Fanfare

Today will be my last post prior to the move tomorrow, and it will be Monday before I have access to the internet.

My boss wanted to throw a going away party for me, and I hate things like that. I emphatically said no many, many times. I want to go out without any of that fanfare. I hate goodbyes. Besides, I am still working for them and will probably be here once a month.

Yesterday he took me to lunch and it was nice. Just me, him, the GM, the AA, and our regional rep, who used to work for us and went on to work for the manufacturer of our product. I got a card, and inside were gift cards for L.inens 'n T.hings worth $500.00.

Of course I cried.

New bedding. New window dressings.

Nice.

The house didn't sell yesterday, in case you are wondering.

Perhaps today is the day.

It's empty in there.

We've lived there for 15 years.

On to bigger and better things, I hope.

See you next week.

Typing with my fingers crossed

Because we are motivated sellers, we've lowered the asking price on our house by $5,100.00.

By motivated, I mean I wanted it sold yesterday.

It's only been on the market five weeks, but it would have been nice to have a buy/sell before we move - which is Friday.

On Sunday the realtor hosted another open house. The Boy and I went to the museum while MFH stayed home and worked in the shop. There were 11 couples that attended, and one couple in particular MFH feels really good about.

Two couples were just out looking because they had nothing better to do that day, to which MFH said, "I think clipping toenails would be more exciting than looking at houses if I wasn't in the market to buy."

Then, the realtor had a private showing on Tuesday which he feels good about.

This morning I drove MFH over to pick up the moving truck. As we pulled out of the driveway, I looked at the realty sign in the yard and said, "Wednesday is a good day to buy a house."

MFH replied, "That's what Wendy said. (his sister) She said she has a feeling that we'll get an offer on the house either Wednesday or Thursday."

Back in April, Wendy had a dream that we would buy the house we were looking at, and that MFH would get the job he interviewed for at the H.arley dealership.

I hope the fact that we both said it makes up for her 50% success rate.

Or 50% failure rate, depending on how you look at it.

A heavy load

MFH drives a 1981 Chevy Shortbox 4wd truck. It is the cutest thing. He loves old trucks, probably because he is a mechanic, and he can actually work on those old trucks without a computer to accompany him.

When he came home from his final day of work on Friday, he was pulling an enclosed trailer that he borrowed from a friend of ours. It's probably about 10 feet long. He had all of his toolboxes and tools from work stacked in the front of the trailer. The back of his cute little truck and the front of the trailer formed a "V" from the heavy load.

His plan was to counter the weight in front with boxes from the house. Of course he teased me that in the very back he would put my box of shoes. You know, the big box that I didn't have to repack.

And, just so you know, his cousin carried that big box from the shop in the alley to the front of our house all by himself.

150 pounds, indeed.

He called me from Big City to tell me he got ten miles to the gallon on the trip down. We expected to get five.

Getting ten miles to a gallon of gas that costs $3.129 per gallon is a crazy thing to get excited about, isn't it?

Three up and three down

On Wednesday I found out two things. One is that my boss conducted his first interview for a person to replace me at work. It didn't go well. In his words - "It scared the living shit out of me." Two is that he decided that my proposal isn't an option for him for the long term. He just can't get past the fact that there won't be a bookkeeper in my office even though he hasn't spent more than one half hour a week with me in at least a year in said office.

On Thursday he conducted his second interview. When I asked how that went he said, "We'll keep looking."

Today he conducted a third interview. I swear that this woman came straight from the casino to her interview, all polyester pants and flowered top and just the wrong shade of pink lipstick. I really tried not to be judgemental, but she just made it too easy.

As of the end of this day I will be conducting my job per my proposal for at least a month, more likely two months, and possibly forever - his words, not mine. I agreed because it works out perfectly for me. I get to spend the rest of the summer with my son, working from my home at my leisure, and he will continue my benefit package.

It turned out to be a pretty good week, in spite of the filling I had replaced in tooth number 14 on Thursday morning, followed by a visit to the walk in clinic due to a UTI.

Oh!

Best of all?

I didn't have to repack the big box!

Bigger is not better

Yesterday I snagged this fabulous packing box from work.

I was able to get most of my pants and all of the shirts that hang in my closet into the box, plus a few handbags, some of The Boy's baby blankets, and about one fourth of my shoes.

Then I taped it shut.

I was really quite proud of myself.

MFH informed me this morning that it's easier to pack (and by that he means carry) ten small boxes than to put that same amount of stuff in one big box.

I did offer to help him carry it out to the shop.

"It probably weighs 100 to 150 pounds," he said.

Tonight I will be unpacking that box.

Packing sucks.

Gone Fishing

On Father's Day 2004, The Boy presented his dad with a children's book of the above named title for a gift. It's about a little boy and his big daddy that go fishing and bring back fish for momma to see.

At the time there was no way to know how much The Boy would come to love fishing, or that it would become a Father's Day tradition for the two of them to head down to the river to drown a worm.

Inside the front cover of that book I wrote "Happy Father's Day 2004! With love," and The Boy scribbled his name in a two year old's chicken scratch.

Some time later, The Boy took this book out for his bedtime story. When I opened the front cover he exclaimed, "Hey! Somebody wrote my name in here!"

Burning bridges

My proposal to my boss was pretty simple - it consisted of me turning over my Accounts Receivable billing to someone in the service department or the administrative assistant, and having the sales people or the AA take care of making the daily deposits. The Accounts Payable could be mailed to me for processing, and basically all of the rest of my duties involve working on the computer which I could do remotely. Once every two weeks or so I would travel back up here to touch base.

Companies outsource their bookkeeping all the time. I made a few phone calls to see how it works, and it's pretty much how I described above - USPS or fed.ex., fax, email, etc.

Our software is pretty specialized and I know it forward and backward.

Not for a second did my boss indicate that he wouldn't consider this proposal. I figured it was a win-win situation. I could continue working part-time until we see how things pan out, and we could keep our insurance intact. The company would not have to hire anyone to replace me.

Last night my boss called me on my way home. He explained how he found "this person" who has a job as a controller of a company here in town. She makes too much money to work here, but she has offered to learn our software so that I am not the only one who knows it. That way there is someone here in town as a backup for training the software to someone new. By the way, she works during the day, so can I come in on weekends or in the evening to train her?

Um let me think about it. Not only no, but HELL NO.

I suggested that he have the company we buy our support from train her. I told him that I would not train somebody that makes more money than I do, while paying her more than I make, to be trained, only to turn around and pay her to train someone else.

Does anybody else see the absurdity of this?

I am going to rescind my offer, and will be finished here on the 28th.

MFH is a firm believer that you should never burn bridges. I was really trying not to do that. I care about the welfare of this company. On the other hand, my welfare and that of my family is my first concern.

Ungroomed

I took off my acrylic nails.

I feel like my fingers look like fat little sausages without them. Ugly. Like toes.

My nail tech did a crappy job on my nails the last two times I had them filled. Since we are moving, and since you really should take a break and let your nails breathe every so often, I decided to peel them off (ouch).

Besides, it's not cheap to maintain acrylic nails, and it pissed me off that he was doing a crappy job. That's how I deal with things, see. Instead of confronting him and letting him know of my disappointment, I'll just quit going.

Take that, nail man.

Like he'll notice, they're so busy.

It was getting frustrating trying to communicate with him. He spoke limited English, and I can't speak Vietnamese, so there ya go. We couldn't seem to make any progress in that area at all.

Anyway, I am used to wearing nails that extend probably one half inch beyond my fingertips. My own nails underneath are normally very soft, and right now are brittle and paper thin.

And short.

My fingertips are SORE.

That is all.

Buyer's Remorse

On Saturday I visited a new B.ed B.ath &B.eyond store in our area. It's been open for a few months and I'd not yet been there. I was searching for ways to decorate the bathrooms in our new house.

Imagine my glee when I found this shower curtain.

I've never lived in a house with a master bath. The house I'm in now is the first house I've ever lived in that had more than one bathroom. Deprived, I know.

I breathlessly phoned MFH and exclaimed over this find, which includes curtain hangers that are shaped like little pink shoes and perfume bottles, a matching rug, and a toothbrush holder that is a ceramic pink shoe. They also had towels and a wastebasket along with a few other pieces, but I had to draw the line somewhere.

MFH told me to buy it. I protested. "It's our private bathroom," he said. "Decorate it however you want."

So, I bought it.

He must be very secure in his masculinity, no?

Later that day I was second guessing my purchase, or maybe just the price tag that came along with the purchase, which would probably only seem high to my own cheap self.

"You're the only person I know who would have buyer's remorse over buying a piece of gum," he told me.

For the record

Unless the G.M. and the owner have an extremely strong spacial awareness, they'll never miss all those boxes in the backroom. All of them were stacked behind this huge dry erase board that we designed for spa deliveries and which we never used. Since you can still see that there are boxes back there, I doubt they'll ever notice that some are missing. Like 50 or 60 of them.

You are right, Not-so-normal-mom, I did him a favor.

We kept all the boxes dating back seven years that had any form of "bank" written on the outside, and all the records for the last three years per federal guidelines.

On another note, we will be replacing the old bureau/sink in the new house, but probably not until this winter when we are more settled in. My MIL will be all over that piece. She and my FIL live in the house the family homesteaded in. Our ancestors spent their lives trying to modernize the place, and my MIL is attempting to restore the house back to her idea of what would be original.

MFH insists they need to put those red velvet ropes all around the inside of the house along with signs that read "No Flash Photography".

My FIL hates what she's doing and sees no humor in the above statement whatsoever.

He says she is just making it harder for them in their old age, and I guess I can understand that. At least she hasn't replaced the modern appliances with a wash board, an ice box, and a spit in the fireplace. I must admit that the clawfoot bathtub is spectacular, but I am relieved the toilet has not been replaced by a hole in the ground out back.

I have submitted a proposal to my boss on how I might perform my job from 150 miles away. If he goes for it I guess I'm not really leaving, but I will be part time which is perfect. And, I won't be here in this office, which is even more perfect.

I'm not sure I was cut out to be a SAHM, even though I'll still be working from home, but at least I will have two grandmas nearby to provide respite if needed.

Purge

I'm doing a little housekeeping before I leave the office.

At each year end I diligently file all accounting paperwork into those banker boxes and put them in storage in our back room. Multitudes of paperwork in spite of the fact that everything is stored either in our point of sale program, our accounting program, our customer database, or a combination thereof.

Paperless, anyone?

What a waste.

As I was pondering where to put the 2006 boxes, I found boxes dating all the way back to 1996.

My boss is a freak about such stuff. Since he is gone on a little personal trip right now, I called one of those document shredding companies and as we speak he is outside in the parking lot purging 1996 through 2003.

It feels so good.

I hope he doesn't notice they're gone until I am.

What would you do?

By the time I finish posting all these pictures from the new house, you will all be wondering why on earth we decided to buy this particular one.

This is one view of the master bedroom. To the right of the dark purple alcove is the walk in closet. Inside the closet and directly left is the bathroom, sans a sink. I don't know if she planned it that way or not, but she is very proud of this antique bureau that she converted to a sink. It was not plumbed in the original house plans, but was an afterthought. Like, "Gee, what's a bathroom without a sink? I guess we forgot that part. Hey! I know! Let's put one out here in the closet!"

Whereas I stand to inherit some very nice antique pieces of furniture one day, I have none now. So, this washstand does not really fit in with the decor of my house.

Don't get me wrong, I think it's beautiful. This house currently is home to a great many antiques, so this goes with the territory.

But, as MFH and I were touring houses to buy, we oohed and aahed over the magnificent master baths with their huge counters and huge vanities and two - yes TWO - sinks. MFH has yearned for the day that he would actually have a drawer or maybe even two, in the vanity perhaps, for his stuff. I am a hog that way.

I am torn.

Would you rip the bureau out and replace it with more modern furnishings? By that I mean a more traditional vanity/counter/sink combination.

Let's not discuss what to do about the purple paint except to say that it's my least favorite color next to blue. But, it does complement my favorite decorating color which is sage, so I may keep it purple for now. I already have enough painting to do.

16

Here's the kitchen in the new house. I suppose it isn't all that bad if you like country, but blue is not one of my favorite colors. When we attended the open house, the owner, who is also a realtor and whose husband built this house, said that the cabinets are maple. If that's true, then I may just strip this paint off and restore them to original.

Moving to a new house is exciting, but I am finding myself having trouble with the most simple of things. For instance, this house has three bathrooms and I can't figure out for the life of me how I want to decorate each one. The only thing I know with certainty is that the main bath must be painted as soon as yesterday - it is blue also. Royal blue. What was she thinking? She did confess to me that her husband never lets her use color in any of the houses they live in, and because they were in this house for five years, he gave in to her. Thanks, husband.

I love the use of color in our house now, and the way it's decorated. But what I don't want to do is make this house a newer version of that. Maybe after we get moved in it will just come to me.

Today is my 16th anniversary at work, and probably my last.

Open house

Our realtor hosted an open house at our home last Sunday.

The note he left us said "There were 10 groups of people that came through today. There was good commitment and good interest."

We were just hoping that all 10 groups weren't our neighbors. As it turns out, one old guy across the street did come over. He's lived in the neighborhood forever - his house was probably the first one built there. His comment to the realtor was, "Those kids have done a lot of nice work to this place." He would know this considering we had to change the locks shortly after moving in and learning that he held a spare key to our front door.

I thought that 10 groups of people was a pretty good turn out. Still, we've heard nothing further since the open house. True, it's only been three days. We didn't make an offer on our house until two weeks after we had seen it.

Last night when MFH came home from work there was a couple in the alley looking at the shop. This is becoming quite common so he didn't think anything of it - only this time he knew the woman in the car. As it turns out, they have friends who sold their home in Texas just yesterday. The friends had been to our open house. By the questions these people were asking MFH, it seems the friends are quite serious about buying our house. They have a few remodeling plans in place already.

But they LOVED my kitchen. I designed that kitchen with only my taste in mind because it never occurred to me that we would leave. I love it. Every part of it. It actually made me teary eyed to think that someone else was going to enjoy my kitchen and not change it.

The kitchen in my new house is the first thing I am going to tackle when we move in. It's "country". The cabinet fronts are painted with blue crackle paint.

Yuck.

It's hard to think about starting over.

A bad shoe day

Do you remember the C.andies shoes that O.livia wore in the closing scene of G.rease? The fantastic red mules on the wooden soles?

To die for.

They were reintroduced several years ago, and naturally I had to have me some of that. They were no longer on wooden soles, however. Now they are plastic, and they are slippery, especially on waxed floors of grocery stores.

Last night The Boy and I were shopping on our way home at the end of our day. I had told him of my incident in the morning where I slipped and fell on the stairs. While moving to take something off a shelf, my heel slipped and my foot came out from under me. I caught myself on the shopping cart.

The Boy looked at me, and with all seriousness said, "Mom, are you forgetting how to walk?'

Ow

The camping trip was fantastic. I think I got more sleep this weekend than any one healthy person should ever get. We relaxed, spent time on the boat, caught lots of fish, and watched all the children run wild.

So, this morning when my alarm went off, I jumped out of bed so I could work out like I do most mornings - only I usually drag myself out of bed.

My right flipflop slipper came out from under me while heading down the stairs and I landed flat. I have the faintest of bruises beginning to show on both calves, my right butt cheek hurts like the devil, and my lower back is screaming at me. Interesting, though, is that my upper back/neck region that has been giving me fits for several days feels much better now. Hm.

I feel awfully clumsy for someone who can walk around in five inch heels effortlessly.