We’re in the process of buying a house.

We were aiming to close around July 15th.  Then we decided we weren’t really settled on our mortgage.  Our initial lender started to leave a bad taste in our mouth over a few things, and then we found a much better deal, anyway.  So they did a rush job to get us through the underwriting and we got our final approval (meaning we were all ready to schedule the closing, on our end) on the 15th.

The house is currently owned by a divorced couple.  So, on their side are two sets of signatures, and two sets of lawyers, and a lot of animosity and very little talking between the ex-husband and ex-wife.  Once we had our mortgage stuff all straightened out and stuff,  though, it turns out there was some paperwork on the sellers’ end that the wife hadn’t signed yet, and no one would commit to getting it done by tomorrow, the earliest we could close.

So next week then.  Right?  Wrong.  The husband’s lawyer, who is the main lawyer handling the transaction for the sellers, is going on vacation all week next week.

Then our realtor will be on vacation until Monday the 28th, slightly interfering with our ability to do a final walk-through and potentially mitigating any issues that might arise from the walk-through.

That means the earliest we can now close is Tuesday the 29th, assuming both our lawyer and their lawyer are available.

Yes, a bit of this is our fault because we switched lenders at the last minute — but it looks like they still weren’t ready for us even if we’d gotten the mortgage stuff sorted out earlier.

I can’t really say I’m annoyed… though I am.  I’m more exasperated, and wearing thin on patience.  I just really want to be out of this apartment and into our own house, and I want to get started on making the new house our own.  We know the couple we’re buying the house from, so Frank is going to call the husband and see about maybe getting in there before the closing to start doing some of the painting we want to do.  Maybe we at least can get a head start.

I was sitting here, contemplating what to write.

My brother, who is here visiting right now, came out from taking a shower and told me, “I really like that peppermint oil body wash you have. My armpits feel invigorated.”

So… now back to my train of thought.

Frank and I started golf lessons last night. Frank’s wanted to start playing for a long time, and I told him if we took lessons together I’d be happy to play with him. The times we’ve tried out trying to hit a golf ball on a driving range, Frank’s had a nasty hook. Or slice. Whichever it is when your golf ball goes seriously way too far right. Frank talked about this fault in his swing as if it were insurmountable, but agreed to go for lessons, doubtful it could ever be corrected.

Well, the golf pro we are taking lessons with had him hitting the ball straight after about ten swings. Insurmountable, indeed.

I hit the ball straight right away. Not that I’m gloating or anything. Frank can hit it farther.

But the instructor did say that Frank and I really both seemed like naturals, and that practice would improve our consistency. It’s always fun to hear that you’re good at something.

Jake is just incredibly sociable.  He smiles and interacts with everyone, and is rarely anything but a complete pleasure when we are out and about.

For that, I am certainly grateful.  It’s definitely fun to run errands with him.  It can certainly be easy to be productive and efficient with him along.

But at the same time, his being so darned cute and affable can be a hindrance.  And not because of him, really.  Because of other people.  He draws people in, makes them like him, makes them feel special with his smile and eye contact.  Certainly this is a great talent, and if he learns to use it well it will be an asset to him in nearly any career he chooses.  But now, I love it and could use to turn it off occasionally.  We hit Costco and the supermarket today, and I couldn’t go more than ten minutes in either store without someone impeding our progress.  I heard about how adorable he is.  Jake got four different games of peek-a-boo.  “He looks like a doll.”  “He’s so happy.”

I try not to get annoyed by it.  I’m fairly certain the people who seek out interacting with me, or with him, it’s to fulfill a social need of theirs, or something.  And naturally I love hearing how cute and sweet and happy my kids are.  But after a while, man, I just want to eat my Costco slice of pizza and find the best dates on the yogurt and get on with my day… before the little cute happy guy gets hungry or tired and isn’t nearly as charming anymore.

We had one of those All-American sort of Sundays.  We slept in a bit, Frank napped on the couch, I vacuumed and washed the floors.  (And color me surprised that Murphy’s Oil Soap has gotten the tile floor in my kitchen more clean than any other cleaner I’ve used on it since we’ve lived here.)  Then we went to a local park and had a BBQ/picnic for dinner, I walked a nature trail with the kids while Frank did some studying, we all played on the playground for a bit, then when we got home I decided to make Rice Krispies treat with Lane to top it all off.

It was all going great until an errant Rice Krispie fell onto the stovetop and Lane tried to pick it up… burning two of her fingers in the process.  :(  I realized what she was doing and grabbed and pulled her hand away before it could have been much worse, thankfully.  But I’m still disappointed that I let it happen at all.  :(  I was right there!  Oh well.  It could have been much worse, and it wasn’t.

They’re not bad.  Her index finger has a blister just a bit bigger than the size of a pencil eraser, and her middle finger has one a bit smaller than a pencil eraser.  Oh man, did she cry.  She’s not exactly a child of reasonably-scaled reactions to things (to call her intense is unjust to the word “intense”) so this smallish boo-boo sent her off the deep end.  The wailing went on for at least 20 minutes, followed by sniffling and recurring bouts of tears for 20 minutes after that.  It wasn’t for at least an hour that I managed to get a smile out of her.  We did all the requisite first aid for a second degree burn — cold running water for as long as I could get her to keep her fingers in the bathroom sink, then sitting on the couch watching a baseball game with her fingers in a cup of cold water after that.  (See, baseball!  Even an All-American distraction for my little girl!)

So now she’s in bed, fingers intact.  My heart has mostly recovered.  And hopefully our upstairs neighbor hasn’t called Child & Family Services on us.

I tend to like spoilers.  Not movie spoilers or anything like that, but those behind-the-pack forces that wreak havoc for the people out front.  A last place team ruins a playoff chance for another team but pulling out an unlikely victory?  Awesome!  Maybe it’s something twisted about my personality, or maybe I just dig the expression of power that comes with it.

It’s probably not a secret that I am fairly left-leaning on the political spectrum.  Although my fiscal heart sits a smidge to the right side of moderate, for social issues I’m quite aligned with the Democratic party, and am registered as such.

I’ve written before about how much Ralph Nader gets my goat.  And it’s not necessarily because of his general role as spoiler, but that he was spoiler for MY candidate.  I suppose it’s fair to say that I like any spoiler, except when I’m vested in he for whom the spoiler works against.

But the campaigns of Ralph Nader, especially in 2000, have duly demonstrated the power of the political spoiler.

And now, I’ve got a spoiler I can get behind!

Bob Barr is running for president on the Libertarian ticket.  He’s got an uphill battle for sure — right now his campaign isn’t even certain they can get him on the ballot in all 50 states.  But people are loving him.  He’s garnering the attention of conservative Republicans, and independents are showing him a lot of interest, too.  Pollster John Zogby’s organization has done a really interesting poll that illustrates just how much influence Bob Barr might have in the ‘08 election.

I don’t have the financial clout to max out my $2300 contribution limit for a candidate.  But Barack Obama’s had a few bucks thrown his way from my wallet.  MoveOn.org Civic Action gets a few bucks when they are starting up a campaign I’m interested in (like now, they are about to embark on a big push in support of universal health care).  And today I decided to throw Bob Barr a bone, too.  If he can wreak half the havoc that Nader did in 2000, it will be money well-spent.

I’m also left to wonder how many of Ralph Nader’s political contributors were registered Republicans.

We’re on about day ten of stickiness.  Even though it hasn’t been super hot, the humidity just will not go away, and the forecast doesn’t bode well for me not sweating all over myself.  Oh well, life could be worse.

We went to see Wall-E today.  Two big thumbs up from me, and the rest of the family really liked it too.  I loved the storyline — it was really thought-provoking in terms of conservation & consumerism, and delivered a sobering message without being preachy.  It definitely reframed some of my thoughts around what I might “need”.  I’d been ruminating on that as it is, as Lane has started noticing advertising and marketing gimmicks and I’m trying to show her them for what they are.  Does she want that tube of toothpaste because she thinks it will make her teeth really clean, or because it will taste good, or is it just because it has Diego on it?  Yes, the Aqua Globes on the infomercial are cool, and yes we do have plants, but our watering can works just fine, we don’t need hand-blown glass globes to automatically deliver the perfect amount of water for up to two weeks!

In trying to help Lane see through this mental clutter, I’ve started to realize how much of it I have, and how I sometimes fail to see around the obstacles that the media has planted in my mental path.  I’ve spent a long time really digging Burberry plaid.  Why?  I do find the pattern visually appealing… but do I like it more because of the illusion of status it might convey?  Probably.  I drive a Honda Odyssey right now.  We bought it with the intention that we would take care of it and it would be driven until it simply could not be driven any more.  It boggles the mind how many times people have called that into question — do I really want to drive a car into the ground?  What if it lasts another ten years?  Do I want to be driving a 15-year-old vehicle?  Part of me does cringe at that… ugh.  But why do I cringe?  Is there anything fundamentally flawed about loyalty to a vehicle that continues to serve its purpose, that being to get me and my family and my stuff (some of which I probably don’t need anyway) from Point A to Point B and back again?  Why should any part of my brain worry about the impression someone might get because I don’t have the latest model?

We are in the process of buying a house.  This whole foray brings up a related set of values and perceptions.  Frank and I were contemplating buying a 3 bedroom ranch, and my in-laws (people who are not generally the keep-up-with-the-Joneses type) were convinced it simply could not be big enough for our family.   First of all, it was more than big enough for us.  Maybe not for all our ’stuff’ too — but that could be rectified via a garage sale, Craigslist and Freecycle.  Regardless, my brother and I grew up in a 3 bedroom ranch that wasn’t any bigger than the house Frank and I were considering, and my childhood house was probably smaller.  Before we bought the 3 bedroom ranch, my family and I were in a 3 bedroom cape cod, which was DEFINITELY smaller than the ranch we bought when I was 13… and while it may have lacked for space (especially in the closet department) we survived.  The house we are now under contract on is definitely bigger, a 4 bedroom raised ranch with a living room and family room and roomy master suite with two closets, and a dining room and huge deck and big backyard.  We decided to buy it not because it was “more house” but mainly because it was very close to my in-laws’ house.  That it is bigger and more updated is simply a bonus (until I start thinking about the bigger mortgage that comes with it.)  Yet a part of me still feels a big oodgy when I mentally compare it to other people’s houses.  How does it compare, and how will others compare their house to mine?

This rat race, it is a hard habit to break.  And it seems so fundamentally pervasive in our culture.  It must tie somehow to some mental process, some functioning of the human psyche that served us well for survival when we all were hunting and gathering and trying to avoid saber-toothed tigers lest we become an entree.  Perhaps it helped to ensure our survival, if we always strove to collect more berries than the people in the next cave.  But it’s time to draw the proverbial line in the sand.  I’ve collected enough berries.

I took the kids for a walk/jog today in our double jogging stroller.  Near the end of our jaunt we encountered an older couple with a beautiful black Labrador Retriever.  Lane, as she does, asked to pet the dog, so we asked the couple and they were happy to oblige.  We chatted for a few minutes and they shared that the dog is in training to be a guide dog for the blind, and is currently in the process of going through all the training and socialization and whatnot.  The dog is learning really well and is extremely obedient, except for one thing:  they cannot get her to stop jumping on people.  They’ve tried everything and are at their wits’ end.

Ahh, that sounded so familiar!  Bailey, our golden retriever, love that she is, was an avid jumper.  We tried EVERYTHING to get her to stop.  Her puppy trainer at PetSmart suggested rewarding her when she was calm… but when was she calm?!?  The ol’ bring up your knee advice had no effect, she thought it was a game.  No punishment was ever severe enough to deter her or to knock some sense into her — even the couple times I got so incredibly frustrated I actually punched her in the head.  (I hate to admit that, but it’s the truth.  She thought I was playing and jumped on me again.  Blockhead dog!)

Then, our epiphany.

Maybe someone told it to us, maybe I read it online somewhere — I cannot remember.  But wherever I got the idea, I am eternally grateful.  Bailey is a dog who craves attention.  Needs it, loves it, can’t live without it.  She loves people and wants to play.  She wants to be petted and loved.  She wants acknowledgment and acceptance.  So, we just started ignoring her when she jumped.  More than that, we stood crossed our arms and looked up and away from her, effectively withdrawing any semblance of attention.  It took a couple days of consistency, but the jumping abated.  We were amazed, we were thankful, we were in heaven!  We’d finally found the “punishment” that worked for our dog.

And it continues to work!  If she gets a little too exuberant with someone, we have them cross their arms and look up at the sky.  Bailey almost immediately will leave them alone.

I told these very nice people about our secret, and I think the light bulb went on for them too — it just might work.  I hope it does, their dog was otherwise beautiful and obedient and smart and well-behaved.