The Money Pit, Part I

I have taken a break from the exhausting home renovations process to announce that we are officially living in our new home. I use the term "living" loosely.

We're really living in a construction site with a bed and some clothes. We closed on our house two weeks ago, and in that relatively short period of time, we have:
--Removed the popcorn ceilings (a messy undertaking that only should be done if you don't mind destroying everything).
--Removed ALL carpet and carpet padding (don't even get me started about what you'll find under your carpet pad).
--Removed all drywall from master bedroom. Yes, removed all drywall. It was the only way to remove the granite paint (think sandpaper attached to walls).
--Put in new drywall (sheetrock is heavy).
--Used a power drill. OK, Clint was experienced with the power drill, but this was my first foray into power tools.
--Wore a nail apron (another new experience for me, but I thought I looked cute - like Pamela Anderson when she was the Tool Time girl on Home Improvement)
--Cleaned the entire gross kitchen and put shelf paper in all cabinets.
--Painted pantry.
--Started priming ceilings and walls for paint.

We're making a little progress and falling into bed completely exhausted each night. Stay tuned ...

Who says you can't go home?

Clint and I spent last week in his hometown of Mulberry, Ark. Population: about 1,600. He grew up on a farm, where his parents still raise turkeys, cattle and Yorkshire Terriers. They also have an assortment of other dogs, horses and a lamb. He, of course, loves a trip back to Arkansas where life runs at a considerably slower pace than our everyday lives in Charleston.

I, on the other hand, get a little stir crazy after a couple days and insist on a trip to the mall in Fort Smith (about 25 minutes away) and a White Chocolate Mocha from Starbucks. Ahh, civilization.

While in town, we spent some time just driving around. For a couple of years Clint attended the community college in Fort Smith--now a branch of the University of Arkansas. So we drove by the campus and he pointed out new buildings and talked about how things had changed. We also drove by the place where he used to race remote control cars (now closed). We stopped by a used bookstore (still open!), Snooper's Barn, where Clint spent plenty of time buying used paperbacks as a child.

We even had lunch at the Pizza Parlor, a local pizza joint Clint insisted has the best thin crust pizza with chopped Canadian bacon. The place hadn't changed a bit, he said.

When you move away from your hometown, you tend to miss the little things. And you tend to reminisce about every experience, every detail with a rosy vision clouded with the happy hazy of time. I do the same thing. When I go home to Ohio, I want to eat at my favorite pizza place. I want to drive by Ohio University. I want to shop in my favorite stores. I want to remember "the good 'ol days."

It's tough to go back and see what has changed, so we hang on to those memories that have stayed the same. And if we're comforted by a slice of pizza that's been the same for 20 years, so be it.

You live where?

On our trip to Arkansas Saturday ... our 16-hour trip ... we passed a sign for a town with probably the greatest name ever: Toad Suck.

I couldn't make this up, people. I almost stopped along Interstate 40W in Arkansas to take a picture. I asked Clint if there was any possible way we could make a detour through Toad Suck. I was quickly calculating the number of T-shirts and coffee mugs I would need for friends and co-workers. Unfortunately, it would have been a two-hour (one-way) detour on our already painfully long trip (did I mention it was a 16-hour drive?).

It almost would have been worth it. I may still go to the Web site and order a T-shirt for Toad Suck Daze, a music, food and arts festival.

If you're like me, you just have to know how the town got its name. According to toadsuck.org:

Long ago, steamboats traveled the Arkansas River when the water was at the right depth. When it wasn't, the captains and their crew tied up to wait where the Toad Suck Lock and Dam now spans the river.

While they waited, they refreshed themselves at the local tavern there, to the dismay of the folks living nearby, who said: "They suck on the bottle 'til they swell up like toads." Hence, the name Toad Suck.


That's perfect. You just can't make that up.

Real Estate Trials, Part IV

We finally closed on our house Friday and now we're officially homeless. The buyers were a father and son. The father is the primary owner and the son looks to be about 24. He seemed like an incredibly cocky jerk, and I feel certain the flowers I have so lovingly cared for the last five years will die a painful death in the South Carolina heat.

*Sigh*

But, I can't dwell on things I can't change, so I'll dwell on things I can: like the new house. Come July 19, we'll be doing all sort of home improvements and I can start planting in a new yard. Clint even suggested he might build me a greenhouse next summer and I'm not going to let him forget it.

Unfortunately, we're homeless right now. This week we're visiting Clint's family in Arkansas and then we'll be staying with friends when we return. (Might I add these friends are angels to let two humans and two dogs stay with them along with a ton of junk that wouldn't fit in our storage unit -- thank you!)

I'm just happy to be done with this first phase of moving. Next: closing on new home.

Real Estate Trials, Part III

We have spent a small fortune on boxes, bubble wrap and packing tape. Now, we're renting a storage unit because we can't move into our new house until July 19 and we need to rent a moving truck. We may need a second mortgage to pay for the move to the new house.

AND, the buyer of our house is insisting we pay for all the repairs that showed up in the inspection. Two of them in particular we really shouldn't have to cover (they're nothing major) and initially said we wouldn't.

But the buyer is intimidated by home improvements, his real estate told our real estate agent. Is he kidding? He's buying a house and is intimidated by home improvements. Being a homeowner is nothing but home improvements.

So, a tiny evil piece of me hopes something really big breaks two weeks after he moves in--maybe it will involve a plumber, an electrician and a general contractor. OK, OK, that's probably wrong of me but I can't help it--the profits from the sale of our home are being nickeled and dimed by a plethora of greedy people and all sorts of mysterious closing "fees."

Travels to Japan (guest post)

For months, I have been meaning to post this e-mail. My husband sent it to me and some of his family members earlier this year while on a business trip to Japan. I enjoyed his observations of Japan and decided this would make a great “guest post.” I’m sure he was a sight to see in Japan—a thin, 6-foot-3-inch American.

MARCH 2, 2006—It’s hard to sum up two weeks of Japanese culture in one e-mail, but I'll do the best I can. Despite speaking only about two words of the native language and having to eat with two sticks that can't be used to skewer anything (it's considered rude), I've been getting along just fine.

The Japanese are a great people whose dedication to doing things well is amazing. But more on that later. Here's a recap of the past couple of weeks.

After my 14 ½-hour plane ride from Atlanta, I arrived in Tokyo surprisingly energetic and ready to catch my first glimpse of Japan. The ride over itself had been pretty exciting; we flew over the northern coast of Alaska, getting a great view of the Arctic Sea. We also passed over eastern Russia (Siberia maybe?)—lots of snow and ice, looked just like something off the Discovery Channel. I felt a little like Indiana Jones, Jacque Cousteau and Crocodile Hunter all rolled into one. I figure anyone who travels over 7,000 miles in one day over an arctic wasteland can call themselves an explorer, even if it was from a comfortable seat on a Boeing 777.

Tokyo's Narita airport was busy. It was about 3 p.m. local time on Sunday when we landed. I had no trouble getting my bags, and friendly Japanese who spoke some English hustled me right through customs.

Apparently there's no height restriction for entering the country, lucky me. I could certainly see things around me easily; I was a head taller than everyone else. These folks are short!

I had no trouble finding the shuttle bus terminal to buy my ticket for Haneda. To get to Misawa, my final destination, I had to switch airports. Once again, courteous, friendly Japanese hustled me through the line where I purchased my ticket, my first purchase using Japanese Yen. Then right outside to wait on my bus.

At this point you may have noticed I emphasize how friendly, courteous and efficient the Japanese are. That's no exaggeration. There's no tipping in Japan. But you would think these people were doing everything they could for you to earn a tip. I watched at bus stops along the sidewalk, each manned by two persons with bright LED signs showing the next bus arrival time and destination, were run with near military precision. People were lined up with their bags, buses zoomed in precisely on schedule and were promptly loaded by Japanese while the tickets were taken. Load your own bag on the bus? Heavens no, that would be rude. Before you could even think such a thing someone was there, taking your bags from you, tagging them, and loading them on the bus. These folks can hustle!

Finally on the 90 minute ride to Haneda, I caught a little nap on the bus. Tokyo was great and all, but I was tired.

I awoke not too long before we arrived at our hotel. I stepped off the bus and headed toward it, which was conveniently built right into the airport, a model of Japanese efficiency. As I walked into the lobby, a young Japanese woman took my bags, and I was greeted by a man in a suit before being herded to the front desk. A lady there took my information, pulled up my reservations and I paid with my card. I turned around to find the Japanese lady, not much bigger than my large suitcase, had loaded my bags and was ready to show me to my room. The man in the suit, possibly the manager, flashed me a big smile and tipped me a sharp bow as I walked past. This was service! Plus, only $80 a night.

Not having much of a layover, I grabbed something quick to eat and got some sleep before my early flight the next morning. I awoke feeling very refreshed, not at all jet lagged, lucky me, I guess. I did have some time to check out Japanese television, nothing too notable, although I did get to watch some of the Olympics in Japanese, which was pretty interesting. Much like us, they cover all the athletes during an event, but tend to focus on their country’s athletes a little more. I couldn't understand anything, but it was still nice to see the Olympics. I guess that's one thing all countries have in common.

I had a small commuter flight up to Misawa, and fortunately it was a fairly clear day, so I got some good pictures of Tokyo and a good look at the city.

The Japanese countryside was amazing, everything snow covered and icy. It looked like Torino from the air. I don't think I'd find any Italian food down there though.

Landing in Misawa, the reality of my final destination began to sink in. I sat next to a nice Japanese man from Macon, Ga., on the flight from Atlanta. He spoke OK English, and he had told me Misawa was very "rural." I took his word for it, figuring anybody from Macon could certainly define rural. He wasn't exaggerating. For those of you hailing from South Carolina, think Moncks Corner. If you’re from Arkansas, think Alma, and if you’re from sunny San Angelo, think any town within 100 miles.

I don't know what the Japanese equivalent of a redneck is, but you certainly might be one if you’re from Misawa. I thought to myself, "Oh well, from the big city to the little rural town, you wanted to see Japan, here you go." Besides, if I guy from Arkansas was going to have any chance of surviving in a strange country like this, he might as well be in a place that's pretty similar to home.

It was similar with the exception of two things. Obviously language being the first one, the other being snow! I'm not talking about one of those little dustings we get in Arkansas, or even some of those heavier snows I've experienced in Ohio at Christmas. I'm talking serious snow, piled higher than the cars on the sides of roads. Very cool for me. I'm sure if the locals could read my mind they'd think I'm crazy.

It was at the little airport, much like the one back home in Ft. Smith, that I ran into my first snag of the trip. Up until this point, I'd found navigating around Japan as easy if not easier than my best trip in the states. But despite forwarding my travel plans to the folks at the base well in advance and confirming before I left that someone would be there to pick me up, I found no one there waiting on me. I had to remind myself these were Navy guys I was visiting, not Air Force, so you could expect this kind of stuff, even if they are stationed on an Air Force Base. But for the moment, how in the world was I going to get over to the base? I figured a taxi, provided the natives had such a thing out here. I just hoped it was covered and not horse drawn. OK, I'm exaggerating, but it is rural Japan. I suddenly noticed a large sign in English saying wireless Internet was free in the airport. Of course, in Japan, even the rural areas would be wired. After all, isn't this the land of technology? So I whipped out my laptop, donned my headset, and gave Holly a call on my voice over IP phone. Better add James Bond to that list above.

Despite being on the other side of the world, the call went through clear as a bell with no problems. We're 14 hours ahead on this side of the world, so it was about 8 p.m. when I called. Holly was surprised of course, especially when I told her were I was calling from. After chatting with her, I did some quick e-mail and started looking for transportation to the base. Of course, this being an Air Force town, there was a nice Air Force bulletin board at the airport with local information, including the taxi company to call to get transportation to the base. Five minutes later there was a cab driver there to pick me up and whisk me over to the base. Once again, good old Japanese service.

Since arriving, I've managed to get into town several times for local cuisine. Not a lot to choose from, but there are some good places to get some Sushi or Ramen. I had Sashemi the first night, that's Sushi without the rice (raw seafood for you non-sushi eaters). It was good, although, I'm sure it's hard to screw up raw fish. Chopsticks haven't been much of a problem, although eating rice with them is interesting. (Gotta get the bowl close to your face, it's not rude here to do that.)

Later in the week we went to a Ramen house and had huge bowls of steaming hot Ramen. Very good! We also went to a noodle place that's like a fast food restaurant, which was pretty tasty.

It was there I had one of my more humorous moments. They were playing music from a local radio station, lots of Japanese singing American songs in English. There I was, face buried in my bowl, when I hear "Come on Irene, Too Ra Ta Too Ra Ra." I'm familiar with the song, but I thinks it's “Eileen,” not “Irene.” Wait, Asian accent, L's are R's. Too funny! I'd love to see what they'd make of George Strait. “Amarillo by Morning” could be a challenge.

Anyway, so far my favorite restaurant has been the Viking. It's a place with small grills in the tables. It's buffet style, so you pick up meats that have been marinated and cook them on the grill. They also had sushi and soups. I had five plates, which elicited some dirty looks from the proprietors. Incidentally, I'm very happy to report no one has pointed at me and yelled "Godzilla!" yet. I must not me that tall after all.

I have an all day ski trip planned on Saturday. My first ever, should be interesting. Going by myself, the folks here on site with me now are old and crotchety and don't want to leave the base. The first week here, a guy from my company named Matt was here so he and I went into town every night. Since he's left it's been considerably less exciting. Saturday's trip should be fun though, if nothing else I'll get to see more of the country.

All in all I'd have to say it's been a great experience, despite there not being much to see here. The Japanese people never cease to amaze me. I haven't seen one fat Japanese yet, nor have I had any kind of bad service. I think either would be a terrible embarrassment to them.

They are a people full of great pride and a friendly spirit. No wonder they always look so young and healthy. I think we could learn a lot from them.

--Clint

Real Estate Trials, Part II

In less than a month after the For Sale sign went into the yard, our house has sold.

We received two offers over Memorial Day weekend. One from a very persistent real estate agent with clients who wanted us to pay their closing costs, buy a home warranty and give them our washer and dryer, lawn mower and curtains. We received another offer from someone who gave us full price for the house and wanted nothing more than a $400 home warranty. SOLD!

In the meantime, we also found a house we wanted (see photo above). It's adorable from the outside but the interior needs some serious help. Turquoise carpet and stained vinyl in the kitchen are not very attractive--particularly when the carpet is patched with duct tape in one spot. The walls are painted hideous colors and whoever tried to paint got some of it on the ceiling. In the master bedroom, the owner must have been watching just a little too much HGTV and decided to try a sandstone effect on the walls. Lovely. It looks like someone dumped half of Folly Beach in a gallon of ugly battleship gray paint and went crazy.

BUT ... the floor plan is terrific. It's a spacious house with loads of potential. The backyard--which also needs a significant amount of work--is huge and perfect for our two dogs. Floor plans and lot sizes can't be changed. Paint and flooring can.

Our initial offer (less than full price because of all the work needing done) was rejected. Our real estate agent went back to the owner the following week just to let him know we were still interested. We were able to come to a mutually agreeable price. I think we got a great deal. This house will be spectacular when we're done and in a few years, we could sell it and make a decent profit.

Of course, there's a snag. The owner of our new home in Mount Pleasant originally noted in the contract he would close July 19 but could close earlier with 21 days notice. At first that was fine because we hadn't sold our house yet and wanted the extra time. Once we received a contract on our house we went back to him about closing earlier. The buyers of our house need to close June 30 and we have to be out at that time. Apparently he had lied about being able to close early. He then revealed he is getting married on June 24 and will be out of town for three weeks on a honeymoon.

We have offered $300 toward a storage facility (the guy's ex-wife cleaned him out, so he barely has anything to move!) and we offered to close before the wedding but let him stay rent-free for a couple days after the wedding.

He won't cooperate. So, it appears we will be homeless for two and half weeks. Not good. This means we will have to move our stuff to a storage facility and then move it to the new house. Moving once is bad enough - now we're moving twice. Ugh.

So the real estate saga continues. Our hope is the owner of our new house will change his mind in the next day or two, but we're not counting on it and have started thinking about arrangements for our period of homelessness. We do have a lot of cardboard boxes around the house these days, so I suppose that's an option.

We're actually thinking of driving to Arkansas to visit my in-laws for a week. When we return, we'll have to find a hotel that allows pets. That's tough to do, especially when you have 140 pounds of Labradors.

We'll make it work ... I'll just keep thinking about how great our new house will be once we've moved in, renovated and settled .... Guess that will be sometime in December. Stay tuned.