good-bye, november

Somehow, November always turns out to be an eventful month.

This year, we had A LOT going on with the new house. In fact, they just finished putting a third coat on our new hardwood floors, all of our gorgeous kitchen cabinets have been installed, and I've even started painting our new walls.

And then there's our current house.

Well, to quote myself in dire times, "It looks like we got porked again."

Not the best phrase, but the most appropriate. Read on, please.

Our buyers, with whom we were under contract, backed out of the deal. They had a hubbard clause that stated that they could back out in 45 days if they did not sell their house.

On the 45th day, they decided to back out of the deal. Their reason? They did not sell their house, or have any interest, offers or showing in the past or near future.

We offered them an extension on the hubbard, and they refused. 

We offered the extension with a price reduction to compensate for them reducing the price of their house, and they refused. I believe their exact words were, "No thanks."

Why would you say no to a price reduction and extension if it gave you more time to sell your house?

Then, on Sunday, as we were walking off a delicious brunch from The Cheesecake Factory (have you ever had their baja chicken hash from their brunch menu??? It's TO DIE), we got a text from our agent.

Our ex-buyers' house had gone under contract.

WTF?

Within 10 days of saying adios to us because they had "no offers", they were under contract? In this market?

I don't this so.

In true KK fashion, I fired back a quick, bitter email that said something like, "Really? Sounds fishy to ME!"

But the more I thought about it, the angrier I got.

They just wanted OUT of our house deal. The woman never felt comfortable after the inspection found higher levels of radon (now reduce, $1100 later, thank you very much...). They probably felt like they were over-paying.

How could they go from "zero interest" to "under contract" in that short amount of time? Even negotiating takes days.

So after seeing their house under contract, our real estate agent reached out to their agent. Surely, now that they had buyers, they'd want to go back under contract with us, right???

Riiiiiight.

"Sure, they're still interested, but they're looking at other properties," their agent told ours. "Today is the first day they are looking at houses again. They just LOVE the area!"

He signed off with a 'don't call us, we'll call you' mentality.

And that, my friends, is how you get porked.

the environment vs my sanity

There I was, wearing my flannel leopard-print pajamas, lugging a load of laundry down two flights of stairs, when the doorbell rang.

Of course, Vito went nuts. And there, smiling and waving at me through the glass french door, was an earthy-crunchy young girl, who was probably 22, but didn't look a day over 14.

She was wearing one of those knitted woolly caps with the ear flaps that they used to try and sell to you at college for $5, or in the parking lot of Grateful Dead concerts; the kind that smell like mishandled sheep when they get wet. She probably had a handbag made of hemp.

Little Mother Nature is still smiling and waving, so I put down the laundry and open up the door to the foyer.

Last year around this time, we had another Phish groupie come to our door, when Mr. KK was home. And  before I knew it, my dear sweet husband, who doesn't have a mean bone in his body, had invited this granola weirdo in to use our bathroom ("because it's cold! and he has to pee!).

But I wasn't answering without ammunition. So I picked up a severely barking 15-pound killer and cracked open the front door.

KK:  "Yes?"

VITO:  "BARK. BARK. BARKITY BARK."

TREE HUGGER (screaming through the storm door, above the barking lunatic):  "Hi! I'M....blah blah...ENVIRONMENT...blah blah....CLEAN AIR....yada yada...something."

KK:  "Now isn't really a good time for me."

VITO:  "BARK BARK I'M GONNA GNAW YOUR LEG OFF BARK BARK!"

TREE HUGGER:  "But I'm only in your neighborhood tonight."

Right. Vito is scratching the shit out of my side right now with his need-to-be-trimmed claws.

KK:  "As you can see...now? Is not the best time."

TREE HUGGER:  "But...but..."

KK:  "No thanks. No thank you. Good night."

VITO:  "BARK BARK, MUTHA-EFFING BARK!"

And I shut the door on a girl who probably hadn't showered in a week.

Had Mr. KK been here, she would have been sitting at our dinner table by now.

finding thanks

I've missed two or three days of blogging this year for NaBloPoMo.

And while I'm sure the blog world is so busy in their own bloggy life they would barely realize whether or not I wrote a post, I'm really disappointed in myself. It's very rare I set goals for myself (I've been to only 2 out of 10 zumba classes, for heaven's sake!). So failing at the one goal you do hope to achieve can really bring you down in the dumps.

The other day when I was complaining what a failure I was, Mr. KK replied with the sweet and reassuring words with which every husband should comfort his wife: "Do you think anyone really noticed?"

Ah, true love.

In my book, 2010 was a less-than-spectacular year. But Mr. KK and I tackled each hurdle, mainly with with humor and alcohol. It's why we're great together.

So when the idea of what to be thankful for came up on Thanksgiving, I immediately blurted, "I'll be thankful when this year is O-V-E-R."

It's true, 2010. Let's just say, you've set the bar low for 2011.

Sure, there are things to be thankful for: 

A "normal" job. With "normal" hours. 

I'm an amazing dog-mom.

We have a beautiful house that's almost finished and waiting for us.

Goat cheese.

But for some reason I still can't get over the fact that I blew it with NaBlo.

And, while I've been enjoying Mr. KK's mother's Mac over the last 27 days, it's probably time I returned it to its rightful owner. Which means I'll be stuck with the crappy PC, that takes forever to turn on, erases all my work if I move the wrong way, and quits my work when I breathe too hard.

Because if that's the case, you may not see me until January.

Unless I can wrangle a new Mac out of Mr. KK.

That would, in fact, renew my faith in 2010.

(just a little)

happy thanksgiving!

As cliché as it sounds, I can't believe the holidays are here. I also can't believe the radio stations are playing Christmas songs and I haven't even had my turkey yet, but that's another story for another time.

This Thanksgiving, we're celebrating with both families, and even have Mr. KK's family from California joining us. It's the first holiday they've been a part of in the 10 years that Mr. KK and I have been together. They're used to quiet holidays on the West Coast, no family, just the 3 of them. Boy are they in for a surprise. Wait until they see a 90-year-old man down 3 beers before dinner. Or see Mr. KK's other cousin's kabookies, which I'm sure will be hanging out and need their own seat at the dinner table. And wait until they see all the food. 

Oh, the food.

Even though the Thanksgiving First Course was ripped out from under me, I'm still making a yummy contribution this year. (I think my mother-in-law is allowing me to make so much as a consolation prize for not being able to host this year)

First, I'm making stuffing. This year I chose fig and pine nut stuffing. It's a little bready, but the flavor is pretty good.

Then I'm making my mini cornbread muffins. My secret is adding a can of creamed corn and shredded pepper jack cheese to the mix before baking.

For a veggie I'm cooking up brussel sprout hash with pancetta. I sauté the pancetta until it's crispy and then remove it from the pan. Then I take the sprouts, which I've halved and sliced very thin, and add them to the pan. Sauté them until tender, adding some chicken stock as needed. Then I throw the pancetta back in. So easy and delish.

Lastly, I baked my pumpkin cheesecake yesterday. If you follow this recipe to the letter, it will come out perfect every time, I guarantee it. (And if it doesn't, I will come to your house and make this cheesecake for you personally).

And, for that warm and fuzzy, I sent a generic "happy thanksgiving" email to 122 of my candidates at work. And I'll be a monkey's uncle, about 40 of them replied back and wished me the same.

Happy Thanksgiving, blog world!

I'm old-school like that

Last week I received not one, but two hand-written thank you notes from candidates.

Once I got past the idea that I received actual snail mail at the office, I opened up the envelopes to reveal two beautiful note cards – one Papyrus, one Kate Spade – from candidates thanking me for meeting with them.

Not finding them temp work.

Not getting them their dream job.

They sent me thank you notes for simply taking the time to meet with them.

And the notes could not have been more heart-felt.

I was touched. And it made me remember why this job is so much more rewarding than my last, even if the dollar signs pale in comparison.

and perhaps the BEST part of the weekend...

...was when my 90-year-old grandfather yelled out "tits!" at the Sunday dinner table.

road warriors

I am lucky enough to have 3 grandparents still living.

My dad's mother is 89, and my mother's parents are 87 and 90.

They are neighbors in an "active adult community", where they run Bingo two nights a week, and my grandfather hustles the other tenants for quarters every Wednesday night playing poker.

And even at their ripe old ages, they are the epitome of health. In fact, two of them still drive.

Yes, they drive.

My 87-year-old grandmother – the spring chicken of the group – is the designated driver for my 89-year-old grandmother who never learned how to drive.

The two of them go everywhere together – to the hairdresser, to Target to "poke around", and even to McDonald's to split a filet o' fish on Fridays.

The other day, the two of them were heading home, and they decided to stop by the new house and visit, because they knew I'd be painting.

I never saw them.

Today I found out why.

GRANDMA 1:  "We were going to stop by when you were painting, but we couldn't find the house!"

GRANDMA 2:  "We got to the second bridge and I said, 'Rita, I think we went too far'."

KK:  "Did you know the house number?"

GRANDMA 1:  "No, we didn't know the number. But we sorta knew where it was. And I knew you had a black mailbox."

GRANDMA 2:  "There were sure a lot of black mailboxes!"

GRANDMA 1:  "Then we got to this crazy intersection, with cars going every which way. And I was worried because I didn't know where we were."

GRANDMA 2:  "I told her, 'Rita, you should turn around'."

GRANDMA 1:  "So I turned around in this BIG loopy driveway, and we went home."

KK:  "So now do you know where it is?"

GRANDMA 1:  "Well, now we know where it isn't."