We're moving (literally)!

So. The title of this blog is a little misleading these days. Mainly because our rented house is no longer the peanut butter to my bread. Actually, I'm not sure if that analogy even makes sense, but since sandwiches are not the point of this post, I will carry on nonetheless.

In just a few weeks, we move out of here and into our new house officially. This warrants a blog name change if I've ever heard it, so from now on I'll be posting to our brand new little blog, which you can access here.

The new blog!

It's still a work in progress, but I'm itching to move on from life with a landlord, so the new blog is up and running. I'll see you there from now on! :)


88 signatures later...

...we are now officially responsible for a mortgage. And we could NOT be any happier about that fact. :)

Our to-do list is about 43 miles long, and we've already changed some things since these pictures were taken (let's just say that both Rick and I have gotten quite chummy with things like crowbars and tack removers), but here is the grand-ish "before" tour.

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I forgot to get a picture of the backyard and the pool, though you can sort of see the pool just behind the house. Maybe when there aren't 4 ft of snow in the backyard I'll take the time to traipse back there and get some better shots.

Not sure what Rick was doing in this picture--probably trying to get out of the picture, actually.

Someday, this will be a full bath. For now, it's just...for the birds.

That carpet sorta gives me the willies. But we're dealing with it for now.

Er-the built-in hutch in the dining room. Somehow, I failed to take a picture of the rest of the room. Check back soon.

Bay window = major selling point. 

Hardwood floors = another major selling point.

You can't tell from this picture, but there are eight outlets in this room. Eight.

We had a sneaking suspicion that they left behind their garland because it was holding the banister together (note the missing spindles), but, happily, we managed to unwrap it without anything falling apart. Yet.


 My mom says she plans to live in this closet when she is old and we have to take care of her.


The fact that there are plenty of rooms for multiple sets of twins = major selling point for our moms.

Nice floor, right? I already have paint swatches lined up to fix it...




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So there you have it: our big house that we have even bigger plans for. Believe me, there are very few feet of the 2500 it came with that we don't plan to completely transform. And, like I said earlier, we're already well on our way...


The post in which we dance and sing "Kumbaya."

Rick and I have this little event coming up soon called "Closing On a House." {Insert spastic celebratory dance here that may or may not be to the tune of "Omigod You Guys"--Legally Blonde: the Musical.} 

Virgin house buyers that we are, we have no idea who will be in attendance at this auspicious occasion, what it will look like, where it will occur, or what we will do. Well, I know what I'll be doing: I'll be spastically dancing. And Rick will be pretending that he bought the house with someone else, perhaps even someone whose dancing experience exceeds prancing across a stage wearing a faux elephant head and a pink tutu while "Baby Elephant Walk" rumbled in the background.

Since we don't know what to expect, then, we've amused ourselves by coming up with unlikely possibilities. Here's what we picture The Closing looking like:

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We (us, our lawyer, their lawyer, our realtor, their realtor, the soon-to-be non-owners, our parents,my first grade teacher, and my cats) all gather around the house and hold hands. Our lawyer will ceremoniously present us with the title of the house swathed in grosgrain ribbon, then give an elaborate toast to our victory. The realtors will sing a duet (we're torn between "Kumbaya" and "People (Who Need People)") while I do an interpretive dance with scarves in the background. The crowd will cheer jubilantly as the song comes to a close, and not because they're glad my dancing was over. We'll then go around the circle and say one thing we loved about the closing ceremony before making snow angels in the yard. Finally, we'll invite them all inside for cannoli and raspberry chai, which we'll dine upon until we have to fork over our life's savings our down payment, at which point we'll pry uneaten cannoli out of their hands since that's all we'll be able to eat for the next several months.
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Yeah. With the exception of the money-changing-hands part, we know The Closing is not going to happen that way...unless by some strange chain of events our realtor morphs into Raffi or Barbara Streisand, in which case the odds would be much greater.
Weirdly doctored photo courtesy of too much time on my hands and this website.
Anyway, until That Happy Day when we finally learn what exactly is entailed in this mysterious event, we'll just keep entertaining ourselves with visions of cannoli and snow angels.

And oh--if you happened to have stumbled on this page by googling the real answer to "What is closing?" I sincerely apologize. May your closing be much less dramatic than my fictitious one. Please do let me know, though, if Barbara Streisand shows up to yours. I'd like an autograph.