Passages, Large and Small

My husband and I are going to be moving to a larger apartment next month. This was not exactly in the plan, but we've vastly outgrown our itsy bitsy teeny weeny apartment (which was fine for the two of us but when two became three, and three came with baby stuff and then AND GOT BIG...yeah. It's time.) We were supposed to have been in a house by now but if there's one thing 2009 taught me (again) is that sometimes, things really aren't in my control---or anyone else's.

So I wrote out our notice to our landlord---it'll go out with tomorrow's mail---and I feel a pang. It's not that I want to stay (gods forbid---when I say we're cramped, I'm NOT kidding) or that we're making the wrong decision in moving. But this place was our home for almost five years and a lot of good (and bad) things happened here. I found out I was pregnant here, and miscarried here. My husband came home from coronary bypass surgery here, and our daughter was conceived here. My water broke here, and five weeks later, we brought our daughter home from the NICU. My cat passed away while we lived here. And so on, and so on. Life happened, in other words.

I don't know who will live here after us. That's the thing with apartments---they're supposed to be transitory. But I wish them well, whoever they are.

And to anyone who may be reading this...may 2010 bring all for you that you didn't get in 2009, and may you stay safe and healthy with those you love.

Blessed be.

The Age of Reason. Sort of :)

I'm home today---my husband has a nasty migraine (though really, is there any such thing as a non-nasty migraine?) and has been suffering from it since about o'dark thirty this morning. So it's pretty much me and Roisin today. This, coming on top of the Cold Virus of Doom (which we all had over Yule and are all---still---trying to get over) makes me really want to go throw a pity party, table for three. We're all just getting sick and tired of being sick and tired.

Which brings me to my daughter. She's had the crud since Christmas day (and for one of Dante's rings of hell, nothing quite matches a sick, cranky three year old with parents who've had roughly three hours sleep between them.) When Roisin is sick, she alternates between being cranky and being clingy. But as she's been getting better, I've noticed something.

I can reason with her now.

No, I'm not talking about advanced level discourse---we'll not be solving the problems in the middle east anytime soon, or ending the war in Iraq. But she's getting to the point now where I can talk to her and at least explain what she's doing wrong and what Rob or I have asked her to do. I don't pretend that she immediately does it, or that we don't have to repeat ourselves---she's three, after all. But it's the difference between not being able to explain to her (because she wouldn't get it) and being able to communicate fully with her.

It's a nice change, if a little unnerving at times. She's changed so much in just the last year---it wasn't so long ago that we were seriously considering having her evaluated for a possible speech delay. But to look at her now...she's growing more into her own person. And I wonder what else she'll tell us.

To My Daughter, on Her Birthday

Today, at 2:45 am, you turned 3. (When you read this, I know you'll wonder, as I used to with my mom, how in the heck I could remember the exact time, but trust me. When your life changes forever, you tend to take notice of the time.) They dried you off and your dad and I waited for your first cry and there it was---thin, but annoyed as hell. You were a fighter---but then, after all we went through just to get you here, I knew that.

When I look at you now, the only sign of your NICU stay is the couple of IV scars you still have---you might lose them in time, but I sort of hope not. They're your history, symbols of how strong you had to be before you even knew what strong was. And, incidentally, how strong you made us. You were there for five weeks, and every day we saw you, every day we took pictures. I'm glad we did, because to look at those pictures now and remember, is to see a miracle.

You're walking and talking and trying so hard to figure out your world that you astonish your dad and I both with how much you're understanding. And you've discovered the fine art of pouting, lower lip and all. Your dad and I are doing our level best to teach you right from wrong in spite of the lower lip tremble, just so you know. (And by the way, it's very cute, that look. We can't give in...but it's cute, just the same.)

So this is my wish for you on your third birthday: that you continue to be strong and healthy, that you love carefully but fully, and that though you won't always agree with us (I can guarantee that) that you'll never doubt how very much you're loved.

Happy birthday, Roisin. :-)

Actually, the Winter Solstice is the reason for the season....

Dear Co-worker,

I've known you forever. You're a good person, and a great friend. And I'm thrilled you've found your faith again. I really am.

But, for the love of [insert deity of your choice here] can you please stop sending me religious emails? You know I'm Wiccan. This means that I celebrate Yule at this time of year, among other things which we've talked about and which I know you know about.

I don't want emails about how "Jesus is the reason for the season"---it's a nice rhyme, but it's not true, since Jesus wasn't born in December.

I don't want emails about how we should pray for our country (apparently, we need to pray extra hard now that our president is reaching out to members of other faiths. Right. Because this is SUCH a problem, and the fact that 1 in 8 Americans is on food stamps is a minor concern. /end sarcasm.)

I don't want emails about how there should be prayer in school. There shouldn't be, unless it's a private religious school. I believe strongly in the separation of church and state.

I don't want that email about St. Theresa's money prayer that I know you've sent me ten or twelve times in the last year---don't you think the saint has better things to do than monitor our emails and keep track of who forwards it?

I don't want the email on the latest conspiracy theory/doctored picture/email scam that you've received and decided to send to me because "I'll know if it's fake." Your trust is touching, but really, I use Snopes.com. Nothing complicated or mystical. Trust me.

And finally...before you hit "Send," please think twice. I know the temptation is to assume that everyone around you is some form of Christian, but a good many of your co-workers and friends may not be. We are not all the same and many people keep their beliefs out of the workplace. I don't have a problem with your beliefs. Please respect mine.

Things I Learned from My Cats :)

1) Love carefully, but love fully.

2) No matter what the question is, sleep is the answer.

3) Don't forget to sleep in the sun whenever possible.

4) Stop and listen to the birds.

5) Never underestimate the ability of small silly things to make you happy (anyone seen a cat with a shoestring lately, or a piece of foil? 'Nuff said.)

6) Stretching feels gooood.

7) There's nothing wrong with being independent.

8) Don't be afraid to take a risk for fear of looking silly. If you fail, you can always claim you meant to do that in the first place. (This isn't completely original. George Carlin had a skit years ago in which he talked about how cats would fall and yet make it look like they meant to do that. But I think the principle holds true.)

9) Getting through life is at least 90% a matter of attitude.

10) And finally, there isn't anything wrong with the world that a warm cat, a soft blanket, and a cup of hot chocolate can't cure.

My thanks to Tess, Tasha, Shadow, Cilla, Earl, Elvis, Griffin and Sochi who taught me these lessons. May Bastet watch over you all.

RIP, Soichiro-chan 1994 (???) - 2009

I had to say goodbye to a good friend today. I had to put my cat down today.

Sochi found me in 1997. Those of you who are cat people know that you don't find them---they find you. Sochi found me in a muddy, oily hole-in-the-wall segment of a parking lot (literally; he'd crawled into a loosened area of brick to hide.) He'd been dumped---to this day, I can't imagine that. For the 12 years I was privileged to know him, Sochi was the best example of a cat. He was faithful and fearless and a good friend and companion (and, until I met my husband, he was my most stable male relationship.)

He had such personality, I can't begin to describe it. He might have had some Siamese in him (I certainly couldn't tell it from looking; he was a tuxedo cat through and through) but he sure was vocal enough to make me wonder. There was one meow for "it's time to get up and feed me" and another for "it's time to go to bed" and several thousand others for all the conversations he had in the course of a day. For the longest time, it was just he and I and his talking made me feel much less alone.

I let him go today because he was old and sick and his kidneys had finally, finally shut down. He was a good friend and among the best of cats, and I owed him a graceful exit (and so much more.)

Sochi, my friend, rest in peace. Go play with Tasha and Tess and Shadow and Ginger and Gypsy and Schatze and Klein and all the other animals we've loved and lost. They've been waiting for you. I'll miss you.

It's Me. Posting Again :)

Hi everyone,

Sorry, I fell off the earth there for a bit (well, not really---I was active on my fanfic blog, just not here.;) I've spent the last month or so trying to stay off the radar at work (and mostly succeeding) and trying to keep track of an active, growing toddler (and definitely succeeding there. :-))

We're looking at moving to a larger place after the holidays. No, not to a house---we don't have near the money we'd need to pull that off, and in this economy, I'm not sure we want to take on a California-sized mortgage just now. We're looking at moving to a larger apartment so that the wee one can finally have a room of her own (yes!) and my hubby can have some place for his book business that doesn't involve, oh, every other room in our house. :)

Which brings me to the one change that I fear will be coming sooner rather than later. Sochi, the cat whom I almost had put to sleep in July, is ailing once again. Nothing wrong with him besides being older than Noah, but it's obvious he's coming to the end of the road. I just hate the idea of having to be the one to make a choice to end his life---but after all the years we've had together, I think I owe him more than keeping him alive and in failing health just so I don't have to make the decision. It's a tough call, again, but one I think we'll be making pretty soon.

Tomorrow is Veterans' Day here in the US. If you are veteran, or are serving now, thank you.

Please Don't Feed the Drama Llama :-)

I know it's been a long time (well, a couple of weeks) since I've posted--sorry about that :) I've been busy writing, but the bulk of my time lately has been spent keeping up with (and staying calm around) our resident drama llama.

Yup. NA strikes again.

In brief, she went to my supervisors to blather about how I wasn't doing my job properly. [insert eyeroll here] Without being too specific, the mistakes I made were a direct result of her piss poor communication skills, incomplete directions, as well as some things I should have been made aware of, but wasn't. (I'm not sure who dropped the ball there...but it's annoying, no matter what the ultimate cause was.)

And while I will apologize for mistakes I legitimately made--because, hey, we all make them---I'm not about to fall on my sword just because some attorney with an over-developed sense of drama decided to (metaphorically) stomp her feet and throw a fit.

Other than that...life is going pretty well right now. Hubby is healthy. The wee one (who is not so wee---but growing like the proverbial weed) is happy andalso healthy and (blessedly) normal (or at least as normal as she was going to be coming out of our gene pools. :-P) And I've been writing a lot on my fanfiction blog...it's nice to have the muse back. :-)

I could do without the drama, though. Le sigh. :)

What Was Good About Today

Okay, it's early yet, so I'll write about what was good about yesterday because what's good about right now is that I have my coffee :)

1) One of my favorite authors, Diana Gabaldon, released a new book in her long (and wonderful) Outlander series. I got a copy of the new book, An Echo in the Bone, the day before yesterday and I've started reading it during lunch. Wow. The only downside is that I hate putting the book down...but you take what you can get.

2) One of my longer fanfiction stories was posted, with its endnotes intact, on one of the main "Beauty and the Beast" fanfiction sites. The endnotes had disappeared when it was first posted and the site owner and I were trying to figure out how to get them back in. I checked this morning, and voila, endnotes. It sounds like a small thing, but there were translations in those endnotes so they were necessary. I'm just glad I won't have any confused readers now. :) (The story, if you're interested, is on my other blog.)

3) I got the project off to NA, after crossing my t's and dotting my i's a number of times. I'm crossing fingers that this particular storm has blown over (for now.)

4) Roisin is going to get her bangs trimmed today; her dad is going to take her while I'm at work. So she'll be happier not having everything in her face. :)

5) And finally...tomorrow is Friday. Whew.

Happy Friday eve, everyone :)

I'll Give That All the Consideration It's Due. Really.

This has not been one of my better days at work, though I suppose I should have seen it coming. About six weeks ago, we had a major shakeup, in which we were assigned new attorneys. No big deal, it happens periodically and while it's an adjustment, it rarely causes problems beyond the first couple of weeks.

Except I didn't get off on the right foot, somehow, with one of my new attorneys--from the start, things have been awkward and uncomfortable between us. And today, that particular chicken came home to roost. She's going into trial next week--and for those of you who don't work with attorneys, the general rule when they're in trial is to throw your work under the door, never turn your back on them, and don't feed them after midnight. (Wait, that last one is for gremlins :) At any rate, even the most even-tempered of them get touchy.

So I offered to help NA (New Attorney) with the section of her trial prep that secretaries traditionally do. She said, no, she'd handle it. Fine. It's her choice to accept the help or not. Before I left today, though, she called me into her office and basically gave me a lecture about all of the things I'd done wrong on her cases. Firstly, she is particular about how she wants things done---and when she's told me about it, I've done it. No arguments, no questions. And yes, I've made minor mistakes, but I've owned up to them and done my best not to repeat them (and at any rate, these were not earth-shaking, verdict-reversing errors.)

My main problem is that the entire speech boiled down to her talking to me like I was an incompetent four year old who'd have to "earn" the right to be given more challenging work from her. Riiigggght. I've been doing my job since she was probably in high school and I have worked for some very, very tough attorneys with extremely demanding caseloads. Not a one of them has ever complained. (Well, one maybe has, but that's Idiot Attorney, and no one takes him seriously anyway.)

So anyway, I've been given the "chance" to redeem myself by helping her with that trial prep that she originally didn't want my help on in the first place (because I was so untrustworthy, don't ya know.) And I'll do it tomorrow, because that's my job and this is one of the things I do well. But if this keeps up---I'm going to have to go to my supervisor. It's been a long time since I've dealt with an attorney that I've had this much of a conflict with (aside from IA, and everyone has a problem with IA) and I don't really want to involve my supervisor unless I have to, because the risk then is ending up on the radar. And who wants that?

Le sigh. I need a vacation.

Drama, Facebook Style, Parte the Second

Well, it finally happened. I got defriended on Facebook, by the same aunt of this post. And to be honest, I'm not quite sure what to think. It's not like we were close or anything, but it seems so immature somehow. "I don't agree with you, so I'm not going to talk to you," that sort of thing. I don't know what the final nail in the coffin was for her, but maybe we were just too different.

On my profile page, my religion is listed as Wiccan and my political leanings as "moderate liberal," neither of which is a lie, but I'm wondering if she found my liberal leanings more disturbing than my religious beliefs. ;) She and I weren't ever going to agree, and maybe that was too much.

And I guess that's my real problem with being defriended. I didn't know when she did it, so I never got a chance to have any context or explanation for why it happened. (And yes, I know why Facebook does it this way; I blocked an asshat from my past who tried to contact me, and I was relieved that Facebook would never tell him I'd done it, that I'd just disappear off his radar screen.)

So I'm perplexed and a little saddened. I would have liked to think that someone who sought me out, as my aunt did, would have been more tolerant of what she found. I would have liked to have discovered that her definition of being tolerant didn't mean agreeing with her all the time. But that isn't the reality, apparently.

So, dear aunt, I hope you stay healthy and happy on the path you've chosen. Goodbye and farewell.

Chakra Aligning 101

...yes, as you can tell, I've started taking yoga again. The last time I did any sort of yoga practice was almost four years ago, but I ended up stopping when my hubby ended up in the hospital. Then I got pregnant and we all know what an adventure that turned out to be :-P

So I've joined this studio close to us and I have to say that it's precisely what I didn't know I needed. That is, it's not a gym bunny class; there are no rail thin teenagers who can do lotus position for six hours. It is, however, a safe, comfortable, nurturing place to learn this ancient practice. The women (and it is mostly women, though the studio does have a few male students) are of all ages and physical conditions--some are largely healthy but overweight (like yours truly,) some are battling MS and CFS and a whole host of other conditions, and some are just trying to live a more healthy life.

Something the instructor said during the meditation part of the class today struck home: "What can you let go?" It sounds like a simple question, but it's not. She talks of yoga practice as a system to understand your body from the outside in, and that means letting go and forgiving and understanding your body as it is. So when she asked what I could let go, I thought of all the drama around the wee one's birth. Our daughter is healthy and happy now, but I was angry at my body for a long time because I couldn't carry her to full term. Irrational, I know, but there you have it. ;)

So I 'm trying to let that go, to let go of the feeling that my body had betrayed the both of us, despite doing everything I was supposed to do. With any luck, I'll get pregnant again and I want to start that process cleanly and positively. And positive, for me, means letting go of some garbage.

Namaste. :)

I love the smell of chutzpah in the morning

No, not another IA story. :)

A little background, so you don't have to go back and read all my posts on this debacle: back in May (it seems so long ago now!) we nearly bought a house. The deal fell through for one really big reason: the first time homebuyer's program that we were told by our broker that we qualified for, decided that we didn't qualify after all. And looking back, nearly 99% of that disaster could have been prevented had our broker called the county agency which administered the program to find out what their guidelines were.

But he didn't. And so, we trusted that he knew what he was talking about...and lost $2000 (between earnest money and the appraisals/home inspection on the house) that took us forever and a day to save up. This is not counting that we also lost a house that would have suited us very well, had things been as they were represented to us.

Yesterday afternoon, the phone rang. It was our broker. Lovely. Apparently, he's changed jobs for the third (fourth?) time in a year and wanted our contact info so he could contact us again when we were ready to restart our loan process. :-O

Yeah. We'll call you five years after hell freezes over, buddy.

(And I don't think it's entire coincidental that his wife---who was our real estate agent---wants to meet me for lunch next week. After all these months, I can't quite believe this is purely a social call. But we'll see---I only get a half hour for lunch so if this is some sort of sales pitch, she can only ruin my day for 30 minutes.)

The chutzpah, it burns....:)

Sure. We'd love to lose our jobs for you. Not.

A bit of work-related hilarity, here. Those who know me IRL know I have a co-worker I will call IA (for Idjit Attorney.) He reminds me each and every day how lawyer jokes got started because he's the punch line for most of them. (On a personal level, he's not that bad. On a professional one...yeah. Not so much.)

At any rate, IA was on vacation this past week. His wallet got lost (or stolen) and without an ID, he couldn't board his plane. Instead of doing the rational thing and fixing his problem himself, he called his paralegal. At work. When we're all so swamped that even if we had an evil twin and a clone, we'd still be short-staffed.

His request? IA wants us to go into the DMV computer system and print out his driver's license photo so he can board his flight.

Um, no. For one, those databases are restricted---that is, unless you have a damned good reason to be there (like a pending or current criminal investigation) you don't go playing around in there. Them's the rules and breaking them means termination. (Yes, we're civil service and all that, but there are some rules you just don't break. This is one of them.)

So the paralegal pretty much handed his hat to him and told him to contact HR to see if they could fax over his work ID or something. And then she hung up on him...because, you know, she was busy.

There are a thousand IA tales in the Naked City. This has been one of them. :)

Happy Lammas/Lughnasadh!

Tonight is the holiday of Lammas/Lughnasadh. In the medieval Irish calendar, it was one of the four main festivals, marking the first harvest and was traditionally a time for handfastings, market days, and family reunions. It's generally celebrated on August 1st, but since the old calendar started the holidays on the night before, it is now, officially, Lughnasadh.

In some of the Wiccan/neoPagan traditions, Lughnasadh is the first of the three main harvest sabbats (the others being Mabon, in September, and Samhain, in October.) There are rituals aplenty to thank the lord and lady for their bounty, or the god Lugh for the rain he allows to fall on the crops, but I have to admit, as far as rituals go, I'm a slacker pagan as yet. We are, simply, crunched for space and time, so most of my celebrating, I do in my head or in quiet times snatched between more mundane activities.

I choose to celebrate this Lughnasadh by counting my blessings. To my friends, those I've met in real life and those I've met through the internet, thank you. You helped me immeasurably during the rough time I had with my cat Sochi this past week, and in many other ways and many other times before. Maybe you didn't know you were helping, but you did, and I thank you.

To my husband, who keeps me grounded and keeps me from taking myself too seriously, thank you. I had to go online to meet you (and to find out we lived a few blocks away from each other) but you're still the best thing I ever "downloaded" off the internet. :)

To my daughter, who keeps me from obsessing too much on life by reminding me to find the joy in silly things...thank you. You're three feet (or a little more) of miracle---demanding, laughing, feisty, and loving ---and a miracle nonetheless.

You all have been my harvest of blessings. Happy Lughnasadh, my friends, and may your own "harvest" be plentiful.

Doing the happy dance because it's Friday...

Oh, what a week.

Right now, I've got the sinus cold that will not go away---which means I'm coughing and hacking and sounding a lot like a plague victim. I'm more or less feeling better, but the whole coughing thing is not fun. If it's not gone by Monday, I'll be calling my doc (yes, I know colds are caused by a virus, but I have a bad history with bronchitis and pneumonia too. Eeep.)

On the upside---and there is one---Sochi seems to be on the mend, or at least as much on the mend as a 17 year old cat is likely to be. He's eating, and using the litter box and grooming (not easily, but he IS grooming.)

And tomorrow, I'm meeting a couple of people from the Beauty and the Beast TV online group for lunch. I'm not entirely sure how that's going to play out, but the last time I went to meet someone for lunch that I hadn't ever met before, I met my husband. :) So I'm thinking it'll be fun--and who can beat lunch at Panera, anyway?

Anyway, if you're reading this, have a wonderful weekend. :)

A picture of Sochi...

This picture was taken in January this year. I use it as proof that Sochi and the wee one do, somewhat, get along. :)

A Left Turn at Albuquerque....

...and I know it's just delaying the inevitable, but...

My friend J and I took Sochi to the vet today. The vet---a good country doctor, much as J said---examined him thoroughly and said the only real problem that he could see with Sochi (aside from old age) was that his kidneys were smaller, which is not uncommon with older cats. So we talked about options, treatment expenses, and Sochi's quality of life.

And bottom-line it, I just couldn't put him down. Not today, though I know it's coming; I don't fool myself there. What the vet suggested was a course of fluids, a change in his diet, a cortisone shot for his arthritis, and bloodwork--all of which are not expensive. But if the treatment gives us six months where Sochi is feeling at least somewhat better, I'll consider it worth the little bit extra. He's never going to be completely well, and I know that. At this point, I'll settle for the cat not being in pain and eating.

Conversely, though---if the bloodwork turns out something truly, imminently fatal (like cancer)...then I'll make the decision once again. At least I will know we tried everything reasonable to make Sochi's quality of life a little better in the time he has left.

So, we have time. I don't know how much more, but you can either curse the river or accept what it brings. In the meantime, we have today.

A small chuckle :)

Because I need the laugh just now--and hey, who doesn't?---here's a small chuckle from the other day.

My husband and I were having this conversation in the car.

Him: I like this CD. I just wish all the songs weren't so pagan-themed.

Me: The CD is called "The Best of Pagan Song."

I love my husband. :)

Highway Robbery, Part 2

Well, we have a solution. My friend J's vet was just as she said, and quoted us a price that is much more within our budget. So yeah, this Saturday morning at 11:30 is it. :-(

It feels pretty surreal, I have to say---Sochi is old and ill and failing yet the whole idea of making an appointment to end his life is just so odd. In my mind's eye, I see him launching through the windowscreens to jump another cat who dared jump onto "his" balcony (as he did more than once when he was younger.) Or chasing his tail. Or mow-Wowwwwwing at passersby (or growling at them---hey, I didn't call him my "attack killer watch cat" for nothing.) He was so alive then, and now...yeah. It's hard, because I remember him as he was, but that's not him, now.

I'm trying to focus on the mercy aspect of it, that as my long-time friend, I don't want his suffering to continue (or get worse, which it surely will.) I know we've made the right decision, and it's right that I'm the one who's going to walk that last path with him. But goddess, it's hard.

Highway Robbery, Part 1

Well, I called our local vet's office yesterday to get an appointment for our cat. Turns out, because he is not a patient of theirs, they'll have to do an exam. And if I want to stay with him when they euthanize him, that'll be even more money. And since we want his ashes back...yeah. You guessed it. By the time all was said and done, the total was somewhere in the neighborhood of $400. Eeep. In the same week we're paying rent and car insurance. :-O

The whole exchange left a foul taste in my mouth. Sochi had a bad reaction to a vaccine a number of years ago, and because he's an indoor, and only, cat, he hasn't really needed vet care since then (aside from one ear infection and one blocked gland.) But now, when we want his life to end humanely and painlessly, this particular vet saw only a chance to make a profit. Lovely. Not.

So my friend J gave me the name of her vet, an old country doc who sounds much like the one I remember as a kid (who met us at his clinic late one night because our Siamese had pneumonia and was dying.) I'll call him and another vet today and hopefully, I'll find out that the procedure can be done for a little less money. Conversely, if we find out that $350 really is the range, then we'll still do it...but we'll have to wait a couple of weeks. In the meantime, we'll keep Sochi comfortable.

Hard choices suck.

The Journey to the Rainbow Bridge

This past weekend, we made a decision about our cat Sochi. He's nearly twenty and it's becoming apparent that it's time to let him go...and it's hard. Before I met my husband, he was my most stable (and sane) male relationship---he saw me through two bad breakups, three or four moves and times when I was nearly at the end of my rope. He's been a good friend, and someone I could always count on to be there.

Now, I look at him and his fur is all dulled, and he's not eating often, and I know this is the beginning of a downhill slide that is only going to get worse the longer we prolong it. So it's time, soon, to let him go across the bridge and be healthy and whole. I'm not sure if it's the Rainbow Bridge he'll cross, or go to the green fields of Summerland, but wherever he goes, I know he'll be among friends, the other cats and dogs we have loved and lost. It doesn't make it easier to lose him now, but I know we're doing the best we can for him.

I'll post more on him this weekend.

Drama, Facebook Style

I have a Facebook page. I've had it since 2008 and aside from one too-close-for-comfort email from an asshat from my past (who subsequently got blocked right after he contacted me, because I didn't want to talk to him ever again) it's been pretty trouble-free.

Until today.

It's no secret that I'm a liberal democrat--one of the more moderate ones, but I'm still a liberal (and it says so on my Facebook page.) Anyway, I posted an article from the WSJ about Sarah Palin's recent resignation which sparked a back and forth discussion between me and a friend of mine. That's not the problem. My aunt chimed in, which is.

My aunt is one of my mom's six sisters, and one of many that she has no contact with. Consequently, I've also had virtually no contact with her until a couple of months ago, when she found me on Facebook. I know enough about my aunt to know she's a conservative, fundamentalist Christian. But I figure since my leanings (and beliefs) are on the profile page, and she found me, she also knew what she was getting.

So she cuts into the conversation with a rather snide comment about how Sarah Palin must be too conservative or too intelligent for us. (Yeah. She went there.)

Leaving aside that this kind of thing irritates the crap out of me, because I wouldn't dare go to her page and make a political or religious statement, I didn't quite know how to react. So I thought about it, drank a coke, thought about it some more and said, in so many words, that I respected my aunt's beliefs and her right to have them but I was asking for the same consideration. I told her my beliefs regarding Ms. Palin (which had nothing at all to do with her religious beliefs and everything to do with her qualifications.) I figured that would end it and I went on with my day.

I have now received two more emails from my aunt---one in which she tells me that she is asking for respect for her beliefs (um, yeah, you went to whose page to make that comment?) and another one in which she told me she shares many of Ms. Palin's beliefs and has now realized that Facebook is not the place for political topics. And she said she was sorry.

The thing is, I do talk about politics on my Facebook page--more than I do here (but less than I did around the election LOL.) It's something my friends and I enjoy debating---and for sure, we don't always agree but that's the way of it. I just don't want to be in the position of censoring myself on my own page.

Le sigh.

One Toe Back in the Water...

Yesterday, my husband and I went and looked at a couple of houses---not with our realtor, just on our own. (We're still saving the $$ we'd need for a down payment, so there was no need to get her hopes up or waste her time just now. :)) This was the first time we even looked at a house since the Great House Disaster....

...And you know, it wasn't bad. We looked at one house and immediately scratched it off the potential list as being about two inches away from being razed. The other house, though...that's the one that we both hope is still up for sale when we have the money to go forwards (and in this market, with a glut of short sales, that's a distinct possibility.) It's in a more rural area just outside our city and it's got a huge yard and tons of potential. And it's close to an award-winning grade school.

I'm not saying that this house is The One. I thought the last house was and we all see how well that turned out. But it's a possibility and one we hope to investigate further eventually. :) For now, it's enough to know that gently, we're getting back into it.

Today I Said No...

...and true to the wisdom I learned on Ehell, it is a complete sentence.

Some background:

At work, we are dreadfully short-staffed. So people with my job title were paired with a "buddy," someone who would be assigned a limited amount of the work we do, in the hopes that they'd learn enough to help the rest of us out. For the most part, it's worked out okay; my buddy is a reasonably intelligent person and we get along fine.

(And a qualifier here: I get along well with pretty much everyone I work with. There are days, however, when enough's enough. And today was it.)

So, I was helping one of my co-workers with a new part of the computer system when L shows up. L is not my assigned buddy, but I don't mind helping her when I have the time. I didn't have the time today (remember, we're short-staffed.) And I told L "Hey, isn't M your buddy?"

L says, "But M is busy."

I told her--gently, I hope: "L, I'm busy too."

I don't know whether L liked being told no. But the reality is, I think I'll have to start saying it when I need to---not because I want to be "the mean bitchy secretary" but because I have work to do that I can't do if I'm off helping people who should be trying to help themselves first. And at the end of the road, if I don't get my work done, I'm not doing my job.

So..yeah. "No" is a complete sentence. Who knew? :)

Of bugs, ER trips, and fellowship :)

(Yes, now how's that for a lead-in? :-))

This weekend has been...fun. In the same way that labor is fun, when it's over. :) I had a stomach bug on Thursday and my hubby went to the ER on Thursday night-Friday morning. (He's fine, by the way---just a skin condition called cellulitis, and not the blood clot we feared it might be. When a guy's had cardiac bypass surgery before the age of 40, we tend to get a little paranoid.) The ER docs took good care of him and he was home by 5am that morning.

Which brought to mind all the times he's been at the ER since we've been married---more than I care to count, that's for sure. And it's unnerving, and it makes our world feel a little askew, because---well, who asks for an ER visit?

As to the fellowship....well, I belong to an online fandom community for a TV show that lasted barely 3 seasons back in the late 1980s. They're having a convention in New Orleans this year and San Diego next year, but tonight, those of us who couldn't get to NO went online, in chat, to have an episode discussion. And that was nice, just a few of us from all over the world, chattering away like a bunch of fangirls about what we loved about the episode we watched.

Things are starting to feel more normal now that I write this down. Maybe this weekend won't turn out so bad after all....:-)

The Blog Roll Returns...

...or so we hope because when it's up and running, it's a lot of fun.

Courtesy of the Ehell Blog Roll, here's the topic for this week:

What's the farthest you have traveled for food? Did you fly across the country just so you could have the perfect bowl of clam chowder? Did you cross the state line just for a scoop of ice cream? What was it, how far did you travel, and was it worth it?

The farthest I ever traveled for food was...

Several thousand miles and multiple time zones away. It wasn't like the episode of "M*A*S*H" where Hawkeye gets a food craving and has ribs delivered to him in Korea...from Chicago. :-P Nope, my food experience happened on my honeymoon back in 2003.

My husband and I went to Ireland and when we were in Belfast (I think---I could almost swear to it) we had dinner at a hotel that served this orange soup. When I say "orange" I mean, "CALTRANS" orange, the kind of orange they tell you to wear sunglasses before looking at. That kind of orange. Come to find out, it was The World's Best Carrot and Basil Soup.

We've looked for the recipe several times since, and even tried to make it three or four times, but it's never tasted the same. So if I could order take-out from Belfast, I think that's what I'd get. :)

Monday, Brighid and the Working Mom. :)

Yeah, it was a Monday. Though not, strangely, a bad one. Maybe the Green Man helped a bit? I don't know, but I know I got a lot done today that needed to be done. I got in the zone, or what-have-you, whatever you want to call it. I was focused, for the first time in about a week (ah, PMS, what would I do without you? Oh, right. I'd be sane. :))

I kept having bits of poetry cross my mind today too---and I'm not at all sure what that was about. But since I've adopted the multi-tasking Brighid (goddess of the hearth, of fire, of poetry and childbirth to boot) as the main goddess I work with, I guess I shouldn't be surprised. These are poems I've read and loved, or simply been moved by.

So here's some of the ones that popped into my head today at weird moments.

"Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to be still"
-T.S. Eliot, "Ash Wednesday"

"I am the wind on the sea
I am the stormy wave"
-Song of Amergin

"I arise today, through strength of heaven"
-Breastplate of St. Patrick, or, "The Deer's Cry."

"The cow is of the bovine ilk
One end is moo, the other milk"
-Ogden Nash.

Okay, I'm weird. Shoot me. But hey, whatever gets me through a Monday....:)

The Green Man cometh....

...and hopefully, soon.

For those who may not be familiar with the Green Man, he's a traditional, ancient icon of renewal and regrowth, of survival from the dead of winter. His face adorns many churches in Europe but I think, from what I understand of the history of the image, his history dates from pre-Christian times.

And I need the renewal badly, today. I'm fighting off a bout of depression that is at least 80% hormones (gotta love them...not) and some is just plain situational. I've been doing the same job for the last nine years and I'm no longer quite certain that I want to keep doing that same job for the rest of my life, or even the next five years. I'm pretty good at what I do, but I'm also realistic: there isn't anywhere to go from here for me, unless I want to be a supervisor. (And I really, really, REALLY don't. Been there, did that, have the scars to prove it. :))

In this economy, I won't be making any sudden decisions, and it's not like I have to make a decision now. But it's coming. My attitude may change if/when the economy recovers; we're having a hell of a time dealing with the budget shortfall and it's making everyone tense and terse, to the point where misunderstandings are becoming rife and, frankly, to the point where my tolerance for b.s. is getting very, very low as a result. None of which is, shall we say, a really good attitude when working in an office environment.

So this weekend, I'll be focusing on trying to work a little renewal within myself. Because---and it's trite, but true---change can only come from within.

Your friend might be nice, but he's still a kook

Yes, that was our day yesterday, more or less. I wasn't feeling well yesterday so I stayed home from work. I was dozing off on the couch when our landlord, "Al" (names changed to protect the clueless) came by.

Al is...different. He's a nice guy, and he charges below-market rent for this place, so that's two points in his favor there. But I really don't want to know him more than just our business relationship. I just want to write the rent check, call him when there's something that needs to be fixed, and that's about it. The problem is, Al found out about the house debacle and has now started coming by a lot more, offering all manner of advice. And this is a problem because---guess what---Rob and I have been through all of the scenarios and we're really not in the mood to be told, "Here's what you should have done." Or the really helpful, "You know, your broker screwed up." Um, you think? Really?

(And no, if I'd had my way, Al wouldn't have found out we were moving until the day we closed escrow, at which point we would have turned in our notice. But the universe didn't work my way there either. :-P)

Anyway, Al's latest bit of "helpful" info (and yes, I know the guy means well, but still...) was this. He has a "friend." (Cue Don Corleone saying, "I know a guy....") His "friend" knows "all there is about first-time homebuyers' programs. (Where have we heard this one before? Oh, yeah, the broker who messed us over said nearly the same thing. Pull me once....) And we should "really check out his website." Yadda, yadda.

Well, we did. His friend is a kook, somewhere to the east of Michael Savage and the west of reality. So yeah, I think we'll be taking a pass there. Unfortunately, that leaves Rob with the unwelcome task of having to dodge Al's questions (since he's home during the day) but that's life. Maybe he can just not answer the door....:-)

Boldly going, and all that

Well, on May 26th, I turned 35. And so, my hubby took the wee one and I out to see the new "Star Trek" film

Oh. My.

I loved it---not all aspects of it, to be sure. (Hello, Vulcan's sky is *red*, thankyouverymuch.) But the interplay among the characters and the new actors who play them is wonderful. These are, and aren't, the characters we've known and love, and the reboot has some intriguing possibilities.

And as for Spock and Uhura...wow. That works pretty well too. There was always a lot of flirtation among them in the original series---at least, in the early episodes (and before, I suspect, some suit at NBC flipped a grip over the concept of an African-American woman-gasp!-flirting with a half-human/half-alien---GASP!) So it follows over pretty well.

The wee one, however, was somewhat less impressed (though she did really like the Enterprise.) And no, we weren't one of "those" parents--we went to the earliest show, and sat way in the back so we didn't disturb anyone, and kept her supplied with goldfish crackers and munchies to keep her busy. She was pretty good, for the most part, and a good time was had by all. :)

And you couldn't have thought of this...three weeks ago?

Welcome to the irony that is our life at times. :) Yesterday, FHA (the underwriters for our mortage loan) announced they were starting a program to allow their buyers to use the $8000 tax credit for first time homebuyers as part of their downpayment.

Yeah. That would have been nice to have had say, last month. Grrr.

But the more I think about it, maybe we dodged a bullet. The house we lost was lovely (really lovely, I have the pics to prove it *sigh*) but while I don't believe in the concept of god (or gods) acting as real estate agents (though the picture of Cernunnos in a three piece suit is highly amusing,) I do think things happen pretty much for a reason, and the way that they're supposed to. I wonder if we'd moved in there, if we would have found something that the home inspection didn't pick up or wouldn't have discovered...and if that had happened, how would we have paid for it?

And yeah, I know those worries are SOP with houses of any age. But having loved and lost one house on what seems, even now, to be perfectly goofy grounds, I have to think that something else was going on. Maybe this will free us to find the house that is for us. But in the meantime, we're regrouping and healing and saving. That's the best we can do for now. :)

Letting Go...

Yeah, we lost the house. Well, I'm not sure you can say we really "lost" it, since technically, we never should have had it in the first place, but more on that later.

Monday, we got news that the down payment/closing cost program had declined us because didn't have enough debt. (Irony, much?) So after that, there really wasn't much else we could do, so we pulled the plug.

And it hurts, in ways I never thought it would. We've been through such a rollercoaster with this house, and now to find out that it was all for pretty much nothing...yeah. It hurts. And it makes us both angry, because the one thing that could have saved us all this angst was if our broker had done his job and called the agency which administers the program and asked them if we qualified. He didn't, but was more than happy to keep telling us we'd qualify. I'm not sure if he was sure we would, or if he was just ignorant, but whatever. We're back where we started now.

So now we're getting practice in letting go. We've been through worse things in our marriage, so I'm not worried on that score. It's just the letting go and starting over that's hard.

With much crossing of fingers and toes...

...we're not quite out of the housing market. Yet. :)

Our realtor and I had a talk the day after this whole thing blew up...by putting our respective heads together, we came up with something that might---might---end up saving the house for us (ethically.) In a nutshell, the county agency which administers our down payment programs has never seen our file. In other words, the lender (from the bank that bought First Unethical Bank of California) was telling us that we wouldn't qualify for the down payment program due to some mythical (and esoteric) formula, but he didn't really know, because the agency didn't even have our file.

Yeah. I'd call that a small detail, wouldn't you?

And it might be a long shot, and a failed one at that. The lender could be right, yadda, yadda. But he could be wrong. So it's our last shot, but one we needed to take. So we did.

And ethically, I'll feel a lot better in either case. If it fails, we know we tried everything. If it doesn't fail, and we can get into the house on terms that work for us, then we did something right and ethical to get there.

The ethics of the whole thing really made me think. In real estate, as in life, there are a lot of grey areas and things which can be done which are not, precisely, illegal or unethical, but are bumping up mighty hard against that line. And that's a kind of karma (for lack of a better term) that we really don't want. Karma like that has a bad way of following you around.

Or put another way: whatever you put out, comes back three times over...so it's best to be mighty careful about what you put out in the universe. If we get the house ethically, then that's fine. If we don't...it wasn't meant to be. And we'll regroup and try again later.

But for now, we're content, knowing we did the best we could with what we have.

We've lost the house

Barring a major miracle tomorrow, we will no longer be almost-homeowners. :-(

Our funding has completely fallen through; the lenders our broker went to had no problems approving us for a mortgage but they've all refused to deal with the first time homebuyer's program we need. So two weeks before closing...we're SOL.

(And yes, I've noticed the bitter, galling irony that the same banks that beg the government for help are the same ones who won't bend to help us now. Grrrr.)

I can't say our realtor and the broker aren't trying to be creative in helping us, but since we don't have a rich uncle or a money tree growing in the back yard, we're pretty much screwed. It would take us about five grand to get into the place without the down payment/closing cost assistance, and who has that these days? No one, that's who. And even if they did...who would just give it to us? No one, again. My parents would, if they had it, but they don't. Rob's dad would, if he had it, but he's developing some pretty serious health issues and so, if he had it, we wouldn't ask.

So I'm heartsick. And disappointed. I don't think we could have seen this coming but I still feel like maybe I was stupid to think it would work out after all. We did our best, but sometimes, it just ain't good enough.

Enchanted, Enraptured, Embalmed...

...with mucho apologies to the Three Stooges, but it pretty much describes our whole home issue right about now.

After a one week period in which we were contractually obligated to buy a house (but had no lender,) and after many scurrying of emails between our realtor, our broker, and the new lender...we now have a lender. And it's not First Unethical Bank of California, but the bank that bought First Unethical Bank of California, so that's not precisely ideal from an ethical standpoint. But at this point...if we want the house (and we do) we sort of have to roll with it.

The newer wrinkle, though, is simply this: the downpayment assistance program we qualify for has its own set of guidelines, and we may (or may not) meet those...and we won't find out about that unti this coming week. And if we do meet the guidelines, we may not qualify for the maximum amount of downpayment assistance.

Oh, and the new lender has been slower than snail trail in getting us a good faith estimate---this is crucial because he's quoted us a mortgage price that makes both of us question what numbers he's using to make this all happen.

So many things are up in the air, and sometimes, it's (unintentionally, I'm sure) funny. Like the revelation that at least one calculation has my husband and I not having enough debt to qualify for downpayment assistance. With one car, two credit cards and a student loan debt hairy enough to be mistaken for Sasquatch...we don't have enough debt?!?!? Good grief. :-/

But it's like our realtor said (and I tend to trust her over our broker---they're married, but he's sort of...well, an idjit at times): everything thus far is fixable and so far, we're on track. So we just have to keep plugging along.

I'm tired. Rob's tired. We knew this whole "buying a house thing" was going to be a rollercoaster, but we could have done with a little less drama. :)

Are we at all sure that it's not secretly Friday the 13th?

Yeah. It's been one of those weeks. I'm thinking that instead of having the bottle of wine when we look at the amoritization chart (as my dad jokingly said) I should just cut to the chase and start drinking now.

Because, for a 24 hour period, there was a situation in which we had committed to buy a house but had no funding lined up. None. Because the bank our broker went with did an about-face and decided that no, they weren't going to adhere to the guidelines of our first time home buyer's program after all (and how nice of them to tell us a month before closing. /sarcasm off.)

It does look like things are looking up, but slowly. Our broker is hot on the trail of another bank who actually will write the loan the way it needs to be written. Now if he can just do that before our first-time homebuyer's program runs out of funds....yeah, who, me worry? :-P

The one upside of this is that I'm finally starting to hear the family horror stories behind when my parents bought their first home. (I was four or five, so yeah, I missed a lot of this.) It's been pretty funny by turns, and strangely reassuring to know that no, this isn't really that unusual. Odd. Annoying. And damned inconvenient...but not unusual.

So now, we wait. As of now, our COE is May 18th. That date may change, but that's where we are now. And in the meantime, we hope. :)

Well, now about a month from closing...

..yeah, our close of escrow (COE) got extended due to the requirements of our first time homebuyer's program. Which is fine, but frustrating...still, we plan to be in that house for many years to come so a few more weeks won't matter. On the upside, First Unethical Bank of California decided to go ahead and fix the few things that needed to be fixed (like the water heater, the leaking pipe under the kitchen, and the toilet. YAYYY) All in all, not too bad for a house that's almost 70 years old.

Today we had such plans---we were going to take the wee one to the zoo. Except that a) the wee one and some killer indigestion kept my hubby up last night and b) hubby on three hours sleep does not a pleasant day make. So he slept in, I kept the wee one off her daddy, and we went to a garage sale instead this afternoon.

We really hadn't planned on the garage sale--it was one of those "Hey, they're having a garage sale, let's stop" things, so we did. I scored with a $2 CD of an Irish artist named Sinead Lohan and a scarab paperweight. (Who, me, eclectic? :-)) And we had a good time, which is more important.

We also had company today...of the sort that makes you go, "Huh?" My friend Alwyn's (not her real name) ex-husband (or husband, I'm never sure what's going on with those two) was on some sort of long distance bike ride today and called us to see if he could come down and visit. Mind you, a) the house wasn't clean and we weren't really prepared for company and b) when Alywn and her husband hit the skids, things got pretty nasty pretty quickly between her husband and us and c) are they together or not? Who knows? And why did he want to see us, really?

So...yeah. It was a little awkward, but I called Alwyn before he came down just to make sure things were fine on her end, and they were...and the visit wasn't bad. So while this was all totally unexpected (to say the least) it hasn't been a bad day at all. Whew. :)

16 Days to Closing and Counting....

...yup, that's right. We are thisclose to closing escrow on our first house. And I'm sitting her shaking my head, because I literally cannot believe it's really going to happen for us.

But still, I'm nervous, because things just don't happen this smoothly for us. Ever. (In fact, about the only thing that's ever gone smoothly was the wedding and the honeymoon--after that, it was a rollercoaster. Which is fine---I like rollercoasters, but I could have done with some warning first. :)) So, we're working on crossing our t's and dotting our i's and maybe, just maybe, things really will work out.

Well, it's official...

...we're in escrow. We don't have the house yet (it has to pass a couple of inspections first) but we're on our way to owning our own place for the first time ever.

And that's a nice feeling but scary (when you think of just how much money you're committing to pay for that house over the life of the loan; my dad suggesting looking at the amoritization with a bottle of wine. I think he was kidding. :-))

But if everything works well, we'll have a yard for the wee one to play in, for us to grow a garden, and for our family to grow too if that's in the cards.

Roots. It's nice to have them, finally. :)

That sucking sound you hear...

...is the hose attached to our bank account.

Because a) we just bought a house (I think...more on that later) and b) everything from here on out is tied up with the house---inspections, appraisals, weird fees I've never heard of (seriously, there's probably some funding for NASA buried in there.)

So, here's why I think (but don't "know" yet) we've bought a house. The seller (in this case, First Unethical Bank of California, as I mentioned in my earlier posts on the subject) sent us a purchase agreement. Our credits aren't as high as we would like, but since they're not pulling (yet) the dirty trick of forcing us to use them as the lender, I'm not all that inclined to fight it. Yet. So we talked it over with the realtor, agreed that the offer was fair, and signed it and sent it back. Depending on where we are in the seller's list of Things To Sign, we could find out in 3-5 days if they were really serious about accepting our offer. This is First Unethical Bank, so anything's up for question.

I hope we get this house. I hope we have the money to get this house. And I hope that if we are secretly funding NASA, that we get to Mars sooner rather than later.

With apologies to Jane Austen...

...it is a fact universally acknowledged that if you have a profile on Facebook, some asshat from your past will find a way to find you.

It happened to me this morning. I was contacted (at 2am, no less) by a guy I hadn't seen, heard, or thought of since we split almost fifteen years ago. It didn't end well---we were engaged, but by the time I was getting ready to graduate from college, I was also getting tired of his mind-games and his jealousy and control issues. Finally, we had a huge fight while I was driving and he hit me once, hard, in the throat.

And I left him. I should have left him bleeding on the side of the road, but I was younger then and I thought I still loved him. But I did leave him, and many times since, I've thanked [insert deity of your choice here] for that decision.

I'm not scared of him anymore. He's welcome to whatever life he has, provided he has it far from me and my family. I will confess that there was a part of me that stopped breathing when I saw his email in my in-box, along with the stupid-ass message of, "I think we used to know each other." Really? You think, you jackass?

And I still don't know how he found me on Facebook. I use my husband's last name on Facebook (my "real" name is hyphenated, but since both names are unusual, I figure it's better if I'm not too easy to find.) And I've got my settings set pretty high---people who want to contact me have to email me first to ask for permission. If I respond, they can see my profile...but I didn't respond to his email. I just blocked the son of a bitch. Let him wonder why he can't see me anymore, or why I didn't respond.

And please, let him stay gone.

#$&#%(*&!!! Friday the 13th

No, the day went fine, why do you ask? :)

Seriously. Someone needs to do a travel advisory, or a sig-alert or something. Don't work on a Friday the 13th when it's the full moon. It's really NOT a pleasant experience.

For starters, our network went down for almost four hours this morning at work...which meant, we couldn't do anything. At all. For any reason. I read a book for four hours and got paid for it. Normally, I wouldn't have minded this, but today I had a lot of work I wanted to get off my desk, and I only got through half of it. Yippee.

And then there was the house debacle. DH and I have put in an offer on a second house, and all seemed to be going well until today's blow-up. Basically, the house that had no offers, now has multiple offers...which is not good, but not unexpected in this market. What is bad, and what still has me torqued off, is that the bank that owns the house wants us to get pre-approved with them as a condition of even looking at our offer. While that's not necessarily illegal (a bad case of the law not having caught up with the market, I suspect) it is unethical. It's the technical equivalent of, say, buying a car and being told you can only go to Bank X for the loan. Which is ridiculous in any context.

Adding insult to injury, the bank that owns the home has had some major issues with unethical behavior that's gotten the attention of federal and state regulators in the past---so no, we're not exactly jumping for joy to have to deal with them over this house.

I think we struck a compromise---our broker will give them the info to do a pre-qual, which means they won't have enough to pull credit, but it should give them enough info to evaluate our ability to pay for the place. But with multiple offers and ours not being a high one (for budgetary reasons as well as our own assessment of what the place is actually worth and the amount of work we'd have to put into it) I'm not at all sure that all of this aggravation is going to result in us getting this house.

Sigh.

The offer is in...

...but I'm not sure whether to cross my fingers yet. :)

On Wednesday, my hubby and I went househunting. Again. And we found a house that we both liked, in an area we weren't sure of. After much dithering/discussion (and much pulling up of the local crime databases,) we went to go see the house again.

So we put an offer in on the casita (I think that's the technical term; it's a Spanish-style bungalow)---it's been the only house (so far) that my hubby and I both liked. It's in decent shape for a house built in 1925 (and hell, it's still standing so they must have done something right. :)) And aside from some interior painting glitches, it's pretty darned cute.

So we bit the bullet and put an offer in today. Now, we wait, because the house is a short sale and it seems like everyone and their mother has to be involved before we even get close to getting the keys. Which means that nothing is really resolved; like an Ebay auction, we've put our "bid" in but there's just no guarantee we'll win. And if we find something better in the meantime...well, that'll be as it should be too.

Us. Homeowners. Wow. :)

Um, it's 6:30am here. What time is it in YOUR universe?

Ugh.

We just got a phonecall from one of DH's aunts (he's got I don't know how many, but due to his, er, complex family situation, we don't really hear from most of them. It's not a problem for him, so I don't sweat it either.) She lives on the east coast and was calling to tell him to meet her for breakfast tomorrow since she'll be in town.

Nice. So not only are you completely ignorant of the time zone issue, but you don't even have the common courtesy to ask him if he wants to go to breakfast. He's 41; I think he passed the "ordering around" stage around 35 years ago. And besides, we might have plans tomorrow. (Granted, those plans could include various activities along the lines of underwater basketweaving, but they are plans. :-P)

I no longer have any doubts about why DH has as little contact with this woman as possible. (Though my first clue was when she came out the last time---she seemed to think that DH's sole reason for existence was to drive her and her son around town and play tour guide. Just what a man with an infant and busy life wants to do without even being asked.)

Grrr.....

Well, at least today went better :)

Today was a much better day at work than yesterday, thankfully. I got lots of work done (which always makes me feel better---there isn't anything worse than having spent eight hours doing something only to realize that you really don't know what you did all day. ) So things are pretty much back to what passes for an even keel there. Whew.

And after work, DH and I went house hunting. And we found two houses we would be perfectly happy in. I'm pretty sure we're going to put an offer in on both of them (no, we're not rich, but most of the houses here are short sales, so putting two offers in really means we might get one of them. Maybe.)

It's a nice feeling being able to put roots down somewhere. In a (more) perfect world, we would have brought the wee one home from the hospital to a home, not an apartment, but as the Vulcans of "Star Trek" say, Kaadith. What is, is. (Yes, I'm at one with my geekness. Why do you ask? :)) So, what we hope for now is to find a house we can afford, with a yard for my husband's garden and the tree we're going to plant for our daughter (and whoever comes after her.)

In short, the normal things people want for their families. I just hope our house of cards that's gotten us this far in the process stays up and sturdy. :)

Krista and the Awful, Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day....

Okay, it wasn't quite that bad. But it was plenty bad enough.

I love my job. The people are great, the work is challenging (for the most part) and I get a lot of job satisfaction out of what I do. But we, like everyone else, are being affected by the economy, the state budget crisis and (for all I know) whether Mercury is in retrograde or not. ;-) The end result is a lot of nervous people who are stretched too thin, being asked to do even more with even less. Layoffs aren't imminent or even likely, but like one of my co-workers said this morning, she's not sure whether it's worse to be laid off or to be the last one left. I see her point some days.

So, yeah, things are tense. And when things get tense, goofy stuff tends to happen. In the last week, I've been honked at four times for things which wouldn't have been considered wrong, raised an eyebrow or rated a comment even six months ago. It's not that I'm a bad employee (I'm not---I've got the personnel ratings and the division awards to prove it, and I work damned hard at my job) but I think, as another co-worker said, management is under pressure to show they can Do Something Important---because they, like the rest of us, are nervous for what could happen if they come under the microscope.

So, for right now, I've got a target on my back. And I don't particularly enjoy it. But I'm an older and wiser employee now, and well, the only thing I can do is go to work tomorrow and hope things are better. And that Mercury stays out of retrograde. :-P

It's just a number. Sure it is. :)

Today I went clothes shopping. Now, in fairness, I must admit that I'm a plus-sized woman. (In fact, see that picture of the Venus of Willendorf on my blog? She and I look a lot alike, except that I don't have her fancy hairdo and I have a face. :-P.) And I'm okay with that---while, yes, I'd like to be thinner, I'm also realistic about my size and, for the most part, I'm comfortable with it. I won't say that "getting comfortable" was easy, but I'm fine where I'm at now. And I'm healthy---my blood pressure is low, I get regular exercise and I'm not showing any signs of a pre-diabetic condition.

So, I go shopping and I notice that all the pants sizes have changed, drastically. I normally wear a US women's size 18 or 20, depending on who's making the clothes (don't get me started on why they don't size them by inseam and waist, like mens' pants are.) When I was looking, they were all sizes 1, 2, or 3, and color coded for "fit." (Which I presume means "curvy," "really curvy," and "CALL OMAR THE TENT MAKER NOW" :-P) Apparently, the smaller number size is supposed to make me, the consumer, feel better about buying, because my "size" is now smaller.

Um, no. First of all...look, I wear an 18 or 20. I know what a size 2 looks like, and I've never been that (well, unless you count third grade. Maybe. :-P) And I don't like being patronized---there is nothing worse than the feeling of having some nameless Madison Avenue exec. metaphorically patting me on the head and saying "There, there, fat chick, we'll make the numbers smaller and you'll feel better."

The thing is, I don't. It took me a long time to get to the point where I was okay with who I am and what I look like, and if I can walk into a store, and hold my head high while I pick out the clothes that look good on me and my body style, I figure the least Madison Avenue can do is back off and let me do it. Shameless marketing ploys need not apply. :)

Things You Don't Expect to See at Chez Target :)

Chez Target is literally down the street, so close I could walk there if I felt like freezing. And, perhaps not surprisingly, we end up spending huge amounts of time there---between the pharmacy, the all-important Toddler Stuff (man, it'll be like getting a pay raise when she finally gets off diapers. :)) and just general odds and ends, I think they should probably name an aisle after us, or something.

Anyway, DH was in a Mood. He's not the moody type, but when he's in a Mood, it's best just to take the wee one and give him some space. So she and I went down to Chez Target and did the usual drill: unhook toddler from carseat, put Toddler (and the all-important Tigger) in the cart, lock car, go into Chez Target, yadda, yadda. I was midway through the frozen food section when I realized that someone had left a dirty diaper in a Target shopping bad in our cart.

Okay, granted, it was in a Target bag, but...ew...just....ew. Who does that? I have a baby, and I've seen my fair share of diaper changes done in the back of the car, but come on. The trash can was right inside the store, and there was one right outside the store too. I should know, because that's where I threw someone else's diaper. So they could take the time to wrap the diaper in a Target shopping bag, but not to throw it in the damned trashcan?

Eww.

Wow, my very first piece of spam

I just deleted a comment made on my previous blog entry---it was obviously inaccurate that, frankly, I couldn't let it stand. So, bye-bye. :)

However, this comment was from someone I don't know, will never know, and I have no idea as to their motivations. Really, who does this? Who has the time to do this? And why my blog?

Egads.

Upheavals, Large and Small

No, nothing serious. I promise. Well, unless you count planning to buy a house in the middle of a recession, that is.

Right now, as the title of this blog suggests, we are a family of three. We fold neatly into small spaces with nary a whimper...but right now, that family of three is crammed into a too-small apartment where my husband is also trying to run a business. So needless to say, we don't have room for anything. The wee one still doesn't have her own room, and while I don't think she's noticed, we need to get into a house before she hits high school. :-P And long before we have baby #2, obviously. :)

And, to add another monkey wrench into things, we presently live in one of the most expensive cities in California. (And if any of you are thinking, "Well, you could always move to someplace cheaper," I say, "Nice try, but fie on you." If you think I'm giving up a job I love with great health insurance in this economy, you're insane. :-P)

Until recently, DH and I were priced far out of the market, far enough that we watched people all around us buy houses we knew they couldn't afford, and wondered how they'd make the payments, because we knew we sure as hell couldn't.

So here we are, planning to buy a house. We actually started the process last fall---I went to the first-time homebuyer class required for our down payment assistance program, and we got pre-approved (or is it pre-qualified? Whichever one it is that really means something.) We looked at houses for weekends on end....

...and then we got scared. Really scared. Most of the homes were bank owned, and they needed a ton of work, or were in a sketchy area, or were too small for the larger family we hope to be one day. And bottom-lining it, mostly we were just scared of finding out that work needed to be done now on a house, work we couldn't afford to pay for. No landlord to call on when your sewer pipe busts, after all.

So we've waited these past few months, and we're slowly getting back into it. It's no less scary than it was last fall, but I think we have a much better idea of what we're looking for and what we won't settle for. Here's hoping we can find something :)

If it's Monday, It Must Be a Wardrobe Malfunction

No, don't call me "Janet" (or "Ms. Jackson, if you're nasty." :-P) This morning was living proof that a) the deities exist and b) they have a rip-roaring sense of humor.

So here's the background: we don't have a washer and dryer at our apartment, so our laundry routine consists of doing laundry about once a month (or more often, if the wee one has been sick.) I looked at Mt. Clothesmore last night and realized that it was too late to washing something up in the sink and hope it would dry by morning, so I dug through my closet and found a clean top and a clean pair of black slacks. Ah, bliss....

I get dressed the following morning and meet my carpool. So far, so good. And then I sit down and I realize two things simultaneously. 1) My zipper is kaput and 2) one pants leg is slightly lower than the other one because it's come unhemmed.

Egads.

Fortunately, I don't work with the public at all, and my top is long enough to cover the zipper. But still---yeah, it was a Monday. And I bet the deities are having a celebration over this particular prank. :-P

Babies, Babies, Everywhere...

Yeah, I'm having those feelings again. Those who have children might recognize it; it's the feeling that comes just before the feeling that says, "Hey, let's have another one." :) I'm noticing babies a lot these days, when I'm not noticing mine, that is. :-P Babies in strollers, babies with sticky-up hair, babies in their mother's arms.

So, we're hoping to try for another one at the end of March, and hopefully, that will go a LOT smoother than our pregnancy with the wee one did. At least the docs know what caused my preterm labor and can do some preventative measures much earlier in the next pregnancy...which means we'll probably have a healthy, nearly full-term baby. We can hope. :)

Which brings me to the octuplets that have been in the news lately, along with much speculation about how the mother is going to take care of all 14 of her kids when the 8 babies come home. I confess to wondering about that too, as well as wondering what the hell happened there. DH and I did undergo some fertility treatment (though that wasn't how we got pregnant with the Wee One. She was a surprise, in every sense of the word.)

So I can understand the burning desire to have kids. I can even understand not wanting to have a reduction, as this woman apparently decided. There's just something so heart-wrenching about finally being pregnant with a much-wanted child, only to be told that you should consider aborting some to save the others. But what I don't understand is this: if the woman knew ahead of time that she wasn't going to reduce, why did her doctor implant all eight embryos? Did he/she really think it was worth the risk?

And in the end, the babies are the ones that'll suffer. Multiple births mean multiple hazards and it's extremely rare that a family like the Gosselins (of "Jon and Kate + 8" fame) would not have at least one child with cerebral palsy, developmental delays, etc. Plus, there's the NICU itself---it's a great place and it can do a lot to help early babies out (and don't we know it) but it's not a mother's womb. And it's not a place I would wish on any parent or any baby.

So I don't know who I'm more annoyed with---the mother, who decided that six wasn't apparently enough or the doctor, who decided to implant all of the remaining embryos? Somewhere in there, I keep thinking that someone should have decided that just because you can do something, doesn't mean you should.

Where on earth will they find enough sage for THAT?

Happy new year, everyone...sorry I've been a bit off on the posts, but I've been under the weather recently.

So, here's my tangent de jour :). I was watching the Rachel Maddow show tonight and one of the guests mentioned that she was going to celebrate Dubya's impending exit by arranging, with some of her friends, to smudge the White House. No, they won't be going in the White House (I rather think that the Secret Service might have Issues with that idea, for some reason :-P) but will instead be standing on one of the streets outside the White House, trying to smudge (or "sage," as she put it) away the foulness of eight years of Dubya's rule.

Major bad juju, as my friend Alwyn would say.

Sageing/smudging has its roots in many ancient cultures, in more than a few neopagan traditions and in some major religions. I've smudged to rid my apartment, and my life, of the residue of a boyfriend who broke my heart. I did it because I couldn't move on unless I forced his memories out...and when the sage had burned to embers and my heart had healed, I met the man who later became my husband.

So smudging can have good benefits, obviously. :) But as I watched Rachel's guest talk about smudging tonight, I began to wonder if they'd ever find enough sage to chase away eight years of war, death, bad decisions, arrogance, pride, ignorance, greed, stupidity and self-pity. Not to mention a president who can't pronounce "nuclear."

But somehow, I can't blame them for trying. Every little bit helps. :)