Weather, I like it or Not

Yesterday, as I sat in the living room typing away, clouds rolled into the Valley. Actually, to say they rolled in might give the impression of a calm, fluffy, fluttery softness. When in reality, clouds blew in with the furious moving winds that came with a front.

Weather is one of those things that fascinates me in general. I love keeping an eye on the sky and paying attention to the patterns of fronts and wind. I’ve said it before that maybe I should have been a meteorologist. But I’m not. Instead, I’m just a gal who enjoys changes in my sky every here and there.

Moving to Phoenix might not seem like the best plan for a person who wants some type of variety in my weather. But don’t be so quick to judge.

Phoenix might be known for our summer heat but it also might surprise you to learn that our temperatures from highest to lowest can range up to 92 degrees. No, that’s not a typo. While some parts of the country enjoy 92 as a daytime high in the summer, we could jump as many degrees over the course of a year when conditions are right.

Want proof? Check this out. With just a few clicks you’ll see that in January 2013 the lowest recorded temperature was 23. In June of 2013 we apparently maxed out at 115.

Of course those readings were taken at the Deer Valley airport. Heading north out of the city where things can be “cooler” than down in the bowl. Because I remember that the recorded temperature, only days after we arrived in the Valley back in 2011, was around 119 at Sky Harbor airport.

When the temperatures fell into the low 20s for a couple nights around our neighborhood, a friend’s pipes froze and burst.

Luckily, we grew up in the northeast so we knew the slow trickling faucet trick and our pipes were okay.

But today we’re nowhere near the low or the high. In fact, today things are split pretty much right down the middle. The high for today is only supposed to be 68 and according to our weather peeps, the clouds are (allegedly) due to stick around all day.

I have no problem with that. Growing up in Boston, clouds were a regular occurrence. Not to say we were as overcast as, say, the northwest, but New England had a fair number of cloudy days. And most of the time those clouds came with rain.

By 2011, I had all I could handle of clouds. I wanted to see sky, sunshine.

Rain, rain go away.

You know that saying about wishing for things and being careful? Lesson learned. Why? Because we’re 89 days into 2016 and so far have recorded only about 1.5” of rain. According to the Maricopa weather tracking site we had measurable precipitation on 5 days this year. The last? January 31^st.

Yes, 58 days ago.

So to say that I’ll be excited if the clouds hang above the house all day, falling droplets of water or not, would be an understatement. Though, some rain, someday, would be nice. I clearly moved from one extreme to another but finding a place in this country that fits all my conditions is pretty much a unicorn.

• No snow.
• Warmth and sunshine 75%ish of the time.
• Clouds and rain the other 25%ish.
• Beach and ocean within proximate driving distance.
• No temps above 95 or below 60.
• Affordable.

See? It’s that last criteria that really puts it over the edge. Because southern California generally fits the bill otherwise.

So I’m not in SoCal, I’m here in Phoenix where today will be 68 but by Monday we’re cruising back up to the low 90s again. In early April. And I know those temperatures will only get higher as each day wears on. Plus, clouds or rain aren’t likely to make another appearance for at least two months.

Winter rain season is over. Now we have to wait for monsoon season to hope for any measurable liquid.

When rain does arrive it will give me and all the other Valley peeps something to celebrate. Even if those rains come with unconscionable high temperatures.

But hey, I’ll take it because at least we don’t get snow.

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In addition to this drivel I also write books, both fiction and non-fiction.
Learn more on my author page.

Not Politically Correct

After this post I assure you fine readers that I will get back to doing what I do best  - being ranty but only talking about things like whether the ship will be named Boaty McBoatface.

But today, after the way I spent the better part of my evening last night, I don’t feel I can sit here silent.

Please bear in mind this is all my OPINION so I honestly don’t care if you agree with me or not. Also, because that’s how I feel, I went back and forth on whether to allow comments or not. I’ve decided to leave them open.

However please note: I will not tolerate threats, hateful speak or other crap that attacks anyone. If comments like that are left here I’ll delete them without response or remorse. Disagreement, debate and conversation is what makes us grow as people so please say how you feel but don’t be a dick about it. Being a dick isn’t cool.

With all that taken care of, here’s my thoughts on yesterday’s Presidential Preference voting.

Three words come to mind:

Atrocity.

Joke.

Cry for help.

Okay, technically that last one is three words, not one, but truthfully I think it could be the most important point to consider. Let me tell you a little story about just what happened yesterday and you can decide for yourself.

I started the day as I usually do – writing a blog post. In that post I talked about being turned away at the 2012 Presidential election and how I would not let that happen this time around. Then I went about my day working on book 3 in my Shaw McLeary series and getting ready to go vote.

Matt gets home and says: “Not even closing the garage door.”

“Wait, you want to leave right now?”

“Yeah, lines are allegedly really long, like an hour wait.”

“Oh, well I’m hungry so can we at least stop and pick up some fries or something on the way?”

“Sure!”

Thankfully we did. As we passed the polling place for our address on the way to get a quick dinner, I saw a line of at least 100 people and announced how happy I was we were getting dinner first.

Then, food in hand, we got to the church parking lot.

Because I’m blessed by the gods of parking we happened to find a spot as soon as we pulled in. That wasn’t the case for everyone even when they filtered into the overflow parking three buildings away. We approached what looked like the end of the line but I shook my head thinking it couldn’t be true.

Here’s where I’ll post pictures and tell you it is like the Grand Canyon. Unless you’re there in person there is no way to explain just how massive the thing really is. But I’ll still try.

Now that you’ve seen a sampling of the number of people, here’s a quick map I drew so you can understand why it took us 2 hours and 40 minutes (short compared to some reports I’ve heard by the way).

That pinkish-red line? Yes, that was the line you just saw in those pictures.

Before I continue I’d like to point out the following things:

• Top left corner of the map is southeast.
• Conversations took place all around us between people of all parties.
• I heard zero political conversations while in line.
• Electioneering only took place 4 times from what I saw and only for republicans.
• Loud laughter erupted from other parts of the line at random, more than once.
• Kids were running around the open spaces having fun.
• We turned the 4^th corner to face west along the parking lot after an hour+.
• The sunset was beautiful.
• The wind causing my earaches was not.
• We had just reached the door to vote when the line-end-lady (who capped the line at 7PM) turned the 4^th corner out of the driveway to face west along the parking lot.

It’s no secret that Arizona is a GOP state. We’re about as red as they get. It’s also no secret that I was born and raised in a state so blue they need a new word for liberal.

My political views and opinions may have been influenced in part by where I was raised. Which goes for anyone, anywhere. However, most of my views on the world, politics and the like can be summed up like this:

Because, and I’m being totally honest here, I really don’t care because I don’t think it matters very much anyway.

Yes I’m a woman, which brings up all kinds of arguments from people who think that means I should somehow magically want to participate in a totally fixed political system.

Defunding healthcare for women is happening, Suffragettes died for my rights to vote, if nobody voiced their opinion then what would happen to the world, blah, blah, blah…

In my opinion, I actually don’t think anything would happen. So many people in this country are fighting to protect the Constitution as it was written almost 229 years ago because of one simple fact:

People in power fear nothing like they fear change.

Change empowers larger masses. Change means the jig is up. Change means things actually, well, change, and if that happens then all the powers that be have to admit they’ve been suppressing the voices of the masses for hundreds of years.

So they use their worst nightmare against us.

They use fear to keep all of us in line. Three hour lines if you had the balls to stick it out.

Because, let’s talk for a second about that line. How many people do you suppose drove up to their voting location, took one look at the line and said “oh hell no!” and turned right back around, discouraged from voting yesterday?

Then there’s the other issue that only my current residence state could have pulled off. Voters (from what I understand these people were in both parties but primarily democratic) were turned away and told they were registered as independent when they had actually chosen a party affiliation on the only 2 sides accepted***.

Don’t even get me started on the fact that independents couldn’t come out to voice their preference yesterday, that’s another issue that makes me mental and question our entire system. But with that said, if you picked a side (yes 9 months before the election) and did so in time but still got turned away anyway without being given a provisional ballot, you just got the political equivalent of being roofied and raped.

And as far as I’m concerned they did that shit on purpose.

Whether it sounds like a conspiracy theory or not, people in Arizona who didn’t do early voting (having your ballot mailed to you, filling it out and either mailing in advance or dropping the night of preference voting) were given the sharp end of the knife last night.

Obviously nobody was forced to leave no matter how long the lines were.

Unless of course they had to get to work, school, bed, home to feed their kids, dinner, or a million other reasons why people shouldn’t be forced to stay on their feet for up to 5 hours. From all I heard and saw on the news it was like that ALL DAY from 6AM until whenever the last person filtered through the tiny building for their ballot.

And for what? After Matt and I stood in line for close to 3 hours here’s what happened.

I was handed a ballot, walked to a little booth thing, picked up the provided pen, and connected a small arrow (empty in the middle) designating the candidate of my choice. The line I had to draw was about ¼” long. The ballot went into the box and I went home.

I have no opinion on who you want to vote for, nor will I try to convince you to vote for who I want to vote for. The problem with yesterday’s debacle has to do with the voting itself.

What I am trying to say is that the whole thing just reminds me how very out of control the people really are and just how broken the entire system really is.

Because, yes, even though the ratio of ‘waiting’ to ‘doing’ was too high I was happy to have the chance to do something. And yes, it looked like extreme voter turnout because of the lines.

Just remember, the lines wouldn’t have been there and maybe just as many (more?) people would have gone to do their thing if the Recorder didn’t allow only 30% of the normal number of polling places to be opened for business.

Inadvertently (I hope) discouraging people from doing what they have the right to do is why I think the political system is at a turning point.

Like I said, the proverbial cry for help.

I just hope that enough people stand up and talk about it, fight for things to move away from the bullshit we’re being slung right now, and maybe for once the powers that be will forget their fears and embrace the changes that could actually help this country come together.

Because 229 years ago the world was a radically different place. We’ve moved ahead, grown and should be celebrating our advancements as a nation, not trying to take it back to 1787. We’ve moved so far past that. Haven’t we?

***I hear Green party was also okay but didn’t meet anyone in/voting in the party so can’t confirm if they were allowed to pick or turned away.

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In addition to this drivel I also write books, both fiction and non-fiction.
Learn more on my author page.

Waiting Patiently

It’s Primary day here in Arizona. Well, actually, that isn’t entirely true. I mean it is true that voting happens today but the actual AZ primary isn’t until the end of August. Today is Preference day. But not for everybody.

Things in this fine state get even more complicated when it comes to voicing your choice depending how you registered. If you’re living here and registered democrat or republican then get on out there and make your vote count!

Registered independent? Go on ahead and stay home. There’s no room for your choice on the ballot.

Yup. That’s right. Here in Arizona the independent voters – AKA: people who haven’t yet made up their minds and want to keep all the options open since, you know, this thing doesn’t happen for another eight months – get the shaft.

Because in AZ it kind of only partially, sorta, kinda, a little bit, counts to say who you’d like to see get the nod. People who want the freedom of choice don’t get a say. Which, frankly, sorta, kinda, a little bit, stinks.

I feel for those people, in truth they’re the bulk of the entire voting system and they don’t even get a say. Well not yet anyway. But by the time those registered independents get to punch their card, tap on their screen, or whatever, it could be too late.

Their initial candidate of choice might just be out of the thing entirely. There’s a long way to go before the general election.

As someone who hasn’t always been granted an opportunity to voice their opinion, I can understand the frustration that registered independents are likely feeling today.

Four years ago, I tried to vote. My first presidential election as an Arizona resident! I was all kinds of excited when Matt and I were heading out to our voting location.

But I must have done something wrong. I thought I’d registered. After all, it’s free and really easy. All I have to do is check the little box when I renew my registration online and voila! Registered.

Apparently however, I was either an idiot or something was broken because when we showed up, waited in line and presented ID, I was told they didn’t have me on the list. No matter what I did, identification I tried to present, or way I tried to get in there to do my freaking civic duty I was turned away.

While Matt had the opportunity to check off all of his selections I sat in the car scrolling through Facebook or something. Getting jealous about all my friends who were able to get that little red, white, and blue sticker indicating they got out and did the thing we’re all supposed to do.

So this time I made sure to do things the right way. I think.

I have my voter registration card. I have my designated party affiliation and it allows me the opportunity to go and vote this month instead of waiting until August. Or whenever people who registered indie get their say. All of that is still very unclear to me.

Locations are open until this evening so Matt and I are going to wait and head on out together a little later today.

It feels good to put my pen to paper (or whatever) and make my pick. Only problem? I still don’t know who I’m voting for.

Seriously.

I don’t like to get super political over here most of the time. In fact, it’s my right as a voter to not tell anyone, even Matt, who I vote for. Which candidate is the one of choice for me.

However, since I have a vagina and a uterus you can probably surmise that I won’t be voting right. That presumption is 100% accurate. And while focusing on only one side, it still doesn’t help me narrow down from the eligible candidates left on the page.

I have strong feelings for and against both candidates who reside on the left. Some of those feelings are based on my gender and the unique challenges that come with it from pay to healthcare. Some on my feelings about legalization of cannabis. Some on education, taxes, small business, war, the food I eat and how it was grown.

Hilary and Bernie are both democrats, sure, but they couldn’t be more different if they tried. Which is the very reason I’m dreading making the choice later. If the ballot was in front of me right now, I honestly have no idea who I’d pick.

Between watching the news, reading the articles, listening to their own words in countless speeches and debates I am at a literal 50 / 50 split.

I guess I know what that means. For the next 11 hours I need to read more, listen more, watch more. Maybe even write out the pro and con list for each candidate.

But I’m a realist enough to know, in the end none of that shit will even matter. My choice will come to me in the moment. As it is with every American, my choice will be based on nothing more than my personal choice of who’s face and voice I want to experience for the next 4 years.

Or maybe not. Because making that choice and keeping it to myself is my American born right.

• • • • • • • • • • •
In addition to this drivel I also write books, both fiction and non-fiction.
Learn more on my author page.

Okay, Thanks Phoenix but Even I’m Done Now

This probably started just down the street from us.

You all know I live in Phoenix. And most everyone knows that the climate in our little corner of the country is on the warm side most of the time. In fact the monster number of days of sunshine and warmth were two of the main reasons I wanted to live here in the first place.

But even I’m saying Uncle at this point.

Our first 100+ degree day was on April, 28. May only had 9 days at 100° or better (but we had 18 days between 90-99°), no day in June was under 100°, only 3 days were below 100° in July (and only 1 day below 96°), 2 days below 100° in August, and now 14 days in September have been 100° or more.

That’s 113 days do far. Funny, that’s what the temperature feels like out there. Keep in mind there are only 145 days between April 28 and today, September 20. Although today’s figures haven’t been shared yet on the Phoenix NOAA page. But if you trust my phone’s weather App it got to at least 102° today.

I trust my phone because it sure feels like it. And it doesn’t show any sign of slowing down. At least not this week.

Okay Phoenix, thanks, but could you back off just a little please? Even dropping to 90° would feel like a vacation.

I thought the trip we took to California for our anniversary would be a nice transition because as soon as we got back we had 3 days in a row under 95 degrees. We thought the worst was behind us.

It was perfect weather in San Diego actually. Funny though, the night we got in the news was reporting on their “major heat wave” and what residents were doing to stay cool in the high temperatures.

They reported that it had been close to 90° for about 5 days in a row. Matt and I looked at each other and just started laughing. Picture me patting people on the head and saying ‘oh you’re so cute thinking it’s hot here!’ We went to Cali to cool off. And cool off we did.

But the weather must have caught up with the fact we came back and Mother Nature turned up her furnace once she figured it out. How very nice of her. Remind me to send her a melted basket of chocolate covered fruit.

Even our record low warm was broken this month. On the 18^th in 1992 the low temperature was 85 degrees. This past Tuesday it only got down to 88°. Though, I’m not gonna lie, at 9:00 at night when there’s no sun and no humidity that temperature feels glorious.

I’m just sad we didn’t win the huge Powerball lottery the other day. You can bet I’d become a late summer snowbird and spend all of September in San Diego if I had the means to do so. Maybe October too. Because at this point I have no idea how we’re going to drop off before Halloween.

And melted chocolate doesn’t sound very delicious.

Image courtesy chrisroll on freedigitalimages.net

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Content Marketing Strategist and Blogger for hire, Jenn has over 12 years of freelancing experience. Read her blog

All but Useless

Here in Arizona one might think the umbrella is a totally useless piece of junk cluttering up a closet. Most of the time I’d be inclined to agree but there are definitely times during the year when we are truly in need of a sturdy working umbrella.

You like our early seventies tile? Hot right?

Monsoon season is just around the corner and I don’t know about you but I’d prefer not to get stuck out walking across the mall parking lot or something when this is coming down.



On the road back from Tucson, yes that is a line of rain.



The winds before it are what bring in stuff like this.



It was right about this moment Matt asked what I was thinking getting out to take pictures.



And then usually, if we’re very lucky, the rain, thunder, and lightning are close behind. That’s what makes stuff like this happen.



Very early but same pattern. April of this year.



It’s raining mud! (You should’ve seen Matt’s car just from his drive home.) But despite the gross factor of the falling clay, the rain brings the temperature back down from the 110+ range to something more reasonable like 95. Trust me in the middle of July in Phoenix 95 does feel cool.

Lots of people here use their umbrellas in the middle of the day too. That sun can really beat down on you and an umbrella will keep those dangerous rays from sneaking under your skin to cause any permanent damage. Plus you won’t go ruining your white T-shirts with cheap sunscreen stains.

Which is the primary reason I just picked up some bleach this week. It isn’t my preferred method, not as environmentally friendly as I’d like it to be but certainly effective. And it helps me from purchasing more new white clothing which probably has a bigger impact to produce than my small bit of bleach going down the drain.

At least I’m going with that tradeoff for now.

Anyway, as far as the umbrella goes, I’m really posting the picture today for my mom because we talked weeks ago about u is for umbrella and I didn’t want to let her down.

How else can we stay dry during these summer months in the desert.

All photos taken by me

Posted for April 2013 A to Z Blog Challenge U is for Useless

Sir Matt

There are days when I feel like my husband should be knighted for his awesomeness. Or maybe proclaimed to be a saint. Because most of the time he just can’t help doing the right thing without a single moment of hesitation. Saturday August 18 was one of those times.

Normally this knee-jerk reaction to him needing high fives for being a good-person-overachiever has to do more with the fact that he’s somehow managed to put up with my ass for the past thirteen or so years. But on Saturday Matt just jumped into action like there wasn’t a question about it.

Late afternoon on Friday my Mom came up and planned to spend the weekend. We hung around for a couple hours and chatted before Matt got home. While we were hanging out the movie “It Could Happen to You” came on and we ended up watching the whole thing sitting there in our bathing suits. We were getting in the pool but that movie is so dang cute neither of us wanted to stop watching.

So what does any of that have to do with Matt’s newly bestowed title? Well Nicholas Cage plays the leading man, Charlie Lang, a cop in NYC who never fails to do the right thing when it comes to being a decent human being. His wife in the flick (Rosie Perez) can’t understand how he could have promised half of their lottery winnings to some random waitress (Bridget Fonda). But Charlie doesn’t back down on his promise. He never stops being a kind, generous and wonderful person despite all the crap that gets thrown at him.

The movie came out in 1994. I promised myself after watching it that I would find a guy just like Charlie as the leading man in my own life. Maybe he screws up occasionally, maybe he isn’t perfect, but somewhere deep down in the depths of his soul he’s just a decent and kind human being.

Well by some miracle of fate, I happened to find the real life Charlie and even more odd, they’re both from New York!

On Saturday morning we all discussed taking a road trip to somewhere none of us had ever been before. With Sunset Crater chosen as our destination, we hit the open road and headed north toward Flagstaff. The place was pretty cool, lots and lots of lava flow rocks from the volcano that erupted only about 1000 years ago. But the place we really wanted to see was up the road – an 800 year old pueblo that was mostly still standing. Um, cool!

We made it there about an hour before sunset and headed up the short path to this former house on top of a rock. There were two other groups there at the same time as us (which was weird because it was in the middle of nowhere. On our way up the path the couple with the fancy-pants camera set-up made their way back to the parking lot with a scowl. I wanted to say ‘gee, sorry to interrupt your photo op in this public state park’ but kept my mouth shut. The other group was a mom and what looked to be her two teenage children.

Mom, Matt and I explored the various rooms and the last three people eventually left. We had the place to ourselves so we acted a little dorky and took a whole bunch of pictures. Like this one taken earlier:

We headed back out to see that we weren’t alone in the parking lot. The minivan with the small family was still sitting there. Which I thought was strange because they’d taken off at least fifteen minutes before we made our way back to our car. The daughter was walking towards us. All of a sudden I hear “Excuse me, can you help us with a tire? We have a flat.”

Oh no.

Here’s what it looks like out there:

Um…

Luckily they had a jack and a spare. But this was a minivan, not a car with a trunk or a Jeep with a tire mounted to the back. Take a wild guess where the tire was located? Give up? Yeah, it’s under the vehicle. You have to use this weird contraption that forms the shape of a T and release some cable – done from the inside the vehicle - in order to drop the thing down so you can access the donut.

Now my phone chose this exact moment to die so the most important pictures weren’t even captured. Stupid roaming killing my battery too quickly!

But here’s a free piece of advice for everyone out there – NEVER approach a writer who is currently working on a suspense novel when she and her family are in the middle of nothingness, without another soul around, the Ranger’s station approximately two miles away, and a situation that is way too obvious as a trap because she won’t actually believe all you need is help changing a tire until you’ve already driven away with a donut attached to your car.

Here’s how the situation went in my head – the teenage boy takes the contraption shaped like a T, knocks Matt over the head with it and then kidnaps Mum & me to sell us into some kind of underground slavery ring while Matt lies bleeding out at the end of a dead end street in the middle of the desert.

Yeah, I really gotta find a way to separate fantasy from reality.

Because the actual scene looked a lot more like this:

Yeah, yeah. Perhaps I’m just slightly biased as to the inherent sexiness of my husband in a crisis situation but I think all five of us who were standing there watching him jack up that minivan to replace the tire would agree that he’s pretty kick-ass.

And nary a tire iron swung at anyone’s head during the entire experience. Imagine that!

They thanked us profusely and said “can we give you anything for your trouble?” Now don’t get me wrong, I certainly wouldn’t accept a dime from someone in this situation, we were all just lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time, but I thought it was kind of them to offer anyway.

Matt said “all you can give me is the knowledge that you get home safely tonight.” Seriously, who’s in charge of the sword on the shoulder thing? I’ve got your candidate right here.

Welcome to Our Home

I was talking to someone the other day, can’t remember who it was now, and I mentioned the fact that my home is my “thing”.  You know how people, men and women alike, always have something that defines them; their trademark if you will?  Whether it’s great hair, the perfect purse with every single outfit, that 1/16 inch stubble that never seems to grow, it’s that person’s signature thing.  Now I’m not talking from an inner-person standpoint here.  What I mean is the thing you notice about them physically.

For me it is definitely my home.

Many, many years ago I gave up on the possibility of always having great hair, the perfect purse to go with every outfit.  Somehow though, and you can confirm this with Matt if you like, no matter how often I shave my legs there always seems to be that 1/16 inch of stubble.  Or more.  Perfection is not possible no matter how much I want to strive for it.

So I said screw it to aiming to be the perfect person. But it just hit me this past week that the thing for me is my home.  Boom, like I’d never realized I love to have my house set up in a comfy and pleasing way.  My house isn’t exactly like something that just fell out of a magazine or anything but, if you visit, the thing I’ll hope you take away is that you were relaxed and happy while you were here.

I’m a collector of various things – shot glasses, sports memorabilia, movie related memorabilia.  Not an overabundance or anything though like those people you see on Hoarders.  I don’t even own a live cat, let alone one that died too long ago to remember.  Yeah, I just threw up in my own mouth a little bit too.  You’re welcome.

But anyway, each of those small collections kind of end up defining the spaces in my home and I’m cool with that.  Every Interior Designer on the planet will cringe at theme rooms.  Well I love them to be honest.  So I guess ID’s are cringing at my house?  Oh well, probably why I had no desire to see ID school through to the end.

So because I promised multiple times that I’d post pictures (as I was reminded recently) I guess there’s no better time than now to invite you over.

This is the kitchen before, when we first moved in.  Before the painting madness ensued and I covered just about every square inch of this place in low VOC latex.

Kitchen now.  The cabinets are just painted but we’re playing around with the idea of darker cabinets so at least this was a cheaper solution to see if we like it and can live with it until we save up to renovate the space.

We’ve got an en suite master set up which is pretty cool.  We had this in our last apartment too but they put the teeny stand up shower in that bath and the tub in the other bath plus the guest bedroom was larger there so we ended up giving up the second bath to our guests and office.  No biggie though…

Because now we’ve got separate rooms for the guests and office (as you know from my last post) and our bedroom is just perfect.  The bath attached is a nice perk.  We tore out the glass doors (yuk!) and Matt put a refresher epoxy on the surround.  I’ve been wanting to paint our bathroom this color of blue since I installed blue in a client’s bathroom before we left Massachusetts last summer.  I think it works well with the brown and we already had the shower curtain & accessories.

This is my desk set up and some of the built-in shelving for the office.  A side note for all my EcoEtsy peeps – the green boxes you see on the shelves are repurposed.  My most recent order of Ripple the Twine came inside those two boxes & then inside a shipping box.  I cut off the side flaps, painted them using the paint color we have in our guest bath, attached some self-adhesive Velcro to the front flap and now I’m using them to store stuff as well as cleaning up the look of clutter on those shelves.  The flap-top box in between them houses all my small acrylic craft paints.  As you can also see a bit of sporty goodness has started to find a home too!

And this is my little sales corner.  I don’t know if anyone will ever be at my house to buy a single copy of any of my work but I like having it on display if for no other reason than to feed my own desire to keep doing it.  When I look up and see all of my projects in one display I am happy that this is what I do for a living now.  Okay, happy is probably an understatement; elated, ecstatic, “broke but I’m happy”.  Can’t argue with that! 

It has started climbing into the triple digits on a regular basis now.  So unlike the winters here where you can be outdoors pretty much every day and all day, and also unlike winter v. summer back on the northeast coast, I’m spending the summer inside.  I figure I owe at least that much to the house, to appreciate its awesomeness now, after all the hard work to get her here.

(Sorry for the blurriness of some of the pictures, I took them with my phone and didn't have time to edit the images)

Something to Say?

The past week or so has been a whirlwind of drama to the nth degree with getting our house purchase squared away.  It was so much drama in fact that at one point I thought my next blog post title would read “The Foreclosure Market Giveth and Bank of America Taketh Away” but it turns out I would have been all wrong.

If anyone was going to be taking away our dream of homeownership it was going to be American Financial Resources with their lack of attention to detail, non-existent care for their clients, and complete lack of urgency in their jobs.  I have 17 months and 29 days until I can refinance out of their company and I fully intend to do just that.

It all started about 2 weeks ago when we were told by our broker that in Arizona we do an escrow close.  Now, forgive me on some of the technical terms because I’m not the mortgage professional in this household, but Matt isn’t the blogger, so you may learn even more about mortgages behind the scenes than you thought possible.  When closing in escrow you actually sign all your paperwork and give the title company the cash to close in advance.  The loan then funds and all the other hoobie-doos happen behind the scenes.

Yes, hoobie-doos is a technical term.

Then you meet with your realtor, get keys, and do a happy dance in your brand new, broom clean living room.

At least it reads great on paper.  In reality it went something more like this…

As of May 6^th we have all paperwork to our broker.

Our broker tells us she’d like to kiss us both because we’re so proactive.

Matt assures her it’s his many years of experience.

We start collecting boxes and packing material.

We are told we’ll have to sign & give money early.

We question this having never bought a house in an escrow situation.

We are told not to worry, paperwork should be coming in a day or so.

We sigh with relief and check the calendar – it is the 15^th.

By the 17^th we still don’t have final figures.

Matt has emailed everyone in creation at least 4 times a day.

Everyone but our lender has emailed him back indicating their attention to the situation.

Our lender finally sends a message that they missed the part where we close on the 23^rd but have to sign early – they say oops.

We hear a rumor that BoA (the seller’s mortgage holder) won’t close this if it isn’t done at least 3 business days in advance.

By the 18^th we still don’t have final figures and I start to panic.

The lender laughs.

I am not comforted by the fact that Matt starts to panic too.

We are forced to agree to a form that says we’re in breach of contract (even though it’s the lender’s fault, it’s on us).

I flip out screaming that our lender has had ALL our paperwork for 2 full weeks and question if anyone at American Financial Resources knows how to read.

The lender says they’ll have everything by Monday the 21^st.

I lose 3 pounds from not eating all weekend.

I gain 5 pounds from drinking all weekend.

I lose all I gained by helping move my sister into her very first house (HOORAY!!).

Monday comes and goes and still no paperwork.

I question where I can get heavier drugs.

The lender has literally said they don’t give a shit if it happens when we want it to or not.

Our broker has not one but about 50 panic attacks and calls in her boss to call their President.

The lender’s President all but laughs at our broker (again) and well over 200 emails go back & forth.

Matt takes the rest of the day off due to extreme overwhelming lack of concentration.

I begin drinking heavily.

We’re assured we’ll have everything Tuesday.

I pour another glass of wine and consider inviting our realtor and broker over to get hammered together.

Matt begins drinking with me and we zone out to crappy television.

Matt says out loud he will NEVER allow this kind of shit to happen to his clients.

Our broker’s President puts American Financial Resources on their black list.

Tuesday morning crawls at a snail’s pace but we arrive to sign docs at the title company at noon.

We hit the bank and withdraw our funds to close.

We shake hands and profusely thank our title company for their diligence in getting this done.

We continue to physically shake as we head to the car, hopeful everything will fund the next day.

Matt takes the entire day off and we both sit around biting off what’s left of our fingernails.

The 30^th call from our realtor comes in and we again commiserate that we’re all in this together.

Our broker contemplates leaving the industry this one has her so stressed out.

We pour ourselves another glass of wine.

Wednesday morning we wake up and know we have until 4:00 when the records office closes to have that deed recorded so we can get our keys.

Minutes tick like hours.

The title company says the lender received paperwork.

We pace frantically.

Another email details the wire has gone through.

I start chewing on random pen caps.

Another email that they’re standing in line at the records office.

Finally at about 3:30 we get word that the deed is literally done and we can meet our realtor at 4:30 to get our keys.

My excitement at the fact that we actually have purchased our very first home in Arizona is so overshadowed by all the stress and drama we dealt with that I can hardly get excited.  That is until our realtor opens the lock box and hands us our key.

Our key.  To our house.

I then proceed to do a happy dance in the middle of the living room.  Of course I have to avoid all the crap the seller left behind including piles of trash all over, a garage full of random crap, a backyard full of random crap, and 2 bedrooms full of her kid’s random crap.  Our realtor leaves us at our new house with a couple hugs and handshakes and we sigh in relief.

I start looking through all the stuff left behind.  This includes, but is not limited to, a chaise chair, a huge cooler, a shed full of screens and beach chairs, 2 patio chairs (score!), an entertainment center, her son’s baseball trophies and uniforms.  And then I poke through his closet.

There, in a far back corner of a shelf is the kid’s bong.

Oh how I wish I were kidding.  The trophies, her recipe box, and family photos at Disney were odd enough to find left behind but really kid?  I mean as a teenager isn’t that the first thing you pack?  Maybe he’ll swing by to fish it out of the dumpster.  Because that’s right where it will be.

Needless to say we spent a couple hours picking up new lock sets at Home Depot, installed them and a padlock for the backyard gate (for pool safety), swept out the crap from the house and skimmed the leaves out of the pool.

We drove away from our house last night at about 8:30, got Subway, and came back to our apartment ready to start our clean out, painting and pool maintenance the next day after work.  I’m counting the hours until the end of the day today.

And last night we celebrated the downshift in stress with the last of our magnum of wine.

It’s finally ours now. And no one can take it away.