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First house was nice inside, but had no outside green space, and was vinyl. Second house was small and needed a lot of work but had a lovely back yard. Third house was roomy with a large, private backyard, but taxes were quite high and the inside left us a little cold. We drove past a fourth house that looks great on the LMS but the area was somehow depressing. Put the finishings of the first house on the third house, add the backyard of the second, and give it the asking price of the fourth and we'll take it.
I sometimes wonder why I keep this up, writing in this space. I started to write a blog nearly a year ago, in an attempt to see if I can transition to another career - not writing, but one in which the blog becomes part of the PR vehicle. Yet the blog requires serious attention, larger amounts of intelligent and interesting text and photos, which I find very difficult to work into my current schedule, even though getting photos is easier now. Writing here is not very demanding, I don't have to stay on topic, or even make much sense.
Is it really perfect if its too expensive? Or is it perfect in the abstract, but not “perfect for me” if its too expensive for me? And by too expensive, does that mean “more than I want to pay” or is it outrageously overpriced, or somewhere between the two? If the price I perceive as expensive is the honest market rate, then is it really perfect for me? Or does that just indicate that perfection is unattainable? I haven't seen it yet in person, so maybe it isn't really perfection, but it sure looks that way from here.
Casting about at the last minute for some thing to cast on – I'm not sitting in a car for six hours each way without something to knit, and none of the current projects will travel well. I've learned my lesson about lace in a car (never again) and I've had so many problems with the purple Hydrangea tee that I won't travel with it. This is why I try to plan out projects, so I can grab and go as opportunities present themselves. Although I'm back to needing a lace stole, I have a sweater ready to go tonight.
I am slightly amazed by how lush and green everything is as we travel to Rome. The nearly vertical faces of the rock mountainsides, probably dynamited for both the Erie Canal and the Thruway, are nearly covered by green growth, some of it actual trees that have taken root in the smallest crevasse. It boggles the mind, a reminder of how persistent Nature is in staking a claim to life. As the quiet miles roll past alongside the wide, flat waterway, I can only wonder how I missed seeing the Erie Canal on the first trip up here in May.
I am amazed by the number of people who have come into the village for a summer night's concert at the waterfront park. The cars are parked on side streets for almost a half mile in any direction. It is bad timing, as we arrive just as the concert is breaking up, but a part of my mind is considering the implications of this kind of attendance at a local event: the sense of community that it conjures seems at least a half-century out of fashion. It is oddly attractive on the one hand and yet a little bit disconcerting.
I am too tired to haul out of bed for the early swim hour, but I make it to the noon swim. It doesn't quite feel like discipline yet, let's call it dedication, although I am already feeling the benefits, as the tingly leg sensation has been largely quelled. It will be weeks before I see any benefits of this, and I will have to be swimming laps in addition to just doing aerobics in the water, but it is something, I am moving in the right direction. I need to start applying the same dedication to what I eat.
Oh dear. It really is rather perfect, considering they didn't talk to us before building it. I would prefer different finish on the kitchen cabinets, and we both like the victorian tile feel of the second upstairs bath better than the master bath tile finishes, but the current finishes are perfectly acceptable. I would like to add a sink in the laundry closet. The basement should be finished, and the back deck needs to be built. Himself wants a door to the porch off the den, but I'd prefer to figure out to screen some or all of the porch.
Cool. Noise. Damn. The new air conditioner does really cool the room down, but it is also very noisy. Very noisy. Now I remember why I didn't really use the air conditioner when I lived in Queens, why I prefer not to have to use the hotel room air conditioners. Noise keeps me awake. Central air is very different, and clearly what we need to strive for next. For now, however, I am thankful that the room is cool tonight and I can relax. I don't know how I'll sleep, but I can at least be comfortable for a while.
I have discovered a wool yarn I can knit with during the summer, at least now that we've moved out of drastic heat and humidity. I've abandoned my summer knitting for this pullover project. I knit half of the body during last week's business trip and I am motoring right along, but I must find the other cone of yarn. It is buried in the yarn closet – I hope.
You always want to find out that they miss you, that they did in fact figure out just how good you were after you left and they realize they made a mistake by letting you go. You can imagine my delight then when I discovered today that they do miss me, they realize their error, that she isn't a good leader, and they would like to have me back. It's not gonna happen, mind you, but it is nice to hear. And I was more than a little surprised at the compliments from someone who isn't inclined to undue praise.
It has been a long time since I had a migraine like this. And it clearly has triggers in the barometric shift, but it is stunning in its intensity, and the twinkling lights that will not go away from my eyes, even when they're closed. I almost couldn't read my computer screen at work today, it looked like it had been taken over by ILM with some weird special effects. I probably should have left early, but I felt compelled to try to finish a few things, why, I don't quite know. Maybe because I don't work as long hours.
A bidding war on the Gatehouse? It seems most unlikely after all this time, yet stranger things have happened. It seems rather improbable that this other buyer could get a written offer together before contracts are signed with the current prospective buyers, and it would have to be a really nice offer to be accepted. But there would then be a third inspection on the house, which makes both of us pause. While it sounds nice in theory, I don't want anything to distract us from the bird nearly in hand, and miss having the contracts signed by next Friday.
What a lovely reward at the end of the week. I managed to do quite a number of chores today, not exactly everything on the list (I have decided that is impossible at this point: the list is simply too long) but a quite satisfactory number were addressed, and at the end of the day, just before dinner I had a Vodka martini, expertly prepared by Geoffrey. Not two, just the one. It was enough for me to really enjoy – I can't remember the last time I had a martini. I have become such a lightweight, particularly this summer.
I shouldn’t be so disappointed in the houses that we saw today – it is not their fault they don’t measure up to last week’s stunner. As it appears more likely that the Gatehouse will be sold, I am more and more eager to move on to a new house. Investing time and money in renovation in my place still leaves us with a mortgage payment; I’d rather have the mortgage be for a house in a better location. And a house that is, without any possible argument, ours, not mine. Surprisingly or not, we aren’t in agreement about this. Yet.
Rae spoke to me tonight as I went to bed. It took me a minute to figure it out, why I was suddenly washed in this longing for her, just to speak with her for ten minutes. But it was clear, distinct, and overwhelming, I was crying with the force of it. Once I understood what was going on, I listened to her, trying to figure out what she was saying, why she “called” as it were. A light bulb went off inside and I absolutely knew it was about Christopher’s birthday, that she was pushing me to call him.
We went to Family night in Northport which is really just an informal old car show with a couple of bands and a few tables set up by the local Lions Club and such. Several Main Street restaurants were selling ready-made food on the sidewalk, but we opted for dinner inside at a restaurant – it was quieter and cooler. I saw my first truly authentic AC Cobra, signed by Carroll Shelby. Cars were parked far away on the streets leading up and out of the village, so everyone got to walk down, then back up, those hills – yikes!
Soap. I realized that I’m looking forward to buying soap at the Sheep & Wool festival. At least its made from goat’s milk. I probably won’t buy much yarn this year. No, correct that, there are two vendors I want to check out this year, assuming they’re at the festival again. I need to start saving for the potential expense, because if either of them has the right combination of fiber type and color, I’m going to buy a sweater’s worth. If both have acceptable combinations, I’ll spend more on yarn than I will for two nights at the hotel.
I can't quite believe that we didn't go to Wickhams this summer, that there were no trips out east this summer, and no visits to Davis Peach Farm either. When asked, I mentioned fish many times, but that has never yet on the menu. This is not how I want to eat. I know that we will not have a real garden any time soon, but there are local produce options. I need to take back part of the cooking, although with my work and travel schedules in the next few weeks, that will probably have to wait a bit.
The contract is fully signed, everyone is agreed to the terms. It is such a relief to be at this stage, although until G has a check for the full amount and the deed has changed hands we can't be completely happy, but it does look as though this will finally happen. They still want a very short lead time to close, which we hope means that they've got financing totally in order and there's just the bank appraisal and the oil tank work to schedule. The latter will probably push back the schedule a bit as permits are needed.
Obligations. They come in many shapes and sizes, to many ideas, things and people. Some are not so difficult in and of themselves but sometimes the timing of them becomes difficult. For this once, I am going to ignore my upbringing, my grandmother’s voice in my head, and be selfish, do what I want, not what the obligation would demand. I will disappoint someone, I know, and there will be a price to be paid in the future, but I need my quiet time and space now because the next two weeks will be enforced sociability nearly 24/7 with others.
How can it be that we really don't like the house when it sounds so right on paper and in photos? Well, for starters, the finishing details aren't done well, which makes us wonder about the details of what you can't see. The kitchen is gorgeous, huge, almost too big, but the rest of the house is just wrong. After renovation, it has lost the best details of the original house and the new rooms are poorly planned. I'd rather the new construction house we saw two weeks ago. Or would I really rather have the Tavern? I don't know.
Gear up, gear up. Much to do, so little time. Maximize productivity. Plan ahead. Get up early. Stay up late. Be disciplined. Stay focused. Finish this, on to the next. Multi-task whenever possible. This is the way we live in modern society. Even as I do it, and I'm fairly good at doing it when I want to, I realize how much I don't really want to do it moving forward. I've done it all my life, I want to slow down now. Yet for the moment it is my life, and will continue to be for the forseeable future.
I don’t mind outbound travel for business trips. Especially if I can travel in relative peace and quiet, knitting or reading during the constant waiting. I don’t want to have to talk to anyone, or wait up for them or anything, I just want to do my own thing. I understand that is not to be the way of this trip, nevertheless, by the time we’ve landed, checked in, had dinner, and get back to the hotel, I just want QUIET. I’m really not sure how I’m going to get through the rest of this week, never mind next week.
am not surprised by the news that a former college acquaintance was convicted. He always gave me a really skanky vibe, and he just seemed wrong somehow, bent in an unhealthy manner. And in that group of misfits and malcontents in third floor Trow – where no one blinked the Ring Cycle continuously blasting at high volumes day and night over the weekend, where the smoke billowed out of rooms when the room door was opened, and they argued amongst themselves over who was the bigger wierdo - the fact that I even noticed how wrong he was says something.
I’m not sure why I packed the scarf project. It is very small needles, very fine yarn and a fussy lace pattern. But it is the only thing I have on the needles that is as small and portable as I need on this trip. I am racking my brains now to come up with a new project (!) this weekend, some thing I’ve already swatched for, or can swatch quickly. Something using yarn I already have, probably nothing from my queue, but from my favorites list. An hour of knitting each evening would calm me during this travel blitz.
Watching the earth slowly move past on the return flight from Norfolk to LaGuardia, I wondered at the landscape. The regular lines of demarcation from agriculture, the small oval hoops of high school running tracks encasing football fields, and the larger hoops of tracks for running and training horses, the curving lines of residential streets with houses lining up like boats in a marina, it all looked a little strange to me, this long mass of continuous civilization, not quite city, not quite farm country, just suburban. I realized this bland, uninterrupted mix is not where I want to live.
Maine. New Hampshire. I've never been to either (yet) but they both sound wonderful to me. East coast, woods, lakes, shoreline, less densely populated. I could really get behind that. Who knows when or if it will come to pass, but I welcome the chance to really explore the options, not just via the web. I am prepared to jump ship, leave the job, leave the Island, leave New York, if there's a possibility we can have a life together in a comfortable place and not be working ourselves to the bone for someone else. Time to live the dream.
I was all but swearing at the designer, finding nothing but flaws in the first four rows past the border. Even as I told myself that it must be my mistake – nobody on Ravelry indicated any issues – and was tinking back the rows, I couldn't see what was wrong. Another pass through the chart, reknitting the rows, but the number of stitches to cast on was wrong, the stitches were wrong, nothing worked! Then I read how a stitch I knew perfectly well was described in the lace chart legend. Oh. Why on earth write descriptions like that?!
I feel compelled to question why I bothered to go home over the weekend, it doesn't seem like there was a weekend at all, just flying interrupted by some sleeping. This has removed any doubt I may have had: I am not a road warrior, I don't want to be a road warrior. I don't mind the occasional bit of travel, a day or two here or there, but two weeks back to back is not at all what I want to do. Even if they are just partial weeks, not full weeks, it is more than enough for me.
The plan is now set to get out of Dodge a day early – big, bad Earl is coming to town. It will probably be nothing, another false alarm, but I have no interest in getting caught in Norfolk over Labor Day weekend in a Cat 3 or Cat 4 hurricane. Of course, getting slammed by Earl in my own house isn't likely to be fun either, but there's a reasonable chance the storm will peter out by then. Of course, if Earl does arrive on Long Island, it could be a reasonable substitute for the fun and adventure of DragonCon.
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