Sunday Morning Musings: Hurricane Ida and the Moving Transition

There’s a hurricane–or “would-be” hurricane out in the gulf.  Her name is Ida, and she has come into the Gulf of Mexico off the Yucatan coast.  Check out the latest information on Ida at weather.com.  This is the first named storm to come into the gulf this year, but, of course, we all remember the horrible ”I” storm from last season–Hurricane Ike.

Hurricanes and other rough weather take on a new perspective now that I have my own house.  Even so, I’m looking forward to being inside the house for a good rain–something cozy and protective about that.

Actually, I’m in the midst of painting.  I got the utility room done, and the washer and dryer arrived yesterday.  I’m going to test them out today for the first time.  I’ll take Annie, a car-load of “stuff”, and a basketful of clothes.

The move is a slow one, and that’s just what I want.  I’m not going to kill myself by trying to do it all at once.  I haven’t called the movers yet to do the big furniture, but I expect to do that this week.

It’s a bittersweet time.  I’ve lived here for ten years, and my apartment is comfortable, and I like the feeling of having people near.  On the other hand, aside from the driving commute, I got the house I wanted, and the more time I spend there, I realize just what a nice house it is.

OK, now I gotta get hoppin’.

Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead)–No, It’s Not Really Mexican Halloween

Some people think that El Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) is something like Halloween because it falls so near that holiday that was brought to America by European immigrants.

From what I’ve learned, it has more in common with Memorial Day than Halloween.  I suppose the connection between these two “dark” holidays comes with all of the artistic images of skeletons (calacas) that are used in connection with El Dia de los Muertos.  When the conquistadores from Spain arrived, like many other of the natives’ traditions, the invaders tried to put an end to this ritual; however, the best that they could do was to get it moved to the date of the Catholic All Saints Day.

The traditions vary by location in Mexico, but, in general, El Dia de los Muertos has been celebrated since pre-Hispanic times, with people going to the cemeteries, decorating graves, taking food and other gifts that their deceased loved ones might enjoy, and even spending time near the graves; all of this as a way to remember or perhaps “reunite” with the dead relatives.

On a trip some years ago to Mexico City, I visited the Escuela Normal de Maestros (Normal School for Teachers) just to take a look at some famous paintings that are housed there.  It was just about this same time of year, and in one building on campus, the students had set up “Day of the Dead” exhibits, which showed a wide variety of rituals for celebrating this holiday across the whole of Mexico.  Everywhere in Mexico City, there were vendors selling little skull candies and ofrendas, which seem to me somewhat of the “Hallmark-ing” of the ancient event.

What I like most about El Dia de los Muertos are all the cartoon-like skeletons, almost always seeming to be having fun.  Maybe they are mocking death.  To me, these calacas make death seem much happier and bright, rather than the morbid, dark association that most of us north of the border have.

Sunday Musings: Hand-washing the Dishes Gets the Paint from under the Fingernails

Why would anyone paint a laundryroom the color of a military jeep?  Not the Desert Storm sand-colored variety of jeep, but the traditional dark olive green.

I primed the walls twice with two coats of Kilz so far and the green still wants to come through.

This has been my first project in my new house.  I ordered the washer and dryer yesterday,  and this morning I carried my last loads of clothes across the complex to the laundromat.  I’ll wash my clothes next weekend at the house even though I don’t expect to be sleeping there yet.  My plans are to have the movers come in two weeks.  Then I’ll definitely be moved in.

Why so slow?  Besides the laundryroom, I also want to paint my bedroom before I set up my bedroom.  Yep, I’m one of those people that has and loves his waterbed, so once it’s filled up, changing its place in the room is not an option.

Annie went with me a couple of times and already loves having a backyard; the empty house doesn’t have so much appeal, but she hung out and laid on the sunlit carpet, while I applied the primer.

We’re both going to miss our evening visits with our friends, both human and canine, at our little neighborhood park, but we can come back for visits, especially on the weekend.

I was reminded how much Annie means to me (not that I haved to be reminded at all) when one of our park friends lost her dog.  We had just seen them on Wednesday at the park and heard that Sophie, a German Shorthaired Pointer, had passed out on their walk.  Then on Friday, she came into the room where her owner was and just collapsed again and that was it.  Apparently, she had heart problems.

Sophie was a sweet dog who just liked to sit and wait for any squirrel she might see in the tree.  Her owner is single and Sophie was her only dog.

There are quite a number of us, single, one-dog people, that come to the park.  And not that others don’t care for their dogs just as much as we do, but our dogs are such an important part of our lives, because we are single.

On that sad note, it’s time to go to bed.  The hour’s not that late, but with the time change and all the ups-and-downs on the ladder, I can feel that it’s time.

Lessons on Buying a House: The Big Day–It’s Mine!

The funny thing is last night I slept better than I have in a long time.  I’m not sure why exactly; I guess I expected that it would all work out OK.  Yesterday, I had the final walk-through with my agent, and I thought that I would have the closing papers in my hand, or at least in an email attachment, and also the actual amount that I would have to take to closing.  That was what I had been told by the title company.

However, the flurries of activity by my agent, their agent, the lender, the people from HUD approving all my paperwork, and the title company all seemed to continue–or maybe not.  I don’t really know.  I felt like I was in the dark.  I waited patiently–I’ve been a patient waiter in all of this, having done what I could do myself, letting all those other people, do their jobs.  Then about two hours before the supposed closing time, with still no word from any of them, I made one call to my agent, and within about 20 minutes I had a call from the lender with the amount of the check I had to take for my closing costs.  But just to show how loose ends everything was at that point, during our phone call the amount changed.

I hurried from work, went and got my cashier’s check, and headed to the title company.  The seller’s agent was there, as was my agent.  The sellers weren’t, because they now live overseas, which just led to more complications because another agent was there who had Power of Attorney for the sellers, or shall we say, got Power of Attorney via long distance to the title company officer.

There were several other loose ends to be tied up, a lot of signing to be done mostly by me, but also by the sellers’ agent and the agent with Power of Attorney.

Then the signed papers had to be faxed or emailed (I didn’t see that) back to my lender’s office for approval, and, of course, some of the paperwork had to be redone.

It was almost a 3-hour session, but I totally enjoyed the experience, the culmination of all the driving to look at neighborhoods, all the worry about whether I would get the loan, all the weirdness of looking at houses filled with the stuff of people I didn’t know.

Though I’m back in my snug apartment tonight, with a cold rain blowing from the north outside, I’m happy with myself for having pushed myself to get my own house.  It’s going to be a big change, but I like the house a lot and I know that I’ve moved myself into another stage of my life, not something that I had to do, but something that I needed to do.

Lessons on Buying a House: The Final Countdown to Closing

“Scurrying” and “a tiff” might be how I’d describe some of the goings-on today related to the final steps before closing.

The corrections asked for by the VA-approved appraiser appeared to have been made. My agent had talked to the appraiser and then made arrangements for the contractor (small-time, not big-time) to get everything remedied. All of the items which had appeared in the appraiser’s report that needed attention had been taken care of. I went out myself and checked it all, and everything looked OK. Even the removal of the spacers between the patio and foundation had been pulled out. (This has to be one of the weirdest rules I’ve heard of. Even though this long board was between the concrete of the foundation and the concrete of the patio, because this piece of wood was touching the foundation, which is part of the house, it was considered “conducive for termites”. Now there is an inch-and-a-half gap between the house and the patio that I will have to fill, probably with a spacer board; somebody has recommended redwood.)

Anyway, it seemed as if the house should pass on all the corrections, but when the VA-approved appraiser went back yesterday, did it? Oh, no. There were still a couple of corrections that had to be made, ones he said were obvious in his photos on his report. Obvious to whom, I don’t know.

It almost looks as if there might have been some sabotage involved. Between the time the contractor made the first asked-for repairs, some holes had been made in the siding on the garage very near the repairs. I know that Saturday when I looked at the completed repairs I didn’t notice any holes. Could this have been done by the appraiser when he came back to re-inspect? At $75 a pop for each re-visit to the property for just a couple minutes of inspection, maybe that’s what happened. I’ve heard that in these days of a slower real estate market, appraisers and inspectors aren’t getting so much work.

Therefore, a good deal of scurrying took place. My real estate agent went out to confer with the contractor. The contractor did some corrective repairs. My agent informed the finance company that the repairs had been made. Apparently, the finance company got the appraiser back out for the re-re-inspection (yep, that’s my new word).  All of this happened with in the expanse of a few hours.

I guess everything passed the re-re-inspection because within minutes of my asking the finance officer if the closing was still on for Friday and her telling me “yes”, my agent called me and asked if I could do the closing on Thursday afternoon instead of Friday.

There was scurrying and “a tiff” between the finance officer and my agent, both maybe anxious to get everything finished. It’s a little bit funny because when you get to this point in the buying process, most everything has been set in motion, and, unless for some reason you just decide that you don’t want to buy the house, there is not really much that the buyer has to do. You might have to provide a bit more information here and there, like your very last pay statement or an address that you didn’t know when you were filling out forms. Otherwise, all these other people are “scurrying” to get all the I’s dotted and T’s crossed.

The finance people, your agent, the seller’s agent, the title company people, the contractor–all of them are hurrying to get the whole purchase process completed.

In these last few days, I’ve felt a bit like I was watching a strange tennis match played among all these people, because now I know that in addition to the few phone calls and emails that I was party to, there were many others between these other “players” in this sale.

Why? Because when this whole deal is finished, they are all going to get a piece of the pie. And if for some reason, it all doesn’t go down, that pie is not going to get cut!

And what have I been doing? Actually, I’ve been doing a lot. Making arrangements to transfer utilities, finding someone to change the locks, checking out lawnmowers.

And to accomplish one of the first tasks that I want to complete in my new house–checking out paint strips.

Lessons on Buying a House: The Inspections and the Appraisal

It’s only one week until I close on the house.  Finally, I’m feeling that this is really going to happen and I’m getting anxious–the good kind of anxious.  The nervous kind of anxious I’ve been havin’  for so long that I can’t wait until I can sleep a whole night without waking up thinking about it all.

I’ve definitely told myself that I’m moving because today I made the arrangements to stop the utilities here and start them in the new place.

Today I also went out to the house to check on what the contractor has completed.  Because I don’t have a key yet, I could only check out the outside.

This brings me back to the inspections and appraisal.

I’m getting a VA-guaranteed loan, so I hope what I’ve experienced may help anyone in a similar situation, because no matter how much you read and how many questions you ask your agent, there seems like there are always surprises.  Here are some of the details about the inspections and appraisal that I had done ( none of which can really be done until you’ve made an offer and have a signed contract with the seller with a stated price):

The Home Inspection: This is done so you can know what problems there might be both inside and outside of the house.  Most likely a buyer will have looked over and discovered some of the obvious problems, but a good home inspector should know a lot more and have specific equipment to get into places (such as ladders and moisture-identifying meters) that a normal buyer doesn’t have no matter if he has looked at the house several times.  On inspection day, it’s good to hang with the inspector, ask questions, and just learn about all that house contains, both good and bad, after all, you are paying the guy!  My inspector was cordial and informative, and I felt comfortable asking him anything.  His inspection took about three hours, and then he followed it up with a 38-page detailed report, which included lots of photos.  He charged $275, which I thought wasn’t bad.  The price is determined by the size and age of the house, and all of the extra features it might have to be inspected (such as a swimming pool or lawn sprinkler system).

If problems are found, this inspection allows the buyer to re-negotiate with the seller for a lower price or to ask the seller to repair things.  What I learned is to ask the seller to fix everything that needs fixed.  Although the sellers I’m dealing with initially said they wouldn’t pay for any repairs, when my agent sent them an amendment to the contract, they agreed to everything we requested.  There were still a few things I hadn’t asked for, and now wish I had.

Although a copy of this inspection went to my finance company, surprising as it may seem, the VA doesn’t require that this inspection be done.

The Termite Inspection: Some home inspectors will also do a termite inspection, but mine didn’t but recommended another guy for this job.  I didn’t go to the house for the termite inspection, but my agent went to let the guy into the house.  It couldn’t have taken much time because the termite inspector called me to tell me he was finished about 5 minutes after their agreed-upon meeting time.  He didn’t find any evidence of termites, but he did find several problems, which he cited as being conducive to termites: some foliage too close to wood siding, a bit of rotting wood at the bottom of door frames on the garage, and wooden spacing boards that were put in when a new patio was laid.  The cost of this inspection was $80 and was required by the finance company and seemed to be required by the VA.  However, the information that I read about VA loans says that this is one of the items that “the veteran cannot pay for.”  We’ll see how that falls out at the closing, because, sure as the world, I did pay for it.

The Appraisal: After the home inspection is done and the buyer (veteran) decides that he really wants this house, that’s when all the real paperwork must be signed for the finance company.  (The buyer definitely has been approved for the loan prior to this and has already supplied the finance company a load of documents–at some point I’ll add a post about all the documents I presented to the finance company to get approved, but not now.)  Among all these papers is one document that gets the appraisal process started, and the buyer (veteran) has to pay for it; you can pay up front or even put it on a credit card.  It cost me $400; this may vary a bit state to state.

The finance company arranges for an appraiser from a VA-approved pool of appraisers.  I kept waiting for someone to contact me to say the appraiser was going out to the house to do the appraisal, but then, to my surprise and elation, my finance officer emailed me that the appraisal had been done and, basically, without any unexpected problems, I would be getting the loan and the house!

The appraisal actually has two aspects to it.  One is to determine the value of the property.  This is done to see if the house values more than the amount of the loan the buyer (veteran) is asking for.  If it doesn’t, the buyer will have to try to get the seller to come down or be willing to put in more money up front to cover the difference.

The second part of the appraisal is really another inspection.  The VA says that the house must be livable and that this inspection is for safety purposes not cosmetic problems.

My appraisal came out mostly positive.  The house appraised for more than the amount I agreed to pay for it, and as far as the inspection part, the VA appraiser noted basically the same problems that the termite inspector had.  Therefore, these have to be remedied, and then both the termite inspector and the VA appraiser have to go back out to house to give their OK.

That’s why I went out to the house today because the contractor has been working to repair what I had asked the sellers to do and also the areas that the inspectors required.  Some things look complete, but it looks like he has a bit more to do.  I’m hoping that it gets done tomorrow, as the termite guy and the appraiser are set to go back out on Monday.

Sunday Morning Musings: “Traipsing” with the Laundry and “Gosh All Fishhooks”

I gathered up my laundry and traipsed it over to the laundromat, with my head full of all the changes that are coming with the move.  Yep, it’s almost most a done deal, with the closing less than two weeks away now.

For many, I suppose, there’d be no question about the choice between living in a large apartment complex and owning a home of one’s own.  For me, someone who has lived in apartments most of my adult life, there are things about apartment-living that I will miss.  I like being around people, and even though, in most large apartment complexes like this one, you don’t get to know most of your neighbors so well, there’s a comfort in seeing different people, saying “hello”, and at times, having a chat.  Another plus is that there’s not much responsibility; if something needs fixed in your place, you can call the management, and if the management company is a decent one, you get the repair done in a timely manner, no cost to you.  There can be negatives, of course, like problem neighbors and management that is either too lax or too “into everyone’s business”, but recently, I haven’t had many problems where I live.

Therefore, why make the move, especially a move that will entail 20 miles rather than 5 of driving commute to work?  Although it may seem like a minor reason for some, trudging my laundry back and forth to the other side of the complex gets to be more of chore every week.  Having my own washer and dryer within steps of my bedroom will be pure luxury.  Likewise, having a garage to keep my car out of the elements and away from a parking mate’s dinging car door is something I’ve wanted for a long time.  What’s more I’ll have a kitchen, a kitchen with a multitude of drawers, drawers which actually open without having to open up an appliance in order to pull them out; a kitchen with an expanse of counter space on which I can roll out dough and spread out pans for kolaches to rise.  (That’s going to be the first big baking that I do.)  Then there’s the yard, which, though not overly large, has incredible nooks around the house and garage to hang and set all the plants I have that have needed space to spread out, and which will be the perfect place for a little dog to romp and smell whatever there is too smell.

Indeed, I do have mixed feelings about moving, but the pull to do it has been inside me for a long time.

So that was on my my mind as I “traipsed” over to do my laundry this morning.  So was my mom.  “Traipsed” was a word Mom used.  She had a very colorful language, and I’m sure I picked up a lot of it.  However, being away for so long from the rural area where I grew up, many of these colloquial words and phrases have been pushed back into the recesses of my brain; though, sometimes, my colleagues will raise an eyebrow at some expression that has come out of my mouth and question the usage.

I’ve been thinking about some of these different expressions in these last few days because my sister has been in town to visit and attend the Houston International Quilt Festival.  On the ride back into town, after we had picked her up at the airport, she began to relate an incident that’d happened on the airplane, and she said, “. . . and these people from up front had to ‘high-tail it’ back to the bathroom.”  And “whoosh”, with those words, I was taken back many years ago; it had been so long since I had heard the expression “high-tail it”.

This morning, while I was folding my clothes (at the laundromat), I was thinking about my sister using “high-tail it” and remembered how “put out” she had been about these people needing to go to the restroom just when the plane was about to take off.  “Put out,” I thought; “does anyone use that expression anymore?”  These days, I think people mostly use “put out” with a completely different meaning, a usage neither my mom nor my sister would ever use.  I started laughing to myself, remembering something else my mom used to say.  Mom was a hard cookie, and could, in fact, say some pretty mean things, but it was a rarity for my mom or my dad to really cuss.  One expression that my mom used, though, when she’d lose something or something didn’t turn out right, was “Gosh all fishhooks.”  Thinking about that took me back a long time; in fact, it made me think of The Little Rascals.  “Gosh all fishhooks” sounds like something that Spanky or another of the characters from that old time show would have said.

I looked up “Gosh all fish hooks” but didn’t find any history of the expression, but I did find an interesting article from a small town in Minnesota (which I’d never heard of), which you might like, if you’ve gotten this far in my ramblings.

Preview Night at the Houston International Quilt Festival

An exhibit of "tree" quilts from Germany at the Houston International Quilt Festival

Today was a crazy day, but I had already made plans to go to Preview Night at the Houston International Quilt Festival with my niece, and my sister, who is in town this week especially to attend the event.  I hadn’t been for two years, and it felt like it was time to go again.   I’m hoping to get some new ideas and new inspiration.

A close-up of applique work and quilting on one of my favorites of the show.

The fact is all three of us didn’t have much stamina tonight and about an hour browsing through the main quilt exhibit area and a run through a couple of rows of the merchants’ booths was enough.  All three of us complained that our “dogs were barking” after walking around on the hard floors of the George R. Brown Convention Center.

A quilt from the exhibit from Russia.

It’s really a great show, especially for first-timers, and there are people who come from everywhere.  There were lots of quilts from Japan and other countries.  This year there was even a special section of quilts from Russia.

Because Preview Night only lasts three hours, when I bought my ticket, I got a free one for another day.  I hope I can go back, but the rest of this week probably will probably prove to be no less hectic than the first three days, so if I have the time, I’ll try to go back.  The show runs through Sunday, October 18th.

Funeral for a Pine

I’m not religious and I don’t mind admitting it.  I’ve never had any meaningful conversations with god or felt any kind of emotion enveloping me when I enter any kind of church, temple, or mosque, be they a small roadside chapel or a huge medieval cathedral.

On the other hand, I can feel a spirit in trees.  I can’t say whether it’s anything really spiritual emanating from a tree or just the incredible ornateness that I see in their trunks, limbs, and leaves.  I think I’ve felt a kinship with trees ever since I was a boy climbing up into their boughs or walking among the ones that grew alongside the banks of the Smoky Hill River near our farm.  With my siblings older and basically out of my everyday life, I often played or just spent time watching the quiet world with trees around me, mostly elms and oaks.

There’s a wonderful grove of live oak and other trees in the triangle near the swimming pool, which I always feel a connection with each time Annie and I walk by.  I have the idea of making a quilt that would be a representation of those trees, but how I can transform pieces of fabric into the spirit of these tress just hasn’t come to me yet.

A couple of these trees were damaged last year by Hurricane Ike, and a great many more wered downed by the strong winds of the storm thoughout the park.  People who live near the park have told me of the loud booms that exploded from a number of huge pine trees when their trunks cracked and broke, finally falling onto the ground.

In our small, Camp Logan Park, which is only a short, couple of blocks from Memorial Park, the trees withstood Ike’s torment, but most of them, for a long time, appeared to be in a kind of shock.  Of course, some had lost branches and had their leaves battered, but they seemed to be reviving during last winter.  Then came the long dry spell this spring.  Several months back, it was obvious that a couple of the smaller trees were dead, maples, I think.  But the other trees seemed to have deep roots, and even though, the grass in the park became dry and brittle, the bigger trees appeared to be doing OK.

Then about a month and a half ago, the biggest and probably oldest tree in the park began showing brown needles on some of its branches, and little by little the entire tree turned brown, still with hundreds of dry cones attached.  I’m not a dendrologist, so I have no idea why this majestic pine tree died, maybe the dry weather, maybe because of the hurricane, or perhaps some kind of disease.

All I know is an orange X recently appeared on its thick truck, a sure sign that the city soon will come to cut it down.  I know too that the living spirit that breathes out of other trees no longer comes from this glorious ghost.

Post Mortem

It was lucky that I took the pictures of the tree when I did; the tree was cut down the next day (yesterday).  I don’t know what happened to the main trunk but a lot of large branches and limbs are still laying in the ditch awaiting pick up.

Today (October 15th), I counted the rings as best I could and aproximated 100; another park-goer said he had counted 95.  That means that this tree was here when the Camp Logan Riots took place and before this was a residential area.

Even though the tree was big, many of the rings were very narrow.  I took my measuring tape and the diameter of the stump is 4 feet 8 inches at the widest point.  Here, two of the neighborhood Westies, Luke and Lexy, are sniffing out the edges of the stump, which obviously had absorbed a lot of varying types of moisture over the years.

“Did you learn to be a bigot or were you just born that way?”–One of the Best Lines from the Speeches at the National Equality March in Washington

The crowds at the National Equality March in Washington, D.C.

I wish I could give credit for the quote in the title for this post, but it was given by one of the speakers at the National Equality March for LGBT rights, that’s taking place today in Washington, D.C.  Between checking out the NFL scores, I couldn’t find anything on CNN or MSNBC that showed the event.  Then with a mistaken click, there it was, right on C-Span.

I think going to the march would have been a great experience, but like so many other people, the cost of time and money just seemed too prohibitive.  Watching the speakers, though, on TV has been heart-stirring.  When I clicked on C-Span, actress Cynthia Nixon was speaking, and she, in turn, introduced, Judy Shepard, mother of murdered Wyoming college student Matthew Shepard.  A number of lesser-known local and state officials were just as inspiring, especially an openly-gay state senator from Utah.  (I’ll have find out more about him later.)  Lt. Dan Choi, the Arab linguist, who was kicked out of the Army because of DADT, and Lady Gaga, the pop diva, exemplify the range and demeanor of the speakers, but both demanding that President Obama take action on his promises.

Lt. Dan Choi, Army Arab linguist, who was kicked out of the military because of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell"

Maybe watching from my comfortable sofa isn’t the same as being part of the multitudes of participants there in D.C., but still I could feel the emotion of the event.  It gives me hope that change will happen.  But just like what people are asking of Obama, there has to be action, not just words.

Pop singer, Lady Gaga, speaking at the National Equality March and asking President Obama to take action.

I’m starting by writing to my conservative congressman.  It may not be worth it; I’ve done it before, and somehow his people now think I’m a republican.