Whenever you’re feeling lonely or sad, try…looking outside…at the sky. As long as you can look fearlessly at the sky, you’ll know that you’re pure within and will find happiness once more.
-Anne Frank
Some blog this is! Two entries and I disappear! HA!
But hear me out. I’ve been a tad busy. We bought a house. This is no small thing. In fact, it is tremendous. Some of our friends and family have probably uttered the word "miracle" in reference to it in the last two months. We certainly have.
And angels. There were definitely angels looking out for us- at least three of the non-celestial variety, who helped make this happen. They have our unfailing gratitude and awe.
The story, though. You need to know this to know how momentous this whole house thing is. We've been searching for a house for three years. THREE! In Seattle. In one of the most seller-friendly periods in Seattle's history. Even while other bubbles were bursting around the country, ours floated happily, stratospherically along. Until it didn't. Now, people, I would never call myself real estate savvy. Or really, savvy in anything. More like lucky. And freakin' stubborn. But even my will crumbled from time to time. We bid on five houses and came no where near close to acceptance. We saw so many that I've lost count...maybe 4 dozen? And that's not factoring in the online profiles we pondered.
We saw house. After house. After house. Including one we affectionately call The Pee House because, while seeing it, the owner announced to us that the roses that lined the entire property, had all been peed on, regularly, by no fewer than five granddaughters.
Yes.
Peed.
On.
Every. Single. One. Of. Them. She was telling me something horribly fascinating about the acid in urine being perfect for developing the color of the roses. All I could see was a giant urinal with a house in the middle and the color draining from the realtor's face. I also remember a toddler twirling in the front yard, eyeing the roses eagerly. This might have been in my head.
Likely.
So you can surmise that if this was a highlight in three years of looking, we were not always so positive that a house was in our future. Although, we also knew we had no choice. Three people, three cats in 935 square feet of lovely, but increasingly small condo. A hope for a second child and dreams of actually having enough room for us all kept the, however sometimes distant, dream alive.
Opportunity finally presented itself. A lovely, three-times-the-size-of-our-condo, French-ish, stucco, 1921, views of Lake Washington, two-story with basement house. A couple that needed to move, fast. A market that was finally swinging in our favor.
AND WE PRAYED.
G-d heard us. Graced us. Took pity. I'm not really sure which it is, if not all of the above. But I thank Him, heartily. Now we're here. Our new house. Our new home! And it's not...pretty. The house itself? Fabulous!! But the interior? It's dull. A neutral gray-ish green covers every wall. Except the bathroom. That's brown...ish...purple...ish. Ick-ish. The windows beg for curtains. The walls, color. The whole home, some cheeriness.
But you know what? It's not the only one. I try my hand at dream analysis now and again. Usually when I wake up in a cold sweat from one. The one thing I know for sure is that when you dream of a house, the state of it is reflective of your internal state.
Um. Yeah. If dreams can come true, then my house dream is reflecting more than I’d like. I am not exactly without ick myself. In fact, ick is exactly what I've been trying to shed.
Here's the thing, besides the whole moving bit, I have had another reason for not doing much with this blog. I have been trying to figure out what I am going to do with it. No. Wait. Not what. HOW. How am I going to use this blog? Being more positive sounds great, but how to go about it? There's one thing I know. My life, my body, my clothes, my attitude- it all needs more color. This dream needs a better execution! More life! Less ick! If there is a way back to happiness, I think less ick has definitely got to be a step in the right direction. Dorothy didn't walk down cobblestone in Crocs, did she? NO! She pumped up the Technicolor, slid on some shiny ruby slippers and ran down a yellow brick road! (And, yes, she went back to black and white, but I think we all know what a disappointment that is.)
So here's what I'm going to do. Every day this week, (maybe month, but let's not get ahead of ourselves) I am going to create my own Technicolor dream. And revel in it. Because beauty, I'm starting to believe, leads us back to everything. Hope, happiness, peace, gratitude, G-d. And, I'm praying, a more happy self.
The to-do list is as follows: Tomorrow, wear Not Black. (Also, do laundry, but I digress…) Make pretty dinner to celebrate being in new house.
Plus, find camera. Charge batteries. Take pictures. Find cord to download. Because I can tell you it’s pretty, but you have to see it, right?
If you feel the urge to gather some beauty of your own, join me! Especially if you like folding laundry. And unpacking. (I really could use the help.)
This is going to be a busy day.
Tzippi
-Anne Frank
Some blog this is! Two entries and I disappear! HA!
But hear me out. I’ve been a tad busy. We bought a house. This is no small thing. In fact, it is tremendous. Some of our friends and family have probably uttered the word "miracle" in reference to it in the last two months. We certainly have.
And angels. There were definitely angels looking out for us- at least three of the non-celestial variety, who helped make this happen. They have our unfailing gratitude and awe.
The story, though. You need to know this to know how momentous this whole house thing is. We've been searching for a house for three years. THREE! In Seattle. In one of the most seller-friendly periods in Seattle's history. Even while other bubbles were bursting around the country, ours floated happily, stratospherically along. Until it didn't. Now, people, I would never call myself real estate savvy. Or really, savvy in anything. More like lucky. And freakin' stubborn. But even my will crumbled from time to time. We bid on five houses and came no where near close to acceptance. We saw so many that I've lost count...maybe 4 dozen? And that's not factoring in the online profiles we pondered.
We saw house. After house. After house. Including one we affectionately call The Pee House because, while seeing it, the owner announced to us that the roses that lined the entire property, had all been peed on, regularly, by no fewer than five granddaughters.
Yes.
Peed.
On.
Every. Single. One. Of. Them. She was telling me something horribly fascinating about the acid in urine being perfect for developing the color of the roses. All I could see was a giant urinal with a house in the middle and the color draining from the realtor's face. I also remember a toddler twirling in the front yard, eyeing the roses eagerly. This might have been in my head.
Likely.
So you can surmise that if this was a highlight in three years of looking, we were not always so positive that a house was in our future. Although, we also knew we had no choice. Three people, three cats in 935 square feet of lovely, but increasingly small condo. A hope for a second child and dreams of actually having enough room for us all kept the, however sometimes distant, dream alive.
Opportunity finally presented itself. A lovely, three-times-the-size-of-our-condo, French-ish, stucco, 1921, views of Lake Washington, two-story with basement house. A couple that needed to move, fast. A market that was finally swinging in our favor.
AND WE PRAYED.
G-d heard us. Graced us. Took pity. I'm not really sure which it is, if not all of the above. But I thank Him, heartily. Now we're here. Our new house. Our new home! And it's not...pretty. The house itself? Fabulous!! But the interior? It's dull. A neutral gray-ish green covers every wall. Except the bathroom. That's brown...ish...purple...ish. Ick-ish. The windows beg for curtains. The walls, color. The whole home, some cheeriness.
But you know what? It's not the only one. I try my hand at dream analysis now and again. Usually when I wake up in a cold sweat from one. The one thing I know for sure is that when you dream of a house, the state of it is reflective of your internal state.
Um. Yeah. If dreams can come true, then my house dream is reflecting more than I’d like. I am not exactly without ick myself. In fact, ick is exactly what I've been trying to shed.
Here's the thing, besides the whole moving bit, I have had another reason for not doing much with this blog. I have been trying to figure out what I am going to do with it. No. Wait. Not what. HOW. How am I going to use this blog? Being more positive sounds great, but how to go about it? There's one thing I know. My life, my body, my clothes, my attitude- it all needs more color. This dream needs a better execution! More life! Less ick! If there is a way back to happiness, I think less ick has definitely got to be a step in the right direction. Dorothy didn't walk down cobblestone in Crocs, did she? NO! She pumped up the Technicolor, slid on some shiny ruby slippers and ran down a yellow brick road! (And, yes, she went back to black and white, but I think we all know what a disappointment that is.)
So here's what I'm going to do. Every day this week, (maybe month, but let's not get ahead of ourselves) I am going to create my own Technicolor dream. And revel in it. Because beauty, I'm starting to believe, leads us back to everything. Hope, happiness, peace, gratitude, G-d. And, I'm praying, a more happy self.
The to-do list is as follows: Tomorrow, wear Not Black. (Also, do laundry, but I digress…) Make pretty dinner to celebrate being in new house.
Plus, find camera. Charge batteries. Take pictures. Find cord to download. Because I can tell you it’s pretty, but you have to see it, right?
If you feel the urge to gather some beauty of your own, join me! Especially if you like folding laundry. And unpacking. (I really could use the help.)
This is going to be a busy day.
Tzippi
