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The House Next Door: Under Contract

If houses could talk, ours would be complaining about that weird neighbor, too 😉

My son had one of his buddies over for a playdate…ummmm, I mean…the guys were just sort of hanging out…you know…not doing nothing, together (got to be REAL careful how you blog about a 13-year-old, just sayin') which, of course, allowed me a chance to catch up with one of my momfriends.

"Did the lady next door pass?"

[eyes go wide]

"Which lady?"

Because, you know, there happens to be a house, with a lady living next door, on either side of us, and, well, you have to be REAL specific when asking me questions.

"Your 103-year-old neighbor."

I've blogged about Miss Grace many, many times over the past 9 years. In fact, I got my first ever publishing gig outside this blog by submitting one of my favorite stories about her.

The last time I wrote about the house next door, however, I thought she was 104.

"I don't think so, why?"

Then again, age doesn't really matter (DAMMIT!) especially, once you've lived over a century and, well, good thing I have momfriends who know more about my neighbors…than I do.

"Because, there's a for sale sign outside her house."

Aaaaaand, momfriends can be a REAL asset…especially, when they are much more observant than…you know…I am.

"I just thought they were helping her clean up the yard, or something."

Long story short (you're welcome) Miss Grace is just fine (thank goodness!) but, she hasn't been able to physically keep up with the house (not for the lack of trying, either) so, her family was finally able to convince Miss Grace that she just should not be living…alone…anymore.

"Hey, did you know that the house next door is under contract?"

Another momfriend called me the other day and, well, this is where most folks would be surprised to learn just how much I really do rely on my momfriends…you know…for stuff like this.

Not to mention, I have more than one momfriend.

"Yeah, I know."

The house has been on the market for only, like, a month. Considering it is even older than Miss Grace (her father built it) and the property is HUGE (at least a double-lot, like ours) I'm guessing the house next door is being bid on by a contractor, or something.

"Sooooo, are you guys going to allow the buyer make an offer on your house?"

….to be continued.

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House

April 27, 2012
So Emotional, I Blame Glee (and @BurghBaby!)

Just another Gleek rocking out to Whitney!

Yes, yes, I know. Then again, I am a total dork from waaaaaay back. Who knew being dorky/geeky/nerdy/whatever-y would be so cool and would you believe that I have NEVER blogged about Glee?

Truth be told, I sometimes forget it's on.

Me: Why aren't you in the shower?
10 year-old: Glee is on!

Or our resident Gleek forgets to…you know…tell me…for fear of being subjected to my singing along and no, I do NOT blame her.

Last night's episode, however, was a tribute to Whitney Houston and, well, the two of us? We have a history. In fact, we spent many nights on the dance floor together, singing our hearts out and insisting that…you know…it would be really, really, really nice to dance with somebody…DAMMIT!

"Is the show going to end, you know, now that the kids are graduating?"

My 13 year-old son? Not a big fan.

[eyes go wide]

Aaaaaaand…only then did it really hit me…like a ton of 45's (look it up, youngster!) Holy Hannah Montana, I've got a kid graduating, high school, this year!

Aaaaaaand…oh, how I cried…and cried…OH!…and single-dad Burt's speech to his son, Kurt? Admitting that he's not ready to say goodbye and how much he'll miss his only son? I'M BAWWWWWWWWWWLING!!!!

Which begs the question: how in the heck am I going to get it through my own kid's graduation ceremony, without BAWWWWWWWWWWLING, IRL?!?

Ditto!!! Because, in my head I'm still, like, 19 (never mind, just how long ago WAS that, anyways, whip-puh-snap-puh!) except, now I'm rocking out with shorter hair, looser clothing and better fitting shoes…DAMMIT!

"Oh, I forgot tell you mom, a notice came home about my 5th grade graduation."

[one beat, two beats]

I'M BAWWWWWWWWWWLING…AGAIN!!!!

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House

April 25, 2012
Desperate Times, Call For Desperate Measures & They Were Probably NOT Her Real Nails, Anyways!
Hope's Elementary Honors Band Concert 4-21-12

We have lots of stuff scheduled on the calendar for this month (what, you too?!?) however, my being stranded at the airport in San Diego on Friday night was NOT one of them.

Truth be told, it's not a really bad place to be stranded, really. Also, Jamba Juice? Strawberry Whirl? Yeah, I get it now.

Aaaaand, I was able to get on a direct flight to Jersey (thank you, United!!!) a red eye that would get me home in time to catch Hopey's concert.

I had a really nice driver waiting for me (thank you, LeAndria!) who insisted that these sort of things happen all the time.

The baggage claim handler, however, was not as understanding.

"Wait, I…just…don't…get it…why is your bag in Denver?!?"

EXACTLY!!!

"Well, didn't they give you a baggage claim?"

20 minutes later (I kid you NOT!) I'm STILL trying to make Ms. Crotchety Airline Employee understand why I don't have my baggage claim ticket (obviously, I picked an awful time to lose the stickin' thing!) and was trying not to CRINGE each time she scraped a talon on her keyboard.

[tap-tap-SCRAPE-tappity-tap-tap-SCRAPE]

"I just don't understand, wait a minute, where are you from?"

[heavy sigh]

"HERE, I'm from here."

[tap-tap-SCRAPE-tappity-tap-tap-SCRAPE]

"You know, bee-cawse you look aww-fully fuh-mill-yuh."

I took a deep breath, rubbed my eyes, glanced back to see if my driver ditched me (still there, bless his heart) because, if there's one thing I've learned flying as often as I have in the last few years, you just gotta let people like Crotchety Airline Employee tawk.

"You know, there's a reason why they give people baggage claim tickets."

[heavy sigh]

"Really? I just want to get home to my 10 year-old."

[eyes go wide]

"Awwww, is she sick?"

[one beat, two beats]

"Uh…YES, yes she is."

[tap-tap-SCRAPE-tappity-tap-tap-SCRAPE]

"Found it!"

What?!? Okay, so my kid wasn't really sick. However, in review of this week:
- I missed her FIRST softball game on Wednesday night.
- Her D.A.R.E. graduation on Thursday.
- I was, however…sniff-sniff…able to make it to the D.A.R.E. graduations for my other three…cough-cough…so, like whyyyyyyyyyy caaaaaaaaaan't I make herrrrrrrrrrrrs?!?
Desperate times, desperate measures and all.

"Oh, look, the friggin' computer just went down?"

[rubbing eyes, again]

"That's okay, maybe one of my other kids can take care of her."

[eyes go wide]

"How many kids DO you have?"

[yawn]

"Seven."

[tap-tap-SCRAPE-tappity-tap-tap-SCRAPE]

"Ohhhhhhh-kaaaaaay, here's your new claim ticket."

[yawn]

"You poor thing!"

What?!? I made it home AND had time for a quick nap. The concert was AWESOME and, well, Hope seemed very happy to see me there!

[sound of crickets, chirping]

Fiiiiiiiiine, they probably weren't Crotchety Airline Employee's real nails…either…AND my bag was delivered yesterday, enough said.

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House
April 23, 2012
Stranded in San Diego and What the Heck is Jamba Juice, Anyways?

I've been on the road for the last 3 days, spending about half that time either in the air, probably flying right over your head or waiting here on the ground, hoping to get back into the air, like, REAL SOON!

In fact I'm supposed to be in the air, RIGHT NOW! Headed to Denver, CO.

Instead, I'm sitting here, in San Diego, in front of a large bank of windows, next to 2 old-ish gentlemen comparing their medical alert bracelets (where are you, when SaveHer needs you, BusyMom?) and some lazy schlub's empty Jamba Juice cup (dude, really, this is NOT your living room!) while I watch other people take off and head onto their next destination.

My luggage, on the other hand, is headed to Denver.

Long story, short (you're welcome) the outbound flight was delayed and I would have missed my connection in Denver, anyway.

You know, where my luggage is going, RIGHT NOW!

Instead, the really nice people at United were able to get me onto a direct flight back home which leaves in less than 3 hours [knocks on wood until knuckles bleed] and gets me in around the buttcrack of dawn.

They call it "the red eye" for a reason, I think. I'm about to find out, for sure.

More importantly, I will make it home in time to shower, grab a HUGE HONKING cup of coffee (or cawfee, if you're from Jersey) and watch my youngest play 2nd clarinet in the Central Jersey Elementary School Honors Band concert.

WHOOT!!!!!

In the meantime, for your viewing pleasure, some lovely pictures from my trip, just in case MomoFali's gotten over hating me, just a little.

I woke up to this, every morning, sheesh, what's with all the boats?

Still, I forced myself to eat lunch…outdoors…and it…you know…hurt.

And then spent an afternoon walking along the harbor surrounded by an annoyingly shine-y blue sky.

And the sound of seagulls and wind chimes, carried along a cool breeze and you know, more sunshine.

Really, I don't know how you SoCal people stand it? Aaaaaand, they have free WiFi here at the airport?

[insert sh*t-eating grin, here]

My luggage should be REAL jealous, right about now.

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House

April 20, 2012
Aaaaand, Now For More “Break Curfew and I’ll Show This Video to Your Girl/Boyfriend!” Blog Fodder

My son's voice is changing. A lot. It's okay, he knows he sounds funny. So, I shot this quick video while hunting for apple cider donuts during spring break, last week.

Aaaaand, now I'm sorta mad at myself for not thinking of doing something like this back when I first started blogging…9 years ago…when he was 4 years-old (I think) because it would have made for some really awesome "Break curfew and I'll show this video to your girlfriend!" blog fodder.

So, I video-taped my youngest for good measure. You know, seeing as the kid is 10…going on 29…and most likely eloping, getting married jumping out of an airplane, or something involving the use of some sort of underwater breathing apparatus, anyway.

Then, she can send me THAT video and we'll go ahead and just call it even.

[sound of crickets, chirping]

Want a donut? I skinned it and everything!

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House

April 17, 2012
Why Is Everyone in SUCH a Hurry? (Atlernate Title, If You’re From Jersey: SLOW THE FRIG DOWN!)

Mommy's little bumper sticker: seriously, it's on my car right now. What, I'm from Jersey, you got a problem wit-dat?

My 16yo daughter texted me, my husband AND my oldest at 7:05 on her way to school this morning.

"A car just spun out on the parkway and nearly crashed into my bus. Definitely awake now."

I didn't see the text. I did hear my cell phone croak in the middle of the night (note to self: lower volume after 10 p.m.) but, my husband didn't tell me about her text, right away, either.

"I wanted to check in with her first, because I figured you would flip out."

He was right. Aaaaand, my Jersey may or may not have exposed itself on Facebook.

(more…)

April 16, 2012
Don’t Mess With Mother Nature, She Probably Has Teens

The kids have been on spring break since Friday and, since my oldest is scheduled to work this week/weekend and needs the car to, you know, get there (it's about a 30 minute ride down the Parkway, in Jersey speak) we're pretty much rooted close to home.

By yesterday afternoon 2 out of 4 of them weren't speaking to each other (because, girls are pretty much women in training, just so you know) the boy and I needed some fresh air. Also, the roast had about another hour left. So, we took Doofus-dawg for a quick walk before dinner.

It also gave us (meaning, the boy and me) a chance to talk, reconnect and perhaps address a few issues (because, teenagers, they hazem) that otherwise may have gotten lost or mixed in with the rest of the miss-matched socks in the house…YO!

We've weathered some pretty bad storms, lately (literally and figuratively speaking) and Mother Nature hasn't been very kind to our neighborhood, either.

Hurricane Irene reduced one of their favorite paths, once a bridge into a fairy world filled with magical possibilities, as a place to be feared, neglected and left totally abandoned.

No matter how many times we changed our direction, we were reminded of just how fragile our world has become and my son was trying really hard to understand why I would want to take pictures of such random things.

I tried to explain with this broken sidewalk. Yesterday it served as a medium for space travel. Who knows what story it will tell, tomorrow?

I don't know if it stuck. The boy is only 13. Also, he asked that I stop taking pictures so that we could get home and check to see if dinner was ready and, well, 13 year-old boys really do get hungry, A LOT.

"Hey, but thanks for the walk mom."

Aaaaand, next time, I'm thinking about dying my hair purple.

"My head feels a whole lot better."

Mine too, enough said.

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House

April 11, 2012
The Year Without An Easter Bunny

Growing up, our family consisted of me, my twin brother, my parents, my maternal grandmother and my Aunt Theresa (the rest of our extended family lived overseas) so, yes, celebrating holidays, like Easter was a very big deal.

We would wait for my father to come home from working at the garden center (Easter flowers were pretty big in the stone ages too, believe it or not) only then would we carve into the Easter ham or (in my brother's case) dive into some Hungarian smoked sausage and crack open a couple of Easter eggs dyed by boiling them in onion skins (red, white, yellow, etc…) on Good Friday.

If we weren't full from our Easter baskets, that is: their remains at the foot of our bunk bed still visible from the kitchen table.

My parents always joked about how lucky we were (okay, half-jokingly) because, the Easter Bunny never could quite make it as far as Eastern Europe.

Easter 2008: Holy Hannah Montana, LOOK! It's an Easter basket built for four!

Their grand kids, however, are very familiar with the Easter Bunny and it was fun to watch their faces light up and my son's eyeballs cross…each and every year.

Then, all of a sudden, it started to get…you know…less fun. By 2008, I had a few choice nicknames for the furry little leporidae and was posting stuff on my blog like:

(more…)

April 6, 2012
Wordless Wednesday: Low Tide, Cape Cod Style

Taken while visiting with my friend Sue in Cape Cod, MA (my pretend home) using my non-iPhone (Pppffflllttt!)

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House

April 4, 2012
What Would Mike Holmes Do, Aye?

Measuring at just under 2,000 square feet (give or take a dust-encrusted corner) we live in a very modest 3 bedroom home. By today's housing standards, it would more likely be described as a bungalow, cottage or expanded cape (ranch-like section added on back in the 80's) with the original a-frame portion to the left (when facing the house) dating back over 100 years.

Having grown up in a 5 room home (yes, my parents house was very cozy) and then sharing a 4 room apartment with my husband (cozier still) to me, this house seemed like a mansion.

I still remember moving in on Memorial Day weekend 1993 (I was 3 months pregnant with our 1st child) standing inside the doorway, staring up at the high ceilings and thinking to myself, "Holy crap, LOOK AT ALL THIS SPACE!"

4 kids, 3 cats, 1 doofus-dawg, several generations of dust bunnies later — not to mention having survived dozens of Nor'easters, Snowmaggedon and Hurricane Irene (the bitch!) — and entering our 20th year of living in what first began as our starter home (ahem) it's amazing that This Full House of leaky pipes and squishy wallpaper is still, you know, standing.

"You looking to do any work on your house anytime soon?"

I was taking the garbage out the other day and, seeing as it's been very windy, I stopped to make sure the chimney was still, you know, standing.

"Funny you should ask."

I struck up a conversation with a contractor-type canvassing the neighborhood and, considering I am a firm believer in serendipity (fate, karma, whatevs) not to mention, our walls weep every time it rains (as do I) well, his timing couldn't be ANY better.

So, I took his card, gave him our daytime number(s) and he said we should expect a call later this week.

My husband was a little skeptical (as was I) but, we made an appointment anyway for Saturday after he got home from work and then had a few minutes to compare some quick notes before the guy showed up.

You see, we've watched enough Holmes on Homes to know that you have to be really, really careful when working with contractors.

Aaaaand, we interrupt this blog post for a quick piece of eye candy:

[heavy sigh] You're welcome!

BARK. BARK. BARKITY-BARK. BARK.

I put doofus-dawg into the girls' room and then my husband and I greeted the contractor at the front door.

"Hey, it's nice to see you again."

Although he doesn't look ANYTHING like Mike Holmes (DAMMIT!) the guy has over 30 years experience "in the business" and, well, having been stood up by 2 previous contractors (assclowns!) I was just happy that this one actually, you know, showed up.

"Come on in!"

He wiped his feet, stepped in and proceeded to slip his shoes off just inside the door.

"Oh, please, does our house look like you need to be taking your shoes off?"

[one beat, two beats]

"Regardless, I was taught to take my shoes off when entering someone's home."

Aaaaand, if it were up to me, I would have hired him (or, at the very least, adopted him) right then and there.

"Hey, those are REAL NICE socks, by the way!"

After confirming his license, checking up on his references and driving by a couple of other homes he's worked on, of course.

Beeeeee'cawse, that's what Mike Holmes WOULD WANT me to do. Go ahead, ask him. I'll wait.

Don't be messing with my babes…AYE!

See, it's written ALL OVER his face (IS SO!) or, "Don't be messing with my babes…YO!" if you're from Jersey.

Stupid weeping walls, dumbass leaky roof!

(P.S. The original portion of the house…you know, to the left when facing the house that dates back over 100 years…is fine and does NOT leak…go figure.)

© 2003 – 2012 This Full House

April 2, 2012