now showing

I remember my mom telling me that everytime they finished landscaping their yard, they moved. And lots of similar stories from friends over the years. "We've finally got our house the way we wanted it, and now we're moving." Or, "We got our house ready to sell, and now we wonder why we didn't do this stuff earlier when we'd be here to enjoy it."

We get it. We've been primping our house for months now. It's not perfect, but we did get rid of all those "little" things that loom and linger. Baseboards are no longer scuffed, but gleaming white. That chip in wall at the base of the stairs from when Eli launched his Bobcat from the top stair, spackled and painted. The sidewalk, patched. Doors, painted. Windows, replaced. Staged, photographed and now, For Sale By Owner.

We put up the sign in November. Then we decided to replace the tragically-fake fiberglass false stone siding with white siding to match the rest of the house. So now it looks like this:

We bought an MLS listing November 17th, to allow agents to show it. Eight showings later, we got our first offer on December 23rd. This Saturday, 3 more showings, and today another "not the one" offer. But we're encouraged. And wondering if '09 will become "the year we moved."

it beats ironing anyday

There are some charming things about an old house. Crystal doorknobs, lots of wood, stained glass windows, and this-

an old ironing board closet. It made a great home for Christmas cards last year.

Which was great, but it's not exactly a look that changes with the seasons. And there isn't room for an ironing board to fold out since our updated kitchen includes a center island. And, really I never iron. Ever. I have pulled out the iron maybe three times this entire year, and once was to make a tin-man T-shirt for a little boy's birthday, so that really doesn't count, since it didn't include removing wrinkles from anything, which is the whole point of ironing, right?

Then several months ago, I bought this chalkboard paint and these chalk-ink markers, and gave it a little facelift, with a much-needed coat of white paint on the inside too.

The best part is there's no messing it up, since it wipes off with water. Maybe it'll be home for some fun vintage aprons (maybe I'll wear one now that I'm cooking again?) or storage space for spices. I can see becoming addicted to this stuff- fun for a kitchen cabinet, a playroom wall, an area above a desk with some great ornate garage sale frame surrounding it...

optimism

We got our first snow on the first of December. It wasn't much, but E saw the white stuff and declared, "Daddy, we can build a SNOWMAN!!" It was also a perfect occasion to wear these boots, not that he needs an occasion, since he's been known to sleep in them...

So, when he began his "yeah-it-snowed-so-we-can-build-a-snowman-just-like-Charlie Brown- and-use-a-carrot-for-his-nose" campaign, I was trying to think of a way to explain to him that there wasn't enough snow to build a snowman.

Then I heard J say, "Sure buddy, we can build a snowman. "

Huh? How? This sounds complicated, cold, and disappointing. I pictured us rolling little snowballs across our neighbors yards, down the street, just trying to gather enough snow for a decent sized body. "I think I'll just go inside with Beckett, since he has a cold, and let you two bigger boys have fun with this," I declared. But I doubted how much fun it would really be. They got to work.

Ten minutes later, E came in for a carrot, and I heard his little boots thumping enthusiastically back to the front door. A few more minutes, and he proudly announced that they were all done, and I should come see their snowman.

There he was- Frosty, Jr.

It didn't matter that he was eight inches tall. He did, after all, have a carrot nose, at least one eye, and two perfectly wonderful stick arms. Daddy was brilliant. E was thrilled. He placed our "pet" snowman safely on the porch steps.

Eli learned how to build a snowman. Mama learned an even better lesson that day.