blue girl

Hope Springs Eternal

I can't wait to start planting flowers. But I have to wait until there's no chance of frost. Which, with the weather we've had this year, will probably be July 15. I am so starved for color that yesterday afternoon I figured I could at least start planning.

This is one of the small areas I have to work with.


Obviously, the people who lived here before us didn't mind being starved for color.

I'm excited I get to play with the whole area. There are so many things I could do!

First, I'm thinking three dwarf Spruces. Love dwarf Spruces. First thing I always want to buy and plant? Dwarf Spruces. Love them. They're so cute and little and cottage-y.


Next, maybe stuff the area with a constant bloomer.


Need to figure out out what to actually plant there, though. The area gets full sun. Impatiens will shrivel up and die within two days.

See, years ago, I wouldn't even have thought about how the plants would thrive. All I cared about was that they looked good when I planted them and because they did, hoped they always would. Hope was my plan. Never worked out well.

Now, we need some tall something or others in the back. Maybe some tall something or others like this.


Although maybe not pink. Got too much pink going on. I want color but not all one color. But I keep getting the feeling that I want color (like pink or red) and then white blooming what-nots, too.

White is not a color, I know. So maybe I do want one color.

Maybe I'll put a little garden statue in the area. Maybe a cherub.


Or, or, or... maybe a bird bath!


And maybe a bench so that I can sit in my one color garden in the mornings, drink coffee while watching the birds frolic in their bath.


I'll need to add a little stone path so I'll be able to walk to the bench. Don't want to have to be jumping over flowers, spilling hot coffee all over myself every morning.

Since planting season is still a ways away, I'm enjoying this little fantasy right now. And that's one of the problems I've always had when planting anything. Reality never matches my fantasies and my gardens have always looked more like this...


Than like this...


But, with all this planning I'm doing and now that I realize plants die when you don't plant them in the right spot, maybe my fantasy will become a reality this year.

One can hope!

Paying it Forward

A little boy will be moving into our house in a couple of days. And into Blue Kid's room.

He'll have a big closet to make a mess of, to fill up with clothes and video games and puzzles and posters and books. And one day, he'll have a spot to hang his ties, his blazers, his prom tuxedo. He'll have a door to slam shut when everything and everyone gets to be just a bit too much.

He'll have Blue Kid's view from the window.


Just trying to decide at this late hour if I should leave that poster.

Until he couldn't stand it anymore, I'd wake up Blue Kid everyday, singing Get up, get outta bed, we'll drag a comb across your head...

Don't know if the Mom who's moving in will think of that. But, she might. And if not, she might think of other things to sing.

I want to think she will.

Keep, Toss or Donate

We're packing today. But we were packing yesterday and the day before that and the day before that and the day before that. The days before thats could go on forever. Yes, we've been packing forever.

Feels like it anyway.

We're down to just a couple of rooms. I'm in the dining room, cleaning out and boxing up things from the china cabinet. I'm tossing a lot. Like chipped martini glasses. I'm donating a lot, like old china I bought at a moving sale ten years ago.

And never used!

Because I've learned that's what I do! I buy things! Too many things! And never use them!

It is the reason for the endless days before thats!

I'm keeping a lot of things, too, though. Even though I haven't used them in years and years. Like this.


Wasn't I crafty, making those little Santa hats for our cake topper the first Christmas after were were married?

That's why The Skimmer married me. My craftiness.

My dopey, sappy cake topper with their 21 year old Santa hats? A total keeper.

Stay tuned throughout the day for updates on what I'm keeping, tossing or donating!

People Are Strange

I found it strange that the people who are interested in our house haven't asked any questions about it. So I called our realtor.

"Don't you think it's weird that they haven't asked the most basic questions? Like, how old is the roof? How old is the furnace?"

"I find everything weird anymore. People are just plain weird. Who knows what they're going to ask! I sold a house to a guy a couple of weeks ago and he wanted to know if this one picture in the living room was the owners' wedding picture! Now, how the heck do I know? And why does he care?"

I laughed and she continued, "And then he asked me to find out because he wanted to keep it!"

Battle of the Sexes

A couple came to see our house for the second time last night. We had to leave from 7 - 8pm. The Skimmer and I grabbed dinner and got home around 8:15. Two cars were still in the driveway. The realtor's Crossfire and the family's gigantic truck (that I don't hate, but am not very fond of). The Skimmer and I parked down the street to spy on them. They came out of our house (their house?) at 8:25. He was a burly fellow, head shaved, wearing a red t-shirt. Two little boys, around 5 and 7, came running out the front door and chased each other around our front yard (their front yard?). The wife and realtor came out last. I couldn't see the wife very well. The Skimmer told me this morning she looked rather marmy.

"Marmy? How?"

"I don't know. She was kind of meek. Light brown hair and a plaid skirt to her knees."

"Hmmm. Well, what do you think's going on? Maybe they're having coffee right now and Marmy is saying to Burly, "I really want it, honey! I have to have it! C'mon, I really want it!"

And then I thought, Well, that's a pretty sexist scenario, BG.

I just got a call from our realtor. Burly and Marmy are moving from out of state. They have to buy a house. The house they have to buy is between our house and another house.

Marmy likes our house because it's in a development with lots of kids.

Burly likes the other house. Which is not in a development. It's on a few acres of land on a quiet country road.

My realtor and I are pulling for Marmy. And we're trying to stack the deck against Burly's acres. Burly's boring house on lots of lonely acres doesn't have a swimming lake or a fishing lake. Doesn't have a playground and lots of woods and creeks. Doesn't have a soccer field or a baseball field. Doesn't have a neighborhood clambake or Easter egg hunt. Burly's acres doesn't have a homeowner's association who hires Santa Claus to come door to door every Christmas!

My realtor said, "They might not be Christians."

"True. Uh, put it down anyway. They have little boys. All little kids love Santa."

We kept making our list. Burly's acres doesn't have a neighborhood garage sale weekend, with its fun, carnival-like atmosphere. Doesn't have an annual bonfire on the last day of school where all the kids get together and burn all their homework from the school year. And most importantly, Burly's acres doesn't have 20 - 30 other little 5 - 7 year old boys who they can become lifelong friends with.

My realtor said, "I'm going to put all of this in an email and send it to their realtor. She's pulling for Marmy too. They're going to make a decision this weekend. We'll see who wears the pants in this family."

"Ok, good. I'm keeping my fingers crossed."

And all I could think of was meek little Marmy with her light brown hair, wearing her knee length, plaid skirt.

Having a Grande Time

The Skimmer and I are at Starbucks, sitting in oversized, faux velvet chairs, each drinking our Grande Mocha Lite Frappuccinos and surfing on our laptops. Because that's the sort of hipster doofuses we are.

Actually, we are loser homeowners wasting an hour so that total strangers can walk through our house and judge our house and us! As they have been doing for about five weeks now.

We don't like your kitchen's counter tops.

The bedrooms are too small.

Your landscaping is out of style.

Do they not realize how hip we are?!

Because most non-buyers come through our house when I'm at work, I haven't had the chance to spy on any of these people. Blue Kid has though. Earlier this week I called BK because he had to be out of the house between noon and 1:00pm.

I asked him if he's seen any of the people who have gone through the house.

"Yes."

"Well, what kind of people are they?"

"White people."

"Well, like what sort of people? I need details. Young? Old? Cool? Boring? What?"

"Boring, middle-aged, white people, Mom." And then he repeated it with dramatic pauses: "Boring. Middle-aged. White people."

Unlike his parents who are livin' it up at Starbucks tonight.

And Today, Red Carnations

The nicest thing about keeping our house in tip top selling shape are the flower arrangements I keep on the table in the foyer. They may not do anything for the people who come through the house, but they do a lot for me. They make me more... hopeful.

And boxwood makes any arrangement beautiful, even if it's just a few bunches of cheap, red carnations. (That's my Martha tip for the day!)

"Oh, my! Look at that gorgeous red carnation and boxwood arrangement, Dear!"

"Stunning. Where's my checkbook?"

Our House

Our realtor stopped by late Saturday with her husband and her mother. She wanted to apologize for the other realtor confusing houses, getting our hopes up. She also wanted to show her mother The Skimmer's oil paintings that are hanging in every room of our house.

Our dark house.

When we moved in we painted the walls in the living room and into the kitchen a deep blue gray, to set a mood -- an intimate, oh, can't you just sink into it and aren't you just so comfortable? -- mood.

Our realtor made us bring extra lamps into the living room that were not turned on Saturday evening.

I offered them something to drink. As her daughter grabbed a couple of Cokes from the fridge, her mother, a cute little lady in her early 80s, looked around smiling, then raised her shoulders way up high while tilting her head to the right and said, "I love this room. I love your house. It's so cozy."

"Yeah. Thanks. You think so? Yeah, me too."

Head Games

Our house went on the market 11 days ago. We've had about 15 people come through it. Not that many. But I've heard from others who've been trying to sell their house now for 130 - 275 days that 15 people coming through is good. They've had open houses where no one's come through at all.

We had our second open house yesterday. Two couples came through. Both want a house in this neighborhood but both would have to sell their house first to be able to move.

Get 'em on the market, people! What are you waiting for? Move, move, move, move!

The Skimmer told me to stay above the game. Don't get in the game, don't try to play the game. Stay completely out of the game. But I can't help but get in the game.

Saturday we got a call from our agent saying a couple wanted to stop by in 15 minutes for a second showing. They had come through during the first open house. I started running around picking up tennis shoes and coffee cups and magazines.

"A second showing, Skimmer! Know what that means? That means they just saw it and they want to see it a second time which means they are enthusiastic. They like it! They want to see it again. They're having fantasies about living here. They're decorating in their heads already. They're imagining their cars parked in the driveway..."

"Stay above the game."

"...their kids running down the sidewalks!"

"Don't get too up. Don't get too down."

I finished chopping up lemons to put down the garbage disposal right before I ran outside to clip more boxwood for the flower arrangement in the foyer. I hung the hammock between the two oak trees in the backyard as the dappled sun danced across the freshly mowed grass. Then I lit the Sun-Dried Cotton fragranced candles both upstairs and downstairs. And then we waited.

And waited. And waited.

They never showed up.

The people who were enthusiastic about seeing their new house for the second time, who envisioned their hutch here and their book case there, the people who were having fantasies about their children running up and down the sidewalks were having fantasies about some old, dilapidated, wallpapered shack up the street.

Their realtor got our houses mixed up and called our realtor by mistake.

That night as The Skimmer and I sat reading and watching TV in, My God -- the cleanest and most lemon-y fresh living room you have ever seen or smelled! -- Lemon-y fresh because the kitchen, where I had chopped up the lemons to grind in the disposal, opens up to a great room. Totally open floor plan. Perfect for entertaining. Ideal, even. And did I mention the hardwood floors? -- I stopped reading, looked up over my glasses and said, "I can't believe those people like that house up the street better than this house. Why? Why, do you think? It needs so much work! Sure, they've got a screened-in porch but we've got a deck. And two perfect trees for a hammock. They will have to strip wallpaper off of every single wall in that house. They won't be done stripping wallpaper for 25 years, that's how much wallpaper that house has. That house is nothing but wallpaper. I can't believe they like it better than this. I mean....smell."

"Don't get too down. Keep the faith, BG."