Sunday, March 29, 2009

Mi Casa

I was kind of depressed about money this week. We talked to someone about refinancing and decided not to do it, mostly because not much, if any, equity has built into our house. We're not totally sure about that because of all the updates we've done, but we'd have to spend some money to save the money and it probably just isn't worth the risk (or do I mean heartbreak?) of having it appraised. So anyways.....

I walked out the door to get my paper this morning and realized that I had been taking it for granted lately that it would still be there. Over the last four years living in our house my paper has always been on the front stoop on Sunday mornings. A little thing, but it wasn't always this way.

Chris and I lived in apartments for a little over four years before moving into our house. We started getting the Sunday paper not long after we moved out of our parent's houses but getting the paper (or anything, really) delivered to an apartment was kind of like an easter egg hunt. Deliveries, and the papers, were always left in the communal area that was also unlocked to the public so whoever got there first got the best stuff. I'm not saying this happened constantly, normally our paper would be there. I'm an early riser, so that definitely helped. But there were many mornings when the paper just wouldn't be there. So we'd have to call the Star Tribune and they would come out and bring us one personally before noon. They never complained, even though I'm sure they delivered that first paper. I think one of my favorite mornings was when someone had taken my paper but left the bill for it on the top of my mailbox (our paper bill comes with our paper). Thoughtful! Oh, and the time Chris went down and found a drunk using our paper as his pillow....we decided to pass on the paper that day.

I think I wanted to write this because of all the press about declining home values and maybe it's not the investment it used to be. Truthfully, I don't believe that home values will decline forever. Everything will reach balance again, it has to (nature abhors a vacuum, right?). I really do hate doomsayers. But what I'm really trying to say is that owning a home is, well, priceless. To us anyways. It's about the afternoons in our backyard on OUR deck grilling out, or being able to paint (and paint and paint again) our walls any color we damn well want. It's about having a garage and not worrying about our cars being towed for the apartments own snow emergency in the morning. It's about not hearing the people in the apartment above you express their love....or their hate. It's also about personal responsibility. The shoveling, the mowing, the upkeep of EVERYTHING, the remodeling, the bills, and of course the savings account that is there just in case something goes wrong with the house. But it's on our terms, and it's our space. It means something to us and we've made it ours.

I love our house and I love our neighbors. It may not be a perfect house, it's small, it needs another main floor bedroom, we'd love a two car garage, and of course it has it's cracks and quirks, but with anything one loves, those things don't become it's defining qualities, they become part of it's character, or at worse, part of the background noise. But I'm happy here and I have no regrets.

Our backyard in the early spring

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

In FURther news, a race, and some balls.

Gah! I'm so domestic, all I want to write about is my animals.

Traxx is still gaining weight, way calmer, and seems to be doing well.

Daly got his stitches out the other day and is now allowed on two or three 5-10 minute walks a day. Somehow he still manages to poop when I've forgotten a bag. I mean, really, how do I pick the 5 minutes that he needs to poop to take him for a walk. Thanks dog, way to make me look like a bad neighbor.

Now that that's out of my system.....

I ran in the St Patrick's Day Human Race on Sunday, which coincidentally, is not on St Patrick's Day and I'm really not sure what it has to do with humans other than they run in it.....but it was fun! I got a t-shirt with a leprachaun on it, which is really what's important. Kelly and Andrew ran it with me and it was so nice to run with them. I enjoy running with someone, it's motivating, and I haven't really found anyone who can deal with my crazy schedule and location since Kathryn and I stopped running together. I can tell I haven't been running much, I ran it in 31 minutes and it actually felt hard. I've run 25 minute 5Ks before! Afterwards Kelly and I talked about running together more often, and Kathryn is going to start coming over on Fridays to run with me. I'm excited for this summer to start!

This past Saturday Chris and I went and played tennis. It was seriously awesome. We both hit some pretty crazy shots and there were a couple little puddles on the court for added interest, but Chris is a natural at serving - what a lucky guy! I really hope we play a lot more this summer. It will give us something fun to do!
And now a depressed puppy picture. He's just like a little ostrich!

"Please stop poking at me"

Thursday, March 12, 2009

A single breath

As I sit here Daly is laying down on his bed next to me, totally passed out. It's been a rough few days for everyone, and I'm glad they're over.

We went into this surgery mess thinking that there was a good chance the diagnosis was tendinitis, and that they would easily be able to go in, cut the tendon, recover, and be done with it. It did not work out that way at all. When they got into his joint, it was bloody and they discovered a torn capsule or something, but the tendon looked just fine, which is actually bad, because now they know NOTHING. I guess this torn capsule couldn't be the original problem because of ugh, am I ever getting sick of this story.

Oh. the. frustration.

Anyways, he is on bedrest for 6 weeks. No stairs, no walks, no jumping, no nothing. Oh, and he can't gain weight, because that is bad. Right. Meet Daly, my wiggly hungry dog. After those 6 weeks, it's another 6 weeks of leash walks only. Sorry Daly, spring will mean NO FUN FOR YOU. My poor, shaved, broken puppy.