Three years

Next week, D and I will mark our third wedding anniversary -- but from opposite coasts of North America. He's going to be here working while I'm in Newfoundland for my cousin's wedding. How are we going to remedy missing this day together?

By celebrating during this entire holiday weekend, of course.

D got yesterday off, so we started the festivities by having a lunch date in the darling neighborhood called Queen Anne just north of downtown Seattle. D had been up there once or twice before but I hadn't had the chance to explore it.

First stop: The 5 Spot, a little diner off the main drag. The place was well recommended on various websites I'd peeked at. The interior looked quite busy when we arrived and was kind of noisy, but the menu promised tasty rewards. Imagine our delight when we got shown to a separate room at the rear of the restaurant away from the crowds with a view of a private patio garden!

The entire patio was surrounded by a brick wall, mounted with metal lamps at the top edge and a small birdbath below. The primary showpiece in the garden was a gorgeous Japanese maple, and the sunlight streaming through its leaves cast an especially soft light through the picture window next to our table -- a lovely filter for what's usually pretty strong sun at noon:



We took our time ordering, ultimately deciding on a steak sandwich with shoestring fries and a hearty stout for D and a smoked salmon and field greens salad with avocado, caramelized onions, lime vinaigrette, and herbed crostini for me. Everything was so good that we're going to try to reproduce both dishes in the near future (minus the beer -- we haven't tried out home-brewing yet).

After the last bites were gone, we wandered the neighborhood, checking out the boutiques and the local market. The latter had lots of starter plants to give us ideas for our own patio garden. Perhaps some succulents or some herbs? Maybe even a strawberry patch for next summer? That will probably require a corner of the yard itself. We've been sampling the local produce, and there's no substitute for fresh-picked fruit -- the berries shipped from other places tend to be picked prematurely and gas-ripened, so they lack flavor. I have a feeling we're going to be spoiled by all the goodies in season during these warm months! We already have plans to go to the farmers' market in a different area today. Have to take advantage of it while it lasts ...

We also stopped at a store that had beautifully glazed pottery on display. I fell in love with a set of six salad bowls -- they were celadon green at the center, fading to ecru at the rim -- but we decided to wait to buy them; D pointed out that the color was only inside and would be prettier outside too. We have plans to go pottery painting as it is on Sunday (which we discovered during our first winter here), so now that we have some inspiration, we might try to do something similar in design.

Time to head out -- but stay tuned! We have more neat discoveries to share.

Number crunching

That's what today has been about.

I've actually been preparing for today for about six weeks (ever since my endocrinologist started me on that low-oxalate diet -- bleh -- at the end of May). I saw the doctor this morning and got the results of my latest lab tests. The good news: the numbers are coming down as we've hoped they would. The oxalate levels are now in the 60s, which is much closer to normal (under 30; my last reading was over 270) and the phosphorus levels are completely normal in the high 800s (previously over 2100). So cutting out spinach and (some) nuts and tea has worked enormously in my favor, which hopefully means no more kidney stones in the future. This also means I have to stay on this diet, but so far, I'm managing.

Of course, though, there's a new wrinkle: I have exocrine problems.

Because I was experiencing some GI unpleasantness in early May (I'll spare you the details) and inexplicable weight gain, I got a referral to another specialist who ordered some tests of his own. It's not definitive yet, but the early results indicate that I don't digest fats properly. The culprit behind this problem is most likely the pancreas (again!) -- but this time it's the part of the organ belonging to the exocrine system, i.e., the part responsible for getting fat-digesting enzymes where they need to go.

So I'm now taking these.


This is Pancrecarb, which basically delivers the enzymes I need in capsule form. I take one capsule with each meal, and the tiny pellets inside get released as their container breaks down. So far, this seems to be alleviating the GI symptoms extremely well. Unfortunately, the weight gain hasn't leveled off yet. (Granted, I've only been on the meds for a week, but ... ) While the upward creep of the numbers on the scale has been slow, it has been frustrating, especially since I've been increasing my workout time -- and all that's done is give me sugar lows more often.

The nurse at the GI doctor's office who gave me my test results said that my body may have been hanging on to extra weight because it wasn't getting enough dietary fat (a bit counterintuitive, but certainly possible, I guess) so my metabolism may need to readjust. If that's the case, I'm hoping that happens sooner rather than later. I'm fine with what I weigh now, but about seven years ago I was nearly 30 pounds heavier (out of the healthy range for my height and build) and I really don't want to go back to that. I've worked too hard to get fit only to have a pancreas on the fritz undo it all!

In the spirit of staying motivated, here are a few blogs I've been reading recently that I'd like to add to my list of nominees for the One Lovely Blog award:

• Cranky Fitness, written by Crabby McSlacker and Merry Sunshine
• Refuse to Regain, written by Barbara Berkeley and Lynn Haraldson-Bering
• Back in Skinny Jeans, written by Stephanie Quilao
• PastaQueen, written by Jennette Fulda
  

So there's some inspiration to fight the good fight without losing total perspective on why we do it. I am not just a bunch of numbers, I know, even if my doctors tend to rely on them to keep me well. Maybe remind me of that the next time I have to step on the scale ...

Nesting?

Why, yes, we are.

Having family around didn't deter us from working on our place last week -- in fact, it was all we could do to keep D's dad from making yet another run to the hardware store (it's one of his favorite places, it seems) as we thought of various tasks we wanted to tackle while the weather was good and the manpower willing. As a result, the gutters are now cleaned, the wasp nests are gone from beneath the eaves, the trees and bushes are pruned, and only one carload of our belongings remains in our apartment.

While D worked on tidying the outside of the house and moving as much as possible from our other address, I worked on putting things away. I think my biggest accomplishment was getting the closet in our room organized. Until three days ago, it was a chaotic catch-all with clothes flung in piles on the shelves and floor, mostly because we'd been focusing our attention on the rooms the family would be occupying while they were in town.

The nice thing was that even with four extra people in the house, there was plenty of space for everyone, both public and private -- unlike the time when D's parents, aunt, and three brothers came to visit us two weeks after we got back from our honeymoon. I believe we even had guests camped out on the floor of our bedroom that time. Talk about having to get comfortable with your new in-laws right away ...

Our visitors have gone now, and I have exactly one week before I'm traveling again, this time for a visit to my grandmother and a cousin's wedding. I wish I could have a few more days at home as I still don't feel like I have a routine here yet. The structure of each day has been drastically different, given the continuing move process, and that's made it difficult to establish regular work hours for my thesis. More on that front soon -- I've finished another book on the reading list, just haven't gotten to reflect on it properly yet.

One thing D and I have been able to keep routine is breakfast, thank goodness. And now that we're no longer limited by a shortage of cabinet space in the kitchen, we've been able to use the dishes we'd previously had to keep in storage, like the adorable egg cups from Almost Dr. Sis in the photo above. I love them -- the only challenge is bopping the eggs they hold. How can you whack something on its pate (much less scoop out its innards) when it's made to look as if its cute little feet are sticking out at you?

Well, D seemed to have no trouble.


We're looking forward to giving you a virtual tour once we've gotten our place completely in order. In the meantime, here's another nominee for the One Lovely Blog award, in keeping with the rest of this post: decor8, written by Holly Becker. So many ideas to consider ...

It's good to be (coo)king

Yep, the in-laws are here.

They (D's parents and youngest brother) arrived Friday afternoon in my car, which they kindly drove from Little U., saving us enormous shipping costs and eliminating their need for a rental on their tour of national parks en route. D's aunt flew in from Chicago yesterday morning as well. The plan for the next week: day excursions with possible overnights around the Olympic peninsula. D and I won't be going, but we'll spend evenings with the family in the new house.

Cooking for six instead of just two has worked out well so far -- we had soy-ginger barbecued chicken with a field greens salad the first night and broiled halibut steaks with stir-fried zucchini, summer squash, and broccoli yesterday. Tonight, we'll have a pork loin roast with red pepper gravy. That calls for a little more prep, but it is Father's Day. So while the crew is out enjoying the Fremont Fair, I'm going to get that ready along with individual meringues to go with the fresh berries we picked up at Pike Place Market. This works out well, as there are only five seats in the car, and I'm frankly in need of some alone time. Being the primary cook is a lovely excuse not to venture with everyone else into the throngs that will surely await them.

I haven't had a moment to write about the thesis reading I've done so far in the last month, but the ideas are in notes form somewhere with my partially unpacked Boston luggage. I'm hoping to have some more extensive thinking time Monday and Tuesday while also figuring out where to get my driver's license changed and what gift to get for my cousin's wedding, which is the next big trip on the horizon. Why does summer somehow feel less restful than the regular academic year? It must be the constant interruption of routines. I do like the occasional break from the usual grind, but everything gets accomplished in fits and starts with so many special summer activities stacked back to back. I think I'm becoming thoroughly convinced that everything in moderation really is my preferred way of living.

On a completely unrelated note before I head off to the kitchen, a big thank-you to Sherlock of Sherlock's Stuff for the One Lovely Blog award. Such a nice surprise to come home to -- and even after such sparse posting from me in recent weeks!

The rules for accepting this are as follows: (1) Accept the award and post it on your blog together with the name of the person who has granted the award as well as his or her blog link. (2) Pass the award to 15 other blogs that you have newly discovered. Remember to contact the bloggers to let them know they have been chosen for this award.

There's no way I can nominate 15 blogs in one round, so I'm going to do a few with every post till I hit the mark. So at this time, I'd like to share this award with Mrs. Whatsit of I Love Science, Really. She's just been reunited with her husband after doing the long-distance thing for what, I imagine, felt like an age. Props for all the effort that went into that experience as well as the decision to move back while still working on a Ph.D. She writes with a candor I love.

To the ovens ...

Down time at DFW and a diet-tribe

You know you’ve been doing too much traveling when, upon arriving at an airport for your layover, you can direct other people to the nearest watering hole.

Okay, I admit, I happened to be looking for a place to buy dinner and was standing in front of an airport directory, but the guy who wanted beer was asking which vendors on the list would sell him one, not where to find any restaurant in particular. Being fairly familiar with the various establishments at DFW after getting stranded there back in March -- not because I visited them but because I walked past them so many times while roaming from terminal to terminal -- I pointed him toward the most likely options, and we went our separate ways.

I will be very happy to sleep in my own bed tonight! Seven nights on the floor of a dorm and then two more on a stick-to-your-skin leather couch are a little rough on the body. But it was all in the name of research and some long overdue catching up with friends I haven’t spent time with in at least six years. I think I achieved both of those primary goals, and that’s what matters.

Eating as a prediabetic for such a long period away from home was a pretty challenging but informative learning experience too. I was really lucky I was staying for the majority of the trip with someone who understood my needs so well -- whether we were staying in or going out, I didn’t need to feel like a nuisance for having to request menus that would give me enough to eat (heavy on the vegetables and lean protein, light on the carbs). I also didn’t need to feel deprived because we kept regular meal times and we didn’t have a lot of forbidden foods on the table for me to lust after. On top of that, I packed my own breakfast (low-carb cereal) to keep things cheaper and to prevent anyone from having to stock it for me -- the friend I stayed with for most of last week tends not to eat breakfast as it is, so I expected I’d be on my own for that anyway.

These last two days were quite a bit harder as I changed hosts for the weekend, and the other person I stayed with seemed to think that as long as I had salad, it was perfectly fine for her and her boyfriend to eat pasta and pancakes and chocolate chip cookies (the first was for dinner, the second lunch, and the third dessert after another dinner). I’m not saying other people should have to forgo all those goodies when I’m eating with them, but it did feel a little cruel to be given no substitutes or variety in alternatives. I love salad – I’ve been eating Cobbs, Caesars, and other kinds every single day for lunch and sometimes dinner in the last week without feeling deprived when that’s what I’ve decided to have -- but when you’ve invited me into your home and your meal has absolutely nothing in common with mine when we sit down at the table and mine is in fact a repeat of what I’ve eaten at every other meal you’ve served me, it feels like my food was an afterthought. If you get dessert, shouldn’t I? There are lots of sugar-free options out there.

I think the freshly baked chocolate chip cookies were the clincher last night. I felt like I needed to leave the room while they noshed on them, three or four at a time. Dinner was light, so I was still hungry but I didn’t feel comfortable asking my host for more food. Moral of the story: when staying with strangers who might not understand your dietary needs, pack your own treats (I tried to go lighter on the baggage since it was already so stuffed, but perhaps it would have been worth the extra few ounces for some sugar-free chocolate). And if you’re someone who might be hosting a guest for a meal where dietary restrictions come into play, at least try to make sure your guest has as many courses as you do so s/he doesn’t have to sit there pretending not to notice that you’re eating while his/her plate is awkwardly bare.

Okay, I’m off my little soapbox now -- time to find a good carry-on meal option! This won’t be posted until after I get home (no free internet till then), but for now, the dinner hour approaches.

In which I become an undergrad again

Well, not really, but it sort of feels that way for two reasons. The first is that I spent most of last week wandering the grounds of my alma mater and (re)experiencing the university's commencement ceremonies. Almost Dr. Sis and I had a terrific time -- both of us felt we could actually enjoy the hoopla properly since neither of us were preoccupied with the uncertainties of the next day: how to get completely packed and moved out of the dorms by 5 p.m. as well as how to make the transition to that thing called the Real World after four years in the protective bubble of those dorms. They provided hot meals and an instant community when we arrived. How were we supposed to find those things again on the outside?

Actually, I think our younger sister will have no trouble. She's amazing in the kitchen (having worked for a catering service helps in that area) and she's incredibly comfortable meeting new people (even in early childhood, she was never panicked by the presence of strangers as we were). Wish I were as outgoing -- I'm not quite so shy anymore, but I am apprehensive about finding ways to make new friends once I get properly settled in Seattle. Perhaps I should start looking for special-interest groups in the area, or maybe sign up to volunteer somewhere once or twice a week? Otherwise, I'll end up too easily content to stay at home, nesting.

But yes, back to graduation. Almost Dr. Sis and I tried to chase down the parade of seniors from our younger sister's dorm to get a picture of her marching (each dorm's residents process to the ceremony through the city streets after breakfast, escorted by bagpipers). Unfortunately, we couldn't locate anyone from her dorm and kept running into folks from others. In the end, after sprinting around madly in heels with cameras in tow, we made it to the university church in time to see the last of the seniors filing in for some final words of wisdom from the reverend:


Still not the group we were looking for, but at least it's representative ...

We finally caught up with Newly Graduated Sis in the afternoon -- and from then on, time moved in leaps: a celebration at a lovely restaurant, a few hours of sleep, and then speed-packing NG Sis's belongings. D, who flew in for the graduation dinner, schlepped ALL of the boxes over crazy cobblestone sidewalks to the nearest Staples for shipping the following day. No question, he's the best. Wish I'd had that kind of assistance when I was moving out!

Now, the second reason I'm feeling like an undergrad again (sorry, I got carried away talking about the previous one): I've been staying this week with a former college roommate, who is pursuing a Ph.D. at another university nearby -- and I have to say, it's been an adjustment returning to dorm life. At Little U., there were no graduate dorms, so everyone rented apartments. Here in Boston, the rent is much less budget-friendly, so the university has to provide other options. My friend has a single room in a group of three that share a bathroom and standard-size refrigerator (no common space, just a corridor connecting everything). A kitchen for the entire floor of residents is available down the hall (not sure exactly how many people use it, but there are about 500 students housed on five floors, some living in suites with private kitchens, if they can afford it, and some without).

I think the obstacles to cooking a proper meal are what have really stood out to me in the last few days. We've been making use of the kitchen as best we can, but because of the limited fridge space and storage for cooking utensils in the tiny rooms, it's not easy to eat cheaply without eating poorly (i.e., prepackaged stuff meant for the microwave rather than meals using fresh produce and actual pots and pans). We've found that stir-fries are a fairly economical, single-pan way to go without sacrificing our health -- my friend's diabetic so agreeing on a menu has been pretty easy. I have to admire her creativity in finding space for her cooking supplies:


The shelf is actually a shoe rack, and the drawers are empty clementine crates. Genius.

When we were true undergrads, we had access to a kitchen during our sophomore year but not a lot of funds to invest in cookware. So we bought an all-metal pot that doubled as a skillet and baking pan for many recipes. We remembered that this week while we were jury-rigging a lid for her current pot so we could boil water (a large plate works well). It's been useful to my research, unearthing such memories here, as my thesis will examine a part of my life in those first years away from home. I never expected this trip to provide this sort of "data" though -- I only intended to conduct interviews with some Boston-based contacts when I arranged to stay the week. The magic of serendipity, I guess.

Notes to transcribe, groceries to pick up. More news as soon as I can sort out more of my whirling thoughts.

Déjà blues

What a crazy week.

I'm in Boston, getting in fifteen minutes of decompression time at a Starbucks in a hotel I just checked out of. I arrived Tuesday evening, spent the next three days celebrating my sister's college graduation (more on that when I have time to write at greater length), and then had a day with D before he had to leave for Seattle again. Now, I'm officially on my own once more in the city where I spent my college years.

D visited infrequently during that time since airline tickets were especially difficult to pay for on a student budget -- we worked various jobs to make the cash for a visit every few months -- and I had a jarring moment of involuntary recall when I put him on the train to the airport just now. Can't help feeling some of the same sadness that used to haunt me after his departures so many years ago.

I know I'm going to see him again in a week, so this goodbye was much, much easier. I'm also about to meet up with some old college friends I haven't spent time with since graduation -- and move in with them while I'm doing my thesis research -- so I'll be perked up shortly. Amazing, though, how history catches up with you even when you think you've laid the not so great memories to rest.

One thing D and I never did get to do while we were in school was eat lobster. To commemorate our return to Boston, we decided to do just that last night. I'll leave you with a picture of the fantastic one-pounder I got to enjoy. I'm proud to say I got all the meat out of the shell.


More as soon as I find another free internet connection ...

Color me excited

Over the last few days, D and I have been working on the house, primarily getting the kitchen in order as that's where the most activity tends to happen while we're home. (As I'm typing this, I have a roasted red pepper sauce reducing on the stove for the next hour.) We cleared out the last of the kitchen items from our apartment and brought them back last night, so we're ready to fit my things in the remaining space once they arrive in a few weeks. And in probably four more car trips, we'll have the apartment totally empty.

The next project we're contemplating is painting our new place. The walls have seen some better days, and at the moment, every single room is the same color -- beige, as in the exact shade that comes in the Crayola box -- with the exception of the two extra bedrooms, which are Wal-Mart blue and Pepto-Bismol pink. Needless to say, we're eager to change this.

We found some neat websites that allow you to "paint" virtual spaces (generic images of kitchens, living rooms, bedrooms, bathrooms) with different colors so you can try out their effects. Basically, you just click and drag colors from a virtual palette -- nicely organized into reds, greens, yellows, etc., for easy reference -- into the scene provided. It's like a high-tech version of paint by numbers.

One program we tried even gives you the RGB values so you can reproduce the colors in any graphics program on a computer. So, armed with the numbers, I mocked up my own electronic paint chips to test around the house. The colors won't be identical to what comes out of the cans, but at least I can hold up my monitor against the comforter on our bed and say "Maybe?" -- or "Not even close."

What's a little baffling is how deceptive color is in small scale. What looks great painted on a virtual room -- covering the walls in their entirety, mind you, but limited to an image no more than 6" by 6" -- immediately looks overwhelming once you try to envision it in a full-size space. So I keep finding colors I think I love but then as soon as I test them out in human dimensions, I realize they're too intense. I think I've figured out a strategy, though: examine the color that looks good in miniature and then go to the section of the virtual palette categorized as "whites." The shades here are actually tinted (subtly) in hues that are like super-diluted versions of the colors from other parts of the palette. So far, I've been able to find the large-scale equivalents of what I've been testing online.

For the master bedroom:


The top row is what looked good in the virtual room. The bottom row contains options we might actually use. We have no headboard yet, so the only thing to worry about is the bed linens, which can be seen in the second picture from this post. Pretty?

And then for the kitchen and guest bedroom:


Again, the top row was good in miniature; the bottom row is what may work out in real life. I'm particularly leaning toward something close to the color at bottom right. The kitchen has warm woods for the cabinets, a slate tile floor with hints of green in it, and granite counters in a mainly flax color with veins of espresso, burgundy, and dark moss. The guest bedroom will have the red and gold comforter D's been using while I've been gone, which can be seen in this post.

Lastly, for the library, since it's a small room, we're thinking we'll be bold and try the green at the center of the top row in the palette above. Most of the furniture in that space will be white, and there will be throw pillows in mocha and pale pink.

The living room is proving to be more difficult to envision since its walls have the most square footage, transitioning into a stairway and two separate halls. D is also still deliberating on what color he wants for his office. More news as we narrow down our ideas! And certainly news when we actually get started painting. That won't happen for a while because of all our summer goings-on, but come September ...

Settling in, sort of

I know I said I was home, but that hasn't been completely true for the last few days.

My aunt got married over the weekend, so D and I flew down to San Jose for the festivities on Saturday. All four of Troubadour Mom's other siblings (two other sisters and two brothers) were there with spouses, which made for quite a family gathering -- haven't had such a reunion since Troubadour Grandma's 90th birthday back in 2006. As always, there was lots of catching up and not much sleep. Though the shut-eye I did manage to get was blissful, especially on the feather mattress that came with the giant log-frame bed at our hotel (see above).


The wedding itself was in Monterey, about a two-hour drive south of San Jose, at the Monterey Bay Aquarium. The bride and groom gave their vows under the sparkling bellies of anchovies swimming in an overhead tank. The effect was like having a disco ball throwing shimmery light everywhere (the photo doesn't capture it, but you can see the fish zooming around above the quote on the wall).

After the ceremony, guests were free to wander throughout the aquarium during dinner. Each room had at least one huge tank taking up an entire wall, which made for a gorgeous backdrop. D and I checked out the marvelous seahorse and jellyfish exhibits. Unfortunately, those really didn't photograph well close up in the dim lighting (we didn't bring the big camera with us that can handle those conditions), but here's a shot with some jellies behind the dessert table. They look like they want a share of the panna cotta, no?

We stayed an extra day to go wine tasting with the family here and here, among other places, and picked up a few bottles to put away for a special occasion. Now that we are almost completely moved into our new home, we can start thinking about a housewarming party! That may not happen until it's practically September, though. Next week, I'm heading to Boston for my sister's college graduation and some thesis research, then D's parents are visiting for two weeks at the end of June. After that, I'm going to Newfoundland for my cousin's wedding the second week of July, and D's brother may be visiting when I return. Finally, D has a conference in New Orleans at the beginning of August, and then my parents will be in town.

So yes, the summer is going to be busy and I have no idea where unpacking my boxes from Little U. will fit once those arrive in two weeks. First things first, though: getting some kind of start on my reading list. I've got a stack of items from the library to make my way through (convenient since I have a few cross-country flights coming up). I'll post some thoughts on each book as I finish it and add the titles to a list in the sidebar. Stay tuned for that as well as some revisions to this blog now that we're no longer a commuter couple -- but nothing drastic, don't worry.

It's official

... I'm home!

I got in very late last night after traveling for fifteen hours. Left Little U. shortly after 9 a.m. to drop the car off at D's parents' place in Illinois. Had a quick lunch with his mother, then headed to the airport for my 3:30 flight. That ended up being delayed an hour and a half, which made me a teeny bit nervous -- missing my connection would have meant not getting to Seattle until today, and I had a doctor's appointment scheduled this morning (more on that later) -- but I managed to reach Chicago with just enough time to get to the other plane. That was followed by a very long four hours (I got sandwiched between a screaming baby and a lady who snored through the ruckus!), during which I attempted the crossword puzzle in the in-flight magazine to distract myself. Not enormously successful, but given the circumstances, not a surprise. Needless to say, falling into D's open arms when he arrived at the airport was a very, very sweet end to the day. So was coming home to a house whose interiors are beginning to take on the shape of a proper nest. Pictures as we get things set up, I promise!

I haven't had a moment to do anything in that area as I had my second appointment with my endocrinologist this morning, and I'm now at the library since we don't have internet at home yet. The news from the doctor was good and bad -- I'm doing a great job of keeping track of my sugar levels and managing my diet and exercise as he's asked, but there are some new pieces of not-so-great information we received from my last round of tests he ordered in March. Remember that inconvenient little kidney stone incident that happened right before my spring break visit? Well, it turns out that my oxalate and phosphorus levels are off the charts (the former is over 270 units when it's supposed to be under 30 and the latter is over 2100 units when it's supposed to be under 1300). This is nothing to be alarmed about at the moment, but if we want to prevent more stones from forming, those levels must come down. Which means cutting back on tea, instant coffee, nuts, chocolate, and spinach.

D: "But those are staples for you!"

Yeeeeees ....

I can manage the cutting back on chocolate as I wasn't eating much of it to begin with, given the sugar that normally comes with it. But nuts? They're my fallback snack since they're so much lower in carbs than the usual munchies I can't have anymore. And spinach? Grrrr. I do love fresh spinach salads -- guess I'll be switching up my greens. Instant coffee, sigh. The fun flavored kinds were a replacement treat for hot chocolate when this prediabetes thing started up. Time to start brewing the real thing. This isn't exactly a bad change in terms of quality, but when I'm running off to class and need my caffeine quickly --

Oh wait, I won't be running off anywhere for the next year. Mm, okay, that's doable.

As for tea, well, an occasional cup, which is what I tend to drink, will be fine. But I hope that's it on the diet adjustments! Very glad I'm home for good and can get used to all of this in one place.

I'm going to pick up some reading for the next few weeks (all recommendations from professors) since we'll be doing more air travel soon. News on that front as well in the near future.

All packed up and nowhere to go

Yet, that is.

The movers just called to tell me they're on their way. I'm sitting on the sofa, looking out over the landscape of boxes that has emerged over the last two days. I don't quite feel that sense of limbo I had the last time when D and I moved, but I know I'll feel it once all my possessions are gone. It's comforting to be surrounded by familiar things, even if they're all packed up. Then again, maybe I'm just used to seeing everything in boxes because we've moved so many times in the last decade. Many of them were "storage" moves -- boxing things up for the summer to get them out of the college dorms -- then there was the first major move to New York when I started teaching, the move to Texas after D and I got engaged, the move to a new apartment in the same city when we got married, the move to Seattle, and the move to Little U.

Yikes, that's a lot of cardboard.

This time, we're hoping there will be at least five years before we have to break out the boxes and tape again. And the super scrub-down skills (we're mostly done with that at the new house, but there are some last things to take care of). Am itching to do the last cleaning here once everything is taken out so I can be on my way.

I took this picture on the drive with Troubadour Mom to Little U. Seems a fitting way to close my last post from the Midwest for a while -- enough chasing windmills!


And there's the moving truck ...

So, so, so close

You know how that last mile before you get to your destination seems like the longest sometimes?

Yes.

I've been on that mile all this week because of the 25-pager. But I turned it in last night and gave my last final this morning. The end is practically here!!!

Hmm, that was a bit apocalyptic. Sorry, wasn't what I was aiming for. Ahem.

I've graded half the exams (the ones from Tuesday), so just the ones from today are left. I'll do them tomorrow -- it's been quite a day and there's a farewell get-together at a fellow writer's place this evening that I intend to go to. Drinks and dinner, lots of talk, thoughts of summer and no more deadlines (for a little while).

I had my thesis prospectus meeting today -- an informal meeting of my committee of professors where we workshopped my proposal and laid out a plan for the next year of work. Though in my case it was more like throwing the plan out the window and just generating angles from which to approach my topic. It's a messy one, so the structure I tried to impose on it in my chapter outline was important but also premature. I'm not worried; I'm glad my professors are encouraging me to experiment and explore ways of telling the story. This was actually the second meeting we held as the first opened up so many ideas to talk about that we ran out of time. I'm still a bit amazed about that. At any rate, I have a juicy reading list for the summer (sources for inspiration the committee and I brainstormed together) and lots to think about.

After I get over this last hump, that is. Six days!

So, so close

The last papers are graded. The learning portfolios have been reviewed. Course evaluations have been handed out. All that's left to administer are final exams next Tuesday and Thursday, and then my obligations here are over for the year. Well, there's also that pesky little 25-page paper due Wednesday for my own class, but we're just not going to think about that for the moment. (Though after I finish this post, I'm going to buckle down and try to crank some text out.)

It's been a very packed week and then some since I last blogged. Besides the blitz-grading, I was in Seattle last weekend, celebrating our ten-year dating anniversary by cleaning the new house in preparation for the move -- very exciting! D insisted on carrying me over the threshold, which was a memorable way to enter our home for the first time after officially making it ours. (I made him promise not to throw me over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.) After we were married, he also carried me over the threshold of our first apartment, but this felt different. In a good way, of course.

In other exciting news, while I was gone, Ludwig started to bloom (see above). I think he'll finish just in time for me to return him to D's parents -- somehow, I don't think I'll be able to carry him on a plane, so they're going to take him back into their care. I can't wait to have potted plants again. My apartment at Little U. doesn't get enough light to support many, so I haven't purchased anything, though it's been tempting.

We've been thinking about things to plant in our garden, which borders our tiny patch of side yard (small enough that D can mow it with an old-fashioned human-powered lawn mower in about ten minutes if he's really trying to stretch out the experience). There are already several small shrubs and what looks like a Japanese maple rooted in. Our irises will be ready to transplant soon -- they're greening up very nicely now that the weather has turned warm -- and I have a packet of wildflower seeds that were sent to me as part of some promotional mailing. Random, but we'll take them!

D recently went to a tulip festival a few hours north of Seattle. I didn't think I was a fan of tulips as the ones I'd seen before always tended to get sloppy-looking very quickly after the first spring rain, but these are gorgeous:


We may just have to get some of these too:


D got a few panoramic shots of the fields while he was wandering around. The space restrictions here don't do them justice, but if you click on the photos, you can see the larger versions.



Twelve days. Yes. And more news soon(er), I promise. I have a feeling I'll need a few breaks to keep my academic writing brain from getting worn out.

The perfect storm

I knew I shouldn't have stayed up so late on Saturday.

I've been having trouble getting properly tired at my usual bedtime in the last ten days or so partly because of all the excitement about the next few weeks and also because my sugar's been screwy. I've been getting highs and lows, probably because of the increase in stress (good and bad), and that means conking out involuntarily in the middle of the day on the couch. Carb-induced naps mean not being sleepy when it's time to wind down at the end of the day.

Saturday was one of those evenings -- couldn't seem to shut off my brain, so I packed more stuff just to be productive (grading and writing weren't happening either). As a result, I got up a little later than usual on Sunday. Had breakfast, read the news online. My parents-in-law were planning to meet me for dinner, so I figured I'd try to get work done during the day. Took a stab at an introduction for my essay, didn't seem to be making headway, so I started cleaning up the living room of packing debris so the in-laws would be able to sit down. Figured I'd fit a workout in after lunch and then a shower before one last stint of grading while waiting for them to arrive.

Suddenly, I heard a light series of knocks on my apartment door. At first I thought I was imagining things, but it lasted too long to be someone accidentally bumping into the wall with a bag of groceries on the way up the stairs. I peered through the peephole, figuring it was some door-to-door solicitor -- and was appalled to find my mother-in-law on the other side.

There I was, still in pajamas, hair going in four different directions, face unwashed, bags of garbage sitting on the floor by my feet. Talk about getting caught at a bad time! Within a few sentences of awkward conversation, I figured out that when my mother-in-law says dinner, she means lunch. But only on Sundays. Oh, Midwestern semantics! Why, I ask, would she use such a designation when making time-sensitive arrangements with someone who clearly didn't grow up in a Midwestern family?

I don't think I've been quite that embarrassed in a long time. To make matters worse, my mother-in-law insisted that she'd been calling and calling but that I hadn't picked up my phone (which, on my end, had been perfectly silent all morning). Turns out that she had my old phone number in her cell -- which I had disconnected in 2005. She doesn't know how to program contacts, so one of D's brothers had put my old information in a long time ago, and she'd never changed it.

Once I got over my initial shock and counted to ten so I wouldn't say something I'd regret, I was able to invite her inside. My father-in-law appeared then (he'd been parking the car) and we quickly reconfigured our plans. They had intended to pick up their spare table and chairs, which I had been borrowing during my time at school, so they worked on fitting those things into their car while I took a very quick shower. Then we headed out for sushi and everything was fine.

Except I'm still rattled about the whole getting-caught-by-the-in-laws-in-pajamas-after-noon-in-the-midst-of-a-small-disaster-site thing. I know D's parents don't think I'm a bum, and I had absolutely valid reasons for putting off showering till later (cleaning, exercise), but damn it, I still feel all squirmy thinking about the experience.

To take my mind off all this, I'm going to post a picture of my workspace. I'm taking down the art and the bulletin board today and wrapping everything for safe shipment, so the little nook I've called my creative center for two years is going away. I guess in the last few months I haven't been doing much there -- I do better writing curled up on the couch, I've found -- but the pictures and cards I've put up are visible from there too, and they give me good things to think about. The next time I see them will be when D and I hang them in our new home, which is now officially ours; D got the keys last Thursday.

There, that's a much better thought. More on the house very, very soon -- we'll be starting the moving process from the Seattle apartment this weekend!

Inching along

Must stop looking at calendar. Must, must, must.

It is exactly 30 days until I leave, and now that I've started the business of getting ready to move, my brain won't stop thinking about it! Unfortunately, the boxes I packed this weekend aren't helping matters. They're stacked in the living room, all ready to go, just looking at me and asking "Is it time yet?" I swear, it's like they have puppy-dog eyes.

I did intend to start packing this early because (a) I need to figure out how many more boxes to order from the moving company since the ones I saved from the move here won't be enough and (b) I just received another 39 student papers last night that will be eating my time for the next week or so. Oh, also (c) I'm going to Seattle in two weeks, so I'll lose a weekend for packing there, and (d) I have a giant research paper due the week before the movers are scheduled to load. Never mind (e) the final exams I'll be grading during that same time period.

So I am completely justified in starting the process now, even if it's upping the anticipation to nearly unbearable levels.

So far, the only things I can pack are books I won't need immediate access to in the next two months -- and there are a ton of them, three bookcases full. Also binders of class notes and the contents of my filing cabinet. Total number of boxes so far: 6. I think I'm going to put the count in the sidebar just to have something to mark progress. Time, as you can tell, still isn't creeping any faster for me than when I last posted.

What is progressing at an amazing rate is my new pet plant from D's parents:


When we brought him home on Easter Sunday, his bud was still halfway concealed within the top of the bulb. Here we are a week later, and he's nearly three bud-lengths tall! How do I know he's a he, you're wondering? Well, he came with a name tag:


I know, I know, it's just some breeder's designation, but I think Ludwig is a great name for an amaryllis.

In other news, the people on Craigslist are driving me slightly nuts, inquiring about my furniture and telling me they want to buy something but ultimately flaking out. Don't say you're coming to check out an item and then change your mind without telling me! Just an e-mail that you're having second thoughts would be nice. As it is, I'm already preoccupied enough with scheduling without needing to think I have to make time for you to drop by only to have you turn incommunicado.

Must stop looking at calendar. Must, must, must.

Hauling it

A perk of being tied to your computer for a weekend of grading: you can sell your furniture while you're at it.

While D was here, we decided what we wanted to put on Craigslist so we wouldn't have to make room for it in our new place. There wasn't too much, but most of the items were bulky: a futon, a giant TV hutch, a desk, an ironing board. Monday morning, after I dropped him off at the airport -- for the last time! -- I took pictures of everything and wrote up some ads. By lunch, the e-mails started appearing.

The futon drew the most attention. That sold right away, and the buyer came over the same evening to pick it up. I was a little sad to see it go as it's the first piece of furniture I bought with my own money when I first moved to New York just under six years ago. But we are hoping to upgrade to a nice armchair or chaise, so it was time to part ways.

There's been some interest in the desk too, but it's still here. If it doesn't sell before I move, it's okay. What I do want to unload, though, is that TV hutch. We really won't have a place for it as the living room in our new house has a built-in alcove for electronics. Plan B, if that doesn't sell, is to take it to a local consignment store. It'll be quite a project to move it, but I have a friend with a trailer hitch. We just have to get the thing out the door.

Sigh. I'm antsy. So close to being able to start the moving process (packing, cleaning, etc.), but there's still too much living that has to take place in this apartment. D did wash all the windows (not an easy task since all the screens were installed backwards and had to be wrestled out!), but the interior scrub-down will obviously have to wait, especially in the kitchen. I guess I can tackle the oven this weekend and just not use it from here on out -- not difficult since I'm more of a soup and stew person when I'm cooking only for me. What else can I take care of? How about the half-bathroom? I'll just stop using that too ...

Can you tell that I really can't wait to get out of here?

Grading jail

Yes, that's where I must put myself this weekend now that last week's work crunch for my own classes is past. Sigh. Letting the grading go during that crunch was absolutely necessary, so I have no regrets per se, but these papers -- oh, these papers. I've been working really hard to teach my students how to formulate arguments and sustain them throughout an extended piece of writing, but it seems they need a great deal more practice. What I'm reading from them, even after an in-class workshop and mandatory revision, is not up to snuff yet.

Positive feedback is so important to provide while you're trying to help students see where they need to direct their attention. I do my best to point out at least one thing each student has done well when I make comments on papers -- I'm running a bit thin on enthusiasm at this point in the semester, though! Frequent breaks, frequent breaks; they're all that will sustain me now. I find that after about six mediocre papers (and this is putting it generously), I can't find positive things to say on the seventh.

Well, this break is over. And I'm off to get D from the airport, which will hopefully clear my head enough for another round of grading before bedtime.

Sleeting on my parade

I was so excited that D would be visiting this weekend.

It's his last trip to Little U. on the Prairie, so we were going to do some pre-move prep around the apartment and just enjoy a quiet few days together while I plowed through my small mountain of work. Cook a little, talk a little, curl up on the couch with a movie, whatever.

And then we found out that Sunday is Easter.

My family doesn't celebrate the holiday, but his does, and they're within driving distance. So this means we'll be getting up super early Sunday morning to make the trip for brunch at his parents' place and then we'll drive back in the afternoon. Don't get me wrong; D's folks are fine people, but April is a really stressful month on campus and I am not in the mood to share my much missed other half while I'm already having to put the needs of my students and my classwork above my own personal ones. Like getting enough sleep and doing things that are good for my mental health. So forgive me if I'm feeling a bit unenthusiastic about giving up part of what was supposed to be "just us" time?

Grrrr, I hate feeling selfish.

D and I have decided that it's okay for me to hole up, before the actual Easter meal, in a quiet place to work once we get to his parents' house, but it's still really frustrating to be unable to try to make the best of the situation by at least enjoying time with the people we're visiting. But staying on campus is equally if not more unappealing. Being left out, intentional or otherwise, feels sad -- hasn't changed since the earliest memories I have about preschool playground politics. So I'm going.

It'd just better not sleet anymore -- another wintry system moved through the area yesterday, and while we didn't get much ice at Little U., roads had to be closed in other parts of the state. What has happened to spring?

At least it seems to be making its way into Seattle. Troubadour Mom sent paperwhite bulbs to us that we planted over spring break. In two weeks, their stems have shot up quite quickly. They should be ready to bloom in a few more, with the exception of the odd flowers that have already opened:


We're not sure what other bulb got mixed in with the shipment, but there you go. We'll take whatever spring we can get! D reports that our irises are perking up in the warm weather too (they've been wintering on the balcony of our apartment), so stay tuned for updates on Ralph, Tessa, Carmen, and Lolita. Can't wait to plant them when we get to our new home ...

Have salt, will travel

Airports. Not the best places to sleep, but in terms of providing basic office services, they're not bad.

I got stranded in Dallas on Friday because of the blizzard that settled over the Texas panhandle, home of Troubadour Mom and Dad (Troubadour Mom had a birthday last week, so it was a nice reason to visit):

Image courtesy of weather.com

I expected flights to be canceled, given the numerous warnings the National Weather Service was putting out days in advance about whiteout conditions, so I packed a good chunk of work and enough cereal to cover me for two extra breakfasts (that's the one meal that's more difficult to get from airport vendors in a form that will fit my dietary restrictions).

Around the time I was finishing lunch, D called me to say our realtor needed my signature on the post-inspection repairs agreed to by the seller of our house -- preferably before the weekend. Hmm, what to do? I knew I could get to my e-mail for the documents, but where was I going to find a printer and a fax machine without being a member of any airline's elite travelers' club (with the private lounges and conference rooms for business executives on the go)?

Well, it turns out that the people who work at the information kiosks scattered around DFW's terminals have access to their own office technology. For free. They set me up with everything I needed, and within an hour of D's call, he had the forms in hand to add his own signature to.

I wish I could say the rest of my day was as productive. I nodded off more than I graded while sitting in the airport's low-slung faux-leather chairs -- I'd only had three hours of sleep on the previous night -- and by the time the last flight out was scrubbed, all I wanted was a good workout, some dinner, and a real bed. I got all of that at a hotel a few miles away after getting tickets for the next morning.

Saturday, 6 a.m.: first three flights of the day to Panhandle canceled. Grrrr.

Being slightly better rested, I plopped myself down by a plug in a wall (I've gotten pretty good at spotting these in airports since acquiring my laptop) and started editing my thesis prospectus -- it had been hanging over my head since before spring break, which is when I wrote the first draft. I also got to know the large herd of travelers also hoping to get to Panhandle. The first plane cleared to go was around 2 p.m., so we wandered in a pack thereafter, peeling off a few at a time whenever standby seats were available on flights to points northwest. I was eighteenth on the list, so I did quite a bit of wandering, but it allowed me to take breaks between editing sessions. We'd install ourselves at a gate, wait for it to board, and if we didn't get seats, we'd pack up and move on en masse to the gate for the next departure.

I finally landed in Panhandle shortly before 6 p.m., just in time for a belated birthday dinner. After cake (a sliver for me), I gave Mom the gift I'd been carrying with me for two days:


She loved it.

Just the fax, ma'am

I've decided that trying to buy a house while not physically in the city where it's located is a bit of a pain. The technical snafus D and I ran into this week while attempting to get signatures on various documents (in all kinds of file types, from all manner of faulty printers) are too numerous to list. But in the end, it will be worth it: say hello to our new front door.

Yes, our offer that we put in was accepted! D and I are still in shock -- we expected a lot more resistance from the seller, but within four hours of submitting our bid, our realtor called us back with the good news. I don't think I quite believed it until I saw the fax with the agreement on it. And even then ...

!!!

So we've gotten the initial disclosure forms from the seller as well as the inspection report (from which the photo above is excerpted) and are waiting to hear back about certain items for which we've requested repairs (hence the need to get signatures back to our realtor as the next stage of negotiations begins). The bones of the house are in good shape, so there's nothing serious on the list. If all goes well with closing, we'll be able to move in before my final visit at the beginning of May. Here's to finally having a place where we can put down some roots!

Now, back to prepping for tomorrow's classes (today's at this point). Yes, I'm still thoroughly distracted from all the excitement, but I have to at least try ...

Still percolating

Well, the owners of the house we placed a bid on weren't keen on negotiating even after our second offer. They didn't bother to call back, not even after their realtor spent a good two hours trying to reason with them (goes to show that our offer was indeed a decent one). Oh well. We know there were at least two other families considering bidding on the house if our bid wasn't accepted, but as of today, the place is still on the market with no new offers. We'll just let the owners sit for a bit -- we figure in a few weeks, if they don't get anything better (if at all), they may come back to us.

So this weekend, we went back out to look at MORE houses. And we've found another one we like that may end up being an even better deal, depending on how much we can talk the price down. So here we go for another round. D is e-mailing our realtor to get the paperwork in order as I'm writing.

Everything else in the whole house-buying process has gone well so far. D met with our intended loan officer on Wednesday and gave her all the required documents for review. Sounds like we're in good shape there. Whether it's because of our credit scores or the influences described in this article, which coincidentally appeared in my newsfeed that same day, we won't know. But we're happy either way.

Negotiations

A lot has happened in the last week.

When I landed in Seattle on Friday, I didn't have much planned -- just a lunch date with D and then an afternoon of grading before officially starting spring break. Then I checked my e-mail and discovered that the house at the top of our list of places to watch had dropped its price by a tidy sum.

D and I were intending to put together an offer for the No. 2 house on our list (in terms of size, it didn't look like it would last us as long, but the price was better in comparison before the change on the other house). We weren't quite ready to make a decision on lenders at the end of my last visit, but D's done a lot of research since then and we had our choices narrowed down. So when the price drop came through, we decided to act on that house right away -- we figured we probably weren't the only ones watching and waiting.

We spent the weekend getting all our paperwork in order and put in a bid on Sunday. As we predicted, a competing offer was submitted Monday morning by someone else, so D and I did some thinking and decided we'd give the owners a price cap in the looming bidding war and then wait out the rest of the day (our deadline for a response was 9 p.m. our time). About ten minutes before our offer was to expire, we got a call from our realtor, who told us that the other offer had been withdrawn and that the owners had a counteroffer for us.

It turns out the owners were only willing to budge a tiny amount -- so we decided this morning to make an offer -- a final one -- at the value of our price cap in the bidding war that never happened. We've done our homework and know it's a reasonable price. So we shall see what happens next.

(Yes, I'm deliberately keeping this post as neutral as possible until we have more information. There's all kinds of back story that can't be posted until this is over.)

On a subject I can safely emote on, we took care of a Quaker parakeet named Sammy this weekend for a friend of D's who had to be out of town, and now I'm smitten. I know I said I wanted a kitty, but this bird leaves me seriously torn about what kind of pet to get.

I think what was so appealing about Sammy was his curiosity and his response to our attention. We really had to work to earn his trust, but that was what made the (brief) relationship we cultivated with him so rewarding. He was pretty nippy at first (chomping hard enough to break the skin), but we understood that he was in an unfamiliar environment and felt leery of us. So we worked on him with pieces of celery offered through the bars of his cage until he calmed down. Eventually, he was willing to climb onto D's arm without drawing blood. He still tried to bite anything that moved suddenly (sometimes our hands, trying to brush his beak away from our necks, which he liked to nip), but he got comfortable enough with us that he would perch on our shoulders and chirp back to us when we whistled and offered him treats.

Sammy's owner lets him loose at home most of the time, so as he grew to trust us, we started taking him out of his cage more and more, which he liked. We figured out that TV excited him -- he started shrieking at the people talking on the screen and darted back and forth on D's arms and shoulders (pausing only briefly to groom D, which included yanking out some of D's chin stubble!). The real breakthrough, though, was when we turned on some music. D had noticed before that Sammy got talkative listening to the dishwasher at his owner's apartment, which has a rhythmic thump to it when the arm spins. So we found an internet radio station that plays techno/dance and turned up the speakers. Immediately, Sammy started chattering away, spouting random phrases including "Good boy," "Pretty birdie," and "Here, kitty kitty kitty"(!).

It was great fun watching D interact with Sammy -- D had an African grey parrot and a Nanday conure when he was a kid, so I imagine this weekend brought back good memories for him. We spent part of Saturday evening giving Sammy some playtime, and I managed to get some pictures. Here are the ones that actually remained in focus.

Every kidney has a silver lining?*

So after dinner Thursday, just as I was posting my previous entry, I noticed that my back was hurting -- odd because I've never had back problems, and I've never known blogging to be a strenuous activity involving large muscle groups, etc. "Hmm," I said to myself. "Perhaps this is some weird kind of indigestion?" I curled up on the couch to see if it would help, but no dice. Ditto my attempts to massage whatever sinews seemed to be knotting up somewhere to the right of my spine.

Almost Dr. Sis (the one in med school) happened to call at that moment. At this point, I was fairly uncomfortable but not sure if I was overreacting to some silly back spasms. "What do you think this is?" I asked her.

"Well, it could be your pancreas, at which point, that's a surgical emergency," she said. "If it gets worse, go to the ER."

Oh. Okay.

Ten minutes later, I was in enough pain to make it difficult to move in any fashion, so I called up a friend, who drove me directly to the hospital. Good thing we went when we did, as there was a sudden influx of walk-ins after I was admitted. As it was, I waited an hour to be treated, and by the time the doctor got to me, I was in tears.

Fortunately, the diagnosis was pretty straightforward: "You have a kidney stone," the doctor said, after a quick trip to the CT scanner (aided by some truly wonderful IV drugs that took all the pain away). No surgery needed either, thank goodness. I was sent home with a prescription for more painkillers, advice to drink tons of fluids, and orders to follow up with my regular doctor in a few days.

So the weekend was less productive than I'd hoped it would be -- even though I was only technically in pain for not quite three hours Thursday night, I was completely exhausted on Friday and didn't really feel back to normal until Monday. My stack of student papers, to be graded by Thursday, is still much larger than it should be. And my birthday, which fell within those recovery days, slipped by rather quietly. (I did get lovely phone calls from my family, but because I didn't want to worry my parents, who were traveling, and my other sister, who was dealing with a nasty paper herself, I didn't mention the ER visit.)

There is a VERY positive side to this: on Friday of this week, I leave for Seattle again. Imagine if that kidney stone had chosen to wreak havoc while I was 30,000 feet over Montana. There would have been no option but to divert the plane to get me to a hospital (you can't confirm the presence of kidney stones without a scan, and there are too many other scary things that could be wrong if you leave the diagnosis at a guess, even if you can administer painkillers to treat the symptoms). So I'm okay with the way things turned out. Relieved, in fact (no pun intended).

I'll leave you with a picture, courtesy of Almost Dr. Sis, who created this diagram of how a nephron works when she was studying for her board exams last year (click on it for a close-up). Truly amazing what these tiny things do and how a small imbalance in their regulation can cause so much distress.


*Credit goes to Almost Dr. Sis for the title too. That was her response after I told her how the Thursday night (mis)adventure turned out.

To whom it may concern

It has been discovered that a small brown kitten with cream-colored mitts hopped into my luggage in Seattle and is now making himself at home at Little U. on the Prairie. He says to his owner:

"She promised me a dish of cream and more fish than I could shake a stick at. I couldn't say no."

In truth, I did no such thing, but this little guy just wants to help me wish D a very happy birthday. Which is why I borrowed him -- he normally naps in D's home office near the paper shredder. I found him just under ten years ago and gave him to D when we first started doing the long-distance thing (for dating, not marriage). Why? Because he goes by the name of Pounce (each Beanie Baby comes with a handle, printed inside the tag), which is also the name of a card game D taught me -- it became a favorite between us before we'd even considered a long-term relationship.

So, D, I promise you'll get him back when I come home for spring break. One week to go! Oh, and Pounce says he wants to hit a sushi bar for his pains but I think we can convince him that a home-cooked bouillabaisse would be just as tasty ...

Getting closer

... to having one of these!

I'm sure you're asking, "Hey, weren't you looking for a house?" and yes, we still are. Today, we checked out several of the ones D and I screened from the list he saw two weeks ago (remember the Valentine's Day viewing marathon?). And we have prospects. Real, honest-to-goodness potential places with price points we're willing to consider, with some negotiation.

The next month could be very, very interesting.

But what about the kitty? Well, we promised ourselves that when we finally got a house, we would get a cat, and now that we may actually have a home in our near future, I can almost feel its little paws kneading my lap. In fact, we're hoping to adopt two cats at the same time so they'll have companionship when we're not home (which will certainly be the case for a good part of the day since D and I hope for both of us to have jobs after I finish this degree).

So the details. Without giving actual identifying information away, of course:

The first place we saw today was one D really liked because of the detailing in the molding (baseboards, crown, bordering the doors and windows, etc.). Most of the places that were built in this area lack molding in some if not all of these spots. So D was quite taken with the quality of the construction and the materials used. I agreed that it was nicely done, but the kitchen had some problems -- a glass-topped electric stove (troublesome for cooking because the heat isn't well maintained) with poor ventilation and no way to install a fume hood without going through some serious renovations. The family room also needed a built-in bookcase to be knocked out in order for us to be able to put our couches and TV in a formation that makes sense (not blocking main pathways, doors, etc.). The master suite was fine, as were the numerous other bedrooms, but overall, the layout didn't feel right to me. "This isn't home," I said as we headed to our next location.

The second place had fewer bedrooms (one less) but had a lovely kitchen. The master bathroom needed to have its carpet replaced by tile, which also led us to think about other improvements we might prefer in that space -- redoing the shower, perhaps. The entire home smelled a bit diapery too, but that's because the family living there has two very young children not yet toilet-trained. I imagine that'll go away (not like pet odors). All in all, a nice space laid out in a way that flowed well. Even the office attached to the master bedroom didn't seem odd (even though it sounds a little unusual). The space is separated by French doors that we can put curtains over -- it could become a nice library nook, I think.

The third place is kind of fuzzy to me, which is not the best sign -- if you can't picture yourself in the space, it's probably not "home" either. This one is located on a nice cul-de-sac where our kids would eventually be able to play, and the back of the house opens onto an enclosed yard as well. Good kitchen, decent master bedroom, despite some slightly odd window placement. What feels weird in the layout, though, is the living room and family room. They're side by side, with a large picture hole cut into the wall between them. This means there's an openness to the space (good) but the areas are in some ways required to coordinate visually (limiting). I kind of imagine my living room being more formal than the family room, so to solve this problem, I'd probably just use the family room for sitting and turn the living room into a library (line the area with bookshelves and maybe one smaller sofa?). Blocking up the hole would make the two spaces feel tight, so that's not really an ideal fix. Anyway, because of this, it feels like I'm trying to force my lifestyle to fit the home, which is not what I want.

The fourth place is a townhome. It is new construction, and the floor plan makes incredibly good use of space. But I'm having a hard time picturing children in it. The main floor is great for entertaining -- the kitchen is open to the living and dining areas, which are fluid. But where would kids be able to play while D and I are cooking? Not feasibly around the good furniture. There is a small office on the main floor behind the kitchen, which could be used as a playroom, but it's small, and I imagine it would be confining for any active kid. There's a bedroom in the basement of the townhome that could be used, but again, it's not where kids can be supervised when they're young. There's no good place for them to play outdoors either as the community will have traffic going in and out of it (no lawns or yards adjacent to the property). So, as I said to D, the place is a phenomenal retreat for us, but it would delay when I'd want to have children. I'd want to put it off until we were ready to buy our next house.

The fifth place we saw is also new construction, but it's priced higher than the range we'd been looking in -- D just likes the builder. The home we're considering there is larger than anything else we've looked at, so the price is justified, but we'll still have to see how much it can be talked down. The house's layout is also a bit busy -- living, kitchen, and dining open to each other in ways that are a little disorienting as you're walking through the space. As D put it after we left, "You need to feel grounded wherever you are in the house." We both certainly had moments of "What space am I occupying and where should I be going next?" as we were touring.

The last place under consideration isn't one we saw today. It's in a great neighborhood but is a bit smaller than the other places we've been looking at. We'd have to buy some sort of butcher block to add counter space to the kitchen. Other than that, no real complaints. This home has been on the market for a very long time now, though, which makes us wonder if there's something we don't know about it.

Our next step is to meet with our realtor when I come back for spring break and come up with our strategy for putting in bids. I think we'll pursue House No. 2, then Nos. 6, 3 and 5 (in that order). In the meantime, we need to get a loan preapproval letter, which D is shopping around for. I'm in disbelief that we may actually have a home before I come back from Little U. on the Prairie. What a dream that would be! Oh, let the housing gods be with us.

Time for dinner now. D is trying a new recipe for chicken stew, and he insisted that I should blog so he could do the cooking as a treat. Whatever's on the stove smells delicious ...