Sharing My World(s)

My boss and I decided to change our office hours this year, and as a result I now get off early on Fridays (why yes, he is the best boss ever, why do you ask?).  As a result, I've been making it into the climbing gym once a week for the past five weeks or so, and I can definitely feel the difference.  Not just physically (although my goodness yes), but mentally and emotionally, as well.  Every time I solve a route, every time I push through trembling muscles to the next hold, I feel like me again.  Like my life has finally settled down enough that I can brush away all the dust that came from carving the new "mom" parts and re-reveal the old "pre-mom" parts.  Is that a simile that even makes sense?  I'm sticking with it, regardless.

Sweaty!

Anyway, the past couple of weeks I've been there, there's also been a father with his young daughter.  She's about five, and he belays her while she top-ropes.  It's freaking adorable, and I can't wait until Neeps is old enough to try.  He's recently become very interested in climbing onto things, so I've been thinking that pretty soon now I'm going to take him in to the gym to see if he wants to do a little baby bouldering.  Heck, maybe I'll even take him in tomorrow morning- it's scheduled to rain, after all.

Today it did not rain, however, so my bike ride back from the gym was glorious, and once I got home I did what I've been dreaming of doing for months and months- installed a toddler seat.  (I finally used my Christmas money and ordered it earlier this week: it arrived last night.)  And then I went and picked my son up from daycare, brought him home, helmet-ed him up, and took him for a ride.

Please note the adorably ruffled jeans, borrowed from daycare after too much playing-in-puddles.

He loved it, but I don't know if he loved it as much as I loved it.  Because for him it was just a new, fun activity- for me it was fun and emotional.  My heart was swelling up and singing joyously, so happy to be able to share another beloved activity with him.  Now we have hiking and cycling that we can do together.  And soon?  Climbing.  And eventually?  Him being able to do all of those things independently.

It's funny how my life has become this combination of super-fast and so-much-waiting.  On the one hand, Neeps is developing at a crazy rate: I love watching him figure things out and use new words and identify connections and basically just self-program his little meat-computer brain.  But on the other hand, let's face it- the past fifteen months have been a lot of me putting aside things I used to do all the time, so that I can focus on what needs my attention right now (poops and meals and naps and stacking blocks and reading Goodnight Moon for the umpteenth time) until I could someday come back to those things- and introduce my son to them, as well.

That someday is getting closer and closer.  And I'm so excited.

Adventure Buddies.

Personal Plan 2017

I just finished up my rewrites on The Oathbreaker, which strikes me as an excellent time to make good on my vague promise to share part of my so-called Personal Plan for 2017 (as opposed to the Business Plan I wrote for the office- it's not business, it's pleasure!  Hah!).  After all, I've already achieved one of my strategies for a major objective!  Woo!

Vision Statement:  I will be a happy, healthy person who feels good about her accomplishments in life.

Objective:  Have a happy and healthy family unit
    -Strategy:  Make it a point to have a date with Nathan at least once a month
    -Strategy:  Do at least one family-hike per month
    -Strategy:  Get out camping at least three times this spring/summer/autumn


Objective:  Feel good physically
    -Strategy:  Do yoga at least 3x a week starting 1/1, upping it to at least 4x a week by 3/1
    -Strategy:  Ride my bike to work more often- at least 3x week during nice weather
    -Strategy:  Create clean meal plans with Nathan


Objective: Become a published fiction writer
    -Strategy:  Finish re-writing "The Oathbreaker" by 01/31
    -Strategy:  Submit a collection of short-stories to at least one literary agent by my birthday
    -Strategy:  Write at least one new novella-length (or longer) story by 06/30


That isn't all of it, but it is the most pertinent parts.  I've already made a good start to it, what with doing yoga four times this week (eight I guess if you count morning and night) and riding my bike to work four times (in spite of the face-flaying cold- sheesh).  And Nathan and I had a lunch-date yesterday, which totally counts.  We may not have refrained from talking about Neeps the entire time, but we did keep our phones put away, which is pretty huge.

And now?  Now I start rewrites on my original Princess and the Pea retelling, because I think it will pair nicely with Oathbreaker in a short-story collection.

Anticipation

The year is winding down, and we are packing up to return to where we were when it first unfurled: Chris and Lara's house.  I'm looking forward to a long weekend of sipping drinks by the fire and watching chickens and frolicking in the snow with my now-one-year-old.  My what a difference twelve months make!

I have to admit- I'm also looking forward to being done with this 366 Project.  It will be nice not to feel the pressure to Produce for Public Consumption all the time- I'll finally get the chance to dive deep into rewrites on Oathbreaker, and start splashing around For Serious in a few other projects I've only just barely sketched out in my brain.

One of the things I've been working on lately is the 2017 Business Plan for my office- and today I got inspired to make a 2017 Personal plan, complete with a vision statement, goals, objectives, and strategies.  I'm pretty pleased with it so far, and I might get around to sharing at least some of it here on the blog, but the most pertinent piece of it is my commitment to submit my work to at least one literary agent no later than my birthday.  I'm typing it out loud here on the blog and everything, so feel free to hold me accountable come the end of March.

And now?  Back to packing!

Nice People Everywhere

Today Neeps and I walked to the grocery store to get something or other, and on our way back we fell into step with a Hispanic woman who was also walking home from the store, and we had a lovely conversations predicated on my child's friendliness.

This is not the first such interaction he as lead me into (not even on that outing), with his grinning and his waving and his general perfection, and I feel certain it will not be the last.  And every time we say goodbye to the person who has struck up a conversation with us, I say to my son, "See?  There are nice people everywhere."

I want him to grow up believing that.  I want him to be of the opinion that most people, given the chance, are just friends you haven't met yet, and that friendly conversations with strangers, wherein you treat one another like real, actual people and not just statistics, should be the norm.

It's funny how raising a child is sort of... bringing me back to my best self.  I feel like we can get so run down, so tired of trying all the time and getting nothing back, and so we get lazy and even shut down because what does it matter anymore?  We're not doing any active harm, we're just... not engaging.  But knowing he's watching me, learning from me and how I handle life... well, to be horribly cliched about it, it's forcing me to be the change I wish to see in the world.  It's revitalizing me, reminding me that there is goodness in the world and it's up to me to acknowledge and increase and contribute to it, not just withdraw when I get too overwhelmed with badness.  I have to give him this sort of running head-start before he launches into the world for his solo-flight, so that maybe he'll be able to go longer than I did before he gets sad and broken.  Maybe he'll never get sad and broken at all.  Maybe he'll just always be one of those nice, friendly people that smile and say hello, soaring gloriously on into the sunset.

I sure hope so.

Melting, and Other Discomforts

I should have saved yesterday's title for today's entry.  Ye gods.

We met up with our old friends, the Coopers, to swap out family portraits (ie canceling out the "Photographers have no photos of themselves" curse of being a photographer).  It was murderously hot, so we did them as quickly as frigging possible.  That being said, we still got some great shots out of the session (Thanks Meredith!)

Before I gave up and took my and Neeps's shirts off.  Not even kidding.

The place we met up was actually the neatest little planned community, which reminded me of nothing so much as a fusion of the military bases I grew up on with an old European city (which, technically, I guess I also grew up in).  It was a really, really well-done place, and Gentle Readers, I looked on it with Lust In My Heart.

Which has sort of been a theme, lately.

Nathan and I have said repeatedly that we made a mistake planning back-to-back vacations staying in people's much-larger-than-ours-houses.  It's been making us feel... well, discontented.  And I don't like feeling discontented.  I like feeling like I have the best little house in the world, in the best little area in the world.

But seriously I might shiv someone for an extra 1000 square feet, and the ability to let Neeps eventually play outside with a pack of neighborhood kids/run free on about five acres.

::sigh::

I comfort myself with the thought that my house will go back to feeling perfectly-sized once there's no longer Giant Baby Things (like highchairs and bouncers) everywhere.  And my neighborhood is in the middle of being revitalized, so I'm sure that more young couples with kids will be moving in soon.  And although I'd like to live on a stretch of land someday, today is not that day, because I love being able to commute by bike, and being so close to the culture/conveniences of downtown, including the airport, which we need to be close to for all the traveling that we can afford to do because we chose to buy a small house in a borderline neighborhood.

Recognizing (and Improving) My Strengths

Day Two of WFR, and I honestly feel like it's not too soon to say that this may well have been one of the best decisions of my life.  In the Top Ten, minimum.  I'm just so excited and energized by all of it! (here's hoping that enthusiasm stays peaked for the next eight days)

HOMEWORK!

What's especially interesting is just how comfortable and right I feel with everything I'm learning, in spite of the areas where I'm still ignorant or awkward (I sound like something of a stuttering idiot trying to give my formatted reports- a new and unpleasant experience for me).  By which I mean, yeah I'm stumbling over my new vocabulary, but I have a bone-deep conviction that it's merely lack of practice, and that the floundering will pass swiftly.  And to balance out the verbal flailing, there's the fact that my strengths are really, really highlighted by this class: I understand and learn the ideas quickly; I stay calm and take command; and people listen and do what I say.  It's a heady mix.

It's really got me wondering- what else can I do with this?  Where else can I go?  Because I'm starting to suspect that I may not be content with just a ten day course.  I am probably going to want more.  But can I really justify more schooling for something I'm not going to do professionally?  Because the reality of the situation is that maybe what I love really is just the learning, just the having-of-knowledge.   (That and the smooth running and completion of a capital-S Scenario.)  It may be that, faced with the day-after-day emotional impact of injured, ill, and un-saveable people, I might not love it so much.  It might be the theory and not the practice that holds me enthralled.

It's something to ponder.

In the meantime, I've also been re-inspired about my own physical fitness.  Watching the EMTs in class, and seeing how fit they are, has reminded me that if I'm serious about being able to help people who need it, I need to be physically up to the task- especially since, in the grand scheme of things, I'm not that large a person (compared to most outdoorsy people*): I need to make the most of what I've got.




*(today we lined up by height... I was near the tallest of the shortest 1/4, anyway...)  (::sigh::)

Sky and Sea, Stone and Tree

carry forth the soul of Me

Keep It Together

I was no older than eleven the first time I got CPR/Basic First Aid training.  It was part of a baby-sitting-certification class I'd been eagerly anticipating.  It was the first step in a lifetime of keeping-myself-prepared for emergencies.

...that's not creepy at all...

I went on to be a lifeguard in high school, which obviously required even more training, and the "re-upping" of my various certifications every two years (or even more frequently, if you were me and paranoid about keeping your skills sharp) (I took my job very seriously).

The truth is I'm still fascinated by emergency medicine.  I love reading about the technological advances (you want scifi?  Read up on battlefield medicine, my friend.) Part of me would dearly love to become an EMT, or even a paramedic, but then I have a long, hard conversation with myself about the realities of those jobs, and I have to confess that I'm happy with the low-stress, relatively-well-paying job I have.  Although I suppose that wouldn't keep me from just getting my EMT certification, if I'm serious about it.  Because the truth is, I like being the calm, level-headed one in a crisis, who keeps her shit together and gets other people through it.  I think it's a gift that is due partially to my own nature, but more to my mother's nurturing (she trained to be a nurse, and it definitely comes through in her parenting).  It's something not everybody can do, and in a way I feel like I have a duty to be as prepared as possible.

Which is why I was at the Source this morning, getting my refresher on (man, that muscle-memory just kicks right in, even a decade later) and while I'll be at the next wilderness first aid class when it's offered.  And hell... maybe I'll even enroll at Clark College and put my money where my mouth is re: the whole EMT thing.  After all, what good is a relatively-well-paying job if I don't do something good with the proceeds?

The Competitor

I spent today volunteering at the SCS Youth Regionals for Washington and Alaska, which was held at my climbing gym.  It was super-inspirational to watch all those young men and women just absolutely crush it on the wall.  Climbing is such an awesome sport in general, but especially so for young people, and especially especially so for girls.  It teaches them a level of self-confidence and self-reliance and creative problem solving that just cannot be beat.

They have no mass.

I hope that if we have kids they're as into it as I am.  Obviously I know you can't guarantee that your kids will be into whatever you're into, but you sure can hope.

But Which Dreams?

I find it appropriate that I could not choose between the two versions I processed:

Black and White and Shades of Gray

Golden Tones

Beautiful Things

I was browsing a little shop today with some friends of mine when I saw an absolutely gorgeous tray.  It was a heavy rectangular slab of warm wood, with handles made of pewter in the shape of flowering branches adorned with birds.  It made my heart sing just to look at it, and I thought to myself, Well, just the other day Nathan and I were saying that we need breakfast-in-bed trays; why shouldn't they be lovely?  After all, I'm an adult now, and I can spend a little more money on something that is both functional and beautiful.  No need to limit myself to the utilitarian when I'm putting together a household that will last me for decades.

With this cheerful thought in mind I began dismantling the display, so that I could turn the tray over and see the price.  This took me a while, as there were an indecent amount of candles stacked upon it, but at last it was unencumbered, and I turned it over...

$400.

Four.  Hundred.  Dollars.

I felt a sick lurch in my heart and began to re-assemble the candle-pyramid.  My friends and I joked that I'd probably have to pay the shop $20 just for touching it, but inside I was feeling very small, and very sad.  I felt as though I was being told that because we aren't wealthy, we don't deserve beautiful things.  I know that's not true, of course- the only person making me feel that way was me and my rare-but-tenacious insecurities- but the little kernel of sadness remained.  I tend towards the miserly, pragmatic side of things in general, so the decision to spend extra on something for the sake of beauty was sort of a big deal.  To be unable to afford the beauty was just sort of... well, sad.

It was with that experience fresh in my mind that I decided to visit Pier One on our way home.  Surely, I thought, surely they have pretty trays that I can actually afford.

And they did... but none that made my heart happy.  And what's the point of spending extra if it's not going to make your heart happy?  So I browsed around the store, with the vague notion that I'd look at dishes, since Nathan's been saying for about three years now that he really, really wants better dishes than my old Ikea ware.

Nothing was appealing to me, until I happened to glance at a clearance rack.  And there it was- a beautiful little plate, just calling my name!  White with a spray of yellow branches, and dinner plates to match!  So pretty!  And so affordable!

Nathan was equally charmed, and so we brought a set of sixteen white-and-yellow plates home to our little yellow house, and paid less than 1/7 of what I'd have paid for just one tray (and I wanted two).  Now that's beautiful.

...with a side of yellow sunshine...

(As for the still-needed breakfast trays, we decided that we will buy a pair of plain trays and them stencil on our own design.  Now if only I knew a pewter-worker...)

Being Brave

I've made a decision about my life.  And it's a scary one.  Scarier than the slackline on Saturday was, and with fewer safety measures:

don'tfalldon'tfalldon'tfall

I will talk more about this decision in the new year.  Right now I'm still trying to remember to breathe.

Baaaaabies

Today we went over to our friends' house so that Nathan could tutor him in math, and I could jabber with her and sniff their babies' heads.  Most babies smell good (when clean, I mean) but theirs smell exceptionally good- I think they use a special soap.

Babies have alien heads.  This is because babies are aliens.  Tiny little aliens with pheromone technology to control OUR BRAINS.

Or maybe it's just because they were gurgling at me (and grinning and giggling and blowing ridiculous tiny bubbles).

Sometimes I Deliver on My Promises

Behold!  A few of the shots from last week's newborn session:

Keep an eye on your sibling: you never know when they'll try to steal your stuff.

This one is here mostly to prove that Nathan does, sometimes, use color.

Oh right- there were grownups there, too.

TWINS!

 

And now (and far less interesting) here is today's doodle, slapped on the screen before I must dash away to my climbing clinic:

Playing with Painter.  I have Oh. So.  MUCH to learn.

Oh Glorious Day!

Today has gone just about as well as a day can go.

This morning Nathan and I loaded up the car, strapped Ruli to the rack, and nipped down to Portland to pick up  my Katie.  From there we traveled three hours to Otter Rock, where they released me into the wild to surf whilst they went about their esoteric photographer business.

This is only the third or fourth time I've gotten out since being back, and I have to admit that the previous times have left me feeling a little discouraged.  It's been cold (really cold), it's been rainy (which I don't mind for surfing, per se, but it sure makes me feel guilty about anyone who's come along with me), and I was out of surfing shape, which means I couldn't go for more than about half an hour to an hour at a time.  But today-  well for starters it was an insanely gorgeous day: sunny with a nice wind (maybe not so nice for surfing purposes, but nice for non-surfing pursuits) and the water just normally cold instead of dangerously cold.  I was afraid such lovely weather might make for a crowded beach, but as it turned out it wasn't that bad- and what was really awesome was that it was the largest gathering of female surfers I've ever seen on an Oregon beach.  And all surfing at about my level, so it really felt like a community- lots of smiles and laughing and encouragement.  Very comfortable, very empowering, very good.

And then, of course, the coup de grace to my previous discouragement: I'm back in shape.  The daily cycling commute has got my cardio back up to where it needs to be, and my back finally seems to be recovering from whatever it was I to it back in March (it involved dancing and alcohol and back-bending too exuberantly) which means my pop-ups are far less painful.  That combined with the small, pleasant waves meant that I was actually catching and riding more than I was missing- and I had one especially beautiful, long ride that felt like pure triumph.  My soul was singing all day long, happy to be home again in the ocean.

Happy happy- but see how my hair was already drying from the sun?  I'd been out not even an hour at that point.

 
Once the other two lured me back on shore we headed out to in search of fish and chips, which, as you may recall, is something of a favorite of mine.  I've not had particularly good luck finding any of decent quality on this side of the Atlantic, but I am happy to announce that the fare to be had at The Chowder Bowl in Newport, while not perhaps on par with the docks of Portsmouth, was definitely the best I've had stateside.

Woo, mission accomplished!

So that was particularly pleasing, as well.  Not to mention the scrumptiousness of Katie's clam chowder, followed up by bread pudding with a generous dollop of brandy.  (Hmm, I am beginning to detect a Certain Correlation between my Best Days and Delicious Food.  Mere coincidence? Or something more sinister...)

On the drive home we got to talking about how nice it will be to have the house, and access to a driveway and a hose.  I'll be able to rinse off Ruli, and clean up all my gear without Ridiculous Shower Acrobatics, and give the Blueberry a bath without worrying about what might happen to our various racks.  The sewer scope came back good, so we're still on track to close by the 15th.  It was pointed out to me that I've not yet posted any pictures of the house on this blog, so that will be an entry in the near future.  But now?  Now it's time for bed, 'cos Nathan's gotten it into his head that we should go hike around Mirror Lake tomorrow, and I definitely need to recover from today's activities!

Schrodinger's Accuracy

I'm sitting in the bathroom, watching the color creep up the stick, and I'm thinking to myself,

Right now, in this moment, it could go either way.  Right now, in this moment, it is both ways.

It may surprise you to discover that I'm not actually referring to whether or not I'm harboring a new life form within my womb.  No, what I'm pondering in this moment is a person's faith in the accuracy of at-home pregnancy tests.  And really, it all comes down to the result of said test. Or, to be stricly accurate, the desired result.

In this instance, the result is negative, and so my reaction is,

Pfft, these things are wrong all the time.

Of course, this is in direct opposition to the rush of overwhelming relief that flooded through me the first time I got a negative from such a test (I was a freshman in college, if that tells you anything about my mental state).  I tossed the stick away and set off about my life with a spring in my step and a whistle on my lips: in no way did I feel the urge to second-guess that single blue line.

Likewise, had it been a little blue plus sign I was staring at a few moments ago, I'd have taken it as Gospel Truth... but it wasn't, and so I remain skeptical.

(Which, let's face it, is preferable to being crushed.)

Not How I Imagined My Day Ending

I was expecting it to be a good day.

I got to sleep in a little, rolled in to work about half an hour later than I normally do (but still before opening, so I was fine), and then had enough work to keep me occupied (but not overwhelmed or annoyed) until the market closed at 1300.  I'd already arranged with my boss to shut things down at that point, so I flipped the sign to Closed, changed back into my cycling gear (yes, I'm now one of those people) and enjoyed the hell out of my ride home in the summer sun.


Nathan and I were scheduled to do three walk-throughs starting at 1400 (hence my having arranged a short day), so I got about half an hour of decompression time before it was back out the door once more.  The first house we looked at was shockingly appealing (especially at the price).  I'd been a little dubious about that one, but Nathan was adamant it had serious potential.  I'm so glad he was right!

The second house was the one I was really excited about- another little yellow house (are we seeing a trend here?  Perhaps...) that was suspiciously charming on the outside, and in the photos.  But we'd been burned before, so our hopes weren't super high as we drove over.

When our agent got out of the car he had a sheepish look on his face- turned out he'd left his Realtor key back at his office (I cannot judge- I got to work the other day and had to call Nathan to drive over and bring me my keys...).  I told him we didn't mind sitting on the porch while he ran back to get it, so that's what we did.  Well, after a while.  First I sat on the tree swing in the back, and then we sat on a little garden wall and imagined kids playing in the grass.  Then we sat on the back porch and enjoyed the cool breeze.  Then we moved to the front porch and sat on the bench there and decided we'd rather have a pair of rockers.  We were definitely falling in love with all the exterior aspects of the house (and I decided I wanted to be best friends with the current owners- they compost, and have a rain barrel, and a little veggie garden, and bicycles, and impeccable style as evidenced by the subtle red detailing about the windows) but again- trying not to get sucked in before we saw the interior.

Then our agent returned, key in hand, and we finally got to see the inside.

Love.  It is the most perfect, perfect house.  It is exactly what we were looking for.  Completely.  No compromises.  Beautifully updated and maintained- you can tell the people that live there genuinely love that house, and have taken care of it accordingly (so important).  It even smelled clean.  Actually clean, not just "I threw some pine-sol down about twenty minutes ago" clean; after doing as many walk-throughs as I now have, I cannot tell you how rare that is.

We went to look at the third house, but it was just for form's sake.  It was a decent place, but after seeing the Yellow House, nothing can compare.  I asked our Realtor if there were any offers on it- he said no, and I felt downright insulted on behalf of the house.

So we remedied the situation.

That's right, gentle readers: we made an offer on a house today.  So not at all what I had in mind when I woke up this morning.  And thus the day ends, not "good" as I had imagined, but rather "great".




(....and I struggle to balance optimism and non-attachment....)

Walkthroughs, Round II

Oh man.  Just... oh man.

I was scheduled to do two walkthroughs today.  The first was sort of a whim on my and Nathan's part: an old house (gorgeous bones) that had been converted into three apartments.  We thought we'd check it out just to see how feasible it might be to convert it back into one big beautiful home.  The second was a house in a neighborhood that we love, and from the outside (and description/online pics) looked like exactly what we were hoping for.  It was in foreclosure, which meant that it was reasonably priced, but I was also freaked out that it might sell before we even got a chance to take a look.  Nathan's in Ohio this week, which meant he wasn't available for the walkthrough, but we discussed it carefully ahead of time and decided that so long as this house was live-able, we were willing to do any work that needed doing to bring it up to speed, and I should go ahead and start the process.

Now, several people expressed some (mildly insulting, if I'm being honest) shock over our plan.  "Well of course you can't make any decisions without him seeing it!" about sums it up.  (Nathan's response when I relayed these reactions: "Why?  You're not an idiot."  Great stars, I love that man.)  I feel like this may be another one of those military-brat culture things; both Nathan and I witnessed our parents making major decisions (such as buying a house) without the other one being physically present.  When you're military that's just the way it is some times.  You talk about it ahead of time to make sure you're on the same page, but my goodness- if you can't trust your spouse with a decision like that, how can you trust them enough to be married to them?

Anyway I was fortunate in that Papa Trout was willing to come along with me and keep an eye peeled for any major structural warning signs (and give me a ballpark of how much it would take to get the houses to where we'd want them), so it wasn't like I was going in completely blind.  It's a fine thing having a contractor on your side, I tell you what.  Actually, strike that- it's a fine thing to have good friends in general.

We got to the three-unit and Papa Trout saw what they were asking and started laughing.  "That's about $30-$40k more than they should be!" he said, and began to point things out to me (the need for a new roof, the need for a new porch, etc).  He agreed with us that it has lovely bones, though, and although it would take a lot of work to get it back to a single-family dwelling it might be worth it.  But then, as we were walking in the front yard we discovered something that no website will tell you about.

A man called out to us from across the alleyway, and we turned to see him shamble closer.

"I live here," he said, and my heart sank.  Not because he was living there (we knew there was one tenant still in residence) but because he was obviously mentally disabled.   He proceeded to tell us, "This is my home and I'm never leaving.  I love it here."

That, my friends, is a headache I don't know that I care to deal with.  And it makes me so grateful that he showed up when he did, because what seller in their right mind is going to reveal an issue like that?  "Oh yes, well, there's a disabled person living upstairs and it's probably going to take a state-eviction to get him out.  But look at the yard!"

So it was on to the next house, the one we were so excited about.  We walked in and I immediately realized that, like an unwary online-dater, I had been lured in by carefully angled photographs.  I won't go into all the problems with this house (Papa Trout went down to the basement, where he began laughing hysterically and yelled at me not even to bother coming down) but let's just say this: I might be willing to pay $10k for that house.  If I was feeling generous.

Long story short, it's not in livable condition, and since that was the one thing Nathan and I required (such a little thing!) it has been firmly crossed off the list.  (Unless they drop it to the afore-mentioned $10k, because then we can buy it outright and continue to live in our apartment while renovations are made.  Do you hear me, Universe?)

I guess this is the part where the glamor of House Hunting begins to wear off, and I start to come to terms with the fact that mostly it's a lot of work for very little payout- well, until you find The One, of course.  It makes me grateful that we're not under any sort of time constraint (one of the things civilian life does actually have over military) so we can wait for a house that really sings to us- and doesn't have a ceiling in danger of collapse.

The Days Are Just Packed

Well stripe my posterior and call me Apis: it's been that busy around here, lately.

Yesterday we finally made good on all the bicycle research we've been doing, and headed into Seven Corners Cycles down in Portland.  There we met Corey, a particularly friendly chap who ordered our bikes for us and then sent us over to see his friend Mike at Rack Attack so that we could outfit our car to actually carry the bikes once they come in.  Nathan had an enjoyable hour or so putting those together (the man does love gear) while I sat in here and put more hours into... a secret project that is Coming Soon.  In capitals, people.  We are not messing around here.  But it's taking up an enormous amount of my time (at least it feels like it has)...  hopefully it will turn out to be worth it.

The other kind of research we've been doing a lot of lately is related to houses and the purchasing thereof.  So today we made good on that, and went out with our realtor, who is every bit as excellent as his recommendation.  We saw four houses, and all of them were good.  One of them we've eliminated because we both felt positive-neutral about it, which isn't enough to justify spending that much money on a place (plus it was further out than we wanted to be).  There is one house (Yellow House) that Nathan is super excited about, but I'm feeling a little more reserved.  Perhaps part of that has to do with the filthy condition of the interior: I do not know how people live that way.  They must be renters, because surely no one would treat a home they owned like that... surely not...  But the nice thing about filth is that it's relatively easy and cheap to fix: we just have to be willing to scrub (and rip out some carpet, but we would have done that, anyway).  The bones of the house really are nice- I'm just skeptical about the bathroom situation.  We'll see....

The front room was immaculate compared with the rest of the house.  Also there was a stupid dog yapping at our ankles the entire time, which did not help my perception of the house, I'm sure.

Nathan's next favorite house (70s House) is one that I feel much more excited about, even though there isn't a basement.  But again- it's further out than we wanted to be, and definitely needs a new roof.  But the interior- oh my!  The people who built (or possibly remodeled) this place understood the importance of light, so it feels a lot bigger than its actual square-footage.  And the master bath... is pretty great.

The kitchen made me squee with happiness- especially that hand-painted backsplash.

The other house that I sort of love (Dutch House) is lower on Nathan's list, and I can definitely understand why- it would take more work to become what I envision it as (namely having a huge master bedroom suite on the top floor- currently there are two bedrooms and a sitting area- no bathroom).  Plus the kitchen is kind of non-existent, which is a real minus.  But when I walk into the house it makes me happy- and its proximity to uptown is a real plus.

Upstairs sitting room, flanked by two bedrooms.

So there you go- three great houses, all with their shares of pluses and minuses- plus I'm sure we'll go see more, eventually.  That's the nice thing about not being in a hurry to move (and being a staunch fatalist): you can take your time and see what else is out there.

And now?  Now I get back to work on some logos I've been designing for people.

Somehow I Thought It Would Be More Complicated Than This

We have a realtor.

What a strange sentence to type... but there it is, hanging around up at the top of this page; we have a realtor.

Considering the amount of bother and thought that has gone into taking this step, it was almost... insultingly easy to do.  I contacted someone who came highly recommended, got a response, laid out our situation/desires... and now we have a realtor.  Weeeeiiiiirrrd.  He said he'll start sending us links in the morning (my heavens, I feel a bone-deep shudder of pity when I imagine how our parents did this in the ancient pre-internets days of yore), and we'll get this ball rolling.  Well, right after I go get us pre-approved for some monies (also online- thefutureisnowanditistotallyawesome).  I'm feeling a sort of steely determination about the whole thing, but also a sense of amusement at how Nathan, almost literally overnight, has suddenly become Majorly Stoked about buying a house.  He is like, way more excited than I am.  Which is not to say I'm not excited, but my excitement is tempered, I think, by the emotional attachment I've formed to my "someday I'm buying a house!" fund that's been growing (and shrinking and growing again thank you stock market) for the past twelve years or so.  Even though this money has always been earmarked for a down payment on a house, it seems almost... sacrilegious to actually do anything with it (although I did take out a bit once to pay off my car in a hurry).  I've always been better at saving money than spending it.  Emotionally, I mean.

There is also a part of me (and I'm sure this is quite common for first-time home-buyers) that keeps looking over my shoulder, waiting for someone with aviator glasses and a badge to show up and say, "Excuse me, Miss, but you are in no way adult enough to be taking this very Adult Step."  I'm trying to remember if I felt like this about getting married...  I don't think I did.  But then, I've always found the idea of sharing a mortgage with someone a much more terrifying commitment than just marrying them.

Where will the adult madness end? cries Interior Me.  What's next?  Babies??

Well, maybe.  They are less scary than mortgages...