Since November... Really?

Today is February 1st, and is it possible that I haven't posted since November? I am such a bad blogger. Non-existent blogger, really. :sigh:

I've been working a lot, and Facebook seems to take up what time I have on the computer. Facebook, and Pinterest. Love Pinterest. Seriously, if you want to waste a perfectly good hour or two, go to Pinterest. Need an invite? Let me know and I'll send you one.

Anyway, lots of stuff has been happening around Britknitterville. Remember Stevie Wonder from this post?



He was such a friendly little guy. (Notice the use of past tense? You know where this is going, don't you?) He always greeted me when I brought him his food. Well, one Sunday morning as I was getting ready to go to work at Glitter World, he didn't greet me. I was running late, and figured he was just being a lazy mouse. When I got home from work, his food was still in his bowl. Not a good sign. I found him curled up in a little ball. He had departed this world and gone to that great mouse wheel in the sky. I felt like crap going off to work without making sure he was ok. What would I have done if he was still alive, though. Take him to the vet? I don't know. Anyway, I placed him in his little wicker mouse nest with lots of cotton and wood chips and buried him under the dogwood tree. RIP, Stevie Wonder. Now I just have Carlos Ruiz, and I never see him at all. He waits until I leave the room before coming out to get his food or water. If I want to have a look at him, I have to leave the room and shut the door, then peek through the curtain to watch him come out from under the wood chips. If I open the door again, he dives for the chips. Did I mention Carlos is a biter? He is. :sigh:

Oh, and remember the stray dog that wandered into that yard from this post?



I named him Russell, for obvious reasons. Well, he got away from his owner again, and found his way back to Britknitterville. Only this time, there was a casualty. Hanna.



Yep, Russell got into the garage (through the cat door) and couldn't get back out. While he was in there, he killed Hanna. Feathers everywhere. I know he's a dog and it's instinct, but it's hard not to be mad at Russell for killing such a sweet chicken. Russell's owner offered to buy us another chicken. Seriously? :sigh:

Speaking of dogs and people who should make sure that they are secure, those of you who follow me on Facebook know that my niece Michelle's dog Luna got away from her while she was walking through the woods near her house. It is my absolute worst nightmare, that one of my babes should get loose. There is nothing like the feeling of walking into your vet's office and seeing a "Lost Dog" poster, and knowing that dog.



Eleven days she was gone. There were literally hundreds of flyers all over the area, and I frankly gave up hope after day seven. Fortunately, a local farmer (who had been allowing Luna's searchers to tramp through his fields and woods) spotted her, called my niece, and followed Luna until Michelle arrived and caught the escape artist.



This is Michelle and Luna later that afternoon. See, this post isn't all bad news!

Now, this bit is especially for Golden Gracie's mom in Chicago. There is a man who lives near Fortescue with eight beautiful Golden Retrievers. It's a rare thing to see one person with eight big dogs (except for Sue and her pack of ten dogs... Happy Birthday, Sue!), but when you see those eight dogs fishing on the beach, now that's a sight to be seen!


Here they are, all calmly watching their daddy fish off the beach.


They are all on leashes and are tied to a pole holder in the sand. They are all perfectly well behaved, and stay there for hours watching the sea birds and enjoying the sunshine. What a life!

I have to go and get ready for work now. I'll do my best to post again before another three months go by!

Yet another bite...

OK, so my last post left off talking about the seagull incident. I didn't mention that there was another bite that same day. Not another seagull. Not another mouse. This time was a feral cat.

Remember this post about the feral cat colony in Fortescue? My sister and I were feeding the cats, hoping to catch some of them and get them neutered, but of course we were not fully prepared. No cat cage, no gloves... nothing but a bag of cat chow and high hopes of saving a life or two.

To make a long story short (I have to get ready to go to work), I ended up getting bitten by one of the cats. I didn't get a picture of it, but it looked something like this:



It wasn't the cat's fault. The poor thing was scared. Still, I ended with some kitty fangs in my hand. You know what that means... The next day I called my doctor's office to see if I needed an antibiotic. The nurse told me that they send all cat bites to the ER. Seriously? The Emergency Room? I told her that it wasn't serious at all, definitely NOT an emergency. She said that is standard procedure. I insisted on seeing a doctor before being sent to the ER, so they reluctantly gave me an appointment.

The nurse who came to the waiting room to take me back to an exam room looked at me and said "You're the mouse girl!" What have you gotten into now? After briefly explaining, she said "I want to follow you around for a week. You must have a fascinating life." Fascinating? Yeah, right.

The doctor agreed that it wasn't serious, and gave me an antibiotic but told me that I had to be seen again in a week. Even if it was completely healed, I HAD to go back and let them see the wound. I figured that was better than going to the ER, so I agreed.

One week later, I go back to the doctor. After the routine blood pressure, pulse, temperature check, she examines the seagull and cat bites and then says that even though everything was healing nicely, she wanted me to get a rabies antibody test. Apparently I had a fever. Great. There was no way I could have rabies. I figured she was just being overly thorough. I took the paperwork, "filed" it in the glove compartment of my car, and figured she would never know if I got the test or not.

A week goes by, and I am really feeling like crap. Tired all the time, headache-y, stiff neck, eyes hurt. All of the classic signs of a fever. I took my temperature. It was 100.2. I take some Advil, and get on with my day. Next day, feeling like crap again, temp was 99.9. Holy crap, could I have rabies????

I dug the paperwork for bloodwork out of my glove compartment and hauled my fevered self to the lab. Two (feverish) days go by, then three, then four. I don't hear a word. I call the doctor's office on day 5. I am told it takes at least a week for a rabies test, sometimes two weeks. Then there was the Thanksgiving holiday... I tell the nurse I still have a fever, she wants me to come in right away. I put her off, figuring there is no point in being seen without the results of the bloodwork. At this point I'm thinking rabies is a possibility...

Fortunately, the nurse called yesterday. NO RABIES!!! Yay! Time to do a happy dance! Since I still have a fever, they put me on another antibiotic. The third one in as many months. Let's hope this one knocks the hell out of whatever is wreaking havoc with my body!

Another bite.

First things first... Happy Thanksgiving to all! Yes, I know it's not until tomorrow, but I am working tomorrow, and don't know if I will get a chance to blog.

Yes, that's right. I am working. On Thanksgiving. Glitter World is open, so I will be putting on my happy face and ringing up tons of glitter-covered-crap that people just can't live without and feel the need to buy on Thanksgiving Day. It's not so bad, really. It's just another thing to be thankful for, right? A job. Two jobs, actually. So many people would be thrilled to be working tomorrow, or any day at all, that I don't feel as though I can complain about working. At least I don't have to cook a Thanksgiving meal. Cracker Barrel, here we come! Yet another thing to be thankful for!

What else am I thankful for? Emma, Tara and Cooper, of course. Although they have their cute little noses out of joint because their little mousey brothers Stevie and Carlos got their pictures in the last blog post. Was there a single picture of the dogs? Nope. Sure, the dogs were mentioned in passing, but apparently that wasn't sufficient, and their egos have taken a hit. So, without further ado, I give you (drumroll, please)...

Cooper, Emma and Tara!


I wanted to get a picture of them doing something cute, but this is what they do 99% of the time. This photo is unusual in that all three babes are in one photo--a rare occurrence! I am so thankful that they are happy and healthy, particularly as Cooper and Emma would technically qualify as "seniors", although both can still act very much like puppies on occasion.

Here is another picture of the babes from today when I ran home from work to let then out at lunchtime.



That's Tara and Cooper. (Emma was camera shy.) It was raining, and Tara and Cooper hate getting their feet wet. I was standing out in the rain, getting soaked, cajoling and pleading with them to "come down and do pee pees". They are doing their best to ignore me. Notice the closed eyes... It kills me that the think that if they can't see me, I can't see them. Silly babes.

At the risk of doggie overload, here is a picture of Cooper and Tara from last week.


The chicken on the gate? That's Hanna. She is (or was) the neighbor's chicken. She has been living here for a couple of years. Notice Emma is not in this picture. She's afraid of Hanna. I know, I know... a bird dog who is afraid of a chicken. My dad says I have single-handedly ruined the breed by coddling my sweet babes.

Anyway, Cooper quickly lost interest, but not Tara. She and Hanna had a standoff, and I was about to be late for work.


The only thing I could do was "shoooo" Hanna off the gate.



Oh my, look at that ugly scar on my hand... We'll come back to that later.

Hanna decided she didn't want to be "shoooo'd" and found somewhere else to perch. On me.


She stayed on my arm until I walked to the woods and found a tree limb for her to perch on. Silly bird.

Back to the scar...

Ugly, isn't it? It's about six weeks old now, so it's actually looking a LOT better than it did. How did I get it? Another bite. It was more like a rip, really. My sister and I were on the beach at Fortescue, and a woman down the beach was fishing, and a seagull got caught in her fishing line. How? I have no idea. I've never seen that happen before.

Of course, I go running down the beach to lend a hand, and the seagull bites the hand that frees it! It wasn't his fault, though. The poor thing was terrified. The fishing line was wrapped around both wings and both feet. Between the three of us we managed to get him free and he flew away (thank-you-baby-jesus) leaving nothing but three happy women, and some blood on the beach. My blood, not his.

Fortunately, the seagull was not harmed in any way.

Fortunately, I now have a house a Fortescue, so was able to go and wash the wound with antibacterial soap & wrap it up.

Fortunately, I recently had a tetanus shot, (you know... from the mouse bites) so I feel protected from any heebie jeebies that seagulls might carry.

Unfortunately, I have an ugly scar, despite the use of Vitamin E cream.

Unfortunately, seagulls creep me out now. This is what I imagine every seagull is saying to me:



Unfortunately, the seagull incident was not the end of my adventures that day...

Stay tuned for another bite. Literally.

At long last...

Finally, a blog post! I appreciate the emails and Ravelry messages I've gotten over the past couple of months, but want to assure you that everything here is fine. Mom and dad are doing great. The dogs are all happy, healthy and always looking for trouble. I've just been so busy, working at the museum and at Glitter World. I have so much to get everyone caught up on that there is no way I can do it in one post. In the first place, I would be up all night working on it, and in the second place, it would bore you all to tears.

Have you ever heard the joke about "How do you eat an elephant?" Answer: One bite at a time. Anyway, I have a big ol' elephant of stuff to share, and will be writing "bites" until I get caught up. Now for the first bite. No pun intended... You'll understand this later on.

A couple of months ago, my niece who works at the local PetSmart posted a picture of a blind mouse in need of a home on her Facebook page. Apparently this little guy came into the store for sale and was missing an eye and she was afraid it would become "snake food". It's bad enough for these little mousies to be sold for food (yes, I know about the circle of life and the food chain and all that, but I don't want to see it or allow it to happen on my watch, you know?) but this poor little guy would never see the snake coming at him and have no chance at all to get away.

Well, since I am not using credit cards, I had to wait 3 days until payday to go at get little Stevie. (I named him after Stevie Wonder, being blind and all) Not having had any caged pets since I was a kid, I needed the cage, litter, bottles, dishes, food, etc. and had to wait until I got the cash. So, on payday I went to PetSmart and bought this:


It's not just a simple cage, it's an apartment tower of mousey-fun! I went with the super-size accommodations, because Stevie was in a cage with two other mice, and I didn't want to buy just Stevie and have him miss his little friends. Of course, I couldn't choose which of the other two mice to buy, and if I only bought one, the other one would be all alone, so of course I had to buy all three mice.

Admittedly, I had no idea what I was getting into, and I don't recommend anyone purchase a pet if they do not fully understand what the care of that pet entails. In fact, I have never had any great fondness for mice. Really, I hate the little suckers. Correction... I USED to hate the little suckers. Somehow I managed to convince myself that little Stevie was going to be snake bait and I was his only hope for survival. So, I just jumped in with both feet and am in this for the long haul...for better or for worse.

Better: There is a Rat and Mouse Club of America and the people on the forums there are very helpful to newbies like me.

Better: They are all boys, so there will not be any additional mice.

Worse: They are all boys, and boys will fight to the death as they mature.

Worse: I had to purchase two additional cages to prevent mouse homicide... or mouse-icide????

Worse: Boy mice are notoriously stinky, and one boy mouse smells as bad as five girl mice.

Worse: My laundry room immediately took on the odor of 15 mice. We're talking really, really stinky.

Better: My sister's secretary took one of the mice off of my hands.

Worse: The laundry room still smelled like it had 10 mice. Still really, really stinky.

Better: There is a product that you add to their water bottles and it helps to neutralize the odor of mouse urine.

Worse: It takes several weeks to get the odor down to a manageable level.

Worse: Mice bite. They bite and hang on with a vengeance even when you are screaming and trying to shake them off of your hand.

Worse: If you are bitten by a mouse (or two, or three) you need to get a tetanus shot and an antibiotic. Just add the co-pay and prescription to the cost of the mice, cages, litter, food, water additive, etc., etc., etc. Also, the doctor has to call the county board of health and then tells you to monitor the mice for any non-mouse-like behavior. Rabies, you know.

Better: I have two new little souls that it is surprisingly easy to love. Here is little Stevie:



And here is a picture of both Carlos Ruiz and Stevie Wonder:



My stinky boys. Priceless.

Stay tuned for future bites. Literally.

After the Storm...and the Earthquake.

Hurricane Irene has come and gone, but rest assured that everyone here in BritKnitterville is fine. I hope everyone reading this is safe, too. Irene was downgraded to a Category One hurricane by the time she made landfall in New Jersey. Oddly enough, this is just the third time in the State's history that a hurricane made a direct hit. This was the first time that we boarded up the windows of the Museum where I work.



Irene caused the evacuation of Cape May County (yes a whole county of people!) and most of the shore communities on the coast. Fortunately my little house in Fortescue is on the Delaware Bay side of the state, but I would say that just about everyone left the island for higher ground, even though evacuation was not mandatory. My sister and I drove down there this morning to check on things, and there were lots of trees and wires down (and no power on the island), but fortunately not a lot of property damage. My little house survived with only the loss of one of the window shutters. Whew!

Not only did we have a Hurricane this week, we also had an Earthquake! In New Jersey! Ok, so technically it wasn't centered in New Jersey, but it sure felt like it! I can't imagine what it was like in Virginia. One minute I was sitting at the computer at in the Museum's library, and my chair starts rolling. I look up, and the hanging lights are swinging. We ran out into the museum (a GLASS museum, by the way) and the ginormous chandeliers in the lobby are swinging. Being in a glass museum in an earthquake is not my idea of fun, by the way. An earthquake in New Jersey...very strange.

In other news, I have a fourth dog. Well, HAD a fourth dog. For 24 hours. He wandered into the yard last Sunday and started eating the cats' food in the garage. He had a collar, but no tags and I named him Russell. Why? He's a Jack Russell Terrier, so what better name for this sweet boy?



To make a long story short, I will never take another dog in to the local SPCA to be scanned for a microchip. I will wait until my Vet's office opens and let them scan the dog. The local SPCA took Russell from me to scan him (no chip, by the way), and wouldn't let me take him back home! I told them I would give them all of my information in case the owner turned up, but they said they couldn't legally release him to me since I wasn't the owner. I never heard of that before. I took Cooper there three years ago to be scanned and they released him to me. Not Russell. They said I could come back in 7 days and fill out an application for adoption. Let me tell you, I was a mess. I was crying, which got another woman crying, and then two more women came to see what we were crying about and they started crying. Still, I had to leave without Russell... I posted his picture on Craig's List and Missing Pet.com, and hung posters in local stores. In the end it was the posters that reunited Russell with his owner. No more SPCA for me!

I'm sharing this picture just because it's so cute:



That's my dad, with his hair all messy and dirty knees. Doesn't he look great? Especially considering that he has had a rough year with two cancer surgeries. (Still cancer free!!!) He is working on a ramp for the shed at Fortescue. He is happiest when he has a project, and the Fortescue house is an endless source of projects for him. Endless, until the money runs out, which it does on a regular basis. I just made my second mortgage payment, and oddly enough it still doesn't feel like it's MY house. I still have that "trespassing" feeling when I walk in. This helps, though:



It is a picture of my first Brittany, Scarlett. My sister had an artist friend of hers do it for me shortly before I lost my sweet Scarlett. Now, every time I walk in the front door, this is what I see:




Yep, that's my house alright. Scarlett watches over it for me while I am away.

I'm still here...

Yes, it’s been a while. A looooonnng while. Between working 7 days, and working on the house in my “spare” time, I’ve been neglecting every other area of my life. Rest assured that all is well here. Mom and dad are doing fine. Emma, Tara and Cooper are all great. Ornery as ever, which is always a good sign. Recently we even passed the three year anniversary of the day we found sweet Cooper McLooper. I think he's happy here, don't you?



Anyway, the house is coming along nicely. Ceilings have been painted, fences have been put up, shed doors have been rebuilt, electrical stuff has been rewired, and lamps have been hung. Of course, none of this could have been done without help from dear old dad. Here is the electrical engineer, himself:



Yes he is, indeed, modeling a “chick magnet” T-shirt. My dear, delusional, dad.

Mom has been very helpful, too, with lots of design advice. Here she is on moving day...



... napping on the sofa, umm, contemplating color schemes and curtain styles. Of course, when I say “moving day” I use that term loosely. I haven’t actually really and truly moved. First I had to get the fence installed for the dogs, but then there were some problems with installation, and the company hasn’t come out to fix it yet. That’s a story for another day, though.

Then there was the problem of a place to sleep. I almost envy the cave dwellers, in their lack of decision making when it comes to decorating and finding a place to sleep. In the civilized world, this is a multi-step process, involving first buying a bed (as I will still have a bedroom at my sister’s house). Done. Then choosing a bedroom. Done. Then picking out a paint color that wouldn’t clash with the carpet. Done. Then actually getting that paint from the can onto the walls.

Not done. :sigh:

Maybe this weekend when I get off work from Glitter World, but maybe not. The painting has to be done before I can arrange for delivery of the bed, because who wants to climb over a bed while trying to paint? I also wanted to replace the (old, nasty, ugly) ceiling fan in that room but it looks like that will have to wait. All spending has come to a screeching halt. My checkbook needs life support after hemorrhaging money over the past month. However, I am proud to say that I have not used a credit card since August 13, 2010. Shocking, isn’t it? If I can’t afford to pay cash for it, I don’t buy it. Living within my means...a concept Congress can’t grasp.

Never fear, though. There are still plenty of no-cost and low-cost things to be done, and first on my list was hanging this lamp:



Isn't it lovely? Mom and dad made this lampshade. Actually made it! Cut the glass, wrapped the pieces, and soldered it all together. They made several cut glass lamps back in the 70s. After this one was finished, they decided they didn’t like the shape, and it was on its way out to the trash. Yes, the trash. Growing up, if a thing wasn't useful or was perceived as lacking in some way, it was put out for trash day. I often wonder what would have happened if any of us kids was handicapped or had any learning disabilities... But I digress. I loved the lamp and couldn't stand to have it tossed out, and even though I didn’t have a place for it at the time, I rescued it from the trash and stowed it under my bed for safe keeping. When I moved in with my sister, I hung it on an enclosed porch, but now it has a place of honor above my dining room table. I knew I would have a place for it someday... I just didn’t know that “someday” would take 30 years, or be so far from civilization!

I know that some people (most of my family, that is) think Fortescue is the ends of the Earth... the back of beyond... but I think it’s just perfect. I’ve met several of my neighbors already, and two of them are knitters! Everyone is so friendly and laid back. If you’re looking for what are traditionally known as the “finer things” in life, like internet access, marginally reliable cell service, trash pickup, mail delivery, or more than 5 television stations, Fortescue is not your kind of place.

If you are looking for a peaceful spot to relax and decompress with a walk on the beach, and don’t mind driving 20 miles (or more) for a gas station or a grocery store, I have a gem of a spot for you.



The people here are so friendly, and everyone has time to sit and chat over a glass of iced tea. The best thing about being here is asking someone for directions to, say, the dump, or a farm stand to buy some corn and tomatoes. You get answers like:

"Head out over the bridge, and go inland for a couple of miles. Make a left at the yellow house with a pool in the back yard. Keep going for a bit, and there will be a deli on your left (that they neglect to mention has been closed for more than 40 years, just in case you were hoping to get a sandwich and some chips), and then a pasture on the right where the cows are always wading in the creek. Make a right, and stay on that road until you see the black lab hanging out on the porch of the brick house, and then make the next left. If you come to the big oak tree that lost a limb a few winters back, you know you’ve gone too far."

Seriously. It is so funny. It makes me want to ask someone for directions even though I don’t need to go anywhere!

OK, enough for this post. For now, I’ll leave you with a video of a new song by the Zac Brown Band. This song perfectly describes the Fortescue way of life! Enjoy!

The sign says it all...

Yes, the population at Fortescue increased by one yesterday! I've already met three neighbors, and two of them are knitters. I don't have telephone service or internet down there, and even cell phone service comes and goes. It's wonderful!

More later, with pictures. For now, I am headed back to Fortescue with another car load of stuff.

Lots of News, All of it Good!

Almost a month since I've posted... I'm a very, very bad blogger. It's been a month of ups and downs, and generally nerve wracking episodes pretty much daily. Today, however, was an "up" day. Way, way up. Dad went back to his surgeon for a follow-up visit today. He had his thyroid removed on June 8th, and after a pretty rough recovery, he is doing better now. The best, most important news from his doctor visit today is that the biopsy report was clear! No cancer at all! What a relief. Dad is still pretty sore from the surgery, and has limited neck movement, but after another week or two he will be back to his old self.

We traditionally make him his favorite meal - hamburgers with all the fixin's for Father's Day, but not this year. Here's a picture from a couple of years ago:


Can you see how big that burger is? He piles everything on his burgers. Cheese, bacon, tomato, lettuce, green pepper, onion, pickles... so much stuff I don't know how he eats it all. Maybe by this weekend he will feel up to the traditional Father's Day burger fest.

More good news: Mom is doing really well after her surgery last week. She had a botox injection into a muscle at the base of her esophagus, and she is eating much better now. It may have to be repeated every 6 months or so, but that's a small price to pay for being able to eat without the discomfort she has been experiencing for years now.

More good news: I've got mail!



Yes, it's all junk mail, but it's mine. Ok, none of it has my actual name on it, unless I want to change my name to "Occupant" or "Current Resident" or "Box Holder", that is.

So what's the big deal about getting mail? This mail was in my very own Post Office Box. Mine! At Fortescue!

Why would anyone get mail at Fortescue unless they lived there? They wouldn't! I will be closing on my house on Wednesday! Yes, that was another good piece of news today. After a nail-biting four days in which the bank and the homeowners/flood insurance company were going back and forth about the wording on the insurance policy (of all things to hold up a settlement...one sentence in an insurance policy!), they finally came to a compromise, and in a mere 36 hours, I will be a homeowner! Me!

Does that mean I'm a grown up now? I hope not.

Pass the Marshmallows...

A few weeks ago, I was feeling like I was going nowhere with my get-out-of-debt plan, so I decided to figure out how much I had paid off since my last bonfire. I removed the chains from the Chain of Shame, it made a tidy little pile.



Time to break out the matches...

...and celebrate...

...and then go deeper into debt:



Yep, the Fortescue house is now officially under contract! Woo Hoo! All I need now is the mortgage commitment, which should come through by June 10th. That will keep everything on track to have the survey, inspections, certifications, blah, blah, blah, done by the settlement date of June 30th!

It looks like June will be a big month around here, with Dad's thyroid surgery on the 8th, and mom's esophagus surgery on the 14th. Fortunately, dad is already stocking up on supplies in anticipation of spending time in Fortescue in the next couple of months.

What supplies?



BUG SPRAY!

Too Many Red Flags

Man, it's been a while. Yes, I've been busy, but that's not the only reason I've been away from the blog. I've tried a couple of times to write, but it has never come out right, so I hit DELETE instead of PUBLISH.

First things first...

Good news: Dad is doing well after his surgery in March.

Not-so-good news: He was diagnosed with thyroid cancer a couple of weeks ago. We are told that it is completely unrelated to the prostate cancer. He has to have surgery to remove the thyroid, and then a couple of weeks after that he will have to be re-admitted to the hospital to take some very weird meds. Apparently, within 3-5 days of taking these meds, he will glow in the dark. (Not really...at least I hope not.) Next week we will find out more details on the surgery and post-surgical treatment.

Other than that, everything is pretty much the same. Mom is doing well. She is scheduled for Botox next month.That's right, Botox! I can't stop laughing whenever I think of it. She's not getting it for wrinkles (if she had any, that is). She was recently diagnosed with esophageal achalasia, so they are going to relax the muscle at the bottom of her esophagus with Botox. I keep telling her that once you start with the plastic surgery, it's just a slippery slope. Pretty soon she will be getting a butt lift and a boob job!

The dogs, assorted cats and chickens are all doing great.

OK, I think I'll end this post right here.

Thanks for reading.

Goodbye.

See ya.

Go on now.

You're still here?

You're asking about the little house at Fortescue from my last post?

The house I have been drooling over for two years now?

This cute little house with tons of character?


Why yes, I did indeed put in an offer on this house!

I know the house is small; the bedrooms are barely big enough for a twin bed, let alone a full or queen; the bedrooms and bathroom are up a narrow, winding flight of steps; the outbuildings are practically falling down and are one high tide away from being washed into the marsh. I know all that, and I love the house anyway. The deeper I got into the house, though, the more red flags started popping up.



The house has been vacant for over three years? That just proves that it needs someone to love it. Termite damage? OK. I can live with that. Leaky pipes? No problem. That's what plumbers are for. An owner who is reluctant to sell? That's a little harder to deal with, but that's what real estate agents are for.

And then came the big red flag. Do you see that outbuilding behind the house? Inside the building, there is an old, unused shallow well. You open the door, and there is a hole in the ground, about 2 feet in diameter, full of water. No lid or anything to keep you from falling into it. No big deal. Make a lid for the well, secure it so no one can fall into it, and viola! Well problem solved. At least we thought it was a well. Turns out, it's the septic. Full of water. No lid, because apparently it fills up so often that it has to be pumped out once a month. Estimate to get a new, properly draining septic system? $15,000-$25,000.

Big red flag. Huge. Big enough to cover the whole state of New Jersey. Granted, New Jersey is one of the smaller states, but still...



This house is just not an option for me, and will henceforth will be referred to as "The Money Pit".

But... behind every dark cloud there is a silver lining. When God closes a door, He always opens a window. Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger. I could go on and on with pithy sayings, but you catch my drift.

I now present.. (drumroll, please)... the Silver Lining:



Longtime readers might recognize this as the house we rented last summer when an old friend came to New Jersey for a visit. This house is also in Fortescue, and while it doesn't have the charm of my house the Money Pit, there is something to be said for three bedrooms, a bath and a half, and actually being able to flush the toilets.

So, am I just teasing, or did I actually take the plunge?

Hand me a towel, because I am soaking wet!

I was afraid to post about this earlier, afraid I would jinx it, but I made an offer, it was accepted (after some back and forth), the contracts have been signed, the attorney review period is over, and an independent house inspector only found two things wrong: it needs GFI outlets in the kitchen, and the front porch is missing lag bolts. Easy stuff.

Now I'm just waiting for the mortgage to come through, but have been assured that it will go through without a problem. Famous last words, right? I'm not counting my chickens before they're hatched, but I'm starting to think that I might actually be a homeowner very soon.

How's that for a silver lining?