I made SURE to remember Lizzy's shoes today. And I left backups at day care! I did not remember to bring my own coat, however. Brrrrr. But I'm so happy that Lizzy has shoes on her feet, and the day care ladies won't be leaving nasty, passive-aggressive notes on her take-home sheet about how it's not acceptable, and hazardous, for her not to have shoes, that I don't even care if I'm a little cold. Or even a lot cold.
I have to tell you something she did last night that totally amazed Matt and me. We know she has a hard little head (literally and figuratively), but occasionally she takes it to yet another level.
She has snacks on the way home in the car. Gee -- I wonder why she doesn't eat much dinner? It's not the healthiest system in the world, but in a year or two she'll be in grade school, and this works for now, and blah blah blah I'm choosing not to stress myself about it.
Last night, she inhaled a couple of crackers, then asked us crankily whatelsewehadinthecartoeat. We established that a banana offering would be acceptable, so I opened it and peeled it a little -- not too much! -- and broke off the top -- it had a little bruise on the very top -- and handed it to her.
"Who took a bite of my banana?" she demanded to know.
"No one took a bite," I explained. "I broke off the top because it had a bruise."
"I WANT the bruise!" she said. (ever before this, she's stopped eating when she comes to a bruise.)
"It's in the trash," I said. "You really want it?"
"Yes," she said, her little face all defiantly scrunched up.
"Fine," say I, and fish the bruised bite out of the plastic bag that serves as the car's trash this week.
Matt and I look on in amazement as she popped the bite into her mouth and gave a little "so THERE!" grunt. Sheesh.
I'm tempted now to tell her that vegetables and naps are bad for her, but I'm sure that would only backfire somehow.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
packing it up, but not in. Yet.
This has been a slightly odd day. It keeps snowing when I don't expect it to -- five minutes before we walked out the door this morning, big fat flakes started drifting down. I believe they stopped 15 minutes later. False alarm.
Ten minutes from Lizzy's day care, I realize that I forgot her shoes. AGAIN. Crap. And I didn't put a spare pair in her cubby at school, like I vowed to do the last time this happened. So she's running around in socks today. Thanks to her incompetent mother.
Shortly thereafter, I stood at the cash register at Starbucks, and a little movement along the top of the biscotti on the counter caught my eye. Turns out, it was a roach. I flicked it on the floor and stomped on it, which mightily startled one of the employees. I'm gonna bet it's not the first one they've seen in there. Yuk.
I know I've been packing too long, because I had trouble getting the lid to fit on the Tupperware container that held my lunch this morning, and my first impulse wasn't to find the lid that fit -- it was to use packing tape to fasten the darned thing on. Which worked pretty well, by the way. Kinda hard to penetrate once lunchtime rolled around, but no food escaped before then for sure.
This has been a challenging week. Poor Matt is staying up really late every night -- for instance, 2 a.m. last night -- working on some job-saving (we hope) proposal for work. He says he's been getting A LOT more respect there this past week, now that word has gotten out that some jobs probably will be disappearing soon. And he'll be in on that decision-making process. Nothing like a healthy fear for one's salary to get one to actually DO SOME WORK occasionally. (deep breath)
Yeah, this post is about as random as my thought processes feel right now. Too many little details floating around in my head. "Have I canceled the cable?" "Have I set up new cable?" "Which utilities need to stay on, and which need to be turned off?" "Who needs to know about our new address?"
But my daughter's shoes? Yeah. Not as important, apparently.
The one legitimate thing that I'm stressing about right now is the prospect of selling our soon-to-be-old house. I'm getting some pressure from Matt and our mortgage lady to 'consider' renting. Renting is a bad word, as far as I'm concerned. Not that I am against renting! I LOVE being the renter. I would rather be renting right now, especially considering the market, than dealing with a house that is going to lose us a lot of money. Just how much, is the only question mark. IF we can sell it at all... It's a fine house, but I don't know how many folks are clamoring to live in Manassas. Perhaps I'm being too faithless. That's probable.
I just don't want to own, or partially own, THREE properties. To be responsible for three sets of utilities. Etc. I want to make a clean break. I don't want to hope the market gets better. I don't want to have to worry about the market at all. And I've seen how renters have torn things up at other places in our neighborhood, and elsewhere. Our house is pretty nice right now. I don't want to have to inherit it back after renters have defaulted on a few months of payment, and punched holes in the wall. My peace of mind is worth some money, I figure. But just how much ... and where to find it. That part gets tricky.
Ten minutes from Lizzy's day care, I realize that I forgot her shoes. AGAIN. Crap. And I didn't put a spare pair in her cubby at school, like I vowed to do the last time this happened. So she's running around in socks today. Thanks to her incompetent mother.
Shortly thereafter, I stood at the cash register at Starbucks, and a little movement along the top of the biscotti on the counter caught my eye. Turns out, it was a roach. I flicked it on the floor and stomped on it, which mightily startled one of the employees. I'm gonna bet it's not the first one they've seen in there. Yuk.
I know I've been packing too long, because I had trouble getting the lid to fit on the Tupperware container that held my lunch this morning, and my first impulse wasn't to find the lid that fit -- it was to use packing tape to fasten the darned thing on. Which worked pretty well, by the way. Kinda hard to penetrate once lunchtime rolled around, but no food escaped before then for sure.
This has been a challenging week. Poor Matt is staying up really late every night -- for instance, 2 a.m. last night -- working on some job-saving (we hope) proposal for work. He says he's been getting A LOT more respect there this past week, now that word has gotten out that some jobs probably will be disappearing soon. And he'll be in on that decision-making process. Nothing like a healthy fear for one's salary to get one to actually DO SOME WORK occasionally. (deep breath)
Yeah, this post is about as random as my thought processes feel right now. Too many little details floating around in my head. "Have I canceled the cable?" "Have I set up new cable?" "Which utilities need to stay on, and which need to be turned off?" "Who needs to know about our new address?"
But my daughter's shoes? Yeah. Not as important, apparently.
The one legitimate thing that I'm stressing about right now is the prospect of selling our soon-to-be-old house. I'm getting some pressure from Matt and our mortgage lady to 'consider' renting. Renting is a bad word, as far as I'm concerned. Not that I am against renting! I LOVE being the renter. I would rather be renting right now, especially considering the market, than dealing with a house that is going to lose us a lot of money. Just how much, is the only question mark. IF we can sell it at all... It's a fine house, but I don't know how many folks are clamoring to live in Manassas. Perhaps I'm being too faithless. That's probable.
I just don't want to own, or partially own, THREE properties. To be responsible for three sets of utilities. Etc. I want to make a clean break. I don't want to hope the market gets better. I don't want to have to worry about the market at all. And I've seen how renters have torn things up at other places in our neighborhood, and elsewhere. Our house is pretty nice right now. I don't want to have to inherit it back after renters have defaulted on a few months of payment, and punched holes in the wall. My peace of mind is worth some money, I figure. But just how much ... and where to find it. That part gets tricky.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
must ... not ... use ... bad ... pun.
Yesterday was an infamous Snow Closure Day at Lizzy's day care. The day care alleges that it closes in sync with Arlington county schools. Which is probably true. So perhaps my ire should be targeted at the Arlington county school system. To remind you, it did not snow yesterday. It snowed SUNDAY. Arghhhh!
In any case, someone had to stay home yesterday. Matt drew the short straw, so I went to work.
On to the point of my missive: I had to drive down a road that I don't usually take for very long -- Lee Highway -- on the way back home because I couldn't do our usual Hwy. 66 within the beltway. I was but one driver.
Which was no big deal. Virginia geography tends to elude me, even though I've lived -- and even owned a car in -- the state for years now. I need to sit at home one afternoon and study a map, but you can guess how often that's happened thus far.
So I had a little nostalgic trek down Lee Highway. Passing the fire station where Lizzy's been to a birthday party; passing our Falls Church Kaiser Permanente building; passing a pizza place where Lizzy's attended a birthday party; passing the shopping center in which there's a gymnastics facility where Lizzy's been to TWO birthday parties ... you get the idea.
I'm ruminating on years of events, up and down the road. Pondering how long I've lived here, all that's happened. Wondering how much longer I'll be here. (and not in a negative sense, believe it or not.) When a light ahead of me turns red, and I stop, and I look up and see this product dangling from the truck in front of me. Gently swaying with the motion of the vehicle having just stopped.
I think I laughed about it all the way home. I am still in disbelief that someone would put such a thing on their truck. As Matt said, when I called him on my cell phone, gasping with laughter: "It's a BIG truck, right? It had BETTER be a big truck."
Oh my, oh my.
It was a silver one, if you're wondering.
In any case, someone had to stay home yesterday. Matt drew the short straw, so I went to work.
On to the point of my missive: I had to drive down a road that I don't usually take for very long -- Lee Highway -- on the way back home because I couldn't do our usual Hwy. 66 within the beltway. I was but one driver.
Which was no big deal. Virginia geography tends to elude me, even though I've lived -- and even owned a car in -- the state for years now. I need to sit at home one afternoon and study a map, but you can guess how often that's happened thus far.
So I had a little nostalgic trek down Lee Highway. Passing the fire station where Lizzy's been to a birthday party; passing our Falls Church Kaiser Permanente building; passing a pizza place where Lizzy's attended a birthday party; passing the shopping center in which there's a gymnastics facility where Lizzy's been to TWO birthday parties ... you get the idea.
I'm ruminating on years of events, up and down the road. Pondering how long I've lived here, all that's happened. Wondering how much longer I'll be here. (and not in a negative sense, believe it or not.) When a light ahead of me turns red, and I stop, and I look up and see this product dangling from the truck in front of me. Gently swaying with the motion of the vehicle having just stopped.
I think I laughed about it all the way home. I am still in disbelief that someone would put such a thing on their truck. As Matt said, when I called him on my cell phone, gasping with laughter: "It's a BIG truck, right? It had BETTER be a big truck."
Oh my, oh my.
It was a silver one, if you're wondering.
Friday, January 19, 2007
woof
Here's something no one but my husband knows. (as you all lean forward in your chairs)
We have recently acquired a dog. Another secret fact about me -- I am not a dog fan. Every once in awhile, an individual dog will meet with my approval, but in general, they do not make my heart leap, melt or react in any other way. I have heard too many stories -- let's just leave it at that. And I have my own biases born of personal experience.
My daughter, however, has a different attitude entirely. Her eyes light up in pleasure at the sight of a doggie, no matter its size, color or state of dishevelment. One of her favorite book/movies is "Lady and the Tramp." Another favorite flick is "Air Buddies," a Christmas present eagerly received from her Uncle Nick. She loves taking walks in places with high dog populations. (Alexandria's King Street, for example)
So it was only to be expected that we should have a doggie of our own. It's just that, well, I figured I'd get to be part of the decision! Matt thought that he should, too. The doggie we now have, you see, is our own 4-year-old daughter. She magically transforms at some point in the evening -- and definitely all through the bedtime rituals -- into a four-legged little being with a disconcertingly realistic high-pitched yap. And a whine. And a tongue that we had to train not to actually LICK us. Yechhh.
I find it interesting that she didn't get the knees of her clothes dirty when she was learning to crawl. No -- it's only now that she's four that the knees of her pants have filthy, telltale patches. Or stained, telltale patches, if I've already washed the pants (and forgotten to put stain-away spray on them. Which is almost always).
As soon as we get to school most mornings, a little curly-haired friend named Alexander magically appears at her side and says, "Lizzy! Wanna play Lion King with me?" He's Simba, and she's Nala. They apparently have great fun, crawling around on the floor together. And on the ground, clenching a stuffed animal (their baby lion cub) in their teeth, during outside play time.
So, please be understanding if you see giant stains on her knees. Remember that I did not CHOOSE to have a doggie. Doggie ownership was thrust upon me. And good stain-lifting clothes-washing habits... Well, my mom did her best. Some people just aren't as trainable as others.
We have recently acquired a dog. Another secret fact about me -- I am not a dog fan. Every once in awhile, an individual dog will meet with my approval, but in general, they do not make my heart leap, melt or react in any other way. I have heard too many stories -- let's just leave it at that. And I have my own biases born of personal experience.
My daughter, however, has a different attitude entirely. Her eyes light up in pleasure at the sight of a doggie, no matter its size, color or state of dishevelment. One of her favorite book/movies is "Lady and the Tramp." Another favorite flick is "Air Buddies," a Christmas present eagerly received from her Uncle Nick. She loves taking walks in places with high dog populations. (Alexandria's King Street, for example)
So it was only to be expected that we should have a doggie of our own. It's just that, well, I figured I'd get to be part of the decision! Matt thought that he should, too. The doggie we now have, you see, is our own 4-year-old daughter. She magically transforms at some point in the evening -- and definitely all through the bedtime rituals -- into a four-legged little being with a disconcertingly realistic high-pitched yap. And a whine. And a tongue that we had to train not to actually LICK us. Yechhh.
I find it interesting that she didn't get the knees of her clothes dirty when she was learning to crawl. No -- it's only now that she's four that the knees of her pants have filthy, telltale patches. Or stained, telltale patches, if I've already washed the pants (and forgotten to put stain-away spray on them. Which is almost always).
As soon as we get to school most mornings, a little curly-haired friend named Alexander magically appears at her side and says, "Lizzy! Wanna play Lion King with me?" He's Simba, and she's Nala. They apparently have great fun, crawling around on the floor together. And on the ground, clenching a stuffed animal (their baby lion cub) in their teeth, during outside play time.
So, please be understanding if you see giant stains on her knees. Remember that I did not CHOOSE to have a doggie. Doggie ownership was thrust upon me. And good stain-lifting clothes-washing habits... Well, my mom did her best. Some people just aren't as trainable as others.
Thursday, January 18, 2007
The Blog Is Dead!
Long Live The Blog!!
I've heard from two sources now that blogging is officially passe. (two sources! so it MUST be true.)
Oddly, I now feel free from all embarrassment at the fact that I have one.
Yessss! I hate to be trendy. Not that I normally have to work very hard not to be. Good luck tearing my boot-cut jeans from me, for example.
This is totally sweet news.
(incidentally, this abhorrence of trends is why I won't be reading the Harry Potter books for another, oh, 15 years. Also, it's fun not to know what to expect when I go see the movies.)
In other "news," not that that was really "news" -- We might be closing on the house Jan. 26. Or, we might not. I can go into infinite detail on why it might or might not be that date, but in a nutshell, that's the salient fact. (leaky pipes discovered, father in law's plans uncertain, etc.) Sadly, the moving crew (otherwise known as my church) is quite busy that weekend. Pooey. So we might move a little bit, ourselves, that weekend and still live out of the 'old' house for another week. Early February moving party! You've been warned. Time to formulate your conflicting plans. :) And I would never blame you for doing so. Moving kinda sucks.
I've heard from two sources now that blogging is officially passe. (two sources! so it MUST be true.)
Oddly, I now feel free from all embarrassment at the fact that I have one.
Yessss! I hate to be trendy. Not that I normally have to work very hard not to be. Good luck tearing my boot-cut jeans from me, for example.
This is totally sweet news.
(incidentally, this abhorrence of trends is why I won't be reading the Harry Potter books for another, oh, 15 years. Also, it's fun not to know what to expect when I go see the movies.)
In other "news," not that that was really "news" -- We might be closing on the house Jan. 26. Or, we might not. I can go into infinite detail on why it might or might not be that date, but in a nutshell, that's the salient fact. (leaky pipes discovered, father in law's plans uncertain, etc.) Sadly, the moving crew (otherwise known as my church) is quite busy that weekend. Pooey. So we might move a little bit, ourselves, that weekend and still live out of the 'old' house for another week. Early February moving party! You've been warned. Time to formulate your conflicting plans. :) And I would never blame you for doing so. Moving kinda sucks.
Monday, January 15, 2007
a prayer
Dear Lord,
Please help me like people who strike me as being particularly unlikable.
Help me resist the temptation to punish them for their apparent sins of folly, ignorance or meanness with the greater sin of a direct comment, or (even worse) tearing them apart behind their backs.
Thank you for the patience of those who put up with my weaknesses, and please help me to put up with others'.
Help me to keep my mouth shut when I have nothing constructive to say.
Help me to learn to love the people I have no choice but to spend time with every weekday.
Help me to be the zone of grace in my office, instead of the person with a serpent's tongue.
Change my heart to the degree that I learn to cut off even the mean thoughts before they arise.
Give me your heart of love, O Lord. Because that is how You would want it.
Forgive me for all of the times I have chosen the less kind path.
In Jesus' name, and for His sake,
Amen.
Please help me like people who strike me as being particularly unlikable.
Help me resist the temptation to punish them for their apparent sins of folly, ignorance or meanness with the greater sin of a direct comment, or (even worse) tearing them apart behind their backs.
Thank you for the patience of those who put up with my weaknesses, and please help me to put up with others'.
Help me to keep my mouth shut when I have nothing constructive to say.
Help me to learn to love the people I have no choice but to spend time with every weekday.
Help me to be the zone of grace in my office, instead of the person with a serpent's tongue.
Change my heart to the degree that I learn to cut off even the mean thoughts before they arise.
Give me your heart of love, O Lord. Because that is how You would want it.
Forgive me for all of the times I have chosen the less kind path.
In Jesus' name, and for His sake,
Amen.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
one of those weeks
This is one of those weeks in which I'm afraid to blog because it would just come out negative. I'm not in a bad mood, or anything -- just a series of small catastrophes.
Sunday, the fridge died; Tuesday, we had a rather major family crisis (regarding an in-law. I'm not really allowed to elaborate); very early Wednesday morning, Lizzy started throwing up, and basically didn't stop until about 3 p.m.; Friday, I'm to be home until the fridge guy comes to our house. I'm afraid to tell my boss I'll be out again. Life is a little ridiculous right now.
I fear that the fridge guy is going to come and say, it needs such and such a part. I'll have to come back next Tuesday. And I'll say, dude -- I'm supposed to take two vacation days so that you can fix our two-year-old fridge? (it's under partial warranty, but try telling these repair guys that. and yes, I'm using the Whirlpool-suggested repair guys, but still. They're finding their ways to get their piece.)
So anyway. Like I said. Nothing too critical or permanently damaging, but a hairy week nonetheless.
Perhaps it's a good time to mention that our home inspection went swimmingly on Wednesday! The inspector actually told Matt that it was a good, solid home -- has a few things to tweak or to look into, but what home doesn't -- and that it's a superb, very community-oriented neighborhood. (he used to live nearby) 'A great place to raise children.' Music to our ears.
Sunday, the fridge died; Tuesday, we had a rather major family crisis (regarding an in-law. I'm not really allowed to elaborate); very early Wednesday morning, Lizzy started throwing up, and basically didn't stop until about 3 p.m.; Friday, I'm to be home until the fridge guy comes to our house. I'm afraid to tell my boss I'll be out again. Life is a little ridiculous right now.
I fear that the fridge guy is going to come and say, it needs such and such a part. I'll have to come back next Tuesday. And I'll say, dude -- I'm supposed to take two vacation days so that you can fix our two-year-old fridge? (it's under partial warranty, but try telling these repair guys that. and yes, I'm using the Whirlpool-suggested repair guys, but still. They're finding their ways to get their piece.)
So anyway. Like I said. Nothing too critical or permanently damaging, but a hairy week nonetheless.
Perhaps it's a good time to mention that our home inspection went swimmingly on Wednesday! The inspector actually told Matt that it was a good, solid home -- has a few things to tweak or to look into, but what home doesn't -- and that it's a superb, very community-oriented neighborhood. (he used to live nearby) 'A great place to raise children.' Music to our ears.
Monday, January 08, 2007
does marriage need defending?
You probably all think I'm about to get political -- HA! No.
I wanted to relate a little interaction I had on Saturday, when I went to get the car's oil changed down the street in Manassas at a place that found a mystery problem and charged us double last time the brakes needed to be done. Some people never learn.
I'll even gloss over the part where the guy at the desk wouldn't honor the mailer coupon I'd forgotten to bring with me. Which annoyed me no end. Still, I hadn't been able to find it, so ... fair enough, Grumpy 'Greeter' Front-Desk Guy. He also informed me that I could find it online and print it out. Thanks, dude. Next time, I suppose.
I'm on record there, since we've done business before, and they know me as Kate Williams. So I thought I'd explain that the name on my credit card is different because my name has changed -- I got married. Now, when I throw that out there, I'm not expecting a reaction. I don't expect people who don't know me to get excited for me. That struck me as odd when I was pregnant, too -- people congratulating me. (especially considering the circumstances at the time, but again, they can't be expected to know.) So I'm used to people responding, "Oh, Congratulations!" in bright chirpy voices. Not this guy. Mr. Grump gave a mighty snort of disgust and said, "Well! I hope it works out better for you than it did for me."
"Hm," I said, wondering how one politely reacts to such a comment. "Are you still married?" (hoping fervently, for his wife's sake, to hear, 'no.') And I was not disappointed -- HECK no, in fact.
At that point, I could've provided the guy a few reasons why it might not have gone so well.
Now, I realize that some people have acrimonious situations. And that it's very likely harder to have a happy marriage than an unhappy one. For one thing, it requires a great deal of unselfishness, which seems to be something a lot of people have trouble with. But, is it okay to assume that marriage is generally a bad institution, if you had a bad experience (or three)? Further, is it okay to sneer in the face of a newlywed stranger -- one who has chosen your place of employ in a very competitive business for her (granted, small-time) automotive care?
If you ask me, I think not.
P.S., to my mom: When I said, last night, that Matt "will do, for now," I was joking. Yes, I know you knew that. Still, you sounded a little alarmed.
I wanted to relate a little interaction I had on Saturday, when I went to get the car's oil changed down the street in Manassas at a place that found a mystery problem and charged us double last time the brakes needed to be done. Some people never learn.
I'll even gloss over the part where the guy at the desk wouldn't honor the mailer coupon I'd forgotten to bring with me. Which annoyed me no end. Still, I hadn't been able to find it, so ... fair enough, Grumpy 'Greeter' Front-Desk Guy. He also informed me that I could find it online and print it out. Thanks, dude. Next time, I suppose.
I'm on record there, since we've done business before, and they know me as Kate Williams. So I thought I'd explain that the name on my credit card is different because my name has changed -- I got married. Now, when I throw that out there, I'm not expecting a reaction. I don't expect people who don't know me to get excited for me. That struck me as odd when I was pregnant, too -- people congratulating me. (especially considering the circumstances at the time, but again, they can't be expected to know.) So I'm used to people responding, "Oh, Congratulations!" in bright chirpy voices. Not this guy. Mr. Grump gave a mighty snort of disgust and said, "Well! I hope it works out better for you than it did for me."
"Hm," I said, wondering how one politely reacts to such a comment. "Are you still married?" (hoping fervently, for his wife's sake, to hear, 'no.') And I was not disappointed -- HECK no, in fact.
At that point, I could've provided the guy a few reasons why it might not have gone so well.
Now, I realize that some people have acrimonious situations. And that it's very likely harder to have a happy marriage than an unhappy one. For one thing, it requires a great deal of unselfishness, which seems to be something a lot of people have trouble with. But, is it okay to assume that marriage is generally a bad institution, if you had a bad experience (or three)? Further, is it okay to sneer in the face of a newlywed stranger -- one who has chosen your place of employ in a very competitive business for her (granted, small-time) automotive care?
If you ask me, I think not.
P.S., to my mom: When I said, last night, that Matt "will do, for now," I was joking. Yes, I know you knew that. Still, you sounded a little alarmed.
Friday, January 05, 2007
Americana
I met up with a friend for coffee last night. Eventually.
We decided to meet about halfway, in Centreville. Neither of us know Centreville super well, so I suggested we meet at the Starbucks that's in the strip mall that also includes a Giant. I got there first, so I sat and read a novel while I waited. After awhile, my friend called. "I'm a little worried about you!" she said. She was at the OTHER Starbucks by a Giant in Centreville, you see. Because there couldn't be just one.
I saw an essay online yesterday that I couldn't believe. It's the most Onionesque thing I've ever read in Newsweek. I know that people -- and lots of people around here, probably many of you, dear readers -- share this writer's opinion. It's not her opinion that floors me, though it's not one I subscribe to.* It's her opinion of the folks who don't share her opinion. I could go on and on about this, but ... judge for yourself. The good editors didn't do the author any favors with their incendiary headlines, but her words pretty much speak for themselves, regardless.
Oh, and by special request -- a link to my future neighbors. Perhaps you've met them?
* I'll be honest, though I might be letting myself in for many impassioned lectures by doing so: I frankly don't care how God went about making stuff. So, yes, I'm a Creationist, but I'll leave the machinery of it to Him. If we could prove one thing or another, there'd be no debate. So -- what's the point of the debate, frankly? Not that all debates are pointless. I just don't see the point of this one. Sorry if my intentional ambiguity annoys you.
Thursday, January 04, 2007
awesome shirt
Dangit! We missed our chance.
Our church has been unofficially brainstorming for fundraisers. If only we'd had THIS idea first:
Oh, well. We can keep trying.
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
new house! new house!
So. We got it! We tossed a low bid at the owners of the aforementioned house, and THEY TOOK IT. I'm flabbergasted. This all feels very unreal, still. Sheesh! It's already been a big 2007.
Here's a photo of the place (I'm assuming blogger will cooperate).
Matt's already running around our present house, spackling and sanding and preparing to paint in preparation for selling. I'm going to be selling a house. This should be unpleasant. Fortunately, though, the purchase of new house isn't contingent upon the sale of this house. Mostly because we're not actually purchasing the other house -- Matt's dad is, then selling it to us in a couple of years. If you're curious about the details, feel free to ask. It's just a bit much to go into here. Here, where we can talk about Kitlers, instead!
Here's a photo of the place (I'm assuming blogger will cooperate).
Cool, huh? Of course, the photo's taken very creatively -- it looks like it stands alone on a country estate or something (granted, one that's in the midst of a drought), and actually it's fairly surrounded by homes. But it's great. We are so, so excited. Assuming the deal does go through, that is.
Hilarious -- as I was typing "assuming the deal does go through," Bono sang "a house doesn't make a home" into my ear (through my new iPod! yay yay yay). God definitely has a sense of humor sometimes.
Speaking of sense of humor, I don't know that I have permission to steal this photo (either), but it cracks me up. There's a funny Web site that my boss passed along today (he's an 8-year-old boy, on the inside), that posts photos of 'kitlers'. That would be, cats that look like Hitler. It's awesome.
This is the best one:
Hee hee hee hee hee!Matt's already running around our present house, spackling and sanding and preparing to paint in preparation for selling. I'm going to be selling a house. This should be unpleasant. Fortunately, though, the purchase of new house isn't contingent upon the sale of this house. Mostly because we're not actually purchasing the other house -- Matt's dad is, then selling it to us in a couple of years. If you're curious about the details, feel free to ask. It's just a bit much to go into here. Here, where we can talk about Kitlers, instead!
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