Peace in the Valley

Amazing what makes some cats happy. Thumbs has been suspended in this bag for about an hour.

On another note, as promised, I've started a new blog to chronicle our new house renovation. Go to 2cats.wordpress.com to check it out.

House Blogging

Big plans afoot. Our mortgage was conditionally approved (pending proof of hazard insurance, and copies of some papers), so if all goes according to plan we should close before the end of June! We're so thrilled. We've both been renting now for upwards of 15 years apiece, so having a place to call our own is going to be huge. I think it will feel really, really different to be living in our own place, that we create together, and I can't wait to experience that.

Since we thought we'd be living in our current rental for the foreseeable future, we already did a lot of little DIY improvements here and there. For example, N put dimmers in most of the rooms, we painted several rooms (or painted them halfway), and added some lighting fixtures and other little details to spruce up the place. But we always did them as cheaply as possible and in a sort of comprised way, since this was a rental. So owning a place and being able to do things the right way and just the way we want to do them is going to be huge.

And in that spirit, we plan on documenting the whole process, from soup to nuts, from ripped out, pee-stained carpet to dismantled ceiling tiles. And we'll be doing it all on a new blog. Title not yet determined, nor host (I have trouble making my photos look the way I want them to on Blogger, so I'm thinking of trying out a different blogging platform--suggestions welcome!) nor launch date, although I guess we better get going ASAP. N and I will both be contributing, so stay tuned!

It's Happening

We're under contract! We walked through the house with an inspector last Friday and a contractor this morning, and the resident is already starting to move things out onto the sidewalk. Oh, which house, you ask? Oh, um, well....this one. That first one described there in that post.

Yeah, I know, I'm going to eat my words. Something compelled me to go back and look at this house, despite my initial--and, I see now in re-reading that post--overwhelming misgivings. I think part of my reluctance in thinking the single-family home could not possibly be salvageable was because I didn't think N would be on board with the renovations. But when he saw it, saw that it was in a great neighborhood (our current one), and was an actual house that we could actually afford the mortgage on, I think he got really excited. Frankly, I think he's excited to do the demolition. Ripping down the ceilings, ripping up carpet, knocking down walls. Guys love that sort of thing.

But circumstances have conspired to make this a really good time for us to buy. There is the $8,000 tax credit that Obama is giving first-time homebuyers who purchase a house before December 1, 2009. The low, low interest rate our mortgage broker locked in for us last Friday, even before we had a signed contract, because our realtor assured him we would definitely be going under contract (4.5% people!!!). And because this house does need so much work, we got it for a low, low price. We figure our sweat equity over the next 5 years will be like our second job, making the house pay off down the line if we decide to sell and move into something larger (or something with a yard). Our broker thinks that with the location we're in, we'll probably be able to sell for double the purchase price in 5-7 years. And, no matter how you slice it, the mortgage, even with property taxes and hazard insurance added in, will be less than what we're currently paying in rent. So, I think financially, we're making a wise move, despite the many, many weekends of home improvement we have coming up.

And yes, I realize I'll be trying to live down that blog post for months to come.

Second Thoughts

Okay, I just read this and now I'm feeling really nervous about buying a home. If this economics writer for the New York Times can screw up, what does that portend for me and N???

Poking Around

I looked at three houses today in my neighborhood. One, which was going for all of $124,900, smelled so badly of cat piss, I could almost taste it on my tongue 3 hours later. I'm all for DIY renovations, but there's no way I could salvage that place. Not only was the stench unbearable (and I am totally a cat person), but the layout was all wrong: a tiny, disjointed, dark kitchen; a rabbit's warren of bedrooms upstairs, a deck only accessible by pushing out the bottom part of the window. But the good thing about looking at that place was meeting the neighbor from across the street, a kitchen renovator who handed me his card with a sweet smile. He and his wife lived across the street from the house for sale, next door to his sister. He also thought the house was a good deal, and said houses for that price rarely came for sale in the neighborhood.

One of the other houses I looked at was much nicer, but was also 3x the price of the first. This one was a two-unit with a single-family house feel. An elderly woman lived there, and the decor reflected the occupant. I could see past that; what I couldn't deal with was the vague sound of Interstate 295 that hummed in the distance. There were views from the upstairs window, but I didn't want a view of the highway, even if Back Cove and New Hampshire could also be seen. When I lived in New York, I spent 5 years within spitting distance of the Brooklyn Queens Expressway, and to this day, the sound of highway noise stresses me out and reminds of waking up at 4am to the sound of massive semi-trucks downshifting in traffic outside my window.

Finally (well, not so finally, this was the first house I looked at, but I after I saw the other two I went back and looked at the first with a different mindset) I saw a two-unit on corner of one really nice quaint street and one sketchy not-so-great street. Besides the location, there isn't much to recommend it. The broker and I counted five layers of peeling linoleum flooring in the kitchen, there was fake wood parquet floors elsewhere, wood paneling in most of the rooms, vertical vinyl blinds, dropped ceilings, and on and on. But there was also decent light, some nice molding around the window frames, and the potential to create a really nice open concept kitchen/eating area. If we got a tenant for the downstairs, our mortgage would be eminently affordabel. But, to give you an idea of what we'd have to do to the place to get it rent-worth, here's the living room.

A Dream Deferred?

I did this preliminary mortgage application online with my bank, and the message I got said they didn't have any loans to suit my needs at this time. What does that mean? Am I screwed? I'm waiting to hear back from the loan officer I spoke with on the phone to see if he can give me any more insight.

Feeling Homey

Sadie is now 13 months old. Every day she amazes me with some new word or skill, some little something that she wasn't able to do just the day before. And with her growing independence, and the comfort of knowing that yes, she really is here to stay, I'm feeling freer to turn my attention to other things. Like--dare I use the word?--homemaking.

Right now, I am utterly obsessed with all things home-related. I dream of real estate. I'm constantly looking at blogs like apartmenttherapy.com, designspongeonline.com, and decor8blog.com. I love how spaces can make you feel a certain way--unencumbered, claustrophobic, relaxed, energized. It fascinates me to see people on those home design shows freak out and cry when their home makeovers are "revealed," because it proves just what power good design and a well-thought out space can have on the psyche. I've lived in numerous apartments through the years, in San Francisco, New York, Seville and Barcelona in Spain, in Prague, and now--in just three years--three different apartments in Portland, Maine. Some of them were special, some were just bit players in my life, some held starring roles. I wanted to dress each of them up to set the stage for the life I fancied myself living, but limited finances, uninvested roommates, and/or the knowledge that I wouldn't be staying long always seemed to conspire against me.

Well, no more! Now that N and I are settled in Portland for the foreseeable future, and now that we have a little youngun' we want to make a happy home for, I'm constantly thinking up ways to spruce up our rental apartment. And in the last few weeks, I've even been dreaming about buying something. We are madly in love with our neighborhood, the East End. Our current apartment sits across the street from an Olmstead-designed park that runs downhill to Casco Bay. We have park and water views from our bay windows. We can walk to an excellent coffee shop, a gourmet food shop, a down-n-dirty deli, three great restaurants, a playground, a dock, and a beach. Oh, and my work is a 10-minute bike ride away (45 minutes by foot). Could I ask for anything more?

Unfortunately, we're not the only people who know how great the neighborhood is. Homes here will cost you a pretty penny. Don't get me started on how some of them, that are now in the $350,000 range, were selling for closer to $100k in 1998. I know, because I've checked the tax assessor's website. So in order to get a toehold in the neighborhood, N and I have begun to think about buying a multi-unit. A place where the mortgage would be affordable with the help of a tenant. I'm on the hunt.

On Having a Baby (Excerpt From an Email I Sent to a Friend in September)

You know, I think about Sadie a lot, and she has changed my life for the better, but contrary to what I expected I don't think about her ALL the time, nor has she become the sole focus of my life. For example, I just bought a sewing machine, and am looking forward to learning how to make things and setting up my sewing space, etc. I just mention this because I thought your life essentially ended when you had children, that you loved them so much and became so wrapped up in them that you had no time to do or even think about anything else. But it's not quite like that after all--it's more like they cast your life with a different shade, or color, but they don't transform it as completely as I would have imagined. Which is a good thing!! And doesn't lessen the love or joy I feel for her and with her.

Pity Party is Over

Okay, I was definitely feeling sorry for myself in that last post. Maybe I wasn't yet ready to accept how much work--like, manual labor type of work, on your feet, getting up and down, dealing with smells and trash and junk work--goes into having a child and animals and a "house." Okay, Mom and Dad, I get it now. 

But I must say that having Nick around more has made it all a lot easier. He works 40 hours now, instead of 70, and twice this week he even brought Sadie to daycare while I sat around in my pajamas drinking coffee making myself late for work. Like right now. But it's blissful. And I can't seem to get my butt off this big, red cozy chair... 

A Day in the Life

With Nick working over 60 hours a week at his new job, I'm finding myself a bit overwhelmed by the day-to-day routine of working and caring for a baby and three animals, and trying to keep the house somewhat clean and presentable. Here's a snapshot of yesterday:

Come home from work.
Change into jeans and get stroller out.
Attach Ting Tong's recently recovered collar to her leash (the collar had been buried in my mom's couch for the last two months until it was found this weekend).
Take Sadie and Ting Tong for a walk around the neighborhood; Ting Tong hasn't been out in days.
Come home from walk, park stroller, put TT in downstairs entryway and close door.
Go back outside, gather things out of car that I couldn't carry up when I first got home from work: diaper genie inserts, a tray for Sadie's Bumbo, my breastmilk pump.
Put car seat and Sadie in downstairs entryway.
Go back outside, wheel stroller to door, collapse stroller and put in downstairs entryway.
Take Sadie out of car seat, gather up bags from car, walk up narrow, winding stairs, implore TT to follow. She doesn't.
Put stuff down all over kitchen, put Sadie in her Bumbo, wash off new Bumbo tray, prepare Sadie's cereal.
Realize I'm trembling from hunger and rip open box of crackers and start dipping them into peanut butter. The box of crackers falls on the floor but I'm too weak to pick them up.
Drink an Emergen-C.
Make Sadie's cereal.
Feed Sadie--her cute, cereal-strewn smile makes me happy.
Hear TT whimpering in the downstairs entryway because she doesn't think she make it up the stairs, even though she can.
Finish feeding Sadie and gather her up for a bath.
Hear TT barking at neighbors coming home.
Put Sadie in Bumbo on floor and go downstairs to get TT.
Push TT up first two steps then watch her bound easily up the rest.
Feed TT.
Give Sadie a bath.
Take Sadie upstairs to get her ready for bed.
Dry, dress, cuddle, read books to Sadie, nurse Sadie, and put her in her crib.
Hear Sadie cry as I walk back downstairs. She can't fall asleep without crying first.
Realize tomorrow is garbage day.
Put kitchen trash into bigger Portland City trash bag.
Empty cat litter. It hasn't been changed in days, and we have two cats.
Turn on Wet/Dry Vac to vacuum up scattered kitty litter and get sprayed with water sucked up a few days earlier during kitchen flood (requires another entry to explain)
Wipe off walls now sprayed with dirty flood water.
Tie up garbage bag and bring downstairs. Don't bother with recycling.
Walk outside and inhale the sweet, clean Maine air. The water in the bay is still and the sky is darkening.
Walk back inside, up the stairs into kitchen, and clean out pot used to heat up can of soup the night before.
Heat up another can of soup for dinner.
Play fetch with TT while eating dinner and reading story in "American Baby" magazine about how to "get it all done."
Notice that Sadie has stopped crying.
Go to bathroom and see that TT has peed on the bath mat. Rinse off bath mat.
Put dishes in dishwasher and forget to run it.
Sit down in big, red chair, intending to do freelance editing work.
Stare at big pile of unfolded laundry on the couch, and realize I'm too tired to either edit or fold laundry.
Go upstairs to bed. It's 8:30.
Wake up 1am, 3am, 4:30am. Sadie is gassy and fussy.
Wake up Nick and have him try to comfort Sadie when nursing doesn't work.
Have Nick put Sadie in her swing.
Talk to Nick about his day, since I never see him anymore during daylight hours.
Get out of bed at 6:30 and reheat yesterday's coffee in the microwave.
Start writing this post.
Sadie wakes up.
Keep writing while she fusses.
Go get Sadie out of swing.