SoulMoxie

Reason 10,647 Why I Love This Man

It's been a rough morning. One of my tenant's that "accidentally" failed to pay me July's rent agreed to be out by this past Sunday. Well, she's not out. And it's weird that she's not returning my calls. Or ever at home. WEIRD, I tell you. Needless to say, I'm a little pissed off about the situation and not in the best mood.

I'm debating on how to handle the situation when my inbox flashes and this brilliant suggestion comes in from Jess. Brilliant, I tell you, brilliant. Of course I think we should leave off the PS.

Dear L****,

The games you have been playing with the rent you owe Sarah have real consequences.  As you know, Sarah’s job is to collect rent from people like you.  When people (like you) don’t pay their rent, Sarah doesn’t get paid.  I thought you should know that this month Sarah was trying to save up enough money to pay for a heart operation on her best buddy in the whole world- her dog Cooper.  Cooper has stuck by Sarah through a lot of hard times, and was truly her best friend.  Cooper worked at the hospital as a therapy dog and was loved by all the kids at Children’s Hospitals.  He also “volunteered” to do search and rescue work when Boy Scouts got lost or little girls went missing.  Thanks to your decision to stiff Sarah on the rent, and to not be moved out in time for her to rent the apartment in August, Cooper died today… still waiting for his surgery.  Sarah was only $500 short of being able to pay for the operation.  Cooper was just 5 years old.

I just thought you’d want to know that when you steal money from other people, it hurts.  Sarah said she was going for coffee this morning and I haven’t seen her since. Now I have to go down to the hospital and tell the kids that Cooper won’t be coming in today.

-Sarah’s husband,

Jess

R.I.P.

PS- I made this up. You stupid, lying thief.

Sometimes Words Aren't Enough

Thank you so much for all of your words of support and encouragement...I'm at a loss of words to describe what they meant to me and how much they touched my heart. This weekend as I wavered back and forth between old house and new, all of your comments would echo in my head pushing me forward and beyond my own inner, naggy, negative voice. How can I not move on when I've got such a cheering squad?

So, there it is. Jess and I are going to try our damnest to get this new house. Of course, there are certain things that need to fall in place;  I've got to sell this house, the dogs have to stop shitting in the yard, and pissing all over my "barely making it" plants, and of course this means that I actually have to clean and do laundry, and all the other things I go to great lengths to avoid. But, why not? I mean most healthy, well adjusted folks do this stuff on a daily basis.

I'll be posting pictures and stories of the old house in the upcoming weeks, but for now, I'm sure you're anxious to see the new. So, I'll show you. Just don't get too excited yet. Don't be thinking about paint colors and where furniture will go... What I'll need to buy...Whether the furnace or plumbing will break first...Let's just not go there, not yet.

I am not a fan of newer homes. I love the character of old homes; exposed brick, hardwood floors, original woodwork, small rooms, old architecture. All the good stuff.  I do, however, recognize the benefits of newer homes; open floor plans, insulation, actual basements that do not involve a concrete shelf and the smell of mildew, windows that a breeze doesn't blow through because OH MY GOODNESS there is more than one pane. you know, all the efficient stuff. So, here is my question for you. Is this house old or new? I couldn't tell either...but it's a new house acting old. It was originally built in 1973 as a rambler and remodeled in 1998 to look like this, which is? Definitely along the lines of an older vintage.

Check out the counter space. I could totally have a toaster on my counter like the rest of the world. And my gorgeous Kitchen Aid mixer? well, maybe I would use it more if it wasn't on the bottom shelf of the pantry behind all of my Tupperware. And although I'm not a fan of the cabinetry, there's enough that I wouldn't be tempting fate every time I open a cabinet because items have been placed so precariously that its only a matter of time before that muffin tin crashes down on my noggin. Yes, this kitchen would be very good for my safety.

This is the casual dining area, which I think is stupid. Stupid because the formal dining area is directly beyond - past that divider. While I think this is a stupid "casual dining" area, I think it would be the perfect "loveseat with coffee table" area where I could drink my coffee and read the newspaper and look out that lovely DOUBLE PANED sliding glass door into my beautiful yard, which looks like...

Uh huh. Yep. Wouldn't mind staring at this at all.

A dining room table in it's own room? Not connected to the entry area? Or the living room? What will they think of next?

This is the formal living room that is directly behind  my loveseat that will look out over the patio. Oh wait, we're not suppose to be deciding where furniture will go. Sorry!

This is the casual living room that is directly behind the formal living room separated by french doors. Some people may think that two separate living rooms is frivolous.  After living in my house for years, I KNOW that it is a necessity. How lovely to be able to close off all of the unfolded laundry, or the 9 pairs of shoes that have gathered over the week, or the innards from a stuffed animal that the dogs decided needed to die and I haven't found the time to pick up. To be able to close that chaotic part of my life off is priceless.

And last, but certainly not least, are the decks off of that "loveseat and coffee table" area that we're not making any decisions about yet. Would you like to come over for a dinner party? Because when I look at this picture, it seems to be yelling "BBQ, MOJITO, BBQ, MOJITO".  I'll provide the bbq, if Ally will bring the Mojitos. The rest of y'all can just show up. No, bring a potted plant. That would be a nice finishing touch for this area.

There you have it! The maybe, hopefully, god willing, if the stars align, new diggs. What do you think? Do you like it? I'm seriously willing to give my left arm to have two living rooms, and this shaded deck area.

If you were to move, what would you give your left arm to have in a new place? Come on, it will be fun...

When Jumping Off A Cliff Is The Only Correct Answer

Sometimes I feel like the house I live in is the only house that will ever be my home, at other times I feel like it is holding me back from becoming my best self.

The house was built in the early 1900's for one of the first women involved in Utah politics. A woman strong in her convictions, and tough as nails (you'd have to be, I imagine).  She once said;

"Somehow I know that women who stay home all the time have the most unpleasant homes there are. You give me a woman who thinks about something besides cook stoves and wash tubs and baby flannels, and I'll show you, nine times out of ten, a successful mother."

Very intense, and progressive for a 19th century woman living in Utah. Although the house has been completely remodeled, I have preserved the bullet hole in the front window that was a botched attempt at taking her life. The house passed through more than several owners from the 1920's on, including an architect who added a second story and managed to have the home featured in Better Homes and Gardens, and a struggling family who, after some financial difficulties, lost the home through foreclosure.

I bought the home in 2003 from the bank - while I was just finishing college - and immediately started talking to architects about my grand plans for a full restoration. The next year was full of growing up and life changes as I switched careers from a substance abuse counselor/bartender (oxymoron, I know) to Realtor, became engaged, and began remodeling the house.  My fiancee, Tim, and I spent hours, no days, scouring magazines, and stores for the perfect finishes. No expense was spared, and everything I wanted (within reason), he built for me. I loved this house so much and was so excited to be part of it's history that it only made sense to have our wedding reception here. I'll never forget the painters cleaning up, and walking down the driveway as the first of our reception guests arrived.

Unfortunately, our dream life was short-lived and Tim and I divorced 2 years later. He was extremely gracious, and generous in the split and not only walked away from the home, but left all of the furnishings as well. At the time, this was a godsend. The transition and reality of divorce is so painful that I was grateful to have the comfort of my home, and things, to ground me.  

And now, here I am. A completely different person than I was 5 years ago when I bought this home. A newlywed embarking on a new life that barely resembles the former.  I've been able to let go of so many emotions and things, but can't seem to wrap my head around giving up this place. This place...this home that has been my constant when everything else has not.

Jess and I have just found a house where we would like to begin our life together. Our life, Our place, with no baggage, or reminders of the past. And while I'm excited for the future and everything it holds, I'm not quite certain of how to let go of this place and it's past...my past...without letting go a little lot bit of me.

Some Dreams Die Hard

Which is definitely the case concerning my childhood dream of riding marrying a cowboy. I grew up on a hobby farm in Michigan, and everyday I dreamed of how my grown up life out West with my cowboy would be...lots of horseback rides at sunset, moonlight serenades, me stealing his cowboy hat, him running after me, us tickling and wrestling on the lawn. I even made one of my high school sweeties wear a cowboy hat in his senior pictures - he had never ridden a horse, but I assured him that that was a minor detail and owning a hat was the first step on the long road to cowboy-hood. Sucker.

I dreamed of Utah as this mystical, magical place where there would be a bounty of cowboys. Hot Mormon cowboys. Hot Mormon cowboys that would never tire of me. I rode horses religiously to impress my future cowboy suitors, memorized every Garth Brooks song, and even went as far as buying a pair of Wranglers - which were so sickly tight that I couldn't eat more than a carrot at a sitting, and made my ass look like a house.

And then I moved to Utah. And just like that my lifelong dream was over.  Literally, in about a week, I had forgotten cowboys all together and had moved on to mountain bikers and skiers. My wranglers and cowboy boots went to the back of my closet (where they still reside), and the only horses I've seen since have been at a distance.

I usually look back on this adolescent fantasy with disgust and disdain - until I went to the Oakley Rodeo, that is, when I realized that maybe, just maybe, I was onto something...

 

 

What do y'all think?

Go Directly To This Blog, Do Not Pass Go, Do Not Collect $200

 If you live in Utah, if you have ever lived in Utah, if you know someone who lives in Utah, if you have ever heard of Utah, you MUST go to this blog. TRUST ME, it will be the MOST FUNNEST, AMAZINGEST, BLESSED thing you have ever done.

Thinking I Need Some New Poses

Right before we went to Boston, I bought a new camera. I was so excited. This camera was going to take life altering pictures. Especially the ones of me. This new camera was not going to add 10 lbs. like most others. It was actually going to do the opposite, showing just how svelte and curvacious I can be. My skin would be smooth, my ass would be small, my thighs wouldn't have cellulite, yada, yada, yada. Do you guys ever get this way? Like that new outfit is going to automatically make you 10 lbs. lighter? and 10 years younger? What a delusion. Seriously. Every single picture that I have from Boston and Maine of me looks like...wait for it....I'm taking a dump. Seriously.

Wow! Why would I think this pose would in any way, shape or form be attractive? Like I had a conversation in my head and actually decided that slightly squatting with my legs apart and my mouth wide open would accentuate...well...anything.

But, obviously, I thought it would look GREAT because here I am - yet again - you guessed it - slightly squatting with my legs apart and my mouth hanging open. I know this picture looks photo-shopped, like I thought it would be funny if I looked like I was taking a dump on a waterfall, but it's not. Actually, I thought this picture would be a masterpiece. a picture of me jumping into a waterfall facing the camera. I'm not sure where everything went horribly, horribly wrong.

Even here. I'm squatting, I'm sure my legs are slightly apart and my mouth is about to be hanging open. If you take away the background and insert toilet where chair is, I'm pretty confident there is no confusion of what I could be doing.

 Well if things don't ever work out in Real Estate...

I am unsure why pictures look slightly pixelated. If you double click on them, they should be better.

Big Bongs + Little Brains = Bad Tenants

We recently had some tenants that were young and stupid. Emphasis on stupid.

They called me over to look at a leaky tub. I'm sure they assumed that I would think this was a vase, or a piece of decorative art. Or maybe they thought that with the Windex, blender and can opener surrounding it, it was somehow discreet. Why else would they leave it in the WIDE OPEN kitchen?

 And this?...This was an awesome moment filled with incredible awkwardness as I decided if I a) pretend like I don't see the elephant in the room, or b) tell them that illegal drugs are well, illegal. And how come they're not smart enough to hide the crap?  I opted for c) take pictures with camera and make Jess deal with uncomfortable situation possibly with letter on fancy, shmancy lawfirm letterhead where he will inevitably say something about how their IQ's need to be slightly higher than "mildly retarded", if they intend lto continue living in our house.

The best part? See those cd's? The one on top is Sublime. The same Sublime cd that was the anthem for pot smokers my sophomore year in high school. Really? Not that I'm in the loop, but haven't they made any good pot smoking music in the past 12 years?

Birthday Wishes

Your Birthdate: July 10

Independent and dominant, you tend to be the alpha dog in most situations. You're very confident, and hardly anything ever shakes you. Mundane tasks tend to drain you - you prefer to be making great plans. You are quite original. When people don't "get" you, it bothers you a lot. Your strength: Your ability to gain respect Your weakness: Caring too much what others think Your power color: Orange-red Your power symbol: Letter X Your power month: October

What Does Your Birth Date Mean?

Happy birthday Mom Hofberger and Miss Mel! I hope you both have the best birthday ever. Best wishes in the upcoming year!

More Greasy Pole

In my last post, I totally refrained from saying anything about all of the pregnant teenage girls in Glausta (yes, I know it is Gloucester). Aren't you proud? I could have said something about how I thought it was appropriate that so many girls would get pregnant in a town that celebrated Peter, or how the local high schoolers seemed to have their own version of the Greasy Pole, or how there seemed to be lots of fiestas celebrating numerous peters in and around Glausta, BUT I DIDN'T. I held back.

If you watch this video, however, I do have to mention that I'm fairly certain that the men featured at minute 2:22, 2:40, 3:00, 3:56, and 4:35 are incapable of being the fathers of any of the pregnant gals unborn children.

The Post Where I Say Greasy Pole More Than Necessary

While we were in Boston, Sil and Justin wanted to take us to Gloucester (Glausta) for St. Peter's Fiesta and some event called the Greasy Pole. Yes, you heard me right. I had no idea what to expect, but I was far from disappointed...

Here's the set up. All of the "walkers" get up on this dock before they walk. See that pole? That is a horizontal telephone pole smothered with grease. Colorful grease. See that flag? The goal is to walk, run, dance, crawl, meander, skip, shimmy, gyrate, or anything of the sort across that pole to the flag. The first person to grab the flag before falling into the water is the champion of the Greasy Pole for that day and year. Let me back up a second. St. Peter's Fiesta is a 3 day event. Everyday, there is a Greasy Pole challenge at 4:00. Thus, each year there are 3 champions; one for Friday, one for Saturday, and one for Sunday. Questions?

Here are the Greasy Pole contenders. They are paraded by all of the spectators before their approach to the dock - of course there is some testosterone fueled chanting involved. This Greasy Pole thing is extremely serious and not anyone can enter the competition. You have to be nominated and invited. Apparently, it's quite an honor. See the guy in green? I'm totally rooting for him.

You know how I said you have to be nominated and invited? Well on Sunday they up the anti. On Sunday you have to have been a previous champion from sometime or another. So the announcements are a little something like this, "next up, we have Slivas Johnson; champion of the Greasy Pole Friday, 1999, Saturday, 2001, Friday, 2003, and Sunday, 2005. Alright Slivas, Let's see some walkin'!".  Now say that again with an insanely harsh east coast accent. Trust me, it will be like you were there.

The falls. Oh, the falls. Some of the guys pride themselves on how many ribs they've broken over the years.

 Green guy didn't do so well. Thank goodness I hadn't called my bets in yet.

Do you guys notice anything off in this picture? I mean other than the fact that he totally regrets not wearing a cup this year? Scroll back up through the pix, and then come back noting costumes. This guy looks like he came from the office, or from working at the L.L. Bean outlet. He's all "hey, think I can get off early today?  I've got this thing in Glausta at 4:00.".

No girls are allowed in the Greasy Pole, just men dressing like them.  Maybe girls aren't stupid or drunk enough to think this is a good idea, or maybe they don't want to be involved with more Greasy Poles than they have to.

 

This guy totally did a back flop. My back tingles just thinking about it.

This was a very intense moment. The whole crowd was silent with anticipation...

Introducing the Greasy Pole champion for Sunday, 2008! And just like that, it's over. Well, not completely. Now they all swim to the shore, pass the winner a Miller High Life, lift him onto their shoulders and march through the spectators. Chanting, of course.