WHERE DID I LEAVE OFF?

If you are imagining that we are settling into our new home . . . NOT! In fact, PhannyCat, Mack, and I are beginning our eighth week of dining room living.

When last I blogged we were getting ready for the house inspection which was on Nov. 8. The things we already knew about were noted, and the inspector said there had been some termite damage in the past which had been treated (termite inspector said the same and no current infestation), but the house inspector suggested we have a foundation expert check out the foundation. My realtor called the man who specializes in pier & beam, and he came that afternoon. Cutting to the result of his investigation: nine piers need to be shored up (they are okay but have some loose bricks) and six beams need to be replaced. He said some boards had been added to try to cover up the termite damage. My realtor and I both went bug-eyed when he said that the repair would cost $12,000. I told her to notify the mortgage company to hold off on the appraisal until we got this ironed out.

The seller came home just before we left, and when asked if he was aware of a problem with the the foundation he said yes and that some work had been done under there, but "they didn't do a very good job." Then when quizzed about the termite problem he said that yes they had that treated and had a termite contract. NOTE: All of this was denied on the disclosures about the property. Add that to no pets, no liens . . . . (Oh, yeah, I forgot to mention that my realtor accidentally let the dog out the front door when we came back with the foundation expert, but I managed to coax him to me, picked him up, and took him back inside. Friendliest, fluffiest little dog you'd ever want to meet.)

We, of course, requested that the seller make the necessary foundation repairs. Eventually he offered $5,000 toward the repair, less than half the cost. We responded with a request for the full amount. Guess what? It had to go back to the District Attorney's office. Well, the long and short of it is that his response did not come back until last Tuesday, four days after our contract expired. Oh, and he approved the $12,000 repair at seller's expense. The seller's realtor requested that we extend the previous contract because if we wrote a new one it would have to go to the D.A. again. AAARRRGGGH! (Although I must say I'm liking this D.A. though we've never met.) I chose Dec. 9 as the closing date, and, can you believe it, the seller wanted a little more time because he hadn't found an apt. yet. We gave them one more week, Dec. 16. Will this house become ours? Will we occupy it? Who knows? One thing is for sure: we won't have cookies and milk out for Santa there.

While all this saga was unfolding we did continue to look at other properties. One not quite as large which had a pool and was in a good location was very appealing to Chillax primarily because it was all on one level and would require less work/expense to fix up; however, the list price was approx. $60,000 more than the contract house, and the possibility of getting it down to our range was highly questionable.

Jaz and I looked at another house the realtor had found which was a foreclosure, and it had probably the worst layout I have ever seen. Additionally, the area described as a breezeway was actually a dark narrow cave, and the front door barely cleared the bottom step of the stairway. And, oh yes, the former owners had done as much trashing of the place as possible including ripping out all the carpet and the wall oven.

Cathy, our realtor, also showed us one that I found. It was in the same area as the previous one and on a cul-de-sac. It had plenty of space, a decent yard, and a good layout, I think. I say, "I think" because we entered the house in the strangest way, and the whole expedition was quite an adventure. (Cathy says she's going to write a book about us.) This seller's agent called Cathy the night before we went there to warn her the man was crazy and sometimes didn't let people in to see the house. (She told us this as we were trying unsuccessfully to open the front door.)

We finally found a door into the garage which was jam-packed with junk and after cautiously stepping over and around stuff we managed to enter through the laundry area. Cathy kept calling out, "Mr. Smythe we're here to look at the house. We have an appointment." No response. I kept thinking I heard noises from upstairs as we wandered through the downstairs area. The kitchen was cluttered and dirty beyond belief, and the ceiling was missing from the dining room---can't imagine where it went. Sure enough, the Lord of the Manor came meandering down the stairs talking on his cell phone. Cathy was talking very fast to explain our presence, but he replied that we should go all over, open any doors, etc. and walked out of the house and to the street talking to his friend the whole time. It was a little daunting to say the least. In one of the bedrooms upstairs every horizontal surface was covered with stacks of camouflage clothes, bedding, whatever---all that camouflage. And on top of one stack a plate with dried food goop and crumbs. No telling how long it had been there. Very erie! We learned later that the man's wife had left with another man last Feb., later filed for divorce claiming he was crazy (and we wouldn't quibble with her there), but I don't think we care to get into another of these broken marriage situations.

So much for the house drama.

THANKSGIVING

Our female associate priest preached a really good Thanksgiving sermon which I still continue to think about and consider it one which should be repeated during Advent, i.e., looking beyond the gifts to the relationship that could evolve. That synopsis certainly doesn't nearly convey the thought of the sermon, but maybe you had to be there. Then I came home, and the whole family went over to St. James where they had a pot luck Thanksgiving dinner with the church providing the turkeys. It was really good, and we all came home completely sated. No need for me to eat anymore that day.

BEGINNER'S LUCK

Last Sunday, the first Sunday of Advent, I participated in the intergenerational class to make an Advent Wreath following the main service at St. Mark's. St. Mark's does this every year, but I had never attended. As anyone in my family will tell you I am really poor at these crafty things, but I didn't let that hold me back. There were numerous heaps of greens, a florist's wreath, four candles, and a blue ribbon scattered on the tables in the parish hall. I found a spot for myself, read the directions which were furnished and began to work. A woman who was walking about with shears to snip some of the branches for the wreath makers was complimentary, but when she came back near the end of the event she remarked, "Oh, I really like yours. You know why? Because it really looks like a wreath." I wanted to say, "Wasn't that the assignment?" But I merely thanked her. I was probably smirking because I saw some of the departing "wreaths" which looked more like green salads gone awry. Here's my creation.

Don't let the shadows confuse you; there really are only four candles.

This past Wednesday morning I awoke with a sore throat and a very stuffy head, and I've had a low grade fever. Mack must really be confused as he and I have been taking long walks since we moved over here, but I've not been up to it. Today is the first day I've felt I might live after all, and I think I'm fever free. It is also raining which is truly good news, and it is supposed to continue all day and tonight. Yippee!!! So the walks may or may not resume today.

So, that's our news for now. Stay tuned for the next surprising episode.