Ideas for "Easy" Moving

It has been a solid year since I called the mortgage company and turned off the auto-mortgage-payment.  It was one of the hardest/bravest things I have done.  It was hard for me to openly choose to do something that others could judge (blogging about it didn't help there, but it set me free in another way).  I like to choose to do anti-social things that people can't see me do.  A year of water under the bridge, and I can look back to see that the time that part of the story took during my life was transformative, and very brief.  

As with the social consequences of defaulting on a loan, renting also has a downside: instability.  

It seems that financial strain is fine for a while, but terrible over a long period, which is why I understand that our landlords want to be done owning this house.  It also means that we have to move or find a way to buy this house.  I hate moving, have I said that?  Not that I was getting too comfortable here, or haven't moved 7 times as an adult already.

My attempt at enjoying a space, even for a short time.

Here are some ideas I had, as I look at my stuff and think about putting it back into the boxes:

Buy a new fridge when we get where we are going.
Sell all our things on ebay months in advance.
Don't get too comfortable.
Pull our guitars, computers, children and pets to the curb, and start a house fire (not suggested).
Pay for weekly garbage service, and throw most of our old stuff that won't sell on ebay away.
Don't be sentimental: Take some time to consolidate the 5 trunks of memorabilia my husband's mother saved from his childhood.
Don't keep junk: Throw or give away the threadbare towels we got as wedding gifts 15 years ago.
Donate the ice cream scooper to the Hospice Thrift.  Who needs one of those, I already have a spoon.

Renting Real Estate

Making a house a home celebrating Christmas.

Real estate prices continue to drop in our area, as our savings continues to rise.  It turns out, not paying for an expensive house means you can save a bit more than before.  We have been able to save enough for a down on another house (yes that is how high our mortgage was), if we were to be so brave and a bank would loan us the rest (which they wont).  We are hesitant about any change.  Renting feels just right, until the landlord calls.

Celebrating the birth of my niece.

She asked if we were hoping to rent beyond the year that we had leased the house.  It is fine with us to rent this house beyond our lease, it is a comfy place.  As with most things, her question was about something more.  She wanted us to know that they are tired of paying a high mortgage for the house we live in, and the house where they live.  They are hoping to not have both houses.  This means we have a few options, mainly that we will have to move, unless we can figure out how to buy this house.   We moved here thinking only to stay 12 months.  I have been thinking of it as an amazingly comfortable and big hotel room.
Depending on what happens, we will have to move in the summer or we will have to think about buying this house (for the perfect price, of course).
No matter what, I'm going through my kid's closets to get out the small clothes, and de-cluttering.
I'm going to continue blogging, as clearly the story isn't over.  My thinking that the story is over is not accepting how much where we live affects our life.

Fahrvergnügen

Before my husband was my husband, and he was just a teenaged boy, he had a Volkswagen. My dad would come into the house and say, "Silas is on his way". Several minutes later, the boy Silas would pull into my parents driveway, my dad having heard the buzz of the engine a mile in the distance.
Flash forward 20 years and we still we have old VW's. Last week we had two old VW's, and this week, we are down to just one, green Passat (which is older than some of you, and still gets 45 mpg! Don't be jealous).
I'm logging the sale of our 1980 VW Westfalia Campmobile because it was something we owned, a real-estate of sorts. When we were not paying our mortgage, we would joke that if we had to move, we all could live in The Van. We could have lived in the van, and in our early 20's one summer we did live in another version. One reason ideas are humorous is that they are partly true and ironic. I think in the back of my mind, the very creative part, that if we were homeless, we could live in a van down by the river. It was never plausible, or probable, but I thought it.
Selling our bus, is another way of letting go of the stuff we have acquired. I was surprised when my husband said he wanted to sell it. He loves it!
Last week, armed with a "For Sale" sign, our blue bus sat in front of one of the two super markets by our house. It was a new spot, and only hours after we parked it, there was a yellow ticket in the window. I also saw some actual hippies with packs sitting next to the bus on the curb. They were calling the number on the van, as I drove by fuming over the ticket. They called to say that there was a warning slip on the van, and that it was going to be towed. (It turns out it was parked legally, but the note said it was tagged for "storing personal property in the street". This is police for, "I can give you a ticket for anything")
The hippie, whose name was Amber, turned out to be interested in buying it while talking to Silas, who is by nature enthusiastic. Amber is also enthusiastic and spontaneous by nature as well as tired of hitch hiking in the rain. She also was flush with cash.
She drove around a bit, and like I said, was very enthusiastic. She offered to buy the van. If someone has cash from working a job that hippies work, it turns out they are pretty easy-going about price.
They loaded their things into the van, we unloaded our things. We enthusiastically chatted, signed the deed, and exchanged the huge wad of cash. Staying true to her nature, she kissed and hugged us all, and as she pulled out of the driveway told us she was going to name the van after our daughter. Our girl's name is also a good name for a van, or a dog, or a troupe of boys, so it was enthusiastically sweet.
I am becoming accustomed to letting things go. I might have been less enthusiastic about the van than my husband, or than Amber, but it still had a place in my heart, and I still have that, even though the physical auto is carrying weed toting former hitch hikers. I'm reminded that there is joy in owning things, be it a house or a car. There is some joy in working hard on or for something, only to have the memory of the hard work, the experience, and the people associated with it.

It is nearly like when you drive a VW, you are supposed to have enjoyment, just driving it. This is true. When I drive a VW, I feel enjoyment, even if I am driving to the DMV.

I'm Part of the Problem

Second Marriage

I have been married all of my adult life (if you count 19 as adult, which I did then, but don't now), to the same person.  Being married is nearly the best and most transformative thing I've been a part of.  My husband gently helps me be the person I can be, often without meaning to.  Even though I am not perfect, he still thinks I am beautiful.  He loves me for who I am.

Relationships are transformative, and our relationship with our things isn't exempt from changing us, especially something as big and expensive as a house.

I know mostly everyone is married or committed.  Now that I have been married 14 years, some people have moved from their first significant relationship onto the next one, if the first wasn't what it should have been.

In an interesting conversation with my aforementioned spouse, I was surprised by how non-committal I am about buying a house again.  If I buy another house, I know what I want.  More-so, I know what I don't want.  Much like what I hear people saying, when a committed relationship ends.  I know what I don't want, or, I don't know if I'll ever be married again.

I know that relationships are more meaningful and impressive than real estate, but they are comparable because we have to commit to them in a significant way.  If my experiences with real estate were as positive as my experiences in love have been, I might sit on my back patio talking about how I never want to move.  Instead is sit listing what I don't want in my next house.

The underlying principle here is commitment.  My commitment to a house has potential to transform me, for better or for worse.  I have to have faith that my next house won't be like the first 2.  If the perfect house comes along, I might entertain the the possibility of buying it.  Maybe we might just move in together at first.  Now I am in credit purgatory, so it doesn't matter for a while, so I am free to think and feel anyway I want about my next relationship house.

Housing Irony

     Our first house in Sparks, Nevada is again for sale.  We purchased it in 2003 after moving from Ohio.  We purchased it in the $200's and sold it just as the market was peaking/crashing at the end of 2005 in the $300's.  Now it is for sale in the $100's, seven years later.  We used the money we got from the sale of the house in 2005 as a down for the house we just sold short in 2010.

     Look at that house!  It is pretty nifty! I especially like  the color, mostly because I painted it that color (with the help of some of you reading this). I'll admit that I did not like living in Sparks.  Maybe it was the location, maybe it was just a personally rough patch for me, maybe it was this house, or maybe it was because I wanted to be somewhere else.  

     Every few months I look at the real estate in Sparks to see if 'our house' goes back on the market.  Yesterday, I found it.  It has been for sale for a month.  The man who bought it from us was not kind to us, and it was a terrible experience selling and moving out, but we were glad to go.  Knowing how much he paid us for it, and that it is for sale for now, I feel like it is Karma.  I try that feeling on for about 2 seconds and then take it off.  I should feel sad for him, and that it might be adding to his crabby-ness, and I do feel sad.  I actually feel fortunate.  Seeing this house for sale again, makes me disinterested in owning a home.  A useful way to work through painful stuff is to look at it in a new way.  I've re-capture events and details with a new point of view.  Finding this house for sale, reclaimed my memory for the better.

The kids throw laundry down the stairs, instead of going to bed.
 Look how clever they are!

     I keep thinking that I won't contribute to this blog anymore, because our adventure with the real-estate market is seemingly over.  Though it may be over, I'm still figuring it all out.  Looking at the numbers, and looking back, farther than just our last house, we have lost nothing.  Yes, we have had to say goodbye to much, but lost something?  No!  Not really even money, which is the most superficial part of this whole situation.  I still remember nursing my baby in that house, the tomatoes and roses in the garden, snow in the yard, breakfast with my sister, my boy's first day of kindergarden, and killer desert rainbows!  Aren't we always saying goodbye to something, and adjusting to something new, or shouldn't we be?

     Today I am thankful to be where I am.  If proximity matters, then I am happy here.  If the proximity of my heart matters, then I am even more happy to be where I am.

Rock & Wood

I skim read the local paper everyday online.  Today, I read an article about this continuing trend.  Really?  Real estate prices drop 13%?  Is this good news for my family and me?

It has been 8 weeks since we moved into our new digs.  It has been 2 months of a seriously rich summer.  We've had hours of time to process our experience and what lessons we can honestly carry away with us.  Our hearts have grown in spite of what we own.  As it turns out,  I am ambivalent about housing prices as I read The Union this morning.

My friend Petra gave me this little house with a family in it.  Again, the lesson washed over me. Just the idea that a friend could pass a small piece of pained wood to me, and know me so fully, made me feel home.  It made her real estate in my heart go up just about 13%.