Moved In

It's true!

Nothing is in the old house, everything is in the new house! With a lot of grunt work, blood, sweat and (mostly mine) tears, we are all moved in! Yippee! The daunting task ahead just includes a lot of cleaning, unpacking, and completing a "house to-do" list that is about a mile long and will probably take years to finish.

A special shout out to all those wonderful peeps who helped, Jim, Ruth, Dan, Suse, Lang, Coleman, Rob V., my parents, and Erin. We couldn't have done it with out you, and are so very grateful for all your time and help.

We still don't have internet, but that's coming soon. So will pictures!

Sign at the dotted line...

So...

It's official. We're homeowers!

We put on offer on this house way back in August and we closed on it yesterday! We're excited to be starting this new chapter in our lives. We love our little log cabin already!

Also, that means we are going to be moving soon, which means I won't be blogging as much. We want to paint and prep the house as much as we can, then move in this weekend. I will post new updates when I can, but I can't promise when those will be!

Spousal Wars

Every marriage has their battles, right? Some big, some small. Some important, some trivial and petty. Dave and I have had our share of things to argue over throughout the course of our marriage. In the beginning, they were very insignifcant issues that would turn into a long, drama filled conflict that could take days to resolve. As we have hopefully matured a bit in our marriage, we have slowly evolved into a more civil way to get through our disagreements. We still have a lot of work to do, but progress is definitely moving into the right direction.


Except for one area.


Harry.


That's right. If you know me you know that I love all things Potter. If you know Dave, you know he despises all things Potter. And all things that fall under the creepy-small-creaturish-things that could have orange skin, pointy ears, or giant hairy feet (I'm talking to you Oompa Loompas, elves, and hobbits). He won't have anything to do with them. At all. Even with prodding, pleading, begging and the offering of incentives, my husband just won't budge. I don't know how we got paired up with this polar opposite view, but we did.

I bring this all up to show you the tiny battlefield that has been going on in our house for some months now. A while back, my dear friend Michelle got me this awesome Harry Potter figurine from a book store that was going out of business. He's dressed in his outfit that he wore in The Goblet of Fire during the Triwizard tournament. I thought it was sah-weet. Being a little naive, I placed my new HP statue on my dresser by my bed, thinking that would be an okay place for such an awesome imaginary guy to live. My husband had other plans- the moment he got home and walked into our room and a resounding "NOOO!!" echoed through the house. The battle had begun. Wanting to keep Harry safe, he would gradually pop up in different places arounnd our house in an effort to hide him from any destruction that could come his way. On the mantle, on the bookshelf.

Tonight when I was cleaning up after the kids went to bed, I realized that this war had more breadth and scope then I ever could imagine. Not playing nice anymore, I saw my dear Harry in the military grasp of some little green hands.

I know, it doesn't look good.

Those green men didn't know who they were up against though, and he was quicky freed from their tiny grasp. I have since hid him in another place, and took a picture which I think doesn't give away his location, but gives you an idea of what he really looks like.

Pretty intimidating, I know.

So far, I believe we are still on the offensive and making good progress. I know eventually my husband will break down and come to appreciate all things Harry as I do. For now though, there is a battle to fight and a war to be won. I'll keep you updated as new details come along....

***Edit: Before I even had time to post this blog, he had been found. Apparently the picture did give away his location. Rats. Some tug of war ensued and there was a brief moment when it looked like he might take a swim in the toliet. After I sacrifically intervened, he was then taken away and submerged into the fish tank. The fish didn't like him at all. He's now resting safetly at the hospital wing and will await his next deployment as soon as I can think of somewhere creative....

Cookie Monster

This video has not been manipulated or fabricated in any way. I promise this is how I found my child, completely unassisted by anyone but himself. He found out that I had some cookie dough in the refrigerator and took it upon himself to get some. In fact, he was so determined, he decided that the best spot to eat the confiscated cookie dough was right their on the ledge of the fridge. Only boys, right?

                         

Caught in the act. 

Not to be outdone by her older brother, I figured I would share a picture of my sweet Debly with her first-ever-ponytail. It didn't really last to long as the little wispies (wispys?) of her hair kept wanting to fall out, but darn gonnit, it was a ponytail! Now I am eagerly anticipating the day when I can do a french braid. (Corie, how old was Lily when I did hers? I feel she was this age. Maybe she just has better growing hair than Clara).

Can you tell it's a ponytail?

Fairlawn Way

I always thought that my grandparents had the coolest house. I mean, for starters, it had a pool. As a young kid growing up by no natural water sources (okay, there was the beach, but like I've said, I don't really like the beach), having a pool was a pretty sweet deal. It also was this house that seemed to be stuck in time. The moment you drove up that hill to their driveway and entered that house, it was like you were stepping back into the hey day of the sixties, big hair and all. No matter what age I was, five or fifteen, it always stayed the same. I knew that my grandma would have limeade in the refrigerator and she'd probably serve it to you in those bumpy blue glass cups. If you wanted a snack they would be in that tricky drawer that had the sliding cover on top. I knew that I could always go to my grandma's dressing area, play with her vanity, and look at all her awesome clothes, shoes and accessories. One of my favorite spots was the little nook in the back hallway that not only had a phone in it, but a big chalk board on the wall to write your messages. I remember loving to explore each room, for each held so much character within its walls. (And let's be honest, my grandparents were a bunch of pack rats, so they held a lot of stuff too). My grandpa had the house built with every nook and cranny used for a specific purpose. Even built into one of the walls was a hidden cabinet. If you pushed on the wall in just the right way, it would open, exposing shelves full of glassware and dishes (and to my childhood delight, candy). We called each bathroom by it's color ("the green bathroom", "the blue bathroom...") I think I could go on and on about this house, because there was so much to explore, so many places to go.

Well, I knew this day would come eventually. I mean, it had to. My grandparents passed away a while ago, and I knew that it would make sense for my dad and uncle to sell and put it up on the market. It's just sad once that day finally comes, you know? I know that I live far away so I can't even go see it, but it makes me sad knowing that it is the end of an era. Though it doesn't make sense, I had the thought that it would be with our family forever. I know I still have the memories- spending the night with them and waking up with Grandpa's scrambled eggs,  the kid parties, the high school times of hanging, my joint graduation party with my cousin Stacy, and so on...- but still. It's sad to see it go. Sad that eventually, Fairlawn will belong to some other family, not ours. I know the house is just a representation of every memory had and the physical things in life don't last...but, oh I don't know. I know I'm just rambling now.

This is the view when you first walk in the front door. That couch has always been there. Do you see how perfectly it fits the design? That's my grandpa.

The other view of the living room.

The fire pit. I mean, seriously, who has one of these? The couch was always a little scratchy though...

The kitchen. And do you see the little bronze box in the bottom centerish of the picture? That's part of the intercom system of the house. Again, who has that?

The sun room. And the pool table. Oh, the pool table.

The pool! And in the distance, the Rose Bowl.

This was my Grandpa's office. He had shelves that stored possibly every National Geographic ever printed.

Master Bedroom

The roof and front door. There is a spiral staircase that you can climb up and walk on the roof. Though I'm seriously scared of heights, I'd do it. Also, my brother and his friends would jump of the roof into the pool. Nice.

I'm never good at changes. I like my routine, and I like knowing things will be the same, even if I am not around to notice it. I'm sad that there is a chance the next time I go back to California, this will be different. I'm sad that my kids will never get to experience it like I did. Like I said before though, I know it is just a house. So why is it affecting me so? 

On the flip side, I know that my parents, aunt, uncle and cousins put in a lot of work getting it ready to sell, so I am thankful for all their hard work. Thanks you guys! 

Thanks for letting me share. I'm sure that none of this makes sense, but it feels good to write some of this down. When my dad first sent me the email with the property listing, I just started bawling. Part out of sadness, part out of, well, lets just say I was being a little too emotional for my own good.

(Note: The house hasn't sold yet, it just got listed. But the sentiments are all the same.)