House: A Love Story

At least once a day I stop what I'm doing and look around in awe.
It's been almost 2 months and I still can't believe this house is ours.
We know it doesn't look like much from the pictures. We, ourselves, didn't hold out much hope for it when we added it to our list of houses to see. It looked dated, and unimpressive.



We were moderately impressed with the front entrance. It feels large, like the entrance to a castle, or a house of much more prestige than this one.



With every room we got more excited. The dining room with it's built in oak hutch.



The living room with the vaulted ceiling, exposed beams and...best of all...floor to ceiling windows.



The bathroom - with the double vanity. The first night we were in the house I was so excited to be living in a house where you couldn't open the door while sitting on the toilet. It's the little things...really.



The fireplace was like icing on the cake. The brick wall looks so much prettier in person. It was the biggest surprise, how much we loved it. (We bought the TV the night before we closed on the house. Hub knew he wouldn't survive one day in the new house without his much coveted LCD Television).



By the time we reached the bar, we were practically jumping up and down with excitement. We just knew. I wasn't sure we'd know - but we knew. It was like falling in love. I felt sick to my stomach, I was on pins and needles during the whole negotiation process. I was afraid to hope and I learned quickly the benefits of having a good realtor. We couldn't have done this without him. We couldn't have afforded it without him. I can't imagine having to go through this whole process with someone I didn't trust to be honest with us or someone I wasn't comfortable being honest with.

We closed on April 24th.

That time -- the events of the weeks leading up to then -- is another story in and of itself. It was a long, hard road...getting to this house. Which just makes it that much sweeter, these moments when I take a break, look around, and think about how lucky I am. How blessed we are to be able to call this home. Furniture will arrive here on Saturday (yes, we've lived 2 months without it. We have a computer chair and a glider rocker -- functional, but not homey). That should be the last piece of the puzzle and it will be officially home.

The pictures don't do it justice.
There are no words for this feeling. This ending to all the blood sweat and tears of the last year. Sometimes...it really is worth it.

Pam-Palooza 2009

Pam and I met in my glory days of blogging. This was back when I was Rosie the Riveter and everything I said was sassy and hilarious. I don’t remember what originally made Pam comment, but I do remember being extremely excited that somebody commented and that I immediately liked her because she liked me. Then I checked out Pam’s blog and realized that I was way out of my league with this one. Pam was funnier and sassier than me, and that just made me like her even more.

That was…six (?!) years ago? Before I met Hub and lost my edge. Pam and I stayed friends through my (many) blogging hiatuses and through my relationship and eventual marriage (which not all my friendships survived) and in all that time, we’d never met.

UNTIL NOW….

In a move that once again proves that she is sassier and funnier and braver and all around cooler than I am – Pam hopped on a plane and flew out to Minnesota for the weekend. We met her in Minneapolis where we spent the long weekend she was here showing her the sites. I had spent the entire week before dealing with my social anxiety issues which took the shape of “I don’t feel pretty enough for this.” I am not sure where that came from other than that the bulk of my internet meeting experiences has been in the form of dating and so that’s automatically where my head went. Over the course of that week my brain spent equal amounts of time screaming “Pam doesn’t care if you’re pretty!” and then tearing my closet apart to find things that were "pretty enough". Good Lord. I’m not sure about this social anxiety – but I think it’s getting worse.

In any case – it was all for naught when we met Pam at the hotel in Bloomington and fell right into the pattern of friendship we’d established over the last six years (or so). Pam’s not scary!

In truth, Pam was the best kind of guest. I always feel a little apologetic when people come to visit me in Minnesota because there aren’t heaps and heaps of things to see. We have the Mall of America, of course – but outside of that, there’s not much here that you can’t see anywhere else. At least not in the summer – and I am thinking that Minnesota is somewhere towards the bottom of people’s favorite travel destinations once the snow starts flying. In any case, Pam was so easy! We did the Mall of America – of course – and this allowed Pam to pose with a giant shrimp:

Because why not?

Spongebob & Patrick:

She's just ridiculously cute.

Wherein Spongebob, that rascal, went for the ass grab:

Mind your children!

And live the magic of the Flume ride --- Twice.

Oh! Hi Random Wheelchair lady!

Unfortunately, my photography skills leave much to be desired and the best shots I got were of Pam’s arm, and a shot that looks like Pam’s face is melting.

Though you can't tell, Hub is smiling like he's posing for a Glamour Shots session.

Upon returning from the Mall of America, Hub and I finally got to meet Tim! He came down to show us his new threads, and I found him utterly irresistible. I’m sure he’s used to that…

I might be blushing here. It's TIM!

That night we made our greatest discovery – maybe ever. Pam wanted karaoke and we weren’t really sure about the karaoke scene in Minneapolis, but we’d read some good reviews about the Vegas Lounge – and they had karaoke on Saturday nights – so we decided to give it a shot. It did NOT disappoint. As a long time fan of Pam’s Bar Tuesday stories, this felt like I was actually experiencing one. The bar was a total dive – which is exactly what we were looking for. We were too late for the Meat Raffle (which is sad, because I was inexplicably excited about the idea of winning some meat) but we were right on time for the 2 for 1 beers and after a few of those, we worked up the courage to get up there and sing.



We SANG!

I still can’t believe we sang.

Pam is an old pro at this stuff and she practically blew us out of the water. After listening to her crazy awesome rendition of “Kiss Me Deadly” – Hub and I looked at each other with wide eyes -- and chugged another beer. It took a few people who were less good than Pam before we finally got up there. I’m so happy I finally got to hear that voice in person though – she’s like a legend to me!

Legendary.

Hub surprised me with his fantastic take on Weezer. I sang “Son of a Preacher Man” and “I’m the Only One” by Melissa Etheridge. Word on the street is that it was good, but I was pretty tipsy by the time I tackled that Melissa Etheridge song and am afraid that my voice started giving out in the end – right before I devolved into a fit of giggles. I was trying to be professional, like Pam. FAIL!

Then – something incredible happened.

Somebody sang Wilson Philips.

Apparently people are still singing Wilson Philips at karaoke bars. This was news to me, but rest assured I was OVER THE MOON about it. I think it’s safe to say that Pam was too. Here – we do our interpretive chair dance to “Hold On”:



This one is going to be our album cover.

Oh, Vegas Lounge. So much love.

On Sunday we took Pam to one of our favorite Minneapolis eateries – Hell’s Kitchen. This was the first time we’d been there for Sunday brunch, and we got front row seating for the Gospel Choir. We all enjoyed this, although Pam was particularly fond of the middle aged soccer dad shaking his groove thing to some soulful songs about Jesus.

After Hell’s Kitchen we met up with Tim’s BFF Nate and his parents at the Sculpture park in Minneapolis. Hub and I had never been there before, so we tagged along and took the appropriate pictures:



It's required.

After the Sculpture Garden I took Pam to one of my favorite places in the whole world.

Target.

OH TARGET, My love for thee knows no bounds.

This is how I know that Pam and I were meant to be friends. She was just as excited about this Target as I was the first time I saw it. It’s a two story store in downtown Minneapolis with a specially escalator for the carts. The first time I discovered it, I almost wet myself. So, clearly, I was more than happy to share this treasure with a fellow Target enthusiast.

We wrapped up the weekend with dinner at Tony Roma’s (not to be confused with Tony RomO’s) and then dips in the pool and hot tub while catching up on some good old girl talk. Hub, I think, was born with extra patience for girl talk because he never gets grumpy about being left out of the conversation and he never tries to butt in and make it about him. I guess that’s why I married him.

In all – it was so fantastic! Rarely has entertaining been this easy. Pam was so awesome! I miss Pam! Which means that there will need to be a trip out east soon, so we can participate in the REAL Bar Tuesday event, and have more Pam & Shelly (and Todd) adventures. Stay tuned…

hooligans!

Coming Soon...

Darkness & Light: Where the Hell Have I Been?

Stay tuned as I prepare to unleash the last 8 weeks of my life on the unsuspecting internets. A tale of death! A tale of life! A tale of major life changes and random life crises. Read as I recount the “longest week” and follow (or precede) that with a happy tale of a girl who runs off to the city to meet her new old friend for a weekend of adventure and karaoke. All of this coming soon to this tragically neglected place for words.

This is Gonna Hurt Like Hell...

It was absolutely not my intention to disappear for 6 weeks and then come back all sad and depressing.

There is so much going on right now.

We sold our house!
We're buying a new house!
We close in 2 weeks!
We are furniture shopping!

Everything is happening so fast - it's making my head spin.

And - I do mean everything.

Two weeks ago my grandpa fell in the bathroom - he hit his head pretty hard. His face is all bruised and he hasn't been the same since. It was like that one fall - not his first - flipped a switch that resulted in everything falling to pieces. He's more unsteady than ever, he gets confused more easily, he doesn't eat much, and he sleeps a lot. We knew this was coming - it's been coming for five years. We just didn't know that when it happened, it would happen so fast.

We've been spending extra time with him, and he seems to have been rallying. I was there on Thursday afternoon, he sat up and talked to me and was totally lucid and his sense of humor was well in tact. We talked about our new house, about where my new office is located. He told me that even if nobody else misses me stopping by their house after work every day - he does. He said he thought that he was going to die the night before, but that he felt better.

Last night his doctor made an unprecedented housecall - my grandpa is too weak to get out of the house at this point. The doctor told him - and us, his family - that he has about a week left to live. A blister on his knee - from when he fell - popped, and became infected. The infection is rapidly spreading down his leg. His heart is functioning at 15%, and his kidneys are failing. The choice he has now is essentially whether he wants to die in the hospital or die at home. He chose to die at home - so hospice will come in on Monday to keep him comfortable, but we expect a rapid downhill slide from here.

It's hard to believe.

I spent some time over there this morning. He held my 9 month old nephew and spent the better part of 2.5 hours marveling at his every expression, every coo. His mind is still so sharp, his sense of humor still so spot on. We talked and laughed and aside from the physical evidence of his condition, you'd never guess that anything was wrong with him. He's so full of life.

How does that disappear in the span of seven days?

I'm holding up.
I'm sad.
I'm not surprised, but that doesn't stop the ache in my heart or the tears that spring to my eyes unexpectedly, and that kept me awake on and off throughout the night last night.

Life goes on.
It feels so strange to recognize that, to be a part of that. We sit here waiting with baited breath and heavy hearts - but even in our waiting life is moving forward. We will celebrate Easter together tomorrow. We will go back to work on Monday.

We will cherish every moment.
We will hurt - so so much - saying goodbye.

It is going to be a long week...

These Days

Facebook is weird.

It's weird because a guy I knew when I was 8 years old remembers me and became my friend.

It's weird because my best friend in 6th grade wants to swap stories about how crazy our old Catholic school uniforms were.

It's weird because people I never spoke more than 6 words to in the four years we were shoved in the same 87 person classroom together can now be found commenting on the daily minutia of my life.

It's weird because the people I work with are treated to an insiders perspective of my personal life.

And now - it's weird because he friended me. You know. Him.

I'm okay with all of these things. I love Facebook and all the weird scenarios it creates for me on a daily basis. I embrace every awkward second of it.

But, you know, this thing with him, it's just almost a little bit too much. The way he threw out the friend request and then never said a word to me after I accepted it. Don't get me wrong, I do that all the time. I understand that most of the time Facebook is less about striking up conversations than it is about spying. I embrace this fact and, most of the time, revel in it. There are few things I love more than spying on people. My inner voyeur thinks that Facebook is the best thing that ever happened to this planet. I just...feel like I deserve more than that from him.

I even sucked up my pride and inhibitions and with shakey fingers spent 15 minutes coming up with a wall post that didn't seem too friendly but also didn't seem too cold and somehow tentatively acknowleded that he took a big step by sending the friend request so I was willing to take the next step in opening up the communication. All of those things shoved together into a wall post looked something like this "Hi, you. Congratulations on your baby. I hope you are well."

It seems the only words that convey all the things I wanted to convey are cheap and generic.

So - I'm not sure how I feel about this. I had said that while I was open to rekindling this friendship, I wasn't really sure where he would fit into my life anymore. The role I used to have for him is now taken by someone else and I'm just not sure what good we could possibly bring to each other anymore. That said, I do feel that since he opened this door, he owes me an acknowledgement that this is not the same thing as friending some random chick that you knew when you were 8 years old, or the girl from high school who you never gave a second thought to, but who did survive to graduation with you thus linking you forever in some crazy, fringe-y kind of way. I feel like I need all the water under this particular bridge to be recognized, and maybe some sort of salve to be put on all the old wounds that are mostly healed over, but throb nonetheless with the access I've now been granted into his life.

Life doesn't stop being interesting, and I'm fascinated by how happy I can be with the way my life wound up turning out, but still so affected by these blasts from my past.

These Dreams

Last night I had a dream that I was propositioned – repeatedly – by Brad Pitt.

Instead of say – throwing myself on him with a guttural cry of thanks aimed toward the heavens, or getting naked as quickly as I could before I figured out it was a dream, I…well…I questioned his motives.

“Are you just doing this to make Jennifer Aniston jealous?”

What?
I honestly don’t know. What I do know is that that Brad Pitt guy was persistant. Dayum.

**In my defense, I haven’t found Brad Pitt particularly sexy in several years now. I could probably time it back to when he jumped up on his high horse and began his life looking down on the rest of the world from his jewel encrusted soapbox. I assume that had the star of this dream been someone like Seth Rogen or Zachary Levi, there would have been a lot less time spent resisting and a lot more time spent disrobing.

Be Mine

Valentine's Day was spent thusly:

Early morning casino run. I won $200.

Phone call from Sister to whom I relinquished control of scouting for best available Keith Urban tickets. This was no easy feat. Somehow I have turned into some kind of a person with control issues. I left my sister a lengthy note regarding where she should look for tickets and information on how to log into my ticketmaster account. Mothers have left less instructions for first time babysitters than I left my sister on this matter. My sister scored 11th row floor tickets to his May 14th show in St. Paul. My control issues have been beaten into a corner.

Pizza - at home - which is tradition.

Movie about the bloodiest war in American history.

Movie about something more romantic than Iwo Jima.

Two intense Facebook scrabble matches wherein Hub and I sat 2 feet from each other on separate computers. Hub outfoxed me in the first game he innocently titled "Battle Royale." I crudely named the second game something too unladylike to mention (as I hit publish I was like "OMG - can the rest of facebook see this?". In any case, I won. We are now tied.

10 p.m. bedtime.

Hub and I have a deal about Valentine's which is to not celebrate it in any kind of warm fuzzy way (with an addendum that if it falls during the work week, he is allowed to have something delivered to me at work so that I can be just as smug as everyone else. I prefer no flowers, but sometimes it is flowers. In the past, he has hand delivered bottles of diet green tea and gas station brownies or bags of Reese's peanut butter cups. His options are limited as I hate almost everything marketed specifically for Valentine's Day, and frown upon spending inflated amounts of money on flowers that will die 30 seconds after they land on my desk). Hub sort of lucked out that my birthday falls almost immediately after Valentine's Day and so I'm willing to let this pretend holiday slide in favor of big, bombastic things on or around or in celebration of my birthday.

Things are looking up...

Two weeks til closing on the house. The buyers moved in on Friday after a brief walkthru in which they found everyhing acceptable - including the crappy shovel and broken stereo equipment Hub left in the garage, I guess. So...treading lightly and keeping my fingers crossed for two more weeks at which time the enormous sigh of relief is likely to knock me off my feet.