I can't believe I'm admitting this

Sometimes, at work, I'd rather "hold it" than enter a bathroom in need of a new toilet paper roll. Why is that?

On the flip side, I can't change a roll fast enough when it's been installed backwards.

As I age, I truly become more neurotic. My middle years are sure going to be interesting.

You measured twice, right?

We bought the house with all appropriate appliances provided. We neglected to ask for the fridge sans duct tape. The thing is a piece of crap. So when we were in Muskegon picking up my piano (yea!), we shopped the local clearance center and got a "steal" on a refurbed side-by-side.

We got it home, took off the door to the house, took off the doors to the fridge, and the stupid thing is exactly 3/4" too wide for the space.

Dad and Keith decided just to saw the counter off 3/4". They started the cut and then looked up.

If only it weren't for those pesky cupboards...

Anyone in the market for a great side-by-side? I can offer you a real steal.

We're In

The move this weekend went well. We had oodles of macho help and stayed ahead of schedule most of the day (that just gives me warm fuzzy feelings all over).

Our neighborhood is a playground. There are kids playing everywhere - I love it, but if I'm perfectly honest, it incites a middle-school anxiety of whether or not I'll be cool enough to be "in." Our closest neighbors, Cody & Emma, are in 4th & 2nd grade. My mom set the table nicely with them on Saturday, telling Cody "you'll like Keith - he's a big kid."

So on Sunday, Keith and I officially met the duo and their dad. They played in our yard for almost 2 hours. I shoved fudge pops down their throats and kept telling them how cool I thought they were. I think it worked - they seemed to like us. The assumption was confirmed on Monday.

Keith was playing basketball with Troy, Faith & Dad H. - I was out front. A kid I didn't recognize rode his bike past the house twice, peering down the drive. The third time I swallowed the middle-school anxiety and called out to him.

Me: Hey, dude!
Him: Are you the new neighbor?
Me: Sure are! You played on that hoop before?
Him: Yep - my friend lived here.
Me: Want to join my husband and his dad? You can play with them.
Him: Sure!

An hour later, Sam was joined by three more of his friends, in our yard.

Keith: My name's Keith.
Kid 2: I know.
Kid 3: Cody told us about you. Said you were cool.

We're In!!!
I think I'll keep fudge pops in the freezer all summer. Either that or learn how to make a basket.

Confession

This explains my attitude at work today. Can't say I was really "in the game." Luckily it was a pretty quiet day. I'm going to go buy paint for the house I bought today now. TGIF.

Provision

We close on our house tomorrow morning. I will sign my name something like one million times. It's a big heavy weighty thing that's about to happen, but even more so, it's liberating and exciting and inspiring.

To say that I was "intimidated" by the house buying experience is an understatement. I am partly programmed and partly trained to ask "what if?" What if one of us loses a job? What if taxes jump uber high? What if we get called into the mission field and have to sell all our worldly belongings but we can't sell the house? What if something happens to Keith? What if we start a family and have a kid with special needs? What if the water heater breaks? What if the neighborhood goes down the crapper? What if lightning strikes and the shingles catch on fire and we no longer have a roof?

Not to mention the big question -- what exactly are "means"? And how do we best live within them?

We shopped aggressively for a house last fall because we wanted one. We even offered, counter offered, and got bummed when we "lost" the house. I am soooo glad we did. So glad. More than glad, I'm thankful. My what-if brain kept praying over and over again - Lord, close this door. Make it obvious if we shouldn't be doing this. And if you say no, make sure we both hear you. Can't say there's anything more obvious than another buyer coming and making an offer for full asking price. Let 'em have it. (Side note, those buyers are now selling the same house...)

So we rented. And we protected ourselves from our own tendencies and asked to sign a year long lease, although the landlord wasn't requiring one. We paid too much rent to really love where we lived, so that we wouldn't be tempted to jump the gun before the time was right.

And what better time than to start shopping for houses once Keith quits his job? Lord, close this door. Why not make an offer on the 7th house you actually enter? Please make it obvious. And who says you both need to be in same state while making one of the biggest decisions of your life? And if you say no, make sure we both hear you.

The purchase agreement went so smoothly, that it all sort of felt like a whirwind - I didn't have much time for my what ifs? Then we got to the financing. Oy. We agreed to a price based on a particular loan, with a particular interest rate, that would "max" us out. But we couldn't lock the interest rate yet... So we wait, and the rates climb. All the sudden, our top-end budget is out the window. Then I start to pray harder - what now? Is this a door? Make it MORE obvious. We wait - me anxiously, Keith calmly. He tells me "I feel like God's asking us to trust him." I tell him - I don't hear anything, and I think we need to start coming up with a Plan B. I probably also thought some pretty nasty things about how spontaneous and irresponsible my husband is. Now I just think he is a faithful man who I admire.

Because the end of the story is the real message here. It's the feeling I had just now driving back to work from the bank. It was peace. It was a little whisper "I told you so." - not in Keith's voice at all. It was an invisible hand on my shoulder that gave me the feeling that all the what ifs aren't for me to worry about. The cashier's check I asked the bank to provide today will cover our closing costs and leave some cash in our savings that neither of us earned. Or stole. Or borrowed from our parents. It was a severance package Keith's boss blessed us with when he quit his job - probably the biggest leap of faith we've taken in our short marriage. Who gets a severance package when they quit?! Doesn't make sense.

It also doesn't make sense that the loan that looked so awesome two months ago is no longer our best option. But we have a better one now - one that by adding on extra fees and insurance actually brings our monthly payment down to lower than we budgeted.

It also doesn't make sense that two of the most opposite people in the entire universe (me and my husband) actually have felt unified throughout the entire experience - more so than we started.

It also doesn't make sense that a worry wart like me has a stomach ache from excitement, not from anxiety, that we get the stinkin' keys to our house in 15 hours.

I think I've learned my lesson - from now on I think my prayers will be, God - make it all not make sense - and help me just be okay with that.

Try not to think about it

Dave thought we should get to know our new neighbors a bit, so he sent me the sex offenders website. You can go here to see names and addresses for convicts in your neighborhood. Then you can go here to see their pictures.

Keith was appalled at the number of "predators" in our new neighborhood - until I showed him the numbers in our old neighborhood. I guess this kind of thing is all about perspective.

I'm somewhat addicted to the website now - you can assume I've looked up your neighborhood, too. Look out, Chris Hansen -- I might have your job someday.

It's a lot of pressure, really

Seems lately that everyone and their sister (including mine) is in the midst of baby-mania. Keith's cousin Brian and Gina just welcomed Hannah to the world.

Steve brings his baby (all 11 pounds of her) to the office once a week. I think babies are good for offices - I'm holding her now as I type. It's hard to be stressed with baby heat in your lap.

I have friends in every direction either eagerly waiting, or adjusting to parenthood. Everyone wants to know when it'll be my "turn" - as if the universe only allows a certain number of pregnancies on the great merry-go-round of life.

I'm here to say, I'm happy to just give her a shove for now, instead of taking a ride.

But I must say, there's a lot of pressure to not just be a parent, but to have a cute kid. And my poor children - having to compete with cousin Lane....


And then there's Grace...



But for now, I'm just a den mother, really...



And for those of you with human children, thanks for sharing them with the rest of us.

an actual conversation, while making dinner

S, to K: "Aw, sick dude."
K: "What?!"
S: "You stink. Don't fart in my kitchen."
K: "I didn't"
S: "Dang, then the litter box sure is ripe." (leaves room)
S, entering room: "I have a confession to make. Now that I leave and come back in, I realize it's not your butt or the box. It's the broccoli."
K: "I thought about that, but then I thought to myself, 'Nah, she knows the difference between my butt and our dinner.'"

Someday I hope to maybe blog something meaningful, but I'd be remiss to not document these kinds of "gems."

This one's for you, Meg

Ah, Tulip Time. It's not just Fat Balls, cross dressing, and Lemonade, folks. We're talking about an authentic celebration of Dutch heritage.

Dan and Meghan joined us for a Zoomer the other night (and a stalker drive-by of the new house). We timed it just right to see all the dancers walking by for a Klompen Dance performance. I made a few commentaries on the costumes - after 9 years here, you can't help but pick a little something up.

And just in case you thought I made it all up, look here.

And yes, they did in fact plant tulips in the shape of a windmill. Told ya it was authentic.

I'm on candid camera

Sometimes my work environment reminds me of The Office (secretly giggling at people taking their job too seriously, saying things they shouldn't even be thinking).
Other times, it's more like Dilbert (getting ticked that the day I remember to pack a lunch is the day they actually clean the refrigerator by throwing everything out).
Still others, it's Myth Busters (do they really pay me to do this????)

But for weeks, there's been a situation at the office that has been awkward enough for Seinfeld. There's a woman here who's obviously pregnant and hasn't talked about it. I have absolutely no idea how to break the ice and congratulate her. I'm almost ready to quit just so I don't have to face the awkwardness. She's wearing a dress today. It's time to say something...

Ho-lee crap.

We locked our rate today. We now know what we will be paying every month for 30 years. I'll be 57 by then, if we don't refinance. I also know the total sum we will have paid for our house including interest. I also know that although I hate every single principle of PMI, I just agreed to pay it because it will actually save us money in the long run. And by long run, I mean 30 years. Holy crap. I think I just bought a house. In Holland. I wonder if we get wooden shoes at closing...

the other side

I'm stranded at home - I've been fighting a nasty cold for a few days and decided to sleep until I couldn't sleep anymore this morning. I was up at 9am, ready to go, but Keith mistakenly took both sets of our car keys. He doesn't have the best bedside manner.

As I sit in my apartment, waiting for my ride (who better than the owner of the company), listening to the sound of construction, I'm struck with the fact that there are a lot of things I will not miss about 265 Union. Again, in no particular order.

• Windows that are bigger than standard size - we have the ugliest curtains ever.
• Hearing our downstairs neighbors come home and party some more at 3am.
• The fact that it gets to be about 115 in here on a summer day - a pleasant summer day.
• Not having a bathtub.
• Living on a one way street, surrounded by construction on all sides. That really sucks.
• Resenting the fact that we keep fixing stuff we don't own.

That's really all I've got - it really is a great place. I think I'll go sit on the porch and wait for my "bus."

Moving on

The packing has officially begun. And by begun I mean we've collected enough boxes, now we need to fill them. However, with the weather finally taking a turn for the better, I'd much rather be out enjoying our neighborhood. It'll only be our 'hood for another 22 days or so. There are a lot of things I don't want to forget about 265 Union - here's a few, in no particular order.

• The walk to Meghan and Dan's house being only 1.2 miles on the way there, and approximately 7 miles on the way back.
• Only making the walk to Meghan and Dan's house once.
• Missy, the spunky Shih Tzu who lives just up the street. She runs up to see us on our porch. Her mom, an elderly African American woman, follows behind. She talks to Missy like she's human. "Missy - how you gonna just run across the street - you trying to get me killed? Next time, you wait." Just recently, she told us that Missy told her "You must be crazy if you think I'm riding with you all the way to the grocery store in your cold car." I love Missy and her sass. And her mom is my favorite neighbor ever.
  
• Pepe, the HUGE skunk that lives under our neighbor's house. I don't like it when he squirts under our house, but a little skunk funk in the neighborhood is almost pleasant.
• The Samurai Warrior - picture Napoleon Dynamite's brother, then give him nunchucks, a sword, and some crazy ninja stunts. Yesterday, we saw him walking the street holding a cement block out in front of himself. He might look like a weenie, but I wouldn't want to be on the wrong end of those nunchucks.
• Drinking white chocolate mochas outside the Wealthy Street Bakery on Saturday mornings in my pajamas.
• The built-ins. Oh, the built-ins.
• Mary, our neighbor next door. She's a grandma now and lives in the house she grew up in all by herself. When Keith was traveling, Mary and I looked out for each other. She says she's not a cook, but our street's always full when she's making tamales.
  
• The three little african american boys who play in our yard. Last summer, they were always running around in no shoes, no shirts, but plenty of things to beat each other with. Come fall, they added shoes. Now, in the spring, they have shirts and mini short - gotta love growth spurts. These boys are best friends - I still don't know where they live, but I think they've spent more time in my yard than I have.
• Getting paid an allowance from the landlords for watering the yard.
  
• Neighborhood restaurants. I'm gonna miss these the most.
  
• Being centrally located. Walks to the fireworks, carpools to the beach or movie theater - it usually began here.
  
• Hearing Keith's mom calling to our cats as she goes into work, 6 doors down.

This is definitely an anxious time - one filled with anticipation, a little mourning, and a whole lot of financial stress. We still haven't locked in our interest rate - it's been climbing since this process began. Please pray it gets back to where we budgeted!