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?

Weekly Wellbeing: 10k a Day

The Weekly Wellbeings kind of fell to the wayside as posts but have still been going on in life (kind of). My newest discovery in wellbeing has come from a simple $14 purchase of a pedometer that counts how many steps I take each day when worn clipped to my waistband. I don't have any fancy features on my pedometer, just the basics: a step counter, timer, and distance walked.

Many times I have read in different magazines, books, blogs, and health articles that we should be taking 10,000 steps a day, every day. I figured that I took at least that many steps every day so I didn't really think too much about it. I also read that people who wear a pedometer take more steps, up to 2,000 more steps, each day. So after a prolonged period of inactivity brought on by a recent foot injury, I decided that I would wear a pedometer and see just how many steps I was taking each day.

Week 1: Wow, I am amazing! 19,000+ steps each day! Well, obviously I don't need this pedometer because I almost double the recommended daily amount.

Week 2: Hmm, without having a moving truck and cars to help load I'm only taking 14,000+ steps. Well, that's probably my usual amount, I'll still wear the pedometer a few more days just to make sure.

Week 3: Unpacking finished. Life returning to normal. Normal apparently means sitting around a lot more (especially at the computer) struggling to get to 10,000 steps each day.

It was a shock for me to realize that without taking a walk each day and/or making a concentrated effort to move myself around, I would have only been getting between 6-8000 steps each day. I'm a slacker and I didn't even know it! I find it hard to maintain a continuously active lifestyle because so many of my favorite activities can be done sitting: reading, blogging, surfing the net, watching Seinfeld, talking on the phone -- all sedentary activities! Since wearing the pedometer I have been more aware of doing chores or simply pacing while talking on the phone and I have rediscovered my love of books on CD and so am listening to books while walking. I still sit down to blog and surf but since I'm not also sitting everytime I want to read or chat I'm noticing a difference.

I think I'm going to continue to wear the pedometer for awhile. I like having a simple, non-invasive way to check how active I am. I like having a simple goal each day and a simple way to challenge myself on days I feel like a challenge: today I'll try to walk 12,000 steps, just because. A lifestyle goal, a fitness monitor, and a barometer of how much I am challenging myself all for $14... how can you go wrong?

Grace #23: The Library

Of all the wonderful things that moving into our new house has brought to us one of the best has to be the return of our library privileges. The town in which we used to reside had so mismanaged their money that they had to close the library. The other local libraries decided that if our library couldn't reciprocate borrowing privileges then they didn't want our business. It was a sad, sad day for me when I could no longer borrow books from the library.

Luckily my friend Debbie stepped in and supplemented my Barnes&Noble purchases with boxloads of books sent every couple of months. I looked forward to those shipments like a starving man looks at a tuna sandwich!

My last book purchase was Janet Evanovich's Finger Lickin' Fifteen. I have long been a fan of Janet's but I looked forward to this book release with mixed feelings: her last 3 books had disappointed me and while I didn't want to not read the book, I wasn't sure I wanted to buy it. Finally, just days before my library privileges would resume, I couldn't wait any longer and I bought the book. I justified the purchase by telling myself that the library would probably have a waiting list several months long and I couldn't wait that long. Imagine my surprise when I walked into the library and there were several copies Finger Lickin' Fifteen available!

Ah well, I had already read the book by then and while it didn't blow me away with its depth, humor, and well-crafted plot, it did have its moments and I'm glad I own it.

But back to the library, you may be wondering how a public service that receives funds from the state can blacklist an entire town. Well, I never thought it was all that fair either but let me tell you, those old biddies behind that desk can be downright intimidating when they look over those glasses-on-a-chain-pushed-down-on-their-noses and I never had the courage to buck the system and demand book borrowing privileges. Besides, what does it say about a town that is so mismanaged they can't even keep open a library? Not a town I'd want to live in and I'm glad we moved.

I love books. I love bookstores. However financial and space limitations conspire to keep me from owning every book I wish to read so when push comes to shove (I love that expression, I don't know why) I love libraries.

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.

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.

Grace #11 The Ocean

I have been landlocked my entire life. I have never before lived on a coast, near a coast, or even near a river, lake (I don't count Lake Erie in Toledo as I never actually saw the lake, and I didn't live near it), stream, pond, or birdbath! I was truly a landlubber. Until now...now I live in a coastal state! Now I can casually say to Steve "hey, want to go to the beach today?" and he can casually reply "yeah, it's only 1:30, let's go!"

What a Grace! All 3 of us love the ocean. My daughter is especially enamored of the water and was seen yesterday, which was an unseasonably warm 80 degrees, in the Atlantic up to her knees. Even though the air was warm, the water was still quite brisk and her feet were completely numb, but she couldn't stop smiling. We searched for shells, sea glass, and other washed up treasures. We found 2 lighthouses. We climbed on the rocks, played in the sand, and looked out toward France. We ate an amazing dinner at a little restaurant in Salem whilst sitting on their rooftop deck, drinking martinis, and watching the sun set over the Atlantic.

It was pure bliss.

I am more thankful for this gift-from-God-unseasonably-warm-and-sunny April day than I have been for anything for a long time. I needed this day. Amidst all the house hunting, moving expenses, tax forms, 4th grade drama, 39-yr-old drama, and self pity I had forgotten about the big picture. Yesterday, standing on the edge of the United States, that picture snapped back into focus. I felt purely, truly, and remarkably happy. At peace.

Content.

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!

Steve and I are having problems in the bedroom...

Steve and I just celebrated our 18th wedding anniversary. For all those years we have always had a problem in the bedroom. The problem is our bed. It isn't just limited to our bedroom either, we seem to have bed problems in the homes of our families and friends, in hotel rooms, and even in a beautiful bed and breakfast we found in Maine.

It all began when we first moved in together. We were poor. I'm talkin' got-our-first-kitchen-table-from-a-restaurant's-dumpster poor. We both had twin beds and since we were so poor we certainly couldn't afford a new bed and new sheets we decided that we would just share one twin bed. That lasted one night. Already we were learning that comfort and sleep could overrule libido. Then we had the great idea of putting both our twin beds together with one single king-sized fitted sheet holding them tight. We actually slept like that for about 6 months until I just couldn't stand waking up each morning "in the crack" and began looking for a new bed. Next we bought a second hand queen sized waterbed. This bed was with us for 8 years! It never really worked that well for us because the plastic liner made Steve sweat and I was always a little sea sick from the waves and I was still waking up "in the crack" only this time "the crack" was the area between the mattress and the frame where I would inevitably get tossed during the night.

Finally, pregnant, financially stable, and fed up, I demanded that we get a real bed. We did. We bought a beautiful queen sized sleigh bed with a good quality mattress and box springs. It was bedtime bliss for about 4 months. Then our daughter was born and we soon discovered that our tiny infant took up the space of an adult and we wished we had a king sized bed. Since our daughter opted to not sleep - ever - we spent many nights with one or both of us ultimately moving to other beds in the house so our child could stretch out in comfort.

We moved to Toledo and our daughter (then 5) finally started sleeping through the night. At last, we could enjoy our bed again! Nope: we foolishly purchased a house with a floorplan that could only be arranged so that our bed shared a wall with our daughter's bed. I found the mere 3 inches of dry wall between our beds to be quite daunting to um..other bedroom activities. In desperation we tried moving the bed against the window wall. Too noisy and freezing during the winter. Finally I actually moved the bed in front of our closets. Not too convenient, but at least it was private!

We move to Massachusetts: new bedroom on opposite side of house from daughter, maybe finally we will get to enjoy our bed. Not so, not so. We had to borrow a split box springs from our landlords because a queen sized box spring will not fit up our narrow steps. The borrowed-box-spring squeaks. Constantly. With every little movement. Still no rest for the weary.

Like I said earlier, this problem extends to outside our home as well. The bed squeaked so badly at the B&B in Maine that I couldn't look our hosts in the eye the next morning and I hadn't even done anything.

At Steve's parents house we either have to sleep 2 floors apart or Steve has to sleep in a 'tester' bed that is so short that his feet hang over the edge all night.

My mom has a queen bed, but only one and there are 3 of us. Obvious problem there.

When we stayed with friends during an extended power outage their guest bed was plenty big enough but had mysterious sand-like-crumbs on the sheets that made our feet itch all night.

The hotel air conditioner was broken on one vacation and we had so much humidity in the room that our bed was actually damp each night.

I am looking forward to getting a new house and a new bedroom, but most of all I am looking forward to getting a new bed. I think I am older and wiser now. I know the pitfalls of a poor bed choice. Because let's face it...

...right now, Steve and I have BIG problems in the bedroom!

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?

Pity Party or Mardi Gras?

Last week I had no posts. No weekly wellbeing. No grace. Nada. What was I doing, you may ask? Well I was wallowing in self pity of course! I couldn't take time away from my own personal pity party to write, I had to concentrate on financial ruin! Single car-dom! Homelessness!

But like all parties, this one had to end, the house had to be cleaned up, and life had to go on.

I was recently telling my husband that I'm the one you want in a crisis. I'm the calm, cool, collected character who can stop the bleeding, pack up the house, bake the 4 dozen cupcakes, or pay the bill. It's after the crisis that I fall apart. Sometimes it's so long since the crisis has taken place that even I don't immediately understand why I am falling apart. In this case, it has taken me 5.5 months to really feel the move from Ohio to Massachusetts. Last week, I felt it. Usually in these situations where I might have uncomfortable feelings I like to self-medicate with sugar. Enough chocolatey-goodness and I can't remember ever having had a bad feeling. This year I've decided that I'm just going to see what life would be like without sugar.

Well, it's not good, I can tell you that much.

I haven't returned to sugar, but like any recovering addict I can tell you that I am taking it day by day, hour by hour and Dear Lord do I need a sponsor! And how did I get through, you may be wondering? Well, I'm glad you asked: I bitched. Almost nonstop. I bitched to Chellie. I bitched to Debbie. I bitched to Steve. I would have bitched to more people if I hadn't gotten their voicemail (perhaps the tone of my voice gave my intended topic away...). I sang the blues 'til even I couldn't stand the sound of my voice anymore. Steve had to spend so much time "talking" to me that he has had to play violent war games on the Wii every night for three days running just to recover. I feel a lot better though and I discovered that one way to ensure my own wellbeing is to occasionally have a little-bitch-fest, so I guess I did have a weekly wellbeing last week even without knowing it. AND I discovered how grateful I am for 2 friends and a husband who will by-god-listen-to-the-endless-litany and not hang up/leave the room. So I even discovered a hidden Grace during the week.

Still, I did begin to wonder how long I could keep the pity party up, I mean if it had gone on any longer I was going to have to hand out purple and green beads, flash my boobs, and call it Mardi Gras!

I need an adjustment

I don't need a chiropractor, I need an accountant. We did our taxes last night. I fully admit that I know nothing about tax laws and I fully admit that I was guilty of 'counting my chickens before they were hatched,' STILL I was stunned by the unfairness I felt doing those taxes. We took heavy losses last year. Our total loss selling our house was $62,517.29. I don't know about you, but to me, that's a lot of money! Our total un-reimbursed moving expenses were $6,355.29. Again, to me, a lot of money. But all through the move, the expenses, the credit card debt, the worrying about how we would buy another house, I just kept telling myself one thing: don't worry, you lose now, you'll gain on your taxes.

I was naive, to say the least.

Last night I couldn't wait to sit down at the computer and do those taxes. I felt impatient as Steve installed Turbo Tax. I felt impatient as Turbo Tax loaded our previous year's information. Let the refunds begin, I thought with a lot of excitement. I was thinking double digit refund. I was thinking the end of our remaining revolving credit card debt and the closing costs on a new home. I even ventured so far as to hope it may cover the down payment on a car (my husband's lease is up) or the funding of our daughter's tuition. I had hope.

Obviously, it didn't go the way I planned. While Turbo Tax walked us through our deductions I noticed that the refund was hovering at $1600 and not really changing much. I dug through the closing information on our house in Toledo, both from when we bought it and when we sold it. I carefully went through each itemized list of the hundreds of items we donated to Goodwill before the move. I had multiple copies of the receipts for all the new appliances and carpet added to the house in hopes it would sell faster and for more money. I had documentation for the months we were without subsidized insurance and had to pay the COBRA all on our own. I had carefully saved every single gas, food, toll, and lodging receipt from the move. All that paper, all that careful saving, all that time. All that hope. For nothing. Not nothing, I suppose that isn't fair. Slowly and painfully the refund inched its way to $3000. Slowly and painfully I realized that the system isn't fair. The words 'unfortunately, personal loss is not tax deductible' kept drifting across the screen. Personal loss. Too bad. Victim of the economy. I felt hopeless.

I thought, hey, if two educated people, fairly young, hard working, pay our taxes, keep our grass cut, wouldn't have had any credit card debt if not for the move, only moved because my husband's job was in jeopardy -- if people like us can't afford to buy a new house, pay off our credit card, buy a car, and pay our daughter's tuition -- who can? We are the middle class. We are the backbone of the country, the people who don't take handouts and don't take advantage. We are the ones who are keeping social security alive. We buy American. We buy local. We vote (well, usually, the bureaucratic red tape that is residency laws did prevent us from participating in this last election!).

As I watched Turbo Tax calculating the amount we paid versus the amount we could expect to receive I actually felt sick. As I paid taxes on the state refund I received last year. As I paid taxes on the reimbursement I received for part of my moving expenses. As I saw what I paid in federal, state, local, medicare, and social security taxes, as I paid and paid, and paid some more. I started to feel angry, I definitely felt bitter. Mostly I just felt sad.

I feel sad that we'll probably have to go down to just one car. I feel sad that I can't even afford the closing costs on a house. I feel sad that I can't afford my daughter's tuition. I'll put every dime I receive in refunds toward the credit card. You see, I don't believe in having revolving credit card debt. I don't think it's good for our family and I don't think it's good for the country. I feel sad that the wife, sister, daughter, niece, granddaughter, great-granddaughter, and beyond of veterans cannot even buy a car, a house, or send her daughter to school because of the losses I incurred through no fault of my own. I didn't cause the housing crash. I didn't have a balloon mortgage I couldn't afford. I didn't spend more than I took in. I keep getting stuck thinking 'it's not my fault!'

But who ever wins at the blame game. I am supposed to be counting my graces this year. Okay, here are the positives: I am getting a refund, as opposed to owing (if I had owed money on my taxes I think I would have lost my mind!) My husband did find a wonderful new job, as opposed to being unemployed. I did sell my house in Ohio, as opposed to still paying a house payment and rent. Steve is a veteran, therefore we are eligible for a no-money-down VA loan if we can save the money for closing costs. Only having one car is better for the the environment. I don't know what I'll do about my daughter's tuition, but God works in mysterious ways and I'm just going to have to have faith. And probably, most importantly, I never had to go to the screen on Turbo Tax that talks about your health care costs. We are all healthy, and on a day when my friend Colleen is right this very minute having a mastectomy due to breast cancer, I know that health is never to be taken for granted. We may have had a rough year financially, but money can be replaced. People can't be. We will recover. We will save enough to cover closing costs. Or we will rent another year. Either way, we won't be homeless, as so many people are. We will survive.

I have hope.

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.

Mirror, Mirror, On the wall...

How I see myself is vastly different from how others see me, well, at least some "others", those who buy me Christmas gifts. In particular I received two gifts this year that are "me", only the "me" from 10-15 years ago.

The first gift was a book on sewing aprons purchased by my mom. Only problem is: I don't sew. Now to be fair, Mom's gift is not without basis, I used to sew. I used to sew quite a lot. In fact in a complete underestimation of time involved and overestimation of my sewing abilities I once handmade stockings for everyone in our family, including my mom's partner and her family. That foray into sewing nearly cost me my marriage and my sanity. Not one to learn quickly, I continued trying to sew: for myself, for others, for "fun" but each attempt ended the same way: me crying in front of a jammed sewing machine at 11:oo at night while Steve looks on in despair and frustration wondering how I could have done this to myself again! Finally I accepted a truth about myself: I am not detail oriented. I am a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of seamstress and that always leads to fabric cut too short, seams not lining up and tears. I am more of a counted-cross-stitch kind of girl, preferably with the pattern printed on the cloth to reduce counting. Steve is grateful the sewing machine is still jammed and I cannot torture myself or him any longer.

The second gift was gourmet salt purchased by Steve's aunt. This gift makes an assumption about my cooking interest and skills that is completely removed from reality. Sure, I cook. Every night, with much wailing and gnashing of teeth I manage to put something on the table. Steve and our daughter stare balefully at my offering, courageously dig in, chew thoughtfully, and end up just eating the salad. My offerings are always healthy, whole grain and/or organic, but completely without interest or much taste. I am not interested in cooking. I have no flair for cooking. I used to cook. When I lived in Cincinnati and had a kitchen the size of many people's homes that was flooded with natural light and tricked out with all the latest appliances and gadgets I was pretty interested in cooking. That was 10 years ago. Since then I have had to make do in poorly lit, cramped spaces with appliances that didn't work properly. It kind of killed the cooking buzz. My family eagerly awaits my return to cooking.

I am a work in progress. I am constantly changing. I like gifts like these because they help me to get in touch with who I was years ago, remember why I changed, evaluate whether those changes still work for me, and feel grateful that I can see movement in my life. I'll keep the book on aprons, who knows, maybe I'll feel like whipping one up (using fabric glue, mind you, I'm not completely masochistic!). I'll keep the salts, I am planning on using them in my new-found interest in creating homemade bath salts. They'll be a fantastic addition.

I appreciate the gifts and the givers. I hope they appreciate me as I am now.