Sunday, March 30, 2008

Thursday, March 27, 2008

Just in Case Something Gets Busted

My goal today was packing away my display china and crystal. Everything else was packed up months ago.I love my china hutch. It's teak, and also antique (which is anything older than me). The credenza was my mother-in-law's, bought when she had her first apartment in the 1950s. The hutch she bought for my husband and me about 10 years ago. Love. Love love love.

I also love these old fashioend champagne glasses. Again, they were my mom-in-law's, from the days when she was entertaining a lot. There are 10 of them left -- I say "left" because these came to us because they weren't a complete set anymore. Like The Husband and I need 10 crystal champagne glasses. I don't care. I love them. They go into this wine box I saved. It still had the dividers.
More bits. Mom bought the cobalt flask for a Christmas present. Husband won the candle holders (those pointy things) at an auction. The platter is part of my china (formerly known as Mom's china, and Scandinavian, and I have far too much of it in storage. Again, love.)
The Husband and I found this in an antique shop on Amelia Island. I used to keep dried rose petals in it, or short stemmed roses tied in a posey.
Another inherited item. Those little divots were made by rice grains embedded in the porcelain. When light shines through them, they glow. The two fans behind are made from sandalwood and were part of the stuff Japanese airlines gave passengers back in the 60s. They still smell like sandalwood.

I didn't grow up with stuff like this. My parents didn't drink wine or own china. Our plates were the popular plastic stuff (not even Corelle -- we stepped up when mom bought Corelle) When my mom married my stepdad, someone gave her a wine set. It was a pretty carafe with four glasses, all colored with a sort of clear paint that chipped off when they were washed (purely for looks). My mom treated them like something expensive, and for a long time they were my standard for "fine dining". I'm pretty sure my stepdad has trashed them by now.

So, I love these things that are now my things. Still, one day I want a crystal set of my own rather than a hand-me-down. One day I'll have money enough to get at least a few pieces. And when I do, I want this.

Wednesday, March 26, 2008

My Life in Six Words

I turn my back for a minute and next thing I know, I've got a tag hanging from my ear.

I have to use a quote, because, as usual, someone else says it better than I can.

"Try again. Fail again. Fail better." -- Samuel Beckett

In other news, I have a Facebook account now, which I am using in the best of Facebook tradition as a place to play time wasting games. One of the time wasters I am playing is called Knighthood, and to play successfully I need to have all my friends be knights in my kingdom. You might already be a knight (in my kingdom or someone else's) if you have an account -- the game requires nothing much from you unless you WANT to play. Otherwise, you're a chesspiece.

However, if you are curious and you like me enough to not only get a Facebook account but to install the little application for this game, let me know and I'll send you an invitation before someone else snatches you away to slave in their workshop...

Oh, and I've already had some 12 year old tell me that I'm too old for Facebook. Facebook is for the YOUNG, you see. I almost told him about BBSs, but I resisted. I'm so good. Gimme a cookie.

(PS. We have a lease. I have 5 weeks to pack.)

Tuesday, March 25, 2008

In Which I Shake Fists at the Sky and Wait Some More

Once again with the waiting.

We are approved for lovely Townhouse we saw. It's only 7 miles /12 minutes from campus, it has 2 1/2 bathrooms, a garage AND an attic. Ok, the rooms are small and are all carpeted. Ok, it's all beige and white. But it's new and clean and nice, the layout works, and they will let us have the cats. So, we want to sign a lease.

We can't sign a lease yet. The inspector who inspected our house has to write a report about it for the buyer, so the buyer can sign a piece of paper that says they are cool with the inspection and if we fix the leaks/insulation things, all is right with the world. Our agent says she thinks it IS all good and cool and happy, but we should get the paper first just to keep it all even and good. So, we are waiting. *sigh* Waiting and waiting and waiting...

It is possible the buyers could back out at this point, but it isn't LIKELY. They have a limited window in which to do so, and that's running out. I think the universe is working in our favor, but I don't like to take anything for granted. So, I wait and I think good thoughts.

With a little fist waving. Just a little.

Monday, March 24, 2008


Monday. Today is Monday, right? I am confused.

We spent this morning unloading the stuff we brought up into the storage unit and the afternoon touring a college town's rental offerings. Many offerings were more in the "burnt" category. I took pictures, but I don't want to look again unless I must.

I can understand that, if one is a college student living somewhere for a semester or two and planning to move on to greener, cheaper or at least other pastures, not having more than a 3 x 2 closet in a 10x11 bedroom is acceptable. Rent of under $300 a month being the primary objective, having three people in a teeny bathroom might be doable. Strange spots on the floor, bits missing out of walls and doors, mysterious smells -- ok, maybe these are part and parcel with college life.

I'm 43 years old and I'm not really interested in revisiting my youth, at least not via living arrangements.

The last place we saw today was beautiful. It is larger than anything else we saw, it has few if any unexplained smudges, it has 2 1/2 baths, 3 bedrooms, AND laundry hookups. You can have two people in the kitchen. There are actual closets you can walk into and turn around and walk out of. Nothing smelled strange. So, we are waiting to hear if we can work out an arrangement for our felines. If our offer is acceptable, we have a place to live.

Speaking of places to live, our house had its pre-sale inspection. Nothing deal-breaker-ish -- we need more insulation in one part of the attic, we need a couple of leaky ducts repaired, and apparently the water main outside our property leaks (not our problem, but I will call the city about it when I get home). We will have to get someone in about the attic mice, but since I won't be there this summer when the bodies begin to decay, I don't care.

Keep sending the good thoughts. I have a long drive back and 5 more weeks to get through before my life is transfered 552 miles north-north-west.

Friday, March 21, 2008

Quick Update

Our plans were to drive up with the van and a small trailer on Sunday, hunt for future homes on Monday and Tuesday, and I would fly back on Wednesday.

There are no flights from Greenville on Wednesday. Either it was canceled or booked up. The next flight would be on Saturday. I can't be away that long -- Bosszilla still gets a little choked up when he thinks about my last few weeks.

So...we will convoy up. I'll drive my car, The Husband will take the van and trailer, and I will drive back on Wednesday.


Wednesday, March 19, 2008

Reality Moves

The little 'Under Contract' went up over the For Sale sign yesterday. We told Bosszilla, who did not quite cry, but is bending over backwards to make sure we will still do all his special projects and stuff. We bought a fax machine (on our dime -- he offered, we said no) so he can fax us. It will be just like being there, only without all the fun stories and destroyed buildings.

I am taking down the last pictures, all the decorative items, and most anything that sits on a shelf for hauling northward. We are planning to leave some time on Sunday -- yes, I said "we". I'm going up with The Husband to house hunt and move heavy things. (well, supervise the moving of heavy things.

My head is full of lists. I fall asleep thinking "oh, I need to write that down". I'm sleepy a lot. As much as I love having my husband in the house again, he's also a disruptive force in the careful life I created to deal with his absence. When he's alone and I'm alone, we are both quite tidy. Together, for reasons unexplained, we revert (well, he reverts farther, and I am back trying to pick up after him, when I know perfectly well it takes all my time to pick up after myself.) We will work this conundrum out.

Brand New Life is bearing down upon me. Sometimes I'm excited. Sometimes I'm scared. Sometimes I'm just tired. Sometimes I touch the walls of this house -- my house -- and my eyes well up. I've never lived in one place as long as I've lived here. I'm such a home oriented person that I'm bound to feel some little piece of myself ripping away when we turn over those keys and load that last box. Screaming, crying, laughing, loving...this building has my blood in it (literally) and I feel that echo behind me.

Time to bleed somewhere else.

Saturday, March 15, 2008

A Little Excited

They signed the contract. Our agent goes over it tomorrow and if all looks right, we have to get through the home inspection and the closing. So, I don't have to keep the house incredibly clean and shining for strangers to tromp through. I have to get my ass packed UP.

Of course, there are still some 6 weeks until the closing date and anything could happen. But, I got a little excited today. Really, I did.

Friday, March 14, 2008

Even more.

We countered the offer.

They have until tomorrow to accept or reject.

It's hard to plan while pretending nothing is going to change.

I'm beginning to think that life is just a series of waiting periods between points. I get to one point and have to set a new one, and then wait for some event I can't control, which will set me up to wait for the next point. If I actually arrive at some goal, I don't know what it is I'll do with myself.

Right now I'm waiting for The Husband to arrive home (he's is Georgia as of last phone call, and Georgia is a tall state, even on Hwy 95). At least I know what I'll do then.

Thursday, March 13, 2008


There's a contract.

Still not excited. Still could fall through.

But there's a contract.

Wednesday, March 12, 2008

The Waiting Is The Hardest Part

Ol' Tom Petty had it right. I've been waiting, it seems, for one thing after another these last 19 months (yes, 19 months).

We just got an offer for the house.

We are countering.

I am nauseous.

Friday, March 07, 2008

Ok, They DO Think We are Mental Inferiors

Ok, I'll say it up front -- I don't buy Cosmo for intellectual stimulation. No, I buy it because I'm bored and I want to read something shallow, meaningless, and fluffy-light. There. I'm being honest about it.

But....Va-jay-jay? SERIOUSLY? Someone tell me this isn't really how 20-something women talk about their bodies. Are they saying things like pee-pee and poo-poo as well? Why is baby-talk like this on a national woman's magazine? Why? Is Cosmo marketing to three year olds? And why would a three year old be interested in vaginal health anyway?

I feel strongly that any woman who is old enough to be aware of her gynecological health or be sexually active is old enough to pronounce 'vagina'. It's not that hard. Same number of syllables.
Similar vowel and consonants. For the really clueless, there's Webter's.


The computer will even say it for you.

I'm trying to imagine a woman facing her doctor and saying, in all seriousness, "I'm having some unusual discharge from my va-jay-jay." I know I'd laugh. I'd laugh a lot. Is this word going to show up in porn now? "OOoo baby, shove that hot man-meat into my wet va-jay-jay."

That has an icky child porn echo, doesn't it? Erg.

Someone mentioned to me a few weeks ago that Oprah used this infantile term. And here I'd begun to think Oprah was a grown-up. This word is as bad as "mangina" (is the feminine 'womangina"?) or "man-cooter" ('cooter', apparently, like "prostitute' and 'purse', is automatically feminine).

I don't spend my money on these junk magazines very often, but this cover made up my mind. I'm never buying a Cosmopolitan again. Intelligent, adult women should not be spoken to with baby talk in public, especially at $5.00 a pop.


People came back for a second look at the house today. A LONG second look. I checked the house and left about 10:45 -- they were scheduled between 10:20 and 12:00 and were supposed to call first -- then went to find something to do for an hour or so.

At 12:10 I drove home and they were still here. I drove around for about 20 more minutes -- I know now where some of those streets behind my neighborhood doe -- and they were gone. None of the cats are happy about strangers in the house, and neither am I. We are all huddled on the bed together (except Ben, who is on the blanket chest because he's special like that, and because everyone whapped him).

I spent last night cleaning and being angry. I get angry through this process because I can picture is total strangers judging me, my choices and my way of life. Two things we hear from agents are "Paint everything neutral (white)" and "The house smells of cat (get rid of the cats)". Neither are going to happen. First, the paint is PAINT. Who ever moves in can paint white if that's what turns them on, or they can paint whatever colors they prefer. It's PAINT. As for the cats -- when I leave, they leave, and all that was of them will go. The house will be cleaned thoroughly when we leave.

Bah. The whole idea that someone will come into my house and be judgmental upsets my stomach.

Sunday, March 02, 2008