...isn't this a Buyer's Market where the patience is all on the Seller's Side?

We finally limp along to a signed contract, but in Massachusetts, that is not enough. Massachusetts has something called the Purchase&Sale agreement. This agreement is essentially another contract where everything you have finally agreed to in the first contract can be renegotiated. The only difference is that it takes place after the home inspection.

We get the house inspected.

We argue over window treatments that were not excluded in the 'Exclusions' section of the listing, not excluded in the 'Exclusions' section of the contract but were suddenly valuable family heirlooms handmade by a now-deceased favorite grandmother. Okay, whatever, I don't want your ugly ol' curtains anyway, can we now move forward to the P&S? Nope, now they want us to get financing in 11 business days so that they have 21 business days to find a mover. Have these folks never read the newspaper? Watched the news on TV? Movers are sitting around twiddling their thumbs hoping for a client! It won't take 21 days to find a mover, it won't even take 2 days! And does anyone see the irony in that they want more time to find a mover than they are allowing us to get an appraisal and loan?

Deep breaths, Beth, deep breaths.

Then they want to change the closing date, pushing it back 17 days. Yes, that's right, you remember correctly, they chose the closing date! Unfortunately when dealing with people with multiple-personality-disorder you have to keep in mind that they cannot be held responsible for what another personality agreed to.

Finally, after much negotiation and a full-out-this-is-not-a-threat-we-will-walk-today conversation with the realtors, we get the P&S. We sign the P&S. Our realtor rushes the P&S to their realtor's office so they can sign the P&S.

They don't sign.

Why didn't they sign? We don't know. We haven't heard. Perhaps a new personality has been discovered and this personality wants us to personally load their boxes on the moving truck for them.

Perhaps they don't really want to sell this house.

Perhaps God is trying to tell us something.

I'm all ears Lord, help me out here. Am I supposed to bail on this deal or am I supposed to learn Good Things Come to all Who Wait?

All I know is that right now 'bail' and 'wait' are not the four letter words I am thinking of for this situation....

We Bought A House!!!

You may remember this little gem, it was one of the contenders, then became a finalist, and as of June 30 will be called home. Home, what a wonderful word. We began the search back in mid-January and I can honestly say I have looked at hundreds of homes, if only online. We began searching a very narrow area in Massachusetts, then ventured out into New Hampshire, and finally narrowed in again. The new house is 5 minutes from our daughter's school, 10 minutes from Steve's office, 5 minutes from my favorite grocery store, and 3 minutes from Barnes&Noble (which for a book lover, was a huge consideration!). I can walk to the library and post office. We have neighbors, there are plenty of kids, and the view is amazing.

From a feng shui point of view you are always supposed to face the south and have a mountain at your back. This house has both. It is open, airy, and filled with natural light. It is my dream home and I feel incredibly lucky to have found such a house and incredibly grateful to be able to afford it. Just out of curiosity I ran the address through a numerology "calculator" and the address equals a '4' which means strength, solidity, and comfort. I need some solidity in my life. I am ready to settle down. We could all just use some time to be settled. I am grateful for the time I have had to search for the right home, but I am definitely not a long-term-renter. I need the responsibility of a home of my own. I need the grounding, maybe because I am a Gemini, an air sign, I am drawn toward bricks and mortar, wood and earth: solid substances to provide some balance to my air-filled nature (air-headed as my family would say).

Be it ever so humble, it will be my home.

The latest contenders

All of these homes are currently for sale. We are seeing all four of them on Sunday and plan to make an offer on one, assuming at least one of them is what we're looking for. This blue cape below is my least favorite for curb appeal. It is a really nice home, don't get me wrong, I just am not crazy about the garage being featured quite so prominently. Still, it is empty, it is for sale, and it is in a great location.
This colonial is my absolute favorite for curb appeal. I love the traditional look of it and the side-load-garage. However, that side load garage means that I have to schlepp my groceries and everything else up through the basement to the first floor everytime I go shopping. The location is a little farther away from my daughter's school than I necessarily wanted to be, but positions us nicely for when she goes to high school. It is in a great town.

This home is hard to see from the pictures. The realtor did not do this family any favors with his photos, but in reality it is a gorgeous home. It has amazing views out the back. It just happens to be on the same street as the blue cape pictured first, so it is also in a great neighborhood.

This dark little number is the great unknown. It really is that dark and its landscaping that you can't see does a magnificent job of hiding it from the rest of the world. The homeowners have already been difficult to deal with just to get a showing and the price is kind of high, but I have learned to not judge a house by its front elevation and so we are looking at it. It's in a fantastic location.

So there you have 'em. The latest contenders for the title of 'Beth's new house.' I hope at least one of them wins because I am ready, and I do mean ready, to move!

Writer's Block

I never thought it could happen to me while blogging: writer's block. I mean after all, I don't actually write about anything, yet I've been able to fill many months with posts, so how can I be blocked from writing about nothing? It boggles the mind, it does.

I just couldn't bear to put up another post about how I can't find a house, wah wah wah, how I am just obsessed with finding a house, yada yada yada, how if I have to live in this low-ceilinged-door-sticking-no-heat place another minute I'm just going to freak out. Too much of a good thing (assuming you ever thought the other posts were good) is still too much.

So without my litany of self pity about the house situation I found myself with nothing to write about. How sad is that? Then I realized something: I have all sorts of things about which to write. I have so many ideas and opinions that Steve regularly has to hide in the bathroom just to escape hearing all my thoughts/feelings. So here goes:

I have recently purchased some new workout wear. This was big for me because I usually workout in clothes that most homeless people wouldn't be seen in. I have been enjoying my classes so much and connecting with so many other women that I finally decided that I don't want to look homeless. I want to wear clothes that fit and are comfortable. I work seriously hard on staying in shape and by-God I'm tossing out the too-big-for-Steve-free-vendor-T-shirts and bringing in the cute spandex (oxymoron? Not in workout wear!).

My hair is growing out. It doesn't look better, just longer. Progress?

My face is still slightly broken out from the last major waxing. I still think hives/pimples look better than a goatee. On me, that is. Now I am faced with the bikini wax dilemma. I have never had a bikini wax before and I am admittedly scared. I am not afraid of the wax, I am afraid of losing the respect of my aestethician once she sees what has been lurking under my button fly jeans. Still, the red bumps from shaving are perhaps not my best look and I'm getting to know my 'waxer' so well that I think it's time we took our relationship to the next level.

Steve and I have been downloading documentaries from Netflix to our TiVO. I now know everything about nothing. Status quo.

There, that about covers it and gives me all sorts of fodder for new posts: my bikini wax, what I've learned from the documentaries, and my hairstyle progress. Gold, pure gold.

Never Terrorize Potential Buyers

This is the most recent house I went to see. I had high hopes for this house, as you can probably imagine from the picture. It looks nice, doesn't it? Well...I had an experience so terrifying in this house that I actually screamed, causing the realtor to race up the stairs to see if I was okay!

Things were going really well on the first floor. I would put down an area rug to unify all the pieces, but I like the fireplace, the windows, and the hardwood floors.

The kitchen is a little small, but clean and bright and the appliances are new and in working condition.I was a little concerned by how discolored the wallpaper was beneath the window in the foyer (water damage?) and a little unsure of the location (6 miles from the grocery store) but all in all, I was beginning to think this house may be the one.

Then I went upstairs.
The upstairs was pretty messy. The fourth bedroom was being used as a junkroom which really didn't show very well. The kids' rooms were cluttered. The bathroom had a blue floor. All things which didn't show very well but wouldn't have made me scream. That didn't happen 'til I went into the Master Bedroom.

The Master Bedroom is dark: a bizarrely sloping ceiling, a too dark paint color, and lack of natural light create a gloomy atmosphere. They didn't have any lights turned on in the room and it was a rainy day, so the gloomy effect was particularly noticeable. Behind the white couch in the picture is a closet door. It's hard to open the door all the way because of the couch and keep in mind it was all pretty dark. I wedged myself between the couch and closet and opened the closet door. The homeowners had a black fur coat hanging on the inside of the door and when the door swung open and that black fur swung out at me and brushed against my arm, well, I screamed!

The realtor comes running, I'm trying to slam the door shut, the coat is wedged in the door, I'm jumping back, I topple into the couch and fall down, the coat falls on me... and that's how the realtor finds me: Hidden behind the still-open-closet-door, sprawled on the floor between the couch and closet, and covered in black fur.
I won't be buying that house.

Not because of the coat incident. The bucket under both master bathroom sinks to catch the leaks, the flooded basement floor, the water damage (confirmed) in the foyer, and the gun range located at the end of the street are the reasons I won't be making an offer.

But the coat incident didn't help.

Is the Third Time Really the Charm?

Steve and I have been getting a lot of rejection lately. We put a contract on a house. This house had been luxuriating on the market for almost a year with no offers but when we put in a contract BAM so does someone else (someone with more money than us, apparently) and the house goes to them.


Okay, we had a Plan B, a contingency house, if you will. We put a contract in on Plan B house. They countered. We let the contract expire. Plan B house was Plan B because it wasn't good enough to be Plan A and frankly, who wants to spend hundreds of thousands of dollars on a house that wasn't really good enough?

There isn't a Plan C.

So here I am again, searching the MLS, pouring over the meager 2x2 photos of the houses, driving by each new candidate to get a feel for the neighborhood, the yard, the house. Rejecting house after house. Getting excited about a house. Going to see the house. Getting disappointed about the house. Are there really that many people in America who chose pink or blue for their formica countertops? What were they thinking???

I am with a Buyer's Agent again. I don't have anything against real estate agents as a group, it's just that my last experience was so annoying. I'm also checking all the For Sale by Owner websites, hoping to find homes that I didn't even know were available.

I am going to start putting up the pictures of the homes I choose as 'candidates.' Perhaps the comments I get back will help us to make a decision because I have now seen so many homes that they are all starting to run together. Whatever house we choose next will hopefully be the one we get. This will be the third contract we will have written. My mom always says "Third time's charm!" Is it?

Perhaps I'll even make the final contestants into a poll! Wouldn't that be exciting!? (yep, my life is that lame right now).

But hey...at least my hair is growing...

Another Realtor rant? Well, why not?

Oh dear, I seem to have had yet another run-in with a group that does less to earn their money than your average pan-handler. Yes, I know that not all Realtors (why do they always capitalize the 'R'?) are bad, just as not all blondes are dumb and not all used-car-salesmen are dishonest, but this is my blog...soooo...

I recently woke the family up early on a sleety Sunday morning, got everybody showered and breakfasted, and braved the elements to go to an Open House. The house was advertised on the website, on a flyer, and in the newspaper, thus I felt safe in assuming the house was really 'Open.' When we arrived at the house there was no sign, no balloons, no evidence of anybody being home, including a Realtor. I called the number on the For Sale sign and left a voicemail for the listing agent. As I was leaving the message the door to the house opened and the listing agent herself came outside, appearing as though she was getting ready to leave. I hopped out of the car and asked her if the house was really Open and she replied that she was going to a birthday party for her nephew and thought because the weather was bad that no one would really come out anyway so she was just showing the house to her mother and then they were planning to go to Toys R Us. Let us all keep in mind at this point in the story that this woman ADVERTISED the house would be Open. She told me she would show us the house if we wanted. We wanted. After seeing the house, which was so out-of-date the ceiling in the dining room was made of canvas (?) she thanked us for coming and told me that if I "get serious about finding a house" I should contact her.

Excuse me? Get serious? How much more serious can one be than to drag their family out on a sleety Sunday morning to see an Open House, including calling the listing agent to ensure the house is really Open? What was she expecting? Should I be toting a wagon full of the purchase price in cash around with me as I look at these houses?

As I was still digesting this latest industry-idiot, Steve received an email from the Realtor who sold our house in Ohio. She wants to know if we can tell the new owners how to work the garage door opener because the keypad isn't working and they have had to use the front door to go in and out of the house. Steve said yes he can help them: they should go to the store, buy 2 AA batteries, put them in the keypad and Voila! It's really not magic, folks. I admit that the new homeowners probably aren't too bright, but how about the Realtor who relayed the message? How is this our problem?

And let's not forget the original Realtor with whom I have already had to dissolve a relationship due to her incompetence.

I know, I know, I'm supposed to be on Sabbatical...

I'm on Sabbatical

I've always thought that whenever someone says they're on sabbatical it just sounds like they are important and have amazing ideas just percolating away inside them while their body rests. According to Webster the word sabbatical actually has 2 meanings: 1. of or suited to the Sabbath; 2. bringing a period of rest that recurs in regular cycles.

I like both of those meanings and both can be attributed to me. What am I resting from, you may ask? House hunting. There is only so much disappointment one person can take before you must scream "No mas!" I am there. House hunting is not just looking for a home, it's choosing a lifestyle. How will I live? Will I be urban, rural, suburban? What's important to me: a close shopping center or a close park? How many trees do I want? (How many leaves do I want to rake?) Is appearance (curb appeal) important to me? How much of my monthly budget do I want to put toward my home? What will I give up in order to afford this house?

I thought those answers were obvious and easy until I actually started thinking about the questions. This is the most time I have ever taken to look for a home. Our last three homes had to be chosen in a matter of weeks and while at the time I felt restricted by the deadlines I now see how freeing they were. I didn't have time to think.

I am disappointed in the inventory that is currently on the market. I am frustrated with myself for caring so much about image. I am overwhelmed by the number of trees and the yard work that comes with them. I am astonished at the home prices in what is supposed to a buyer's market.

So I'm taking a Sabbatical. I am going to re-focus, re-calibrate, and re-direct my energies for awhile. I know the right house is out there but I can't possibly find it with my eyes squeezed tight from tension, and it's hard to write an offer with clenched fists.

Sabbath: \'sa-beth\ (noun) a day of rest. That's what I need, a time to close my eyes so that I may see clearly when I re-open them.

Ummm, you get PAID to do this...

Lately I have decided that my realtor and I are not going to have a lasting relationship. Let me begin by offending all realtors everywhere by saying what a scam being a realtor is. You get paid a commission on the sale price of the property...so as my listing agent you want me to sell for the highest price possible, right? Hmm....yet you are incurring expenses (allegedly) to market my home and the longer my home is on the market the more expenses you incur so that would lead me to believe that you want my home to sell quickly and how exactly can one sell a house quickly? Lower the price?

Looking at the numbers on say, a $300,000 home, this is what really is happening: Selling my home for $290,00 less means $10,000 less to me, but only $300 dollars less for the realtor (assuming their half of the commission is 3%) for a total paycheck of $8700 vs. $9000. How motivated to get that additional $300 is an agent really going to be? As the Buyer's Agent, the commission is still based upon the selling price of the home, so using the same formula each additional $1,000 I pay for a home is $30 more for my agent and all the agent has to do is advise me that she thinks this is what the homeowner will accept.

The current situation is that I am one finding the houses online, emailing my agent with the MLS number, she sets up a showing, lets me in the house, I decide if the house is right for me, and then we start the process all over again. If I pay $300,000 for a house my agent will make $9000 for unlocking the door. That's all she has done. She has not found any houses for me, she has suggested I "drive by a property before requesting a showing since neighborhood is so important to you" so I don't "waste either of our time" and several times she has tried to talk me into houses that were obviously not a fit by proclaiming that "there's just not a lot out there right now!" Does this woman read the news? It's a BUYERS market and I'm a buyer. I am pre-approved, pre-qualified, and don't have a house to sell. I am real estate gold right now and she is letting me slip away because she is lazy.

What do I want from my real estate agent? I want her to find house for me. I want her to email me the listings and suggest neighborhoods. I want her to say "always bid low the first time. You can always go up and they just might accept your initial offer." I want her to suggest new communities that I may not even know about since I have only lived in the state for 6 months. I want her to work for the $9000 paycheck. I shouldn't have to drive by a listing using my own not-tax-deductible car and gas -- that is her job!

I want someone who shows some pride in their profession and some motivation to get the job done. I want to buy a house, is that too much to ask?

I Wanna Be Queen of the Trailer Park

It's house hunting time. The lease will be up in six months, the house in Toledo is sold, it's getting close to spring when all the lovely New Listings come out, and I have a Buyer's Agent. I am pre-approved, pre-qualified, and saving for my closing costs. I have surfed the net, driven the area, and asked around.

Now all I have to do is marry my tastes and my budget.

Housing prices are just so fluid right now. I don't want to get myself all excited over a house that costs $100,000 over my budget only to find out that the sellers won't budge, it really is that price, and I'm left looking stupid. Nor do I want to confine myself to houses only within my current budget because housing prices are still falling and frankly I'd like to be in this house for awhile so I want as much land/house/upgrades as I can get while the prices are still down.

I don't want a big house with all sorts of extra rooms that no one with ever go into and that just gather dust and need to be furnished.

I don't want a cramped house with not enough storage or with low ceilings or with rooms that are so small my furniture looks like its crammed into a clown car.

I want a medium house. Just enough rooms for comfort and occasional guests. Lots of natural light and high enough ceilings that Steve doesn't have to duck when going through the doorway.

I don't want to be the only house for miles around.

I don't want to say "God Bless You" when my neighbor sneezes inside her own home.

I want a medium yard. Enough distance that I don't know intimate details of my neighbors' chewing habits but not so much yard that I devote all my time to its care and feeding.

Add to all this "wanting" my desire for a house with beautiful curb appeal that brings me joy everytime I drive up to it and is a pleasure to show off to friends and family. A house that inspires comfort, friendship, homey-ness, and maybe just a touch of envy. Just a touch.

I have seen beautiful houses with all the upgrades but awkward floor plans. I have seen houses with great bones but in desperate need of updating. I have seen houses that were just "blah."

I just haven't seen my house. Yet.

Home is where the heart is

We just returned from an 8 day whirlwind visit to Ohio. Ohio has been home to me for about 37 years. I have lived all over Ohio, but almost always in Ohio. Ohio is home, right? I guess it's true that you can never go back, because being in Ohio felt familiar, but not homey. We went first to Toledo, our most recent home for the past 4 years. I loved driving on the smooth pavement, seeing the clearly marked streets and knowing where every street went, and how to get all the places I needed to be, but mostly I just loved seeing Deb and all my friends. I loved being in Deb's kitchen. I loved sitting in her den. I loved riding around in her van. Mostly I just loved the people - the place had little meaning to me.

After Toledo we went to Cincinnati. Cincinnati was once my most favorite place in the world. I loved my house there, my friends, the city, the shopping, the weather, everything. Now, Cincinnati is just where Chellie lives. Once again, the place has lost its meaning to me. I love being at Chellie's house. I love the natural light, the tall ceilings, the food she cooks. I love the ease I feel from our long-standing friendship. I love how settled she is in her home.

Final stop on the tour was my mom's house. I was done. I wanted to go home. I honestly didn't want to stop, but I'm glad we did. I love my mom's house too. I love her yellow walls and bright red furniture. I love how her belongings, decorating, and even the way her house smells are slowly morphing into one of my all time favorite places in the world: my grandmother's house. I know my mom will not see this as a complement.

Then, finally, we were home. The house smelled old, musty, like wood and damp. It's not our house, but right now it is our home. It felt so good to be home. We took this trip for many reasons not the least of which was to help our daughter feel more at home in Massachusetts by feeling not at home in Ohio. It worked. She couldn't wait to get home. She wanted to stay in all day on Sunday and just enjoy being home. I had gotten so used to thinking about how much I don't know in Massachusetts that I had lost track of how I much I do know. I do know which grocery store is my favorite. I do have a favorite dry cleaner, library, post office, and bookstore. I am creating a life here and it took leaving it for awhile to make me see that.

Ohio is a nice place to visit...but I wouldn't want to live there.

That little voice should be telling you something...

The big scary anvil that has been hanging over our heads since we moved out of the house in Toledo, Ohio and into a rental in Massachusetts has finally been removed. The house in Toledo is sold. We are removed from the ranks of the "sellers" and get to join the ranks of "buyers"-- a place I am told that is much nicer than being a seller.



The move to Massachusetts was a leap of faith, really and truly the kind of faith where you think God may be telling you something and you are pretty sure you should be listening. Once, about 5 years ago we heard that little Voice and chose not to listen. The result was Steve being laid off from his job and a frantic search to find a new job, a new house, a new life when all we wanted to do was curl up and lick our wounds. We learned from that experience to listen to the Voice. And then about 4 years ago the Voice said that the painful muscle spasms in my face weren't just stress. I listened, I got an MRI, and then brain surgery. I'm still here and I credit my existence to listening to the Voice. Finally, just this past summer, the Voice was screaming at Steve "Get out now!" and we just couldn't believe it: leave our home, our daughter's school, our church, our lives? Leave and go where? Massachusetts? We don't know anyone in Massachusetts! I finally got the house painted the way I like it! It's a terrible market to sell a home! Our daughter likes her school! We had many, many reasons to ignore the Voice and only one reason to follow it: experience. We leaped. For awhile it seemed like freefall and there was a lot of doubt: what if it wasn't the Voice at all? What if Massachusetts was the wrong place? Why isn't our house selling? Why is it so hard to make friends? When are we going to find a decent Chinese restaurant? But now as things are starting to slow down and settle in, I am once more confident that we have done the right thing.

And now, now I am ready to listen to that little Voice once again as it guides me to finding the perfect house at the perfect price.

It's fun to be a buyer!