A contingent offer, based on the buyers selling their current home.

So that’s kind of a damper on the OMG SQUEEEAAAA feeling that I really thought we’d have when an offer came through.  It ended up being pretty anticlimactic, actually.  I really thought I’d be spraying myself with champagne & running naked on the Quad or something like that, but I basically just sat there for five minutes & then made a cup of tea.  I think it’s the “contingency” that makes me a little nervous – the buyers have to sell their home in order to purchase ours, which is a fairly common practice.  There’s no time limit but if another person comes along during the contingency (oh yes, we still have showings) & makes an offer, the contingent folks have to pony up in 24 hours with a non-contigent offer or they could potentially lose the house.

So now we pray for a speedy sale over in Chapel Hill for our buyers.

It’s starting to hit me that the offer means we need to start making some sort of plan other than showing up at my parents house with boxes on closing day, so we’re meeting with a lender to discuss options for purchasing another house.  Since I’m a 1099-er (aka contract person) then buying a house gets a little sticky & we may be checking out apartments.

Can you keep a secret?

It’s all so crazy & up in the air, but I’m thrilled for all of this change.  I’m thrilled with the idea of a new house or even a small apartment.  I’m thrilled with moving in closer to friends & family.  It’s this entire new adventure for our little family.  I’m so not afraid of this.

oh, & if you need me…I’ll be on Pinterest.

Counter.

::twiddles thumbs::

Counter.

Counter.

::bites fingernails to the quick::

Wait….wait…wait…

Accept.

The drunk birds with no nesting instincts that fly in circles making a bunch of racket to piss off the humans below.

You know, right before they take a massive bird-shit on a car.

Six months behind us with a sign in our yard & 42 showings & glowing feedback that always begins with “beautiful home!” & ends in no offer.

Some folks said the kitchen was too small, some complained that we only have a one-car garage.  One person said they hated our driveway & I dare you to say that to someone with a straight face.

No, seriously.  Give it a go.  Walk up to a stranger & say, “I hate your driveway.”

(I blame HGTV’s House Hunters for that stupid comment.)

So we’ve decided to drop the price even though we’re 10K under what the homes in our ‘hood sell for.  That hurts to even type it, much less sign the agreement to list for less.

It’s probably because Doug mowed over St. Joe.

Or because we’re emotionally attached to our house & therefore have an over-inflated opinion of it’s worth.

Also, these potential home buyers obviously have no interest in their well-being as I will become borderline homocidal should I spend one more Saturday trying to get Harry to nap in the car because some asshole that won’t make an offer decided that 1:30-2:30pm was the best time to visit our humble abode.

p.s. while writing this, I may or may not have been moderately buzzed off bleach fumes from scrubbing the bathroom one more freakin’ time.

Backstory on this table:  Doug & I purchased it (plus coffee table & side table) second-hand when we were first married.  All three pieces cost $300, plus the table came with six oak chairs.  I don’t know how long they were used before we bought them, but now they have several moves & six years of hard wear on them at the very least.  I sold the chairs last fall & purchased parsons chairs that now clashed.  Our coffee table finally laid down & died a few weeks ago, prompting me to refinish the side table.  Which made the kitchen table look even more dingy, so I took advantage of the beautiful weekend weather.

RAWR, baby.

I decided to tackle the base first – since I was painting it, just a basic rough-up of the surface was good enough.  I took a medium-grit sanding block to all surfaces, then sprayed with Kilz primer in a spray can.  This stuff is magic for weird claw-feet on kitchen tables.  Then I used Behr’s Lime Light paint – it took three coats, which came to an even sample-sized can (which is roughly $3.00).

Getting into the “claws” meant flipping it upside down & using a q-tip.  Seriously.  Then I did two coats of poly – first coat, then lightly sand with a extra-fine grit sanding block, wipe down, second coat.

First step to conquering the top was sanding the bad boy.  Years of playdough & not using placemats really took it’s toll, so I used a medium-grit on my power sander to strip the table back down to raw wood.  This is a messy, tedious task.  I suggest a facemask, eye wear, & a beer.

After stripping it down, I took a foam brush & did the first thin coat of stain.  I let it sit for 20 minutes since I wanted a dark top (the longer it sits, the more soaks in) & then wiped off the excess.  Four hours later, I went back for the second coat & did the exact same thing.

At this point, I took it to Twitter & Instagram, who both agreed that staining was complete since any protective coat would make it a wee bit darker.  I put on three protective coats, following the instructions to lightly sand with an extra-fine block & wipe between each coat.

 In hindsight, I might have gone one coat darker but the outcome is still very pretty.

I have a brand-new kitchen table for roughly $20.00 & a weekend’s worth of time. 

(here’s how we have fabric parsons chairs with a toddler – I made them waterproof with a washable cover.)

2)  Make a pony tail.  Make it high & dance to Girls Just Wanna Have  Fun or Love Is A Battlefield.  Take your pick.

3)  Pour a glass of wine.

4)  Spend thirty minutes attempting to roll your hair into the donut, starting at the tip of your hair & working towards your scalp.  Curse a lot.

5)  Take a shot of vodka.

6)  Half-drunk, finally get the bun rolled.  Secure it with bobby pins.

7)  Mother-effing win.

I cheer for Carolina & Doug cheers for Kansas & Roy Williams is a particularly sore subject in our marriage.  But after almost six years of marriage, we are both coming around to co-cheering each other’s teams – Doug wears Carolina shorts & I have a KU tshirt.

This is on our front door.  Team spirit, baby.

But if the Heels & Jayhawks end up facing off this coming weekend, one of us is going to have to leave the house.  So who has a couch I can crash on?

I make it in my cast iron dutch oven on the stove, which helps distribute the heat much more evenly so that I can walk away for the hour that it simmers.  Key to the first time: WATCH YOUR HEAT.  Watch your heat, watch your heat, watch your heat.  Otherwise you’ll end up with beef charred to the bottom of your pot & gravy that’s more like glue paste.

Ingredients

1 lb stew meat
4 potatoes, skinned & cut into chunks
1 lb baby carrots
1 chopped onion
Extra Virgin Olive Oil
4 cups hot water
1 Tbsp salt
1 tsp sugar
1/4 tsp paprika
shake of garlic salt (I do three shakes)
dash of allspice or cloves
1Tbsp Worcestershire sauce

1. Coat bottom of pot with EVOO, heat until hot.  Sear meat in the oil.
2. Toss in 1/2 chopped onion & saute.
3. Add 4 cups hot water.  Boil & return to low setting on stove.
4. Add sugar, salt, paprika, garlic salt, allspice, Worcestershire sauce, & stir.
5. Cover & cook for an hour.
6. After an hour, add carrots, potatoes, & remainder of the onion.
7. Return to a boil, then cut heat back until it is barely boiling (like a little over mid-heat) for 30 minutes.  Keep your eye on it to be sure it’s not burning on the bottom!
8. In a separate bowl, whisk a few tablespoons of flour into hot water until thick but even (you don’t want little “dumplings” in the flour).  Stir into the stew broth that’s in the pot right before serving.

This also freezes beautifully!  I serve with a salad & drop biscuits.  Enjoy!

flannel: old navy  ::  jeans: lane bryant  ::  glasses: vera wang

After years of pencil skirts & blazers, I am really digging the “wear what makes me comfortable” part of being home.  I’m trying to limit my yoga-pants wearing to only 2 days per week, but I was definitely rocking second-day hair here.  Other notables about the picture include Tuck, who never leaves my side anymore & my red Epiphanie camera bag, which needs to be dusted off & organized before Blissdom.

Today I’m setting up calls & emails while Harry hangs out with his Auntie & on Friday, RMHC of Durham has it’s big Winterfest Gala so I’ll be in a cocktail dress helping people (hopefully) spend lots of money at a silent auction.

Also got news that we have a “second showing” on Saturday, so I’m hanging out with St. Joseph & crossing all my crossables.  Although if we strike a bargain, that means we have nowhere to live.  I have NEVER BEEN MORE EXCITED TO BE HOMELESS.  Let the apartment or house hunting potentially begin?

It’s so super-easy to make & she LOVED it.

Get a vine wreath from your local craft store (they usually sell for $4.99 + 40% off coupon) & some plain wooden letters (these were $2.99 apiece).  Paint the letters in school colors using one of those $0.30 foam brushes then make the polka dots with a qtip (it took three coats of each color using basic craft paint).  Tie a coordinating ribbon to the top.  I used two different colored ribbons to really set the colors off & create more detail.  Secure the letters with hot glue or wire – I used wire that I had leftover from an old project because I thought it might hold up better in the elements.

The whole project cost roughly $12.00.

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Let me just say that I can stand in a board room or jet across the country, but I turn into a complete wuss once I step through Michaels.  All those women with glue stick burns on their fingers, willing to cut a bitch over the last vial of Martha Stewart glitter?  THEY TERRIFY ME.  Same thing with fabric stores.  Also, the strangest thing happens that once I hit the first aisle, I completely forget what I was there for.  Confidence takes a crash & burn so I stand there in the aisles, completely overwhelmed by the choices in felt.

In short:
Before Michaels:  BIG SPARKLY INSPIRATIONAL UNICORNS OF HAPPINESS!

After Michaels:  I WILL NEVER ACHIEVE ANYTHING GOOD IN MY LIFE.

yeah.

I’m standing in line with Harry in the push cart & a matronly lady turns to me.

“Is your mother’s name Karen?” she asks.

“No,” I say politely.

“You look like my friend Karen, so I figured you must be her daughter,” she explains.  I shrug.  Raleigh is a pretty decent-sized city.

“With two children, I figured you had to be her,” she persists.

Is this lady drunk?  I only have one child in the seat & I’m pretty sure the firstborn’s that were traded for Christmas Cricuts weren’t eligible for the 40% off coupon.  Like I said, I’m on a budget so if it’s not on sale, it’s not in my cart.

“You know,” she says.  ”With your boy & the one on the way.”

oh.

shit.

Awkward silence abounds.

Does this lady not know Rules of Feminism #253: Don’t ask a woman if she’s pregnant unless the fetus is 75% down the birth canal with a hand waving?