Moving, Moving

Tomorrow and Saturday, my office is moving. Not far, just across the street. But that doesn't mean that we didn't have to pack up everything. It's amazing how many boxes six people can generate. Most of the furniture is staying - it wasn't ours; we inherited it from the previous tenants, as the new tenants will inherit it from us - so that helps with how much has to move.

Other than boxes, the major challenges associated with our move is setting up the IT infrastructure - networks, email, computers, phones, etc. In our old offices, we had these things, but only minimally. After all, there were only six of us. But now that we are more than six and need to be able to communicate easily with our colleagues around the country. So we are getting videoconferencing and VOIP phones.

As of Monday (possibly Tuesday), move #1 will be done.

Move #2 is well underway. Or at least the ducks are being lined up in a row. Moving company came today to give me an estimate. Roof is fixed. Phones, internet, and cable have been notified. Alarm company is ready to cancel service here and set up service there. Lawn and maid services have been canceled in time for move. Still trying to find a handyman for the other repairs, but am hopeful that will come together.

Both contracts need only the appraisals to be finalized. Closing dates have been set. Funding is in the works.

Less than 5 weeks to go.

MCC and the "Spirit of Americana" Award

"Praying to the Father
And calling for the cavalry
Look at all this water
And somehow not a drop to drink
Now did you ever hear of nightmares
Coming in the light of day
Once we get to Houston
Maybe they'll just wash away
Roll on Mississippi, goodbye Crescent City
Les Bon Temps New Orleans
Never coming back to stay"

Last night, I went to a truly entertaining and exhilerating event. The Americana Music Association and the First Amendment Center of the Newseum co-present an award to an artist who uses their artistic platform to say important things. Whose art is thought-provoking and topical.

Last night, the award was presented to Mary Chapin Carpenter. A friend of mine noticed the announcement in the Washington Area Music Association (WAMA) newsletter and invited me to join him to go to the event.

Last night, the performers that came out in support of her included Rodney Crowell, Eric Brace (who used to write for the Washington Post before he moved to Nashville to pursue music full time), and a 70-year-old Judy Collins. Ms. Collins said her voice was affected by the lovely pollin that we live with in the spring in DC, but her voice still had those crystal tones from when she was 20. Each of them sang three songs, and not surprisingly, the performances were remarkable.

Last night, Chapin was interviewed by Ken Paulson of the First Amendment Center. He asked about her inspirations for her songs - like "Houston"quoted above - and she said she gets her inspiration all over. From newspapers. From PBS. From the evening news. I had never really thought before about how many of her songs are inspired by actual events. But it's true that she has used her music to spread the word about events that need to be talked about.

Last night, Chapin was joined at the end of the evening by two of her longtime collaborators: John Jennings and Jon Carroll. It was a great cap on a fantastic evening.

Last night was an amazing evening.

The Cat's Meow

I am a fan of finding out the origin of expressions. A quick Internet search, though, indicates that there is no definitive knowledge of where the expression "the cat's meow" came from. It appears that it originated in the '20s and means something that is very cool.

Whoever came up with it, though, must not have had cats. Because, in fact, the cat's meow is the least cool thing about a cat.

To me, the coolest thing about a cat is a cat's purr. Truly one of the most soothing sounds in the world. The ultimate sound of contentment and happiness. So it would have been more logical to use the expression "the cat's purr" for something cool.

The next coolest thing about a cat is that it loves to rub up against the things it loves, including its owner. Purring and rubbing, curling in and around your legs. These are the cat's way of asking for attention.

The cat's meow, really, is more often than not, a complaint. And so not very cool.

What Happened To Thank You?

I make a point of telling people that I work with that I appreciate their work, even when they are doing the job that they were hired to do. Somehow that seems to be a lost art.

Most of the time, it's a simple response. An acknowledgement that I had asked for something to be done, and it was done. Preferably as I asked.

But it doesn't seem to happen to me very often. I'm not asking for an effusive thank you. Just a simple "thanks" would work well. That's what I try to provide. And perhaps, when going above and beyond, something more that. Perhaps a note of thanks that includes more than just me - a public thank you. And if it includes a "you did a good job" all the better.

I've heard it said that if you have to ask for a compliment, then it's not a compliment. While I'm not sure I actually agree with that, I would also say that that's not all I'm talking about here.

I'm talking about appreciating that someone did something for you. Just as in life, we say please and thank you. Those skills should not be left behind just because we are in a work environment.

Mixed Emotions

Several months ago, I started using a cleaning service. They come every three weeks, which I've determined is about when the amount of cat hair has built up to be intolerable.

It's been a mixed blessing. I love having the carpets deep-vacuumed. The kitchen looks great. The bathrooms are clean. All good.

It was particularly good when the house was being shown. Much easier to keep up with just tidying things up and not having to do a deep-down cleaning job to get ready for the open house. That was really why I kept the service going these last few months. Because other things are a problem.

For example, the first four or five times they came, they put the scoop for the cats' litter in the litter when they were cleaning the floor. And then didn't take it out again. Rendering the litterbox unusable by the cats until I got home. Not good.

They also can't seem to pay attention to where things go. Every surface is rearranged. I'm reasonably AR. There are reasons for why things are where they are. Though I will admit that I did move a couple of things based on where they had been moved to. However, I don't think the service moved them for function. I think they moved them to clean and just didn't care or pay attention to where I usually put them. Which I find annoying.

They also broke a clock. Well, I think what happened was that dusting the hands bent them just enough that they got caught on each other. Making the clock stop working properly. Again, annoying.

But today, tonight when I got home at 8 from a long, painful day at work, it was awfully nice to get into a bed with clean sheets. Yawn! Time to sleep.

My Favorite Human / Vampire Love Affair

Netflix delivered Disc 1 of Season 1 of Angel. It includes the first four episodes. I rented it because of David Boreanaz. And my favorite human / vampire love affair.

I have a friend who is a big Bones fan. When she and I were talking, I mentioned that David Boreanaz used to star in this show called Angel, which was a spinoff of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Being a younger type, she wasn't aware of these shows. And it made me want to see the shows again. So I rented the first CD for Angel. Interesting to watch TV shows on DVD. No commercials and yet of course still the breaks in the show.

Today, I also went to the bookstore. I was going to buy the Twilight series. Several of my friends have read it - women who are only a little younger than I am - so I thought I'd give it a shot.

But in addition to wondering whether reading books meant for teenagers will be up my alley - I did love the Harry Potter books after all - my favorite human / vampire love affair was written by Joss Whedon. Buffy and Angel. And so I'm not sure that I want to invest in Bella and Edward.

But I will watch Angel on DVD.

I Think I Can, I Think I Can

With a little help from my friends, I think I have found a new house, sold the old one, and figured out how to put a downpayment on the new one without getting the proceeds from the old one. Whew! It has been three weeks of challenges.

Got the offer on my current house. That caused a scramble to find a new house for me. Three weekends of house-hunting. Endless numbers of three-bedroom townhouses. After a while, it was hard to remember which was which.

Finally found one that I liked. Made an offer. They countered the offer.

In the meantime, the buyer on my current home did a home inspection.

In the meantime, I had to figure out the timing of closings. When to move out of one house and into the next house. Whether to try to ask for back-to-back settlements, which is apparently almost never done anymore.

Which, of course, affected the financing. More decisions to be made there.

Whether to accept the counteroffer. If not accepting, what to change. Decided to ask for a settlement contingency verbally, not as part of the counter to their counter. And they rejected that idea. And yet were nervous about my financing without it. So I declined their counter. A preemptive strike because they would have rejected my counter.

Got the list from the home inspection of what they wanted fixed. Needed to decide about each of those items.

Found another house. Submitted an offer. It was accepted! Contract ratified.

I think I have the downpayment together. Pending a few more questions to various financial institutions.

Countered the home inspection requests.

I think I can, I think I can.

The Problem With Plan Bs

Just to be on the safe side, while my offer for my first choice was being evaluated by the current owners, I went looking at other houses. If for some reason, they didn't like my offer and just rejected it out of hand. That way, I would have something to fall back on. My Plan B.

My realtor and I headed out Saturday. We saw eight houses, a couple of which I thought would work. Nothing I liked better than the house on which I had an offer. But some that would work well as a Plan B. Some that probably would have been fine if I hadn't ever seen the one on which I had the offer. And a couple of that wouldn't work at all, of course. But it was good to have options.

On Sunday, I planned to go out with one of my friends to see some of these Plan B houses again. In the meantime, I had gotten some new listings from the searches I had put together. I included two of those houses in the plans with my friend because they seemed to be of interest.

My friend and I headed out. We started with the house on which I had an offer. She agreed that it was a lovely house. There were some other people looking at it, which made me nervous. I really like this house!

We went to all the other houses. A couple we didn't actually go into. The new listing in Reston, for example, wasn't actually having an open house. The two listings in Fairfax across the street from each other weren't an option because there was no parking available - one of the things I didn't like about that neighborhood when my realtor and I had been there on Saturday. We ended with a new listing in Fairfax.

Wow! What a house! The floor plan for the main and lower floors is identical to that of a friend's house. Which I have loved ever since I saw it. Her house has more floors - two above the main floor. This one only has one more floor with 3 bedrooms and 2 baths (there are 2 half baths too - one by the entrance and one downstairs). And so it's smaller than the one on which I have an offer - which is four bedrooms and 3.5 baths. Which actually may be a good thing. It's also cheaper. Which actually may be a good thing. And suddenly, Plan B became a serious option.

The past couple of days have been very stressful. I still haven't heard about the home inspection on my current home. So I don't know what impact that might have on the offer for this house. But I did get a counter on the house I want to move into. And it wasn't a bad counter. So in thinking about responding to the counter, I asked my realtor to see if the owners would be willing to let me do back-to-back settlements. So that I could do conventional financing. And when she called, their realtor said the owners were nervous about my FHA financing. Which I don't get since it's actually on me, not them. But apparently FHA could make the appraisal tougher. Which is going to be a little bit of a challenge anyway. So my realtor said that I could do conventional financing if we could do back-to-back settlements. Which was what I wanted. And she didn't have to bring it up. So now their realtor is going to them to ask that question.

And I'm rethinking my offer. My Plan B may become Plan A.

Once Loves, Now Friends

There haven't been all that many men that I've loved in my life. My list is not long. Today I was reminded again of a love gone by, and it made me again take inventory. Many of my past loves are still present in my life. Some only marginally - friends on Facebook and not much else. Others play a more prominent role. Only a few have gone for good. And generally, I think that's a good thing.

Two of my exes read this blog. Had brunch with one of them today. An ex from the late '80s who spent most of the '90s and the '00s dating or married to a woman I also saw today (they've since divorced). The other ex might not consider himself an ex, but I do. He's certainly an ex-love. We haven't seen each other since the late '80s, but keep in touch with the occasional email. He's married with two little boys. Good for him.

My first boyfriend found me again after many years on Facebook and LinkedIn. In fact, many of my exes are friends on Facebook. At last count, five. Soon to be six if another one of them accepts my friend invitation. Most of them from my high school and college days. It's fun to catch up. And to keep in touch, if only through social networking.

Two past loves have died. My second boyfriend died in the '90s. Leukemia. Very sad. He's also somewhere else on the list because we got back together briefly during my college years. That's happened to me quite a bit over the years. I've dated almost everyone more than once. I guess it's a consequence of not cutting my old loves out of my life. Even came close to marrying a couple of them. Once loves, then friends, then loves again, and still friends.

My second college beau has also passed. Just a couple of years ago. It was him who actually started me thinking about this list. My mom told me about a letter my dad found that he had sent to my dad during our college years. They are saving it for me. I can't imagine why he wrote to my dad (many years later, they would work together and become friends quite outside of my relationship). It will be interesting to read the letter sometime soon. He's another one that I dated twice. I said it was a pattern. Came close to marrying him at one point, too. A significant ex. In fact, he was still in my life until he died. Letters. Calls. Even one vacation together as just friends. I still miss having him around.

You see? Not a very long list for 47. I'm sure I've forgotten someone. Maybe? If I have, hopefully he will still be my friend even if I forgot him here. After all, most of them are. And I think that's a good thing.

Reflections Of Me?

When the sun goes down, I close the drapes in my master bedroom. I do this, usually, not because I'm changing clothes and don't want to flash my neighbors. I do it because I'm using the bathroom. You see, my cats don't like it when I close the doors and leave them outside the room. So I've gotten in the habit of using the restroom without closing the doors. Which means that, once the sun goes down, I can see myself reflected in my bedroom windows. So here's the question, if I can see myself reflected in the windows, can someone else?

I live on the side of a cul-de-sac. There is no neighbor who could see into my bedroom window, and then through to the bathroom, without binoculars. And somehow I doubt that anyone would be interested enough to use binoculars all night on the off-chance of catching me on the toilet. Or even changing clothes. And from late spring through the fall, there's also a tree in front of my bedroom window. Which would make it that much harder to actually see in my window from across the street.

But...if I can see myself reflected in the window, I again ask the question about whether someone else can see me too. Can someone on the outside of the window see the same reflection I see on the inside?

I don't know. But I don't take the chance. I close the drapes.

Courtesy And Home Selling / Buying

The woman who is potentially buying my home has 7 business days (her choice of timing) from the time her offer was ratified - on Wednesday, April 7 - to do a home inspection. Since the offer specified "business" days, my realtors and I figured that probably meant that she wanted to do the home inspection on a business day. Wrong! The home inspection is scheduled for Sunday, April 11. From 10 am to 1 pm. Now I understand - believe me! - the challenges of taking time off from work to do all this home stuff. And so I'm sympathetic to the desire to do the home inspection on a weekend. But...shouldn't I have been asked whether Sunday would work for me? Wouldn't that have been the courteous thing to do? I think so.

It got me thinking about the other courtesies that are involved in the home selling and buying processes.

A lot of the homes that I've been to see have asked prospective buyers to take off their shoes before walking around. Makes sense to me. Rather than having a bunch of people track dirt on your newly cleaned floors and carpets. Saves on having to vacuum before leaving home every day, too. Several places also provided little booties for those people who might not want to take off their shoes to walk around. All very civilized and...well...courteous.

In my listing, my realtors asked that prospective buyers call me first to check that it was okay to go. Most of the realtors who stopped by called first. I know this because there's a lockbox on the house that tells my realtors when another realtor stops by. So we could compare the number of people who called me and the list of who actually used the lockbox. Interestingly, some realtors clearly did not call first. Even without the lockbox, I could tell that some people were not doing the courtesy of calling first. For example, the other day, I came home and the front hall lights were on. Not only had I not left them on when I left home that morning - it having been a sunny day - I almost never use that light. A clear indication that someone had been there. But I had not gotten a single call that day. Not very courteous.

Part of realtor etiquette also includes leaving one's business cards behind. There's a sign on my dining room table specifically asking agents to do this. But again, some do not have the courtesy to do so. I know this because, on more than one occasion, I have been called by more people than there have been cards left behind. Now, I know from my own experience, that sometimes a realtor might call and then he/she and his/her client might not actually make it to my place. It's just courteous to call, even if you don't get to that particular place. And so presumably some of those who didn't leave a card fall into this category - they simply never made it to my place. But others, and I'd speculate it's the majority, just decided not to leave a card. For whatever reason. Again, since there's a lockbox on the front door, my realtors know who stopped by anyway. But courtesy (etiquette) suggests that this non-card-leaving behavior is inappropriate.

The one other area where courtesy comes into play is in taking about the home as one is wandering around. Most of the time, I haven't been home. So whatever the client and realtor discuss is unknown. But on those occasions when I have been home, it's interesting to see how many people have no qualms talking about my home in front of me. Most have - thank goodness - been complimentary. But I will also say that, when all I get is a single comment on the way out that my "home is very nice", I have to wonder if it's just courtesy, and not a sincere comment. I'm not insulted in any way by this. My home may not be to their tastes - lord knows, I've been to several homes that were decorated in ways that were not my taste. And I'm sure that some people came and my house was too small for them, or they thought it was priced too high. Or some other such thing. Again, this is not an insult. It's just their take on things. Yet, common courtesy dictates saying something nice as one is walking out the door. So I appreciate the courteous note, even if it's complete BS.

It would have been nice if I had been given an option or two when it came to a weekend open house. But perhaps that's not "required" courtesy. Sure seems like it should be, under "common" courtesy. Lesson learned for when I'm scheduling my own home inspection.

Timing Is Everything

My house has been on the market for a week and a half. I got an offer on Monday (well, it was written on Friday - a week after the house was listed - but not delivered till Monday). In the original offer, the buyer had requested a closing date of about 6 weeks from now. That's a pretty aggressive timeline. And it got me running to try to find a home for myself.

Once we started looking for me - more seriously - we started getting into the timing of closings. Because of course there are two closings - one for my current house and one for the new house.

If I close on my current house and then on the second house, I have the advantage of having the money from the sale to put on the next house. Which would allow me to get a conventional loan and have a lower monthly mortgage payment. That would be a good thing.

But if I do that, then I have to put my stuff in storage to be able to turn over my key to the new homeowner at closing. So that the house would be empty for the new owner. Which also means that I need a place for me and the cats for at least a few days. Between putting my stuff in storage and finding a place for me to stay, we're talking quite a bit of money. Not to mention the inconvenience of all of it.

On the other hand, if I close on the new house before I close on the current house, there are other complications. First, I'd have to have an FHA jumbo loan. I can't come up with 10% of my loan amount to get a conventional jumbo loan. And with an FHA jumbo, I wouldn't be able to refinance for 6 months. So my monthly payments would be quite high for the first 6 months. I'd also have to pay closing costs for the refinancing in 6 months.

But...I could potentially move my stuff into the new home before closing on my current house. Meaning that I wouldn't have to pay for storage and a place for the cats and me. And would avoid that inconvenience.

They say that timing is everything. It's going to be interesting to see how this one plays out.

Pre-Bound Girl

I was thinking today about the last time I had tried the online dating thing. I actually met a nice guy. When we first met, he wasn't sure that I was really his type, but we went out a few more times and eventually did date briefly. He did that thing that men often do (at least in my experience) of being responsive and calling me regularly in the first couple of weeks, and then dropped off the face of the planet for a couple of weeks. In his case though, he had a good excuse - his father had passed away and he was dealing with that. As a result, he also decided that it wasn't the right time to be starting a new relationship, and so he broke things off with me. A few months later, I sent him an email just to say hi and see how things were going after he had dealt with his dad's estate, etc. He wrote me back to say that it was great to hear from me and, oh by the way, he was getting married. Married! To a young lady he'd met doing a Habitat for Humanity thing. Totally in love. Hmmm....okay.

And I realized as I remembered this story that this isn't the first time that's happened to me. I realized that in fact I'm the pre-bound girl. I'm the girl / woman guys date right before they date the girl they decide to marry.

The first time was during college. I dated this guy over the summer. He was the intern pastor at my church (that's not the right term, but the right term isn't coming to me at the moment). He had had a girlfriend, but they had decided to break up since he was going to be in the DC area for a couple of years doing this internship. When I got back to school, I got a letter from him breaking up with me and explaining that he had gotten back together with his old girlfriend. The next piece of correspondence I got from him was an invitation to his wedding. Pre-bound.

The guy I dated my sophomore year of college went on to date another woman in our dorm his senior year - I think I set them up in fact. And he proposed toward the end of that year, and they got married that summer. The marriage didn't last, but I was still the last serious girlfriend he had before he dated the one he married. Pre-bound.

In fact, that happened twice with that particular guy. He and I dated again in my late 20s. Right before my 30th birthday, we broke up because he wanted to date someone who was as religious as he was. It was a few years later - and for him, several towns later - that he finally dated seriously again. A woman from his hometown that he met at a high school reunion. Who, as it turned out, was not religious at all. And by this time, he was in seminary. I'll never understand that particular turn of fate, but - even if it was separated by a few years - I was the girlfriend before his second marriage too. Pre-bound.

In my 30s, it happened again. This time, though, I have to say it was completely my fault. I had been dating this guy that I worked with. He was a great guy and we are, in fact, still friends. But there just wasn't that oomph with us. But there was this other woman that we worked with who laughed at all his jokes and seemed quite smitten with him. He was shy. She was shy. I was the middle(wo)man. As a result, I was maid of honor at their wedding. Pre-bound.

Even if it doesn't end up in marriage, I still seem to be the girl before the girl with whom things are serious. Another college beau and I dated briefly post-college. He asked me to marry him, and I said no. The next time I heard from him was note with a picture of a screaming newborn on it. His daughter.

There was this other guy that I'd had a crush on for forever. But he always had a girlfriend. Long-term girlfriends, though he wasn't the most faithful of boyfriends. I wasn't the other woman type. I guess he knew that because, even though he knew I was interested, he never cheated with me. But I did catch him once in between girlfriends. One night, he and I had a rendezvous. Of sorts. And so, while I would hardly refer to myself as his girlfriend, I can sort of count him on this list. Because the next woman he dated for any length of time after that, he married.

A few years ago, I sort of dated this guy that I'd known for a long time. He was a real player and so it was really more fun than anything else. But still, I thought we were "involved" in some way, shape, or form. February 13th, I called him to say thanks for nothing with regard to doing anything for Valentine's Day. Not that I really expected anything, but I had called him to see if we were going to do anything. And he'd ignored my calls. Perhaps he had good reason - in his mind. You see, as it turned out, he was selling his house and moving in with his girlfriend! Yeessh!

The final story is really the best, though. I dated this guy in my early 20s. He was the best friend of the guy that I really wanted but couldn't have. He knew that I was really in love with his best friend. I knew that there was a woman from his past that he wanted but could never have. She had married someone else. One night, he picked me up and we went for a drive. He solemnly told me he had something important to tell me. And then he started telling me this long, complicated story, the gist of which was the love of his life was back in town, had left her abusive husband, and as soon as she was free, they were getting married. So he was sorry, but that meant he wasn't going to be seeing me anymore - duh! And I completely understood. And wished him every happiness. And was more than a little jealous that his great love had worked out. But it still counts as a pre-bound.

I don't have the foggiest idea what all this means. I'd like to think that I prepared these men for the idea of commitment. Or maybe it's just a matter of timing and getting older along the way. It's hard to say. All I can say is I'm tired of being the pre-bound. Maybe one of these days I'll get to be the "bound" instead?

Cool Chicks

I strive to be cool. It's an aspiration I've had since I was a teenager when, of course, everyone is striving to be cool - whatever their particular definition of cool happens to be. Part of my problem with being cool has always been - and continues to be - trying to figure out what my particular definition of cool is.

I have one friend who I would classify as a cool chick (I use the term chick here affectionately and in a positive way). She's an earth goddess type. Her job - green IT for a large government contractor. She tries very hard to practice what she preaches. On the side, she teaches yoga a couple of days a week and is perhaps the only woman age 50+ I know who can do a full split - without breaking a sweat. Now that's cool.

Another cool chick I know is the central magnet of a group of friends. Mother hen is completely not the right term to describe her, and yet she's the glue that holds this particular group together. She is responsible for buying the cake and balloons for each birthday celebration. She's the organizer and broadcaster of such celebrations. Mother hen, right? And yet that is so not her. She has several tattoos. She drives a car with flames emblazoned down each side. She is a professed pagan. And every Saturday, she does what she affectionately and proudly calls "devil's work" - escorting scared young women into an abortion clinic past the crazies shouting invectives at them. In my book, that's cool.

The third cool chick is at the other end of the political spectrum. Conservative. Right-wing. Religious. I aspire to have her grace and charm, even while disagreeing with her on just about everything that matters to me. She has an infectious laugh that comes out often. A ready smile. She loves to cool and gives awesome parties - to which I'm only sometimes invited but always wish I was invited. A world traveler and adventurer. Generous to a fault (what a strange expression that is!). And co-valedictorian of her MBA program. A cool chick.

There are elements of each of these women that I want in my brand of cool. To be brave. To be honest. To be charming. To be smart. To be, well, cool.