Smug Marrieds: Bidding Wars

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This house-hunting process is not for the weak of heart.

To wit, Blair and I found this amazing home in Greensboro, way beyond our price range. But the online photos were so stunning I begged Blair to let us go and and just look at it. Which we did. And of course, we loved it. But we told our realtor it was just too expensive and we comforted ourselves with the fact that even if we could afford it, it really was just too much house for two people. 

The selling agent called our realtor and our realtor indicated our price range -- a good $60k below what they were asking--and the agent said, "They need to sell. Make an offer." 

New ballgame. Now that I knew I had a shot at it, I wanted this house. Forget too much space--did you see the ginormous screened-in patio? The gourmet kitchen? The front AND back staircases? Mine, mine, mine! 

We made an offer.

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Smug Marrieds: What's In The Box?

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He got me again.

When I arrived home today, there was a huge cardboard box leaning agains the front door, addressed to one Mr. Blair Harris. 

"Whadcha order? " I asked when he got home. 

"Oh man, yes!" he said. "I've been waiting for these to come in. New D&D figurines." 

"Are you serious?" I asked. "We're trying to sell the house, you know."

"I know!" he said. "I better get these guys set out pronto!" 

He disappeared upstairs with the box and a few minutes later I heard him cursing. 

"Damn it," he said, coming downstairs, carrying the opened box.  "This isn't what I ordered." 

"Aw, did they send you a Yoda figurehead by mistake?" There may have been a smidge of derision in my tone.

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A New Home & Savoring Life

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If any of you follow me on Facebook, meet me in person, or perhaps saw the plane I hired to write the words across the sky, you know Blair and I are moving to Greensboro. 

I am beyond excited. We've spent the last couple of weeks house hunting and yesterday went back for second looks at several homes. One in particular captured our hearts. And our imaginations. I don't know exactly when I decided I was a gourmet chef who needed a kitchen to reflect my culinary expertise, but the home we ended up making an offer on has a kitchen that's to die for. I shall feel most Julia Child like as I scramble eggs and heat up soup.

So yes, we made an offer on a home and now the nail biting begins. Will they accept? Will they counter? How much are we willing to move? How much are they? 

As I'm forward thinking on the new home, I find myself with a new appreciation for the home I'm leaving. A friend forwarded me a Zen Habits post on savoring life and it's resonated with me in terms of appreciating the time we have left in our current home. It's like I'm seeing our home again through new eyes. I'm reminded how much I love my kitchen with the skylight, the heated floor in the master bath, the fireplace in the workout room, the orange hall I spent a weekend painting when Blair was out of town. I'll miss the coal-burning fireplaces, the creaky boards and the big front porch.

I'm still ready to go, but the upside is that I'm truly enjoying the time I have left in our home. 

Keep your eyes peeled to the sky for updates on whether the offer goes through. 

Cheers,

Dena 

Going Home

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This weekend I drove to Ohio for my aunt's funeral. While it was a sad occasion, I was happy to reconnect with extended family, some of whom I hadn't seen in almost 20 years. 

Since much of my family remains in Dayton and my best friend lives in Cincinnati, I usually drive to Ohio several times a year. And every time I cross the bridge that brings me into Ohio, the one with the great big "Ohio Welcomes You" greeting, I exhale a sigh of relief. I'm home. 

It's interesting. I've lived in North Carolina for 21 years and it's still not home. The people are still a mystery to me, as are some of the sayings, habits and customs. I enjoy returning to Ohio simply because I understand the people and the land with a depth that I'll never achieve in NC, no matter how long I live here.

Driving past farmhouses or brick ranches in tree-lined neighborhoods, I know exactly what the decor looks like inside. I know they keep the Joy kitchen soap underneath the sink with an extra scrubby and that they spare key to the front door is underneath the loose brick in the front flower garden. I know how they wear their hair, where they buy their clothes, what they think is funny and just how far you can go discussing religion or politics. I know the linen closet is most likely a mess and that cans of Campbell's tomato, chicken noodle, and mushroom soup will be in every kitchen, as well as a box of Lipton soup mix which can be transformed into a killer salad dressing. 

I know the importance of high school football, homecoming dances and staying up-to-date on the oil changes and tire rotation for your car. Everyone has chains for their tires in their garage in case of a deep snow and the yard will be mowed by 11 a.m. every Saturday morning without question, thank you very much. 

Catholic is the dominant religion and everyone goes to their festivals whether you're Catholic or not. Casseroles are king and Jello molds with suspended fruit are perfectly acceptable to bring as your offering to a neighborhood picnic. 

I'm always happy to return to North Carolina, but I was thinking on this drive back that still in my mind, North Carolina is where I live. Ohio is home. 

And it's always good to go home. 

Cheers,

Dena