I thought I’d have time for some preamble here, to explain that my mom is in town to start the house hunt. For years we’ve been talking about buying a property for all of us, with everyone kicking in something for a big family place we can share. My mom loves it here as much as we do, but because my sister is still in Vegas, she’s not ready to sell her house and make this a permanent move. So she came to stay and scout the territory, maybe meet with a realtor and get the lay of the land. However, true to form when my mom and I are involved, things happened fast. We spent a couple of days pretty far afield last weekend, then gradually narrowed our search until we hit upon a house not five minutes from where we are now, the kind of place that feels like home the second you walk through the door. We looked at each other and knew: this is the one.
So just like that, we have a house. The deal hasn’t closed yet so I hope this isn’t jinxy, but we’ve put our signatures on every highlighted line and we’ve nodded and inspected and promised to sell our third-born if necessary in order to pay for it. (Sorry, Ash. We’ll do great things with your bedroom…) It was custom built in 1971 and still has that vibe about it: three fireplaces, a step-down den with a wet bar in orange laminate, fat beams and low ceilings but a circular layout like it’s just waiting for a party to break out. It’s bright and warm and there’s plenty of room—which is important, since we’ll have six people living together for the foreseeable future: all three kids are back in the nest, and of course my mom will be with us a lot of the time as well, in her little Granny quarters downstairs. The house is clean and it’s solid, from the immaculate crawlspace to the rough-hewn beams in the attic. Every joint, every brick, every surface is exactly as it’s supposed to be. We couldn’t ask for more.
If all goes as planned, we should be moving for what I hope is the final time—ever, in our lives—at the end of November.
Photo by Ellen Von Unwerth
In other news, I am going to take a blog break and spend the next month cranking hard on my rough draft for this novel. I suppose it’s a rebellious form of NaNoWriMo participation, except that I’ve already started and don’t plan to register, post my results, offer encouragement, or collect a badge at the end of it. I just want to get some scenes sketched out so I can spend the rest of the winter on revision and new-house fluffery. (Did I mention that my writing room has a set of built-in bookcases and its very own red brick fireplace?)
You might question my timing and possibly my sanity in trying to focus on writing during such a busy month. But this book represents a long-standing commitment from me to myself and the story is ripe for the telling. If I don’t get after it now, the fucker may turn mushy and unworkable. You know how it is.
What are you trying to get done?