Stooping

Inspirational song: Waiting on a Friend (Rolling Stones)

My evening didn't end like I expected it to. The man and I, plus two of our closest friends and three of our favorite dogs were all perched on the stoop outside our temporary apartment, waiting for trouble to move out of our atmosphere. There has been a resident in a neighboring unit who apparently lives for malice. Once she knew she was on the way out of here, she has been sabotaging the entire complex, and we think (knock on wood) that we might finally be rid of her. She has cost tens of thousands of dollars in damages, mostly payable to plumbers. I don't understand what goes through someone's mind like that, thinking that flooding apartments of people who lack the means to go elsewhere is an acceptable way to act out your anger, but this one decided it was her chosen form of protest. I try not to think so negatively about people, but I can't help thinking good riddance to bad rubbish in this case.

I almost wish I were still out on that stoop. We don't have air conditioning in this apartment, and until a few years ago, you really didn't need it in Colorado. It is sweltering this week. It's humid (compared to usual standards) and I think being a mile closer to the sun is making it all seem so much more intense. I have felt like I'm in the middle of a three day long hot flash. We went up to Boulder to get some paperwork we needed to process the mortgage for Park West, and we stopped in to the condo for a dip in the pool while we were there. After about fifteen minutes in the water, while I was still overheated in the sun, the clouds rolled in, and for the first time in days I felt almost chilled. It was glorious. I wish I could have stayed at that temperature the rest of the day. But no, I'm back in the brick oven, thinking fondly of a cold shower. 

I went to downtown Boulder for the first time since we returned. Yep, it's still as weird as ever. Mr S-P said, "no matter how weird you think someone is, they are never the weirdest person in Boulder. There's always someone just a little more odd." We saw the usual assortment of hippies and freaks, but nothing too bizarre. I think the strangest clothing choice I saw today was a young, fairly handsome man wearing tan knee-length shorts and white tights underneath (like the kind we girls all wore to church in the early 80s). It wasn't until we were driving away that we saw a vehicle that just about made both of us shake our heads in wonder. I only caught sight of it in peripheral vision, but the man saw it full on: a bicycle that was actually an elliptical trainer on wheels, pulling a low-slung trailer (which I thought resembled a razor scooter as it disappeared on the other side of the car). Mr S-P said the guy was probably in excellent shape, but was that really any faster than walking?

We tried a new restaurant while we were there, and it was as Boulder as it could get. The drinks were all filtered through Rose Quartz, because it was supposed to be harmonizing or something Boulder-y. Whatever voodoo was in it, the bourbon, ginger, and magic potion made a hell of a good martini. But really, a 100% gluten free restaurant and I still had to order a bunless burger. I can't win. 

I'm off to find a cool spot. Maybe I'll sleep on the tile floor next to the cats tonight.

And the Winner Is...

Inspirational song: Have a Cigar (Pink Floyd)

Ladies and gentlemen, mesdames et messieurs, meinen dammen und herren, we have a new Smith Park. It was a gut-wrenching day, waiting for the word to come from our real estate agent. We had a few communications back and forth regarding dates not entered and tees not crossed, etc. The last thing we heard was, "we should know by around 3." When 3 came and went and we had heard nothing, I went from that tiny glimmer of hope this morning to anxiety (while the man said, "maybe she said 3:30?") to soul-crushing agony thinking that we didn't get the house. I was planning my next move, wondering how much we could escalate our bid to, the whole while Mr S-P was convinced we overbid by a lot, based on the sold comps for June. We took a drive in the mountains to get our mind off of the process while it was out of our hands. For an hour or more we were out of cell coverage, and once or twice, for a few seconds at a time, I actually did forget the anxiety. When we turned back towards Denver, we had a little pocket of full 4G coverage, and we pulled over to check our voice mail. We were still sitting in the car, so dancing like an overjoyed goofball was out of the question. But slowly, as we wound down a beautiful, eerily green canyon, it started to feel real. I was afraid to believe. I barely slept a wink last night. (It didn't help that we are in a poorly ventilated apartment with no a/c) Now I can allow myself the luxury of planning out rooms, deciding how we will re-landscape the front yard, and researching 1959 era paint colors. I wanted to look up on Pinterest the best way to keep all the original copper looking perfect, but I was just superstitious enough to think that search would jinx the deal. I can do it all now. Vive le Park West!

While I fantasize about the Mad Men themed housewarming party I want to throw, enjoy some photos from our mountain drive this afternoon.

Buffoons and Bimbos

Inspirational song: Fool in the Rain (Led Zeppelin)

I have a role to play and I embrace it. I am the court jester, the class clown, the entertainer, the pleaser. I can't stand seeing people upset or bored. I am uncomfortable with conversational pauses. I know no other way to get my voice heard other than flippant remarks, bad jokes, or snark. I try to interject silliness in every situation, whether it is appropriate or not. I'm not really sure I want to change, even though it would be nice to be taken seriously every now and then, especially if that means I would be given credit for being the intelligent woman I am. I may have allowed myself, in response to my crippling social awkwardness, to cloak myself too thoroughly in the guise of the bimbo persona I adopted over twenty years ago. It stopped being my superhero secret identity and has invaded my real life.

I have been trying to use those powers for good lately, but I can't tell whether they are helping. I have close friends going through an economic crisis (their investments are proving difficult to protect--not impossible, just challenging). I see them often, and am trying to be calm and supportive, and an understanding shoulder to lean on. I'm available for more, if they realize I'm serious and take my offers. Tonight my only recourse was buffoonery. They're overly stressed, and my inner fool was the one to answer the call this time. For a few brief moments we got one of them to laugh a little, and if that brought him back a step from the edge of the chasm of despair where he had been standing unsteadily, then we did our jobs right. I hope they realize I do understand their stress and am sympathetic. I am not taking it lightly or dismissing it. I just don't want to add to it by being an unpleasant person to be around.

On a different, ongoing topic, we have submitted an offer on the house I want to be Smith Park West. All offers on the property are due tomorrow, and I have to hope that our price is good enough and our letter compelling enough. We did explain to the listing agent at the open house how much we just want to get home, to family and to the land of Mr S-P's birth. We reiterated that, and emphasized how determined we are to keep the unbelievable vintage charm as perfectly preserved as it is right now. The offer is signed and delivered. We should know in a few days whether we have to come up in price, and by how much. I want to win this, more than you can imagine. I am not playing around here.

Love Wins

Inspirational song: Pride (In the Name of Love) (U2)

Yesterday was such a monumental watershed moment, and here I am, living out of pocket, without a television, the ability to stream unlimited data on my devices, nor the time management skills to get to a public gathering space to participate in what I believed would be spontaneous dancing in the streets. I was just sure there would be a street party in Boulder when the Supreme Court ruling came down providing full marriage equality, and I had gone to bed Thursday planning on being there before the announcement came. I never made it even close. I never checked the Boulder paper's website, so I choose to believe that street party happened, based on no evidence whatsoever, and in my heart I believe it was fabulous. It never occurred to me once that the ruling would be anything other than full equality. The merchants of hate had no standing, and the constitution is clear. Equal protection under the law has been spelled out quite explicitly. This was the only result possible, and it was the obvious moral choice as well. Love wins.

It might not have been the gayest thing I could think of to do to honor what I suspect is the best Pride week ever, but it was the most self indulgent, and absolutely necessary after the move here. My daughter and I went for pedicures and we both used neon pink polish, plus I had a rainbow flag striped between the two big toes (3 colors each). It feels celebratory. And it's damned cute, if I say so myself.

We went to an open house for that vintage 1950s place that I love so much. I know a little of the history of how it was so well preserved now, and I love it even more for that. We are going to take a crack at it. Success is not guaranteed, not by any means. We will submit an offer and hope that our backstory is compelling enough to the sellers. For all that is holy, I want it to work. I need out of this temporary situation and into a house I can be proud of. Tonight the man and the dogs are off in the mountains in peaceful silence and fresh air. I'm left with noise and smells and crisis (not mine personally, but I am inconvenienced like the rest of the tenants here). I love my friends who set us up here, for giving us safe harbor. I'm ready to move on. Wish us luck winning a bidding war.

Used Up

Inspirational song: It's My Party (Lesley Gore)

I think I have had as much as I can take for a while. My body is tired, my emotions overwrought. The smallest things set me off, and I needed a solid two hour nap today. We drove past a couple potential houses today, and nothing amused me. The neighborhoods just fatigued me further. It's all well and good to watch a House Hunters marathon on TV, but take it from me it sucks in real life. We started this whole process back last summer, from different sides of the globe. In addition to being sick of the process, I've had the joy of watching house prices double in that time period, especially as speculators, investors, and flippers have gotten their tainted hands in the works. Seeing a flip now just makes me hot and angry.

I'm ready to turn off the tough chick who does home renovations and heavy lifting with the big dogs. I'm ready to be a girly girl again. Today I got a free nail polish with the renewal of my beauty supply membership and now I sport very short, very neon pink nails. Tomorrow, my BFF and I plan to get pedicures and paint rainbow flags on our toenails to celebrate today's historic announcement. Until then, I need to sleep off the rather girly drunk I have from a third of a bottle of amaretto and try and reset my soul. I have little to offer in the way of pictures, other than a little red-headed dog who really wanted to eat the squirrels who taunted him from the trees at our daughter's condo. I will try to do better tomorrow.

Impulse Buy

Inspirational song: You're the One That I Want (Grease)

That man does not know what he wants. When we arrived here less than a week ago, he looked at me and with an exhausted sigh said, "I can't stress this enough. I do not want a project house." And then amnesia set in, and he has kept steering me towards houses that need weeks of work, and tens of thousands of dollars in investment. Today we viewed two places. The first one was being sold as is. So when we saw several places where the concrete slab was subsiding, the roof way past its useful life, carpeting that had to go, single pane windows that must be replaced immediately, and a total kitchen renovation, my brain added up the 50-70 thousand to accomplish all that, plus the months of our lives living in a construction zone. We are capable, but are we willing?

Setting foot in house number two answered that for me, and the answer was NO. The second house was stunningly perfect for me. It was built in 1959, and still had the original kitchen in pristine condition, aside from new appliances. It was out of this world amazing. The counters were turquoise formica with gold flecks. The backsplash was copper tiles that matched the copper switchplates and copper paper towel/wax paper holder. All of the cabinetry was immaculate. I practically vibrated with need when I saw this house. I loved everything from the blonde brick up front to the big purple clematis covering the back patio. Giant garage. Original sea foam green tub and sink. Funky 50s doorbell cover. Laundry room with cat box space and a door to shut out dogs. I want it!!

The problem is, it is priced at our comfort point now, but by the time offers are submitted Monday, it's going to be beyond our pain threshold. We might be able to do it, but we would have absolutely nothing left in the tank for the next emergency. One more big vet visit, one more car breakdown, and we would be sunk. But this house needs nothing done to make it work for us. I could pretty much just paint it at my leisure and enjoy it right now, as is. It is my mid-century modern dream. If only I could reach out and grab it.

Contingency

Inspirational song: Hello, I Love You (The Doors)

Yesterday I hinted at good news. Today it is official. We are under contract for the Park. A couple of first time buyers had been all over our subdivision, never finding the one they wanted. They knew they wanted to live in that neighborhood but a good property eluded them for weeks. I just had a sense about the 630 appointment for yesterday, from the moment I saw the email notification for the showing. This couple walked in my front door and immediately said "This is it!" The realtor called our agent and told her to expect an offer within the hour. They have been frantic not to let the Park get away. We are netting a full price offer, and we had to have a little discussion about closing dates (we moved it 2 weeks sooner.) There are still showings scheduled, and we will entertain a backup offer. We wondered whether we really priced ourselves too low. But in the end we got exactly what we wanted: a quick sale to someone who felt passionate about the place. Congratulations, new Park Rangers!

Now we get to start looking in earnest. Really, we shouldn't make any offers for a couple weeks, until we have cleared the inspection phase when most homes fall out of contract. But that didn't stop us from touring three houses today. The first one was awful, and I couldn't escape it fast enough. The second I was so excited about, flaws and all, until the next door neighbor tattled about the shoddy roof repair. That's a deal breaker. So we tried a mountain property. We left our car at a local landmark restaurant at the base of a canyon road, and rode up with our realtor. The creek was running ridiculously high, giving us all flashbacks to the 2013 flood. In fact, there were so many places still showing flood damage that I was a little leery of living up the canyon. The house was really cool, built in 1937. It was tiny inside, with doorways too narrow for a doggie wheelchair to glide through on an angle. It would be a fun vacation cabin, but I am not willing to make it a permanent residence.

As we came down the mountain, we decided a chance to chat over happy hour was in order. Our realtor treated us to drinks, hors d'ouevres, and desserts at the gorgeous restaurant north of town. I've never been there in all these years of living in or returning to Colorado, and this trip was long overdue. Now that I know how terrific it is (and how delicious was their salted caramel creme brulé and old fashioneds), I will insist on frequenting this fine establishment. We dined outside, in a flower garden, sitting at a flagstone table, as the fresh air of an approaching storm cooled us. I could learn to love this place. I think I already do.