Selecting Houses Empress Style

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Yessssssssssss!

Falsie Advertising?

Six years ago, I went to Cancun with my BF Fanny, another friend and my oldest daughter. By day we'd lie by the pool, swim in the ocean and drink exotic cocktails carried to us by uniformed wait staff. It was wonderful. At night we'd try offbeat restaurants and then hit the nightclubs. I've created many vacation rocking chair memories with Fanny that I hope to tap into when I become ancient and decrepit, but this trip was the best.

For 27 years, Fanny has made me laugh longer and louder than any other human on earth. Like me, she is not exactly well endowed. Just to get the illusion of cleavage, we both need all the help we can get from duct tape, miracles and any other push-up type device on the market. Over the years, we've come to accept the way things are, but that doesn't stop a girl from wishing for just a wee bit more in the asset department. Enter the falsies-which have come a long way since the days of using Kleenex to pad things up. One night, Fanny asked to borrow the silicone wonders I had brought along to help me fill out my nearly A B cups. After a few drinks with dinner, we went to the Hard Rock Cafe to listen to some live music and dance. Fanny, always the life of any party, got up on the stage to mime along with the song YMCA and toward the end of her stellar performance, just as she was making the Y with her arms above her head, something gave way and the falsies slipped out. The look on her face of complete mortification is etched in my mind forever. Six years later, I'm still wiping tears from my eyes whenever I think about that trip.

In a what you see, is not what you always get sort of way, the French colonial was an abysmal house. Where do I start with the shortcomings? Perhaps the neighbor's jacked up Ford F-350 was the first sign that all would not go well on this visit. Or could it have been the 4 foot tall heaps of scrap metal and lumber in his yard? From every window in the house, I could see the neighbor's perfect nests for rats. The downstairs of the home was cozy with beautiful French doors in the dining and living rooms. The kitchen was modernized, but a bit small; smaller than Charming's kitchen. The only bathroom had a claw foot tub with a makeshift shower. The kill the deal third bedroom was the problem as one had to walk through the master to get to it. Since it was currently set up as a nursery, I think that's exactly what it was intended to be a hundred years ago. There was a kitchenette on the second floor too that I'm still pondering. At first I thought it had been converted to a multifamily dwelling, but since it had only one bathroom, this made no sense. I don't know what it was for. Perhaps it had been a bathroom that was changed to a kitchen for a homeowner too lazy to go downstairs to make food. Not a single room had closet doors, they all had curtains in front of the closets. It was an odd little home.


Today's photos are of homes in Charming's neighborhood. Gee, what's missing? Junk heaps and jacked up pickup trucks. With every house I see, Charming looks better, warts and all.

FROGGR

As I was leaving a local hospital tonight, I noticed the car in front of me had vanity plates that completely explain this week's knitting attempts. The lace wrap has been ripped back to a lifeline for the fifth time, and for now, it's in time out. Now that puts a whole new spin on naughty lace. Please don't ask why I'm not putting lifelines in more frequently. I haven't a clue.

In an attempt to show the lace I mean business, I've been doing a little stealth knitting. It's the most beautiful yarn (Rowan Purelife British Sheep Breeds), but I'm completely befuddled knitting trinity stitch in the round. I've ripped this piece back 3 times. Twice I tried trinity stitch, but each round found me with 4 fewer stitches. If I'm adding three stitches for every three I take away, how is this happening? I know it has a simple answer, but for the life of me, I can't get it to work. Completely frustrated, I tried a slip stitch pattern and thought it was hideous, so I ripped that out too. I finally gave up and knit something with cables. I couldn't possibly mess up cables, could I? I shouldn't curse myself, but it is moving along well and should be done tomorrow. Did I tell you this yarn is stunning? Well it is. I spent the better part of last night (between yarn time outs) in the hunt for a sweater pattern for bulky yarn. The yarn gets 3 stitches to the inch on US 10.5s. Any ideas? Any tips for doing trinity stitch in the round? I'm stymied.

House Hunting Update: I was unable to see the new house today, but I have an appointment at noon on Friday. Like any girl suffering after a bad break-up, I drove past Charming tonight. I think I'm turning into a house stalker. I should see what Charming is doing Friday too. Maybe I should just go through there again before I make a rash decision and completely throw that house out of my life. Maybe we just need a little time alone.

Tell Me Lies

I'm sorry to tell you that just like a prince who has been turned into a frog, Charming House has developed a few warts. My entire family has driven past this place at different hours of the day to get a feel for things. Noise was the primary concern and we were all worried about living with something we couldn't change. I recall when I moved out of the house I lived in prior to this place, I promised myself that I'd never live near a freeway again. In a time heals all wounds sort of way, it wasn't the noise I'd forgotten about, it was the constant layer of soot. Freeways are dirty places. Thankfully, I've recalled how hard it was to keep up with the dirt generated only 2 blocks away from the freeway. This new house is separated only by a small yard, brick wall and service drive. Because I have ringing in my ears, I know that constant noise is something that becomes a background hum, but the ever-present soot would annoy the hell out of me, especially when it got into my yarn. I have to think that's as bad as moths in terms of damage.

Charming House has a second -perhaps fatal- flaw, as it's about to be surrendered to the bank. The realtor/owner has thrown in the towel. Although she says she is current on payments, she is not current on taxes and admits to having failed to pay her winter taxes. This home is still on my short list, but I have to be realistic because their asking price covers only the bank note. Since their pricy taxes weren't included in the mortgage, how long would it be before we were booted out? Taxes are around $8,000 a year. If their assets are tapped out, who would make repairs if they were needed? Who would fix the leaky ceiling/roof on the sleeping porch, or a furnace on the fritz? I'm beginning to think of Charming House as a Danger Boy, a sweet talker. I learned a long time ago that it's bad for my mental health to listen to sweet little nothings, especially when whispered by boys who had only their own interests at heart.

For a mere $4,500 a month, you too can imbibe in the lap of luxury.

Being back at square one for house hunting has turned me into a Realtor.com voyeur. It's like peeking into people's windows from a distance. Just today, I found a house that was renting for $4,500 a month and I fell in love with the special bar area they had to offer in the basement. I would have thought that for the asking price, there would have been a more substantial offering of liquor, and a bartender to serve it up. I'd have to consume everything on that tray just to make an offer. I can't afford that much per month, but I wanted to see how the privileged folks lived. You know, like the ones with this fancy bar.


All is not lost as I've found an appealing French colonial, built in 1907, and remodeled just 2 years ago. It has a spacious Dukealicious friendly back yard, complete with a deck, and hey, check out that front porch. It does not come with a bar, but I think I can duplicate the fancy one I saw without a problem. We'll see that house tomorrow, and I'm going to add one more to the list that's been on the market for awhile now. It's a high rise loft in the heart of a busy suburban town. I know it's ultramodern, but I'm willing to keep an open mind. I'm almost over you Charming House.