to sleep perchance to dream

I have been on a mattress quest.  I currently have a queen bed, and with the alert that my grandmother and my aunt may be coming to visit in the next few months, I have decided to buy a king bed to move the current bed into the guest room. 

Truth number 1 about shopping for a mattress:  It is insanely fraught with too many options.  Memory foam, latex foam, pillow top, double-sided pillow top, individually wrapped coils, quilting, regular or low profile box spring, firm, medium, soft, plush, double plush, double dutch plush. 

Geez.  I just want a bed that makes me feel all warm and squishy and sleepy.  Which bed is that? 

The search has been doubly complicated by reading online reviews, listening to the advice of friends, and stumbling on this whole world of luxury mattresses that I never knew existed.  I thought the Westin Heavenly Bed was irrationally expensive with its $2,400 price tag, including frame, a mattress cover, and delivery.  Then I read about the Shifman, the Hydro, and all the mattresses that are hand sewn, cashmere covered, gold dipped, and stuffed with hand spun wool from the most beautiful and delicate of wool-bearing animals in the whole world.  Crap. 

I have discovered that some people pay $5,000, $15,000, even $30,000 for a mattress set.  Do they give you that much better of a sleep experience than a regular mattress?  Do they last forever?  Do they appreciate in value?  It is best not to even attempt to try one of these mattresses.  If they are better, a million times better than a regular mattress, then I will just be depressed that I will never own one.  Even if I won the lottery, I don't think I could bring myself to pay that much for a mattress. 

In my current economic downturn, I cannot imagine affording a mattress on the low end of the high-end mattress universe.  If I did buy one, I would expect it comes with my own personal on-call masseuse.  FOREVER.  And the masseuse would have to also do dishes, change my 8,900 thread count sheets, and shave my legs for me.  Seriously. 

So, maybe I will go on a mattress-trying excursion this weekend.  I am sure that actually trying a mattress is a better strategy than shopping online and reading mountains of mixed reviews. 

I am sleepy just thinking about it.

The First Christmas

This year Bhodi, Myrtle, Sombra, and I celebrated our first Christmas in the new house.  Technically, Sombra has had Christmas here before since he was the former owners' cat, but I imagine this was a little more dog-centric than he is used to. 

Thanks to Deirdre, I had a miniature tree with all the trimmings. 

Thanks to Sarah, I have more ornaments for future miniature trees, and I have a festive table cloth for my borrowed dining room table. 

Thanks to Grandmama, I had egg on toast with homemade salt risen bread for breakfast.  It was so good, I had it for lunch too!  I also have fun Christmas decorations that G send me years ago. 

Thanks to all my friends and family, I had lots of calls, cards, and Christmas wishes. 

Thanks to Bhodi and Myrtle, I had a great Christmas walk and Christmas nap snuggled up on the bed. 

All in all, the first Christmas was a nice one, even if I was far from home. 

So, goodnight all.  So ends another Merry Christmas. 

I have accomplished something....finally. I have procrastinated other things...as usual.

This weekend I decided to take a trip to the Ace Hardware, purveyor of all things needed for home repair.  Seriously, if you haven't been to an Ace lately, GO THERE NOW.  They have stuff you didn't even know you could buy, including the best shower head ever invented.  I mean it...the best shower head ever!   

I also visited the Allison Moore Garage Extravaganza Blowout Sale.  The previous owners left all kinds of things in that garage:  paint, nails, tacks, screws, latches for screen doors, hinges, and so many other things. 

My first amazing find was at Ace: beaded chain and a connector so I could fix my pull-switch light in the kitchen. That's right...that little chain you see on lamps, ceiling fans, etc...  They sell it by the foot for almost nothing. 

Another Ace find: Bathroom sink drain cover.  Now there is no more threat of toothbrush falling into the pipes. 

My last Ace purchase: Handsaw that cuts circles, angles, etc...:  Everyone needs one of these. It's like the saws all without a motor. 

Garage finds:  a straight cutting hand saw for bigger jobs,
plywood that will serve as the door to my hot water heater closet. 
trim pieces that will serve as the frame for the door.
A screw-in hole for my screen door hook. 

So, for about $8, I fixed a screen door latch, the light in the kitchen, and I am all geared up to replace the door/frame for the hot water heater as soon as I stop procrastinating and get that thing up.  I have a mental block about putting in that door.  As soon as I see my first horrible rat monster living in there, I am sure I will get right on that project.  I will even be able to paint it a color similar to my house color and will decorate it with the words "There is a hot water heater in here!!!" 

Name Suggestions So Far

I am still thinking of the grand prize in addition to having the name painted eternally on the entrance to the house.  I will try to dream on a prize tonight and see what my mind comes up with. 

I have consolidated the suggestions so far.  Keep your suggestions coming.  You can submit as many as you like.  Having a deadline for this sort of thing seems the norm, so let's say the last day for submissions is Saturday, December 11.  It's my dad's birthday and also gives anyone time to have a few good weekend benders to get the creative juices flowing. 

Name so far:

The 1800 House
The Bhodi Adobe
Moore-rantia
The Manor
Allisonia
Eureka
GX47
Rattlesnake Ranch
Casa Colmena (beehive house)
A&B Ranch
Moore Estates
Waiting Dog Ranch
Walking Dog Ranch
Herbie
Xanadu
Character Commons
Lazy Dog Ranch
Sleeping Dog Ranch
Bhodi's Sigh
Bhodi Village

2 New Additions:
Rancho de Bhodi
Hacienda de Bhodi

Photos

Okay.  I finally took a few photos of the house.  Maybe this will help with the naming contest. 

I am still not sure what the grand prize will be, but it will include painting the name of the house on the left entry way shown below. 

The next picture is a dark view of the dining room.  Imagine it fully furnished with my random boxes put away.  Thanks to Sarah and Alex for the dining room table on loan from the Noon estate!

Another outside area complete with sink.  There is also a fountain that I will eventually restore to proper working order. 

Living room fireplace.  The sliding glass door takes you to the outside area above.  On the right is the sunken bar area because these people had a mini fridge everywhere you go in this house.  They liked their beer cold and they liked it NOW damnit! 

Below is the view from the kitchen into the living room.  You can see the beehive fireplace on the left and again the living room fireplace on the right. 



Here is the entrance to the backyard between the house and the detached garage. 

The master closet.  I still don't have a dresser, so EVERYTHING is in here.  

A little wooden bridge from one porch leading to a screened in porch that also has an access door from the master bedroom. Of course, I need to replace the screen, but that will happen someday.  

Naming the Chateau and Uneventful Returns

It has come to my attention that I need to name my house.  All good homes have a name...Tara, Gipsy House, The Old Malt House, Mount Vernon, Monticello. 

While Kip has suggested Rattlesnake Ranch, I am not trying to bring that kind of energy into my place.  What if all the rattlesnakes start moving here?  We would certainly have to move. 

With that said, I am taking suggestions for home names.  The winner will get something.  So, feel free to comment your name suggestions here.  If you need additional information/photos/etc... to help you come up with the perfect home name, let me know. 

Warm fuzzy weekend update:  After my recent heaping pile of home repair, I was expecting to come home from Thanksgiving with some major thing in the process of breaking.  Luckily, I arrived to tranquility and a Mr. Kitty.  I picked up Bhodi and Myrtle last night, and we have all been hanging around, relaxing, and going for walks.  For the weekend, it is nice to be a home owner. 

Double Dutch Plumber

Every single time something is done to my house, I go back to my list to draw a line through that task.  Unfortunately, I have had some mishaps that were unexpected and therefor not on the list.  How am I supposed to have a false sense of accomplishment if I can't draw a line through an item on a piece of paper? 

On Tuesday I had the great fortune to arrive home to a pipe spraying water all over my outside patio.  The PVC simply got to a point where it was tired of being a pipe and instead wanted to pursue a career as a Niagara Falls impersonator.  Thankfully I didn't have to clean up the water because this particular problem happened outside...no damaged floors, no wet carpet, no row, row, row my boat inside the house.

Just like there is a thin line between love and hate, there is also a thin line between something covered by home warranty and something not covered by home warranty.  Unfortunately, the home warranty does not cover outside pipes.  After a day and a half of living without water in the house, Brian the Wonder Plumber came and fixed everything.  New pipe, new elbow joint, new purple primer and glue, new lease on life.  Needless to say, his repair worked a lot better than my 9:30 pm repair job from Tuesday night involving duct tape, glue, and lots of cursing. 

After 30 minutes or so, I leave for work and decide to admire, once again, my new pipe.  That's when I see the weeping water flowing down the outside of the wall.  What?  Weeping?  AARRRGGGGGG.  For a few minutes the wall and I sat together to weep.  We talked, we wept, we wept some more.  So, not only did the PVC fail, there was also some sort of leak inside the wall. 

I placed another frantic call to Brian, plumber to the gods, and he skedaddled right back to the house, ripped a hole in the wall, and said, "Compression fittings.  Stupid compression fittings."  It seems the old owners were cheap and lazy and decided to connect their interior copper pipes with compression fittings instead of soldering the pipes together.  In the plumbing world, this is evidently known as "a leak waiting to happen". 

The beauty of it all, however, is that home warranty does cover pipes in the wall, even though they are only a few short inches away from pipes outside the wall.  I got a double dose of plumber love for half the price.  Another bonus...home warranty will pay to fix the hole in my wall.  In the interim, if anyone asks I am going to say I punched that hole in the wall during my kung fu practice. 

Tip of the day: When you are going out of town, turn your water off at the meter.  If I hadn't been home when the pipe exploded, I would have flooded the entire county. 

7 Things Down, 50 Zillion to Go

After having a small meltdown this week related to home repairs and my finances, I am finally starting to breathe again.  Sort of.  It helps that the heating/cooling people came this morning and fixed the bedroom heating and cooling unit.  I have a brand new unit for free courtesy of my home warranty.  One item scratched off my list.   

I am also starting to see some light at the end of my tree limb, weed, crazy yard tunnel.  A great guy named Jim has been showing some yard love at my house.  Jim is the type of guy who sees what the tree wants and does it.  He thinks of the emotional baggage that comes with a misplaced rosebush and doesn't hesitate to say, "Let's rip it out."

Really?  We can rip it out?  Phew.  I thought the world was going to end if I ripped it out. 

Jim is a yard magician, the Yard Whisperer, the friend to tree and cactus alike.  While I hesitated to hire someone to landscape my house and help me get control of this yard, I honestly don't know when I would have the time because I'm so busy trying to keep random shit working.  It's kind of hard to do yard work when I'm trying to keep the hot water heater from burning my house down.  Fire and destruction or pulling weeds?  Tough call. 

Thanks to Jim, I can mark several things off my list, including:
Landscape
Landscape More
Landscape Again
Cut tree from above fireplace

The total is now 5 things off the list. 

Kip saved the day this weekend by scratching off the 6th thing on my list: haul broken outside furniture left here by the former evil spawns of Satan to the dump.  Thanks Kip.  Goodbye double lounge chair thing that has been in my way and bothering me for months. 

Tomorrow I will mark off item 7: replace broken hot water heater.  Once again, free hot water heater a la home warranty.  Unfortunately, I will have to shell out some cash to avoid future home-burning-down issues.  The cash outlay definitely adds to the feeling that I am hemorrhaging money faster than they can print it. 

When will I have to stop paying for unexpected stuff?  Never?  Crap. 

The List. The Ever-Growing List

I have an ongoing list of things to deal with related to my house.  This list is in addition to the normal things that must be done, like cleaning the floor or using the vacuum.  Some of the things are not pressing but need to be done at some point. Other things are improvements that I may or may not get to in the distant future.  I would cry but I'm too busy continuously adding things to the list that I don't have time to cry. 

I have contacted the Oxford English Dictionary people to explain that the following list should be the new official definition of "home ownership":

Replace hot water heater
Redo tile in guest shower
Replace screens in 3 windows, 2 doors
Overhead lighting in living room
Replace garage door
Haul broken outside furniture to dump
Cat door to save cat from being eaten by dogs
Remove wallpaper
Remove popcorn ceiling
Reseal tile in kitchen
Have carpet cleaned
Chimney Sweep
Order fire wood
New flooring in guest area
Repaint everywhere
Buy furniture (which has its own sub-list)
Replace guest toilet
Reseal pool
Landscape
Landscape more
Landscape again
Remove weird carpet glued to bar area
French doors, 2 places
Install wood stove
Have furnace checked
Order propane
Get rid of awful curtains
Re screen porch
Fix door on screened-in porch
Organize crap in garage left by old owners
Go through boxes of cleaners, sealing goop, etc... left by old owners
Remove bizarre kitchen shelf feature
Get ac unit in bedroom fixed
Replace door in back
Get file cabinet to organize mountains of home-related paperwork
Sand and reseal counter top
Replace kitchen sink
Order size-appropriate fireplace screens
WTF with the weird electrical outlet in the middle of my floor?
Remove weird half-wall stupid bedroom thingy
Fix pocket door
Skylight handle?
Trim tree from over fireplace
Pump for fountain
Tear down fake room lean-to thing
Goodbye fake well
More outside lighting
Outdoor shower area
Fix fence
Fix sun-shade area
Rotten porch beams
Descale toilet bowl rings
Replace guest sink faucet
Rat traps

Reason 5,678 Why I Hate the Former Owners

Yesterday morning the shower in my bathroom refused to get hot.  Yes.  Yes, I did let it run for a while.  Nothing.  I moved the shower knob around.  Nothing.  I stood there praying.  Nothing. 

Logically, I knew it wasn't the hot water heater.  It couldn't have been because the rest of the house has hot water.  It must be the stupid knob.  Stupid, stupid, stupid knob. 

There must have been indications before that the knob had failure tendencies.  Much like other things that were either broken by the owners after my home inspection or that were about to break but they didn't say anything, the knob must have been on their "I hope she doesn't notice and ask us to fix it" list.  Bastard.  Cruel, old, decrepit bastards. (I realize how irrational that is.  Maybe they didn't know.  That is what my rational mind says.  However, my former-owner-hating mind says they knew and decided to say 'screw it. not my problem anymore.')

So, in the midst of one of the busiest weeks at work, I will have to figure out how to change a shower faucet knobymajig.  The upside to all of this is I get to use the guest bathroom.  It is a good quality control step to make sure that shower is in proper working order.  If that fails, though, I am in a world of shower-less hurt because there are only 2 bathroom.  I can't abandon that one and move on to the third.

Bring on the Light Brigade

Keith Graham is an electrician wizard of destiny.  For all of you in and around Nogales, remember his name.  Keith Graham.  He and his army of trained professionals will be coming to my house on Thursday to install flood lights, motion detectors, and some new switches.  The cost is so reasonable that it is practically free. 

We talked on the phone about his estimate, and he was almost apologetic about the cost because he saw how (un)furnished my house is, must have noticed I was on day 4 of my favorite jeans, and figured that since it didn't look like I had brushed my hair, I must have sold my brush to buy ramen noodles. 

My theory of electricity:  hire someone who is actually trained to do electrical work.  If the company has the word "Electric" in the name and it is backed up by some kind of bonding or licensing process, even better.  Especially hire that person when no less than 5 of your friends recommend that person. 

I explained to Keith that I could find some two-bit schmo to do some wiring and electrical work, and then I would die in my sleep as the house burned down.  I could also do the work myself and skip all the "will I or won't I die" drama by just electrocuting myself during installation.  What would Bhodi do if I electrocuted myself?  Keith's reasonable estimate will be cheaper in the long run and a lot less deathy. 

So, if you have been saving up your pennies for a private trip into space, wait until this weekend when you will be able to identify my house from the most distant reaches of the galaxy. 

There's no C in the Pool...or P for that matter.

So I finally decided to delve into the whole pool maintenance thing.  The former owners were kind enough to leave me a broken pool vacuum, a broken pool vacuum stick, a broken vacuum hose, and a pump with an automatic timer.  After some online searching, I decided to invest in all of these things plus some crazy bags of stuff called "pool shock" and a deluxe testing kit. 

I figured testing the water was a good place to start.  Step one: put some pool water in the testing thing.  Add 5 drops of this and 5 drops of that, match water color to the indicator thingy to know how much chlorine I have in the pool.  The answer: Zero.  No chlorine.  None.  Not a drop.  Not a part per million. 

Step 2, check the ph of the pool.  Add more pool water to the tester.  A few more drops of something else.  Match the color.  Too much ph. I am over-ph'd.  Ph to the max. 

All of the things I have to add to fix these problems of course rely on knowing how many gallons of water the pool has.  After some measuring and some online easy converters, I found total volume, did some more math, found some chemicals, and now the pool is stewing outside.   

The moral of this story is: having a pool is a pain.  I might have to do some soul searching and could decide that while a pool sucks, a huge fish pond might be easier. 

Vacuuming the pool, however, is fascinating, like peeling dried glue off your hands or getting a Zen rock garden.  I could vacuum a pool all day.  And skimming...don't even get me started on the joys of skimming. 

Baby Rattlesnake Born Again

I found the coffee can with the rattlesnake.  The good news for the snake...it was still alive.  The bad news for me...it was still alive AND they hadn't bothered to put a lid on the can.  I can't recall how many times I messed around in that area of the garage and walked by that can without knowing the snake was there, watching, thinking about getting out, dreaming of food because it was probably freaking starving. 

I quickly found a lid and closed up the can.  Then I started to feel sad for the baby snake.  What a horrible way to go, trapped in a cheap coffee can, hungry, suffocating, sliding around in your own pooh.  So, I put the can in my car, drove and drove and drove until I found a nice area, and I did the rattlesnake fling, launching it into a nice little wash with some vegetation and rattlesnake hiding crevices. 

Dear Rattlesnake Gods, please know that I spared one of your own.  If you could draft the memo to all other rattlesnakes in the county that they should stay out of my yard and my house and my pool, I would greatly appreciate it. 

Time to Sell the House

In case you haven't heard, I officially closed on the House with Character.  I was in the process of shuttling my meager belonging over there, checking on the new cat, tidying up the place, and whatnot.  Unfortunately, I am going to have to undo all of that work because I have to sell my new house. 

It seems that the former owners' son found a baby rattlesnake in the pool.  That's right folks.  A baby rattlesnake...the size of a worm, hard to detect, and full of venom.  I don't think I can ever swim in the pool, go in the yard, or close my eyes to sleep in the house. 

The true joy is that the son put the rattlesnake in a coffee can in the garage and forgot to throw it away when the final move happened.  I am hoping it is dead in the coffee can, but even so, its ghost is there to haunt me for the rest of my rattlesnake fearing days. 

The Beginning of the End of All Happiness?

It seems that a girl can go on vacation to Alaska, and the home buying process keeps on keeping on without me needing to be here at all.  Last week an appraiser came to the house to make sure it is actually worth equal to or more than the amount of the loan I am trying to get.  The appraiser:  they can make or break you with the single flourish of a cheap pen.  If they value the property below the loan amount, then my boots better be made for walkin, because that is what I will have to do....walk, slowly, away from the house with character. 

What I didn't realize with an appraiser is they can request things to be fixed in addition to the things I already requested be fixed, i.e. new roof (ganga score on my part).  The word appraiser implies that they appraise:  to evaluate the worth, significance, or status of; especially : to give an expert judgment of the value or merit of (my house). 

According to the realtor who heard from the mortgage guy who heard from the appraiser, they want some minor things corrected.  What?  Maybe I am starting to implode from having too many people doing too many things.  Maybe that is the problem.  I mean, if it is something to correct, great, but again, aren't they establishing value and not doing a Home Inspection?  That is what the home inspector is for, yes?  no?  who knows?  

I think I need to go back to Alaska and let my people finalize this deal without me being in the middle of it.  When I come back, I hope they will have moved all of my things into the new house. 

Houses with Character

I am currently trying to buy a house with character.  It has nooks and crannies and stuff.  It also is 20 years old.  Do you know the average lifespan of a roof?  If you guessed approximately 20 years, you would be close.  The house also has freeloaders in the form of termites. They say there are two kinds of houses in Arizona: those with termites and those that are going to have termites.  So, termites are not a huge deal unless you have a special kind of termite that involves tenting the whole house and fumigating.  Thankfully, there will be no tenting in my future. 

I just had my second ever home inspection, and Hunky Home Inspector is one thorough inspecting machine.  We spent 2 1/2 hours in the heat going over every detail of the house, and the resulting report is 32 pages long.  It includes things that are right, recommendations, things out of code, and things that need to be addressed, including the roof and minor rot.  I did get a discount because it was my second home inspection with them...or did I get the discount because I am cute and outgoing?  Only Hunky Home Inspector can tell you the real reason. 

I am not sure what happened with the haircut between inspection one and inspection two, and we had been outside for a very long time at this point, but this is what a home inspector should look like.  I have to say, the picture does not convey the added cuteness factor that comes with experiencing the know-how firsthand.  What doesn't this guy know?  Maybe macrame, but if you ask me, my money is on HHInspector knowing macrame. 

So, this is the part where a bunch of people talk to a bunch of people and there is the looming terror of the appraiser and closing and the unknown things that are bound to come up in this process.  I am 1/2 a step close to owning a house.  That could all fall apart between now and September 15, which is the current closing date. 



  

Home Again, Home Again, Dancing a Jig

Despite getting my hopes up about a ganga deal on a house and signing papers and talking to Mr. Realtor who talked to Mr. Seller who talked to Ms. Fannie Mae several times, the house I was looking at has been set free, released back into the market for another sucker to buy.  Mr. Realtor told them to talk a long walk off of a short, lopsided, broken sidewalk to hell.  So long block house.  So long broken doors.  So long abandoned van.  So long broken furnace. 

I was into the notion of a fixer-upper, a blank canvas of landscaping, and a challenge to my limited carpentry abilities.  However, things work out the way they do for a reason, and this reason was so I could find another place.  Earlier this week I said, "Helloooooooooo house of destiny!"  Two words:  mature trees.  Another two words: abundant character.  I should also mention fireplace, fireplace, fireplace.  3 fireplaces to be exact. 

In abandoning what looked like a great deal but which would have turned into a lingering nightmare, I found a place that is awesome.  So, I signed more papers today, Mr. Realtor will be talking to Mr. and Ms. Sellers, and we shall see what happens. 

Another bonus:  Hello again Mr. Hunky Home Inspector.  I will let you know how it goes....with the home buying of course.   

Love Letters from Home Inspectors

I got my first love letter from Mr. Home Inspector.  It said:

Dear Allison,


Attached is your home inspection report. The report is in PDF format.  Simply double click on the file and Adobe Acrobat will open it. If you don't have Adobe acrobat installed on your machine, got to: www.adobe.com and download the acrobat reader. It is free and only takes a few minutes. 
Please call with any questions.

Sincerely,

I think he likes me.  I really do.  He used the word "dear". 

Snag, Heating is a Drag aka Home Inspection Killed My Soul

Home buying is like gouging your own eyes out, cooking them over a fire, and then stuffing the charred remains of your eyes back into your eye sockets.  At least that is how it feels after home inspection day. 

A little about the home inspector:  terrific guy, kind of cute in that home inspector way, and I couldn't help but flirt just a little.  (Oh Mr. Home Inspector, you are so very smart!  (to be said in your thickest southern accent while fanning yourself and sipping a cold beverage)).  Kip would claim I flirted a lot, but Kip is a revisionist.  I flirted only a little.  Competence is so sexy, right?  Plus he has this way of wearing the tool belt and wielding his screw driver...anyway, I digress. 

It seems that there are several fatal flaws with the house I am looking at.  The large fenced in lot, the nice view, the quiet street:  those are not fatal flaws.  The broken bathtub, the broken furnace, the non-existent hot water heater, and the missing stove:  those are all problems for qualifying for an FHA mortgage.  Who knew that the government cared whether or not I had heat?  They don't care if I have air conditioning, which is odd since I live in the desert.  They do,  however, want me to be toasty warm all winter long.  Also, the cash outlay to actually fix the furnace, etc... is a tad prohibitive considering that I am not made of money.  The irony is that the very company I am getting the mortgage from, Fannie Mae, is the same company that is SELLING the foreclosured home.  They know what the house needs in order to qualify for the very loan they are pimping out to the first-time home buyer. 

I have until Friday to go back to Fannie May to request some repairs or a credit on the house, but unless they do the work, a credit on the house only means cheaper mortgage, not cash in hand to install a heat pump.  The other problems are mostly cosmetic and cheap/easy to fix.  The heat pump is the opposite of cheap and easy but it would make Allison one very happy girl, especially as I am enjoying my new temperature-controlled home over a candlelight dinner with Mr. Home Inspector.  

It Is Official

I might be buying a house.  Who knew it could be so complicated and yet so simple all at the same time?  All I have to do is initial a bunch of pages and have an agent fax them to another agent, and I have officially accepted an offer.  It seems insanely simple to say, "Why yes.  I will buy this incredibly expensive thing from you.  Thank you and who do I make the check out to?" 

Of course the complicated part is just starting, and it means that I now have an army of "people" that will do things for me for the right price.  I have a mortgage guy, I have an agent, I have an inspector, I will have an appraiser, I will have some sort of insurance person, I will have a window person, a roof person, a yard person, a floor person, a plaster person, an appliance person, a person's person, a clown, a pimp, and whatever the hell else I decide I need in this process.  It's all about a feeling of false security because there is a person that can deal with whatever comes along.  The world is ending?  Let me get my person for that. 

Buying a house will either be awesome or the beginning of the end of all happiness.  I'll let you know what happens.  I do know that Bhodi and I will miss our downtown walks.  What about bread lady and stick man?  Will be ever see them again?  And the taco guys, box man, can man, the barky poofs, Kip and Raymond?  Oh sorrowful day.  To prepare for a possible official move, we are getting in all the walking time we can so that we can see everyone a few more times before I pack up my one box of belongings and head to Rio Rico.  Rio Rico....just the name sounds so far away.  It is, however, only 10 minutes from my current abode.  The real bonus: one half acre of fenced in delight for Bhodi to romp around in. 
 

Greetings from the Hinterlands

Nogales, Arizona, land of people who suck at taking care of animals.  I found a tiny, baby kitten discarded on the sidewalk in my neighborhood last night.  I picked it up, put it in a box, and gave it water from a medicine dropper until the vet office opened this morning and I could fortunately find people better equipped to deal with kitten disaster than I am.  See, I am not really a cat person.  I am more of a person that likes humongous dogs that typically like to eat cats.  Not that I let my dog eat cats, but really, there is no room in my microscopic house for a cat.  If Bhodi ate a cat, I would be devastated.  Why give him that temptation? 

Come to find out, this tiny kitten had been lying at the backdoor to a neighbor's apartment for about 3 days with no food, no water, no nothing after the little kid that lives there supposedly picked it up by its ears and dropped it to the ground.  Mr. Kitten couldn't walk either from the fall, the lack of nutrients and water, or all of the above.  The caring and compassionate grandmother of this little kid evidently didn't think it was worth the effort to feed the cat or to call someone to either A. help the cat or B. put the cat out of it's misery.  She was too busy watching novelas, eating pork rinds, and screaming at her grand kids all day.  So, in the name of efficiency, she decided it was a good idea to get her grand kids to throw the half-alive kitten on the sidewalk for someone else to deal with. 

Taadaaa:  In walks someone else in the form of yours truly.  Then, I turned right around and taadaad baby kitten right to the vet's office where they say he is eating, drinking milk, and looking a lot more hydrated than it was after its 3 day stint in the hot, relentless Arizona heat. 

The big questions now are:  1.  will baby kitten make it out of this ordeal alive?  If the answer to question 1 is yes, that leads us to question 2.  who will take in baby kitten when it is all recuperated?  Anyone?  Anyone?