GOOD NEWS! Once our realtor's company email is back up and he gets documents to us, we will have a contract on our house! We received an amazing offer, one we couldn't refuse, per se. Our asking price: $92, 500. Their offer: $95, 500, with up to $3,000 back at closing. So a full-price offer. Sweet!
Keep your fingers crossed that all goes well and the buyer's funding doesn't fall through...
Props to our realtor- he's done an AMAZING job. I want to post the link to our house on the Skogman site, but since it's down, I'll do that later.
Update:
Here's the link to our adorable house:
http://www.skogman.com/details.asp?mls=2900028
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Sunday, January 18, 2009
I'm back
There have been little events, and BIG ones, the past few weeks I've needed to write about but just didn't. So, here I am. Let's see what I can get down in 20 minutes before lunch.
1. The Move.
The Move deserves to be capitalized and memorialized for all time. Our Move from Iowa to Texas was truly horrendous. No kidding. Iowa gave us a big "Fuck you!" as we made our exit. Eric and I were much busier with school and loose ends finals week than we had anticipated and so the mad dash was exactly that- a mad, freakin' dash to get the hell out. Of course, two episodes of snow that last week in addition to temperatures below zero- way, way, below zero- only made it so much worse. And hey, did you know that diesel fuel gels and renders moving trucks inoperable in such temperatures? Neither did we. Eric and I caravanned with my in-laws out of Iowa when we could finally vacate the house, and I will forever remember driving through Iowa and Missouri that Sunday afternoon, alone with Katie, thinking just how dangerous it was if we were to break down in the middle of nowhere, knowing my mom would totally freak out when she got the message that we had FINALLY left Cedar Rapids at 3:45, and there was ice ON THE INSIDE OF MY CAR WINDOWS the entire way to Emporia, Kansas. That's how cold it was.
But, I must give thanks where thanks is due:
Regina- for embarking upon, like I said, was similar to a mission trip in a developing country and helping us pack. And letting us know just how what you thought about it, the entire time.
My in-laws- thank you for driving up to help, for watching Katie and working on all those things that needed to be fixed that we couldn't quite get to on our own.
Our realtor, Barry Frink- Thank you for re-finishing our hardwood floors. I hope it makes you some money. More importantly, I hope it makes us some money. Please sell our house. Quick.
Rob- one of my favorite people in Iowa. You let us sleep at your place when our mattresses were freezing in the moving truck. You came through in a pinch, despite all the attitude I gave you the past three years. You also let me veg out on your sofa and watch cable television. And yes, IFC does have lots of nudity late at night. I kept on flipping threw it- I can imagine you don't. ;)
Mom- Thank you for letting me gripe and complain when I was completely overwhelmed. I know you wanted to be there to help and if you had, it would have gotten knocked out that much quicker due to your superhuman powers. I'm glad we're closer to one another now.
Our fearless, if not crazy and half-drunk packing crew that Friday- we're still finding stray screws, nuts and bolts in various places and boxes or trying to locate those various places and boxes in which you placed those stray screws, nuts, and bolts, but thanks for venturing out into the weather and helping us pack and load our shit.
Dr. Fay Botham- you let me turn in a paper after deadline and shorter than expected. And then gave me a good grade. I will miss our class, but you'll be hearing from me as I expand that paper and write that one I emailed you about re: the Westboro Baptist Church of Topeka and Rev. Jeremiah Wright because the abstract was accepted at a conference. Oh, and I think of you and Sarah Dees every time I see a billboard around here that condemns me to hell or reminds me that abortion stops a beating heart. Um...yeah. (Hopefully you'll get that joke because I think some folks wouldn't)
2. Life in the land of the Lexus
The other day, Eric remarked that he thinks people in Dallas skip over buying a house and just get the Lexus. These cars are EVERYWHERE here in Dallas, particularly in our apartment complex. This reveals, of course, our preference for buying a house and then getting a new car (which will really only be needed if and when we have another kid). The Lexus is to Dallas as the Subaru is to Iowa City. And we don't live in a totally swank apartment complex, but it's not a shithole. After living in our own, albeit modest house for six years, it was unconscionable to rent an apartment that looked like the cabinets were about to fall off the wall and it only had two bedrooms. We're in a cool location with about 100 restaurants and twelve high-end shopping malls within a three-mile radius.
This was the moment the move truly sunk in: I was driving around one Saturday afternoon by myself, looking for a particular crunchy-granola-type grocery store and instead came across the Plano Whole Foods. I've never been in one, so I decided to check it out (checking out grocery stories has been a big part my adventures with Katie the past two weeks).
I think I made it to the cheese area of Whole Foods when I got a little emotional. I wasn't in Iowa anymore and this sure as hell wasn't the Co-op, despite the bulk foods and spices aisles. I was in the consumerist, corporatist heartland of the U.S.A., in a chain store with no real soul and a parking lot jammed with luxury vehicles. I fully realized what I already knew: I had left the critical, pseudo-socialism of Iowa City for a state with questionable politics and a heavier drawl than I remembered.
Here was the moment my sorrow got balanced out, if you will: I called Yeon to say hello. She told me they were expected freezing rain that day. I was driving with my window down.
So, what Texas doesn't know is I've brought my Iowa training with me. It kicked in as we left a pound of flesh in exchange for our driver's licenses and men with guns (okay, state troopers) literally patrolled the building, leering over people waiting in line and asking them what their business was that day. Intimidation? I think so. But more on that later. My chariot- that is, my husband coming from church, awaits outside.
1. The Move.
The Move deserves to be capitalized and memorialized for all time. Our Move from Iowa to Texas was truly horrendous. No kidding. Iowa gave us a big "Fuck you!" as we made our exit. Eric and I were much busier with school and loose ends finals week than we had anticipated and so the mad dash was exactly that- a mad, freakin' dash to get the hell out. Of course, two episodes of snow that last week in addition to temperatures below zero- way, way, below zero- only made it so much worse. And hey, did you know that diesel fuel gels and renders moving trucks inoperable in such temperatures? Neither did we. Eric and I caravanned with my in-laws out of Iowa when we could finally vacate the house, and I will forever remember driving through Iowa and Missouri that Sunday afternoon, alone with Katie, thinking just how dangerous it was if we were to break down in the middle of nowhere, knowing my mom would totally freak out when she got the message that we had FINALLY left Cedar Rapids at 3:45, and there was ice ON THE INSIDE OF MY CAR WINDOWS the entire way to Emporia, Kansas. That's how cold it was.
But, I must give thanks where thanks is due:
Regina- for embarking upon, like I said, was similar to a mission trip in a developing country and helping us pack. And letting us know just how what you thought about it, the entire time.
My in-laws- thank you for driving up to help, for watching Katie and working on all those things that needed to be fixed that we couldn't quite get to on our own.
Our realtor, Barry Frink- Thank you for re-finishing our hardwood floors. I hope it makes you some money. More importantly, I hope it makes us some money. Please sell our house. Quick.
Rob- one of my favorite people in Iowa. You let us sleep at your place when our mattresses were freezing in the moving truck. You came through in a pinch, despite all the attitude I gave you the past three years. You also let me veg out on your sofa and watch cable television. And yes, IFC does have lots of nudity late at night. I kept on flipping threw it- I can imagine you don't. ;)
Mom- Thank you for letting me gripe and complain when I was completely overwhelmed. I know you wanted to be there to help and if you had, it would have gotten knocked out that much quicker due to your superhuman powers. I'm glad we're closer to one another now.
Our fearless, if not crazy and half-drunk packing crew that Friday- we're still finding stray screws, nuts and bolts in various places and boxes or trying to locate those various places and boxes in which you placed those stray screws, nuts, and bolts, but thanks for venturing out into the weather and helping us pack and load our shit.
Dr. Fay Botham- you let me turn in a paper after deadline and shorter than expected. And then gave me a good grade. I will miss our class, but you'll be hearing from me as I expand that paper and write that one I emailed you about re: the Westboro Baptist Church of Topeka and Rev. Jeremiah Wright because the abstract was accepted at a conference. Oh, and I think of you and Sarah Dees every time I see a billboard around here that condemns me to hell or reminds me that abortion stops a beating heart. Um...yeah. (Hopefully you'll get that joke because I think some folks wouldn't)
2. Life in the land of the Lexus
The other day, Eric remarked that he thinks people in Dallas skip over buying a house and just get the Lexus. These cars are EVERYWHERE here in Dallas, particularly in our apartment complex. This reveals, of course, our preference for buying a house and then getting a new car (which will really only be needed if and when we have another kid). The Lexus is to Dallas as the Subaru is to Iowa City. And we don't live in a totally swank apartment complex, but it's not a shithole. After living in our own, albeit modest house for six years, it was unconscionable to rent an apartment that looked like the cabinets were about to fall off the wall and it only had two bedrooms. We're in a cool location with about 100 restaurants and twelve high-end shopping malls within a three-mile radius.
This was the moment the move truly sunk in: I was driving around one Saturday afternoon by myself, looking for a particular crunchy-granola-type grocery store and instead came across the Plano Whole Foods. I've never been in one, so I decided to check it out (checking out grocery stories has been a big part my adventures with Katie the past two weeks).
I think I made it to the cheese area of Whole Foods when I got a little emotional. I wasn't in Iowa anymore and this sure as hell wasn't the Co-op, despite the bulk foods and spices aisles. I was in the consumerist, corporatist heartland of the U.S.A., in a chain store with no real soul and a parking lot jammed with luxury vehicles. I fully realized what I already knew: I had left the critical, pseudo-socialism of Iowa City for a state with questionable politics and a heavier drawl than I remembered.
Here was the moment my sorrow got balanced out, if you will: I called Yeon to say hello. She told me they were expected freezing rain that day. I was driving with my window down.
So, what Texas doesn't know is I've brought my Iowa training with me. It kicked in as we left a pound of flesh in exchange for our driver's licenses and men with guns (okay, state troopers) literally patrolled the building, leering over people waiting in line and asking them what their business was that day. Intimidation? I think so. But more on that later. My chariot- that is, my husband coming from church, awaits outside.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Sunday, December 7, 2008
it would end this way...dammit.
We are under a winter weather watch starting tonight until 6 am Wednesday morning. Up to six inches of snow is possible. And the ten day forecast- bear in mind we have exactly two weeks left here in Iowa- predicts snowfall EVERY day.
Great.
Great.
Four black sacks of trash, four more for goodwill, and seven boxes (and counting) packed
Assessing our house right now, there's no way it'll be ready by morning to go on the market. We originally set our goal to get it on the market as October 15. Obviously, that came and went. Then, it was last Thursday. There was just no way.
Numerous times I've wished Mom were here because I know she and I could knock out all the mess and cleaning and just get it done. After Katie was born, I remember Mom helped me straighten up the rest of the house that she and Dad didn't get to the day they spent cleaning when the baby and I were in the hospital (Eric and I are that messy); like magic, the dining room was clear.
Right now, the dining room is the hub of the chaos and I'm ready for the junk to disperse, either by some trickery or by sleeping it all away. It's a gauntlet, and Katie scrunches up her shoulders every time she walks through like a little pinball trying to avoid all the corners and obstacles. I think as soon as we get the stuff we're keeping downstairs and the stuff we're tossing to goodwill in the morning, once again, like magic, it'll be clear.
So, in the meantime, I'm looking forward to being closer to many of my close (and majority-pregnant) girlfriends in about two weeks. I told Steph yesterday that she and the girls can make it up for never coming to Iowa or making it to my baby shower by helping us unload the truck on the 22nd, pregnant or not. And, of course, the drive home is much less painful from Dallas than from Cedar Rapids. No more frozen tundra, no more six months of winter and a blip of a summer (beautiful as it may be).
Numerous times I've wished Mom were here because I know she and I could knock out all the mess and cleaning and just get it done. After Katie was born, I remember Mom helped me straighten up the rest of the house that she and Dad didn't get to the day they spent cleaning when the baby and I were in the hospital (Eric and I are that messy); like magic, the dining room was clear.
Right now, the dining room is the hub of the chaos and I'm ready for the junk to disperse, either by some trickery or by sleeping it all away. It's a gauntlet, and Katie scrunches up her shoulders every time she walks through like a little pinball trying to avoid all the corners and obstacles. I think as soon as we get the stuff we're keeping downstairs and the stuff we're tossing to goodwill in the morning, once again, like magic, it'll be clear.
So, in the meantime, I'm looking forward to being closer to many of my close (and majority-pregnant) girlfriends in about two weeks. I told Steph yesterday that she and the girls can make it up for never coming to Iowa or making it to my baby shower by helping us unload the truck on the 22nd, pregnant or not. And, of course, the drive home is much less painful from Dallas than from Cedar Rapids. No more frozen tundra, no more six months of winter and a blip of a summer (beautiful as it may be).
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