Langer Loksh

It Gets Better

Jeff brought all of his evidence to Mr. Buyer's lawyer this morning. The lawyer said she thought she could get the title examiner to sign off on it. A few hours later, though, she called Jeff: they'd found the right will, showing that Thomas left the property to Nellie and Nellie alone when he died. The title was clear all along--which makes sense, since the house has been sold four times since 1956. So it's really over, and we're closing next week.

Whoah Nellie!

All This and Gigantic Biceps Too

Jeff is the ROCK STAR SUPERHERO GENIUS OF ALL TIME! ALL TIME!

He turned the House of Sand and Fog into The Da Vinci Code and then cracked it! This is a man who does not know when to click and when to double click, and yet he managed to spend six hours on Ancestry.com followed by trips to the vital records office in Dorchester, our town hall, and our public library, and found all the death certificates and obituaries of all the dead people involved in the House of Sand and Fog, and brought all the evidence to our buyer's lawyer, and she about fell off her chair, because he has enough to clear the title!

JEFF THE SMARTEST BESTEST HUSBAND OF ALL POSSIBLE HUSBANDS has SOLVED THE HIDEOUS PROBLEM that I am still too afraid to blog about because we almost had to sue someone and carry two mortgages indefinitely and now I think, I think, I'm not sure, but I think, we can just GO JUMP IN THE LAKE!

WAHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO *splash*

Chop Job

Summer announced that she wanted to cut her hair. I am not sure what precipitated this decision; her 12,000 pounds of hair may have been getting in the way of stall-mucking at farm camp, or perhaps strangulating her in the lake. "How about just below my shoulders?" she said. "OK," I said. "How about, to my shoulders?" she said. "No!" I said. We agreed that she could cut it below her shoulders and if she did not like it, she could then cut it to her shoulders.

"You're doing WHAT?" Jeff said when he happened to call my cell as the kids and I headed to Supercuts. "Save a few strands, OK?" he said forlornly.

And just like that, after years of resistance and one false start, Summer got her first ever haircut. We have a couple pieces in a baggie. 

The before, during, and after:

How To Tell You've Wandered Into the Wrong Book Store

This a.m. on the way to work I was chatting on the phone with Allison, who has new baby Joshua. Allison told me that her husband Jonathan brought home a baby care book foisted upon him by a co-worker. The chapter heading on page 37 reads: "If You Choose Not to Eat the Placenta."

I've been snorting for about four hours now.

Who Are the People in Your Neighborhood

The title thing is sort of sucking my will to live. The lawyers have found the document they were looking for; [EDITED DUE TO NIGHTMARES ABOUT POTENTIAL LITIGATION] the buyer's lawyer tormenting us for kicks.

Tonight I went to the home of one of my new neighbors for a ladies' night. I was happy to meet the other women on my new street. Everyone seemed very down to Earth. My secret purpose was to ingratiate myself to the hostess, who lives right on top of the beach that's supposed to be shared by everyone on the block, but she acts weird about it. When I first met her I was like, "Is it OK if we come swimming here?" (because at our house the lake is very... lakey, with lots of lake muck and plants and of course Mr. Snake, but at the shared beach it's all crystal clear and sandy) and she was like "Yeah... [big pause] It's OK..." and not like "Welcome! Welcome! All the kids on the street grow up using this beach that happens to be in my back yard!". Anyway tonight it seemed to go well. She over-shared about her divorce and offered to sell me her swingset since her kids are now a little older and not using it.

Plunging New Depths of Glass-Half-Full

Fantastic news: the cats have tapeworms! Reason this is fantastic: tapeworms are not transmittable to humans, even when the cats with tapeworms poop in your bed! The house call cat vet--trust me, SO worth it--examined the poop I left in a bag on the porch when I went to work, and left me two tiny tubes of gel to squeeze on the cats' neck. I have to get it on the skin, not the fur, so it's a two-adult job, and with crazy Becky, realistically we'll need to call in the National Guard, and I hear they're sort of busy these days, but I think this is relatively easily fixable. Phew.

Still waiting on the House of Sand and Fog problem, which, for those of you who are curious, involves the last will and testament of the person who purchased our old house in 1890.

Are you sitting there thinking, "That is the dumbest thing I've ever heard?" That's what we've been thinking for a week. Only it's not that dumb when it could lead to financial ruin!

So let me just remind myself: tapeworms. Excellent. So happy. So happy.

They Can't Play Baseball, They Don't Wear Sweaters

Perhaps only those of you who are parents of three-year-olds can wrap your brains around why suddenly this is the entertainment of choice here at our house. Or more specifically, those of you who graduated from high school in the 1980s AND are parents of three-year-olds. I'm not sure I can explain it myself. What I will say is that it's much too hot to move.

Keep on the Sunny Side... Up?

There is something terrible happening to us with the selling of our old house, something almost House of Sand and Fog. Also the cats are peeing on the beds to mark their new turf. Including our new, free-if-the Sox-sweep-the-Series KING SIZE mattress. To preserve my sanity, I am choosing focus on the positives.

The move was a breeze. Jeff's backpacking buddies came and laughed and joked and picked up enormous solid wood book cases and dressers like they were empty milk cartons and it was all over in a few hours.

The house is so comfortable. You all probably knew this was coming: I don't miss my old house at all. Forget charming 1855; 1962 is so much groovier. It's so easy to live here! We're not bumping into each other!

Neighbor after neighbor comes by to say hello as we water our new garden in the evening; each couple or teenager or senior citizen is friendlier than the last.

The lake water temperature is just right.

Here are Greg and Nosara at our first (and only, thus far) marshmallow roast. And Jeff moving the coop (with Mike the Mechanic providing counterweight), and Summer imitating the chickens (who were in fact rather nonchalant about the whole thing).

And finally, today, you'll never guess--our first egg! We are debating whether to boil it, scramble it, or make egg-in-the-bread with it. Place your votes now!

 

Going Dark

We're moving tomorrow, meaning we're moving the beds, so we'll sleep at the new house tomorrow, but there will still probably be detritus here at the old house for a couple more days. I don't know if I'll be posting, because we'll have no Internet at the new house until Thursday.

Things are going fine. The upstairs at the old house looks untouched, but then you open the closet doors and they're empty. Moving two miles away has huge advantages. Like, you just dump your dresser drawers into your car, drive around the corner, and then lug the dresser drawers upstairs, and presto, you're moved in!

Today the fireman who came to inspect the smoke and carbon monoxide detectors said "This is a great house," and I said "I know, we're sad to leave," and then the fireman and I stood and stared wistfully at the built-in mahogany book case. We had a little moment there.

Also I walked the kids to the day care for the last time and came very close to crying, which is bogus, because I hardly ever walk them there, because I have to get to work after I drop them off, but because the fireman was coming I was already going to be late for work so we took the wagon and Summer's bike and it was lovely.

Then, late in the day, around 6:00, the kids and I went swimming in our new pond. The bottom is super nasty but the water felt exactly right.

I still have more packing to do but I had to get off my feet so I'm going to bed. Jeff is downstairs watching the Red Sox. Poor guy mowed two lawns this week. Even with all the help we've had, Jeff has still been working preposterously hard to get us out of here.

The next time you hear from me, I will no longer be the proud owner of a very cute, too-small house. Mixed feelings. That's what I tell Summer, who had had such a great attitude this whole time but now is starting to flake just a little. Perfectly acceptable, since this is the only home she's ever known.

The rope swing at the new house definitely helps.

Thank You, Thankyouverymuch

We're not hiring movers. Our strategy is death-by-a-thousand-cuts, and we've been moving boxes and bags for a week. Jeff and his large friends are moving the furniture this weekend. I am humbled by the efforts that my friends and family have put forth thus far and I would like to thank them.

John, rock star wrapper of fragile dishes, duster of liquor bottles, AND basement-cleaner-outer;
Joyce, heroic Gal Friday whose many duties were only slightly disturbed by the presence of the chipmunk;
Shaina the inconquerable babysitter slash psychotherapist;
Chauffeur Julie;
Intrepid packers and movers Michelle L. and Alissa N.;
Ever-ready Alissa and Mary as well as special guest star Kerry all the way from Florida;
Indefatiguable Maya;
Greg, who folded his tall self into my short attic;
and Bob, who has already done so much and his real job, picking up beds and dressers, hasn't even started yet.

You have all shown me what true friendship is!

Now I'm going to put on makeup because firemen are coming for the smoke detector inspection.