Quick update

Life has been a little bit (lot bit) hectic lately, which hasn't left much room (or sanity) for blogging. While today is no exception, I wanted to post a quick blurb-y update.

We decided not to sell our house after all. The idea of selling and moving again was breaking the kids' hearts. They love this house, they love our property, and with everything they went through moving halfway across the country 18 months ago, we just decided it wasn't fair to them.

Besides that, Hubs' job is going to keep us here for a few more years (at least) anyway, so what's the point in selling a house we love, only to move into a rental we'll just have to tolerate, when we'll be here in Cheyenne anyway?

So that's the scoop. It may not be the wisest financial decision, in terms of the drilling and property value and whatnot, but we're letting future Mommy and Daddy deal with that.

Besides, once I'm a hot shot novelist, it shouldn't matter, right?

Right?!?

Guys?

Why are you laughing and walking away?!?

Not in on the joke

So life has been... a little nutso lately. In some ways, good. In other ways... well, see above.

As I discussed on here in a few previous posts, life has apparently had a sense of humor lately. Unfortunately, no one let me in on the joke.

First, the broken dishwasher saga really and truly turned into a saga. We just had it fixed this week for the FIFTH time. Yes. In the past seven weeks, my brand new dishwasher has worked for a total of about four days. I spent Thanksgiving hand washing dishes because the super-awesome customer service at B&B Appliance couldn't be bothered. I get it, they're probably super annoyed at us by now. But maybe if you fixed it the first damn time. Or the second... Or the third...

It got to the point where this past week we got our home builder involved. We only bought our appliances from this store because she convinced us of their stellar customer service and quick response time. We made it clear that has been anything but our experience, and reiterated what has been going on. She promised us (and yes, we got it in writing) that if this last time didn't fix it once and for all, she'd personally buy us a new dishwasher.

So we'll see what happens.

On top of that, Little One is sick again. For one, he has a double ear infection AGAIN (second time in under a month, poor dude). But the bigger issue is his tonsils. He has had overly-swollen tonsils for two years now, and no doctor, neither here nor back in Washington, took it seriously. I've taken him in to be seen several times, and every single time I was told that since he wasn't running a fever and they weren't impacting his ability to eat, breathe, or speak, they were fine for now.

Well, both ear infections he's had occurred without a fever. So clearly that's not necessarily a telling factor in my child's wellness.

And last week his tonsils suddenly poofed up so big that they were touching and he was talking like he had cotton shoved in his mouth. And he started snoring like a logger. And the right tonsil has this nasty vein running across it (I swear, it's like they're starting their own colony or something).

Finally, the doctor is taking me seriously.

Right now Little One is on uber-antibiotics to deal with the ear infection and to hopefully clear up whatever made his tonsils turn into monsters. Otherwise, it's looking like surgery. But, of course, we will have to make a separate appointment with a Ear, Nose, & Throat specialist. And because Wyoming has refused to acknowledge the Affordable Care Act, our insurance company is being... well, less than ideal.

So we're dealing with that.

There's really no stress like that of having a sick child. Especially when you're afraid he will stop breathing in his sleep.

In terms of work, my freelance writing has started taking off, though as they say, be careful what you wish for!

Two weeks ago I was hired to ghostwrite a two-part supernatural romance series. You know, fallen angels, ancient pacts, lost souls, the usual love story!

It's been a blast writing it so far. Much more fun than those medical articles I was doing for the difficult web clients. Who, by the way, pretty much fell into radio silence when I got sick last month.

(Did I forget to mention? I spent the first two weeks of November so sick with the flu that I couldn't get out of bed. It was the sickest I've been in years, and it was awful. Hubs got it after me, so he can attest that I wasn't just being a baby; it really was terrible.)

Anyway, so I haven't worked with those clients in awhile, and to be honest, I don't miss it. Writing this romance story has been so much less stressful, and has allowed be to exercise my creativity, rather than regurgitating dry medical data.

Well, this week I was invited to submit a proposal for another romance series, this one four parts. I was hesitant (hell, I'm still hesitant!) because the style of writing is much different than I'm used to, and the time frame is quite short. However, taking Tina Fey's advice, I went for it.

My proposal was accepted, and now it looks like I'll be ghostwriting two novel series! The first book of the current series is due by the end of January. The entirety of the second series (all four books) are due by the first week of February.

Suffice it to say I'm losing my mind a little bit. But in a good way. Mostly.

Finally, the biggest things we're dealing with right now is this little gem. Go ahead and take a sec to read it, I'll wait...

*twiddles thumbs*

*tries whistling*

*remembers can't whistle*

Oh you're back! So yeah, basically, powers beyond our control have essentially screwed us over. Like, big time.

After taking several days to process, we decided our plan of action was to try and sell our house before the drilling starts, because once it starts, the odds of someone wanting to buy right here drop significantly, to say the least.

If the house sells, we will rent a house in town for now, until we figure out where we are going to end up. Living in Cheyenne was never a long-term plan. It was only supposed to be for two or three years, and then we were going to find Hubs a new, fancy-schmancy job back in our beloved Seattle. However, his job here is really good, so it may keep us here longer than expected. Or not. We have no clue.

What we do know is that if we don't sell our house now, we will for sure be stuck here for several more years, until the drilling is done and property values increase enough to give us our value back.

If the house doesn't sell in the next month or so, we've accepted the fact that this means we're sticking it out here much longer than planned, and we'll just make the best of it at that point. We'll finish the basement, landscape the yard beautifully, develop the land more, build outbuildings, and basically make our 40 acres so damn desirable that the pump jacks won't deter buyers.

So besides spending my weekend working feverishly on my writing projects, finishing decorating for Christmas, attending my daughter's choir concert, and baking cookies, Hubs and I will be frantically getting our house ready to show. It went on the market last Thursday, and we have the photographer and countless local agents coming out on Tuesday to see the property. Gotta make it snazzy before then!

Because, you know, no pressure.

Like I said, life has a sense of humor. It'd just be nice to be in on the joke.

Handle your sh*t

Aaaaaaannnndddd I'm back!

I know, I know, my last post was a bit of a Debbie Downer. I apologize.

Actually, no, I don't, because everyone has experienced those days.

Those days aren't pretty, but they're real.

And you've just gotta figure out a way to handle the fistfuls of crap life throws at you sometimes. So I did just that.

Well I can officially confirm that things are better now!

*happy shimmy*

My freelance project is chugging away nicely. Or, as nicely as can be expected given that the client keeps adding to and changing items on the scope. I'm about one third of the way done with it. Taking a break right now for a cuppa tea and a breather, because I was starting to feel overwhelmed.

(No, I won't attach yet another '10 Things I Hate About You' reference)

(Though, if you didn't automatically make said reference, clearly we aren't meant to be friends)

(I think you can in Europe)

(Couldn't help it, sorry, done now)

I digress.

Work is back on track. Still tiresome. Still thankless. Still waiting for that big break. But in a better state of mind, which makes all the difference.

Dishwasher is still broken. Repairman came out, said 'yep, I can't fix this, have to special order a part' and left.

So in 7-10 business days, I will hopefully get to stop hand washing dishes and wreaking havoc on my poor skin. Because sandpaper knuckles are not pretty.

But, again, attitude is everything. Washing the evening dishes has become a nice time for Hubs and I to chat about our days. Because positive spin.

We also solved the vehicle crisis. Sold the Passat. Less than what I wanted to get from it, but more than Hubs expected to get, so I guess it was a win. Especially for that piece of crap!

And we bought a new, not broken, not-going-to-be-broken-for-a-long-time car!

(Fingers crossed, knock on wood)

It's a Certified Used 2014 Chevy Traverse.

It's white, which is slightly unfortunate, because I always swore I'd never own a white vehicle. On account of almost every single person I've ever known who owned a white vehicle was a d-bag.

But I'm not a d-bag, so maybe I can effect positive change for white vehicles. Or their non-d-bag owners. Or something like that.

Anyhoodle, the Traverse came with a 3-year/36,000 mile warranty, which we quickly and gladly upped to a 10 year/100,000 mile warranty. Because mama ain't gonna play that game of Russian Roulette ever again!

The dealership we purchased from also offers a "drive forever" warranty on all of their certified vehicles. Basically, if anything on the powertrain breaks, ever, it's covered. For as long as we own the vehicle.

Throw a piston?

Covered!

Engine seizes?

Covered!

Transmission gives out?

Covered, bitches!!!

Which would have been nice to have this summer with the Suburban.

Or the truck.

Or the Passat.

Seriously, we've had some pretty lousy luck.

Anyway, the point is, we got it figured out. And I love my new car. And its fantastic gas mileage. And its new car smell.

And while, yes, it will tighten our budget for the next few months, we can handle it.

And better yet, unlike with the truck, I actually want to make it work, because I don't resent the vehicle in the first place!

I think this is what emotional maturity feels like? Let me just bask in this moment for a sec....

And it passed.

You're welcome ;-)

Back from the ether... With lemons

So it was brought to my attention quite recently (thanks Boppa!) that I haven't been blogging very frequently lately. Which is... totally true.

Especially here on Muddled Lemons.

About a month and a half.

Eesh, sorry!

Life has been hectic of late. 80% in a good way, mind you. But hectic nonetheless.

Continuing to build my writing career (yes, I still giggle awkwardly at calling it that). Working on the novel that has been bouncing around in my head for a number of years. Producing freelance content for clients. Occasional writing on my other blogs. Applied for my first 'big girl' writing job with a pretty big news/gossip site (which I totally won't get, but it's the putting-yourself-out-there that counts).

On top of that, Hubs has been busy climbing the corporate ladder at his new job, and loving every minute of it (except when he had to fire someone, that part sucked). And the kids have kept me busy with their eight million extracurricular activities. I clearly missed my calling as a chauffeur.

I also was recently hired to produce the content for a start-up website. Well, kinda. It's a long, cluster-f*ck of a story. The first client, K, contacted me to write the content for a site they want to go live in mid-November. I wrote the first article for them, and they were really impressed with it and recommended me to their colleague, S.

S contacted me a few days later, describing two upcoming health projects they are building, both of which are huge in scope, and they said I could have one or both if I wanted.

Well, of course I jumped at the chance. I know little to nothing about the topics of these projects, but that's nothing a little research can't remedy. You can't turn down that kind of an opportunity! As Tina Fey says, "say yes and figure it out later".

So things were chugging along all fine and dandy, when the second client, S, emailed me asking if they could contact me via my personal e-mail, rather than through the host site.

I politely said no. Because privacy.

They then asked if I would be willing to produce this content via another host site, citing cheaper commission rates on the other sites.

Again, I politely said no.

Because here's the thing: the site I write through has incredibly stringent author protections in place, reducing the likelihood of being ripped off by a client. Which is a huge issue in the freelance world, and the exact reason I don't just query clients on my own.

(Yes, you could make more money querying on your own, but there's no guarantee of payment, so you could have wasted your time and had your work essentially stolen.)

By asking to contact me outside of the host site, and asking me to move to a competitor's site, this client not only basically asked me to break protocol, but was also essentially putting my standing with the host site (standing which is quite high), as well as my personal security and chances of even getting paid at risk.

All to save them two percentage points (maybe $20) on the host commission.

So now I don't know if I will be continuing with these projects. I'm currently working on the first article for the first health project, because the client had already deposited the money into their client account (one of the assurances the site takes for their authors as guarantee of payment).

After that? Who knows?

The whole thing left me feeling pretty dejected. For every decent freelance client out there, it seems like there are a dozen shady ones looking to score as much free or low-paid work as possible. It's quite disheartening.

Yes, I am technically a paid writer. Yes, you have to claw your way up in this industry. Yes, you have to pay your dues. Yes, there will always be lousy clients or rejection letters or doubters or people looking to take advantage of you. Yes, you will eventually make something of yourself through sheer hard work and determination. But some days it honestly doesn't feel worth it. Some days, I feel like I'm just wasting my time and getting paid peanuts in the process.

(Aren't I just a sparkling ray of sunshine?!?)

So for now, I plug away at the menial tasks of being a newbie freelancer. And for now, I just hope that at some point, preferably sooner rather than later, someone will give me a chance to prove my worth. And make a livable writer's wage in the process.

On top of dealing with the emotional quagmire associated with freelance writing, we've had a few other out-of-left-field curveballs. Because life has a sense of humor, apparently.

Our dishwasher broke this week. You know, the brand new dishwasher that's less than a year old. Yep, that one. So I've been 50s-housewife-ing it up this week.

I know, I know, First World Problems.

But it's annoying nonetheless.

Especially since the only reason we bought our appliances through this particular store was because of the apparent "wonderful customer service" as assured by our builder.

Well that customer service apparently means you have to wait over a week for them to even come out and look at the appliance in question.

I swear, if they try to renege on the fact that it's still under warranty, I may be inclined to throat-punch someone.

Just sayin' is all.

Then, the other day my husband's car finally gave out. It's a 2004 Passat. And if you know anything about VWs, you know that they tend to crap out pretty epically.

We've dumped more money into that damn car over the last few years than it's even worth, most recently paying almost $1000 last month to replace the fuel pump.

And then it just ups and dies.

Bastard car.

So we're figuring out what to do now. We can't go into winter without two reliable vehicles. However, we just bought that damn truck this summer because our Suburban blew up. Can we really take on ANOTHER car payment? Or can we really keep dumping money into a piece of shit car that has virtually no trade in value or financial worth?

I'll be honest. I'm damn sick of dealing with vehicle issues. We've dealt with more vehicle issues in the last, what, four or five months, than we have pretty much ever.

Pretty much sums it up.

I've also been incredibly anxious for the past few days, but not in terms of the writing stress or the car stress. It's another beast entirely. I can't quite put my finger on why. And it's made it near impossible to get a good night's sleep or have much of an appetite.

Some days I feel like the gods look down on me and smile. And point. And laugh. And throw things.

Life's little curveballs keep things interesting. But sometimes life's little curveballs get pretty tiresome. And sometimes there's nothing more soothing than a good cry. Or six.

Usually I'm like this:

And some days I'm like this:

But today? I'm like this:

Like sands through the hourglass...

Yep, these are the days of our lives... The crazy, out of left field days of our lives.

So here's what's been going on. As you know, a little over a year ago, The Husband was offered an outstanding job opportunity here in Wyoming, resulting in our big move from the greater Seattle area to Cheyenne. However, after getting down here and getting settled, it quickly became clear that the job was not what we had been promised. In fact, The Husband had been bold-faced lied to about the job: its future, its duties, even its title.

Over the course of the past year, Hubs was put in charge of a project that was doomed from the start (when the management company includes a clause in their contract stating they do not have to finish the project if they don't want to, that should be a red flag, but Husband's company's CFO signed it anyway). Since then, they cycled through four different project managers (none of whom had previous PM experience), pushed back the project three separate times (it's now slated to go live a full year after its original date), and had the management company remove 80% of the original project items from scope. Husband was the only one at his company technically skilled enough to handle the demands of the project, and therefore more and more duties and responsibilities were dumped on his plate.

On top of that, continually more duties and responsibilities of his core job were piled on as well. It became the go-to to expect Hubs to 'handle it', even when the time constraints made it truly impossible to do so. As the expectations exponentially grew, so to did the lack of respect or appreciation (or even basic civility). Hubs became the fall guy for everyone else's issues (particularly when the Payroll Department didn't feel like doing their jobs). Hubs' manager did absolutely nothing to ease the situation, not even bothering to show up to meetings or update himself on the status of the project. All of the warnings Hubs gave regarding the quality, integrity, and success of the project were ignored, even when all of them came true. And still no willingness from Hubs' manager to give Hubs the job title, pay grade, or even public recognition and respect befitting his massive responsibilities.

Finally, the tinderbox erupted. It became clear that Hubs not only had no future growth within the company, but there was a chance he would be left holding the bag when the project inevitably failed and created a PR, logistical, and corporate nightmare. Hubs and I both reached out to our networks and pursued job opportunities for him, both here and back in Seattle. Some leads went nowhere. Others seemed promising but resulted in bupkis. After our hellish summer of family health crises and vehicular drama, we became all the more aware of our need for a reprieve. Mentally and emotionally, we both were exhausted, and put it out to the universe that hey, we need a break!

Well, be careful what you wish for, my lovelies, because apparently when it rains, it pours!

Last week, Husband received a call from a contact back in Seattle, offering him a job position. It wasn't an ideal position, but it would have afforded us the opportunity to get back to our home turf. Some negotiations still needed to take place, so we knew we had a few days before anything was final. However, we were given verbal confirmation on several occasions that yes, this was going to happen, without a doubt.

Well, yesterday we were supposed to have received the official job offer. By then, we had discussed the situation with our families and a few closest friends, and everyone was incredibly excited about the prospect of having us move back to Seattle. As we awaited the job offer, Hubs received another interesting phone call. A local job prospect that he had interviewed twice with and then didn't hear back from finally called. The president of the company wanted to interview him that afternoon! He went in, and 30 minutes later they offered him the job.

So, now we were facing two competing job offers: one that wasn't great but would have brought us back to Seattle, and one that would have kept us here in Cheyenne for the foreseeable future, but was an awesome career opportunity. It was a genuinely mind-boggling situation that we had never predicted having to face, and we were at a loss.

Cue the DEFCON 1 levels of stress.

Being the slightly OCD, anal-retentive, Type A person I am in a challenging situation, I proceeded to make in-depth pro-con lists. We then took the kids out to dinner, both to celebrate Hubs' new opportunities and imminent escape from his hellish job, as well as to inform the kids of the difficult decision we were facing and get their input.

(Oldest son wanted to go back to Seattle, daughter was good either way, and little guy was sad at leaving his best friend Percy Jackson...)

By the end of the evening, we had pretty much come to our decision, but were still awaiting the official job offer from Seattle. By this morning it still hadn't come, and we found out that the CFO and HR manager of that company had decided it would be more fiscally advantageous to stick with local candidates whom they could hire for much cheaper (because they notoriously pay below market whenever possible).

So that was that. The decision was made for us (though, in truth, it was the decision we were leaning toward anyway).

Hubs starts his new job the day after Labor Day, and it couldn't have come at a more perfect time!

When things go sideways: The vacation from hell

Crow Creek, Curt Gowdy State Park, 5/30/14

Robert Frost once said that the road less traveled makes all the difference…

Well no offense to ol' Bob, but in this case, the difference made by the road less traveled wasn't fun. In fact, it plain old sucked!

My family and I went on vacation last week; a road trip up to Washington to visit family and friends. The week leading into our trip, we pretty much had our plans laid out. We knew what days we would be driving through which states; we knew which days we would be seeing specific friends and family members; we had everything arranged and had set our expectations accordingly.

And then life happened. Griswold Family style.

At first, the hiccups were minor. Friday morning we had planned to leave by noon, but my oldest son ended up with a horrendous nosebleed that took over an hour to stop. I sat with him in the bathroom, changing out the tissues and reassuring him that he wasn't bleeding to death (something that genuinely freaked him out, poor dude). So that prolonged the packing process, and we ended up leaving shortly after 1:00- not bad by any means!

We stopped for a quick lunch and then hopped on I-80 West, hoping to make it at least to Ogden, Utah, if not farther.

For the first leg of our drive, we ended up making excellent time, and by the time we hit Ogden (around 9:00 that night) we were feeling pretty pumped and decided to keep on going to Twin Falls, Idaho. We fed the kids a quick dinner and had them get ready for bed, that way when we finally stopped for the night, it would make bedtime much quicker and easier. We got back on the road, and about 30 minutes later, as we're cruising along nicely up I-84, chatting about how great the drive had been thus far and how we would be able to make it to Seattle a day earlier than we'd thought… BANG!!!

Husband and I both looked at each other in shock, and he pulled the Suburban and trailer over to the side of the freeway. The sound we'd heard made us both think we'd blown a tire, so we hopped out and starting checking for a flat.

Nothing.

All the tires on the Suburban and trailer were fine.

But smoke was pouring out of the engine compartment….

Husband popped the hood open, and we fanned the smoke away and used the flashlight on my phone to look inside.

Carnage.

Ruin.

Badness of epic proportions.

Now, I may not be an automotive expert… but my spidey senses told me that seeing big chunks of metal and oil sprayed everywhere inside the engine compartment is… not a good thing!

We immediately called State Farm, whom our insurance is through, because we have their roadside assistance coverage. After being rerouted multiple times, with no one bothering to make a note of our call and forcing us to start from scratch four different times, we were finally told that they could dispatch a tow truck for the Suburban and two passengers, but that we would have to call a taxi for the rest of us (I guess they wanted us to pick favorites?!?) and pay out of pocket for both the taxi and the separate tow for the trailer.

They also were "unable to locate" the MAJOR FREEWAY upon which we were stranded.

Um…. so how are you assisting me on the roadside then? When I have three young children stranded in a broken vehicle on the side of a very busy freeway late at night?!? And when I gave you my exact mile marker location, and the cities both north and south of me?!?

Needless to say, we quickly became utterly disgusted by their version of "roadside assistance". I also quickly learned that these claims of "agents available 24/7" is… complete BS. Though our agent's office voicemail said they were available 24 hours a day, she didn't call us back until regular business hours the following day.

This whole debacle is something we will be discussing in person with her this week; while we have been loyal State Farm customers for well over a decade, we will likely be looking for a new insurance company without some serious ass-kissing and reparations on our agent's part. Because damn.

So during Husband's third attempt to get any sort of useful help from State Farm, I went ahead and called AAA. The woman I spoke with was able to find our exact location, find and dispatch a tow truck that was big enough to tow both the Suburban and trailer AND all five of us (no picking favorites!), and she expedited it because of the obvious safety issue of us sitting on the side of the freeway.

Finally, a competent human being and a company that gave a crap!

We got towed the 10 minutes south to Brigham City, Utah to a Chevy dealership that the tow driver just happened to work at. We spent the night in the trailer in the dealership parking lot, listening to the service department's radio station being played through the outside speakers… not exactly conducive to a restful night, but at least we were safe.

The next day, we got the initial assessment on the Suburban's engine. We had blown at least three pistons, which had shattered the oil pan and caused other shrapnel-style damage. It would take at least a week to repair, at a starting cost of $7000…

Not only did we not have $7000 just sitting in our pockets, but that also didn't include the cost of a rental vehicle (something State Farm also wouldn't cover) to tow the trailer back to Cheyenne, and then the gas to drive all the way back to Brigham in a week to pick up our newly rebuilt Suburban.

We were completely screwed, and spent half the day just trying to wrap our heads around what the hell to do next.

(And I may have cried a lot. Like, a lot. Like, probably embarrassed myself in public but was too distraught and stressed to even care.)

While we were wandering around the parking lot of the dealership trying to get a handle on the situation, a salesman came out and said that he assumed we were over at the service department, but wondered if there was anything he could help us with. When we told him we were the Suburban, he gave us a look of pity I've never experienced before! We joked that we had a great trade in for him, with perhaps a bit of engine trouble…

The sales guy showed us their used trucks, and we found one we liked. It was a blue diesel GMC Sierra 2500 quad-cab. While I've never had the desire to own a truck, like, ever, it was beefy enough to tow our trailer and could handle anything Wyoming had to throw at it (no more getting stuck in snow drifts!)

The sales guy let us take it for a test drive, and Husband was pretty impressed with it. I wasn't quite as sold, as I was (and still am) fairly attached to my Suburban, and was quite honestly struggling to cope with the events of the previous 14 hours. After driving around Brigham for a bit, we went back to the dealership and Husband went inside to discuss the actual realistic-ness of trading in our dead Suburban for the truck.

In truth, I did not expect them to accept it, and knew we were wasting our time. The sales guy let us take the truck and go to lunch, and said he'd see what he would work out. I wasn't holding my breath.

As we were sitting there eating, not 20 minutes later, sales dude called back and said he'd worked it out!

He said that what they'd do is give us just under Kelly Blue Book on the trade, and put a used engine in the Suburban, making it plausible for them to sell it and make it worth their while. We lost all the equity we had built up in the Suburban, and would essentially be starting from scratch with the truck. But we were pretty much stuck at that point, and this was our best option.

He then told us what the payment on the truck would be, and my stomach flipped so hard I almost puked. We would be tripling our car payment.

Yes. Tripling. As in, three times as much. As in, ouchies to my budget.

After discussing it over the rest of our lunch, Husband and I decided to go for it, because it was the only way (and the cheapest way in the short run) to get us out of Utah. And this meant we could still continue with our vacation, which we had accepted was otherwise totally done-sies.

We got all the paperwork sorted, hooked up the trailer to the truck, and headed back on our way to Washington. Husband was immediately impressed with how well the truck pulled the trailer- no more bucketing in the wind or when being passed by other big vehicles, no struggling to go up even minor hills. It seemed like everything was back on track, and though I was still quite stressed over the looming loan payment, I was starting to shake it off and let Future Sarah deal with it.

We were about 15 miles past where we had broken down the night before, and suddenly the truck lost all power…

The fuel filter indicator, which had just read 100%, suddenly read 0%, and we weren't able to go over 30 mph. Husband immediately called the dealership, and the sales guy was stunned. He told us to come back and they'd take a look at it.

We slowly crawled back to the dealership, where they unhooked the trailer (again) and pulled the truck into the service bay. The same guy who had given us the tow the night before ended up being the one who swapped out our fuel filter (thanks again Juan!) After that, everything looked peachy keen, so Husband and the sales guy hooked the trailer back up (again) and took it for a test run, to make sure nothing bigger was wrong. They went up this steep hill behind the dealership, and everything was looking great until they got about 3/4 of the way up.

The truck lost power again.

Sales guy was baffled, since the dealership prides itself on selling quality used vehicles. He called the owners of the dealership to tell them what had happened, and the owners were there to meet them when they slowly crawled back into the parking lot. Several profuse apologies later (and a near stressed-induced cardiac event on my part), the owners presented us with two options.

Option A: they would do a straight swap of the blue truck for a red one. Same model, one year older, less miles, and one of the owners had just used it on his family vacation to Yellowstone, towing a similar trailer as ours, so they knew it was reliable.

Option B: borrow the red truck for the week and continue on our vacation, while they figured out what was wrong with the blue truck, fixed it up all pretty like, and had it waiting for us when we came back through the following weekend.

Husband and I discussed the options, and I was initially leaning toward doing the swap. However, while the interior of the red truck was nicer, it had fewer features and a little less interior space than the blue truck. It was also a short bed, as opposed to the long bed of the blue truck (something I didn't really care about, but it mattered to Husband). We finally decided to just borrow the red one and fix the blue one.

We unhooked and re-hooked the trailer (AGAIN) and were finally, finally on our way. We made it to Boise that night, and then after sitting in awful Sunday traffic on I-90 in Washington, finally made it to my mom's house Sunday night. A full day after we had been expecting, but at least we made it.

Of course, the unexpected delays associated with our Suburban's catastrophic engine failure shook up our entire week's visitation schedule, so we had to make some last minute adjustments. Some people were… displeased… with our limited time frames, but quite frankly, by that point I had no patience for it. We drove 1200 miles and went through two vehicles; I think you can handle driving 20 minutes to meet us for dinner and survive not eating exactly at your predetermined usual dinner time. Suffice it to say, we found out who some of our true friends are (and are not) this week!

We also got a call on Monday afternoon from the sales guy back in Utah, to tell us what they had found on the blue truck. The injector bank went out. Now, as stated above, I'm not exactly an automotive expert, so to me, that pretty much means nothing. They could have said the phalanges were broken for all I know!

Husband explained that, basically, what happened on the Suburban's gas engine is what happened on the truck's diesel engine (only less catastrophically so). The engine was kaput!

Because of course.

Because Utah hates us.

So they ended up replacing the injector bank (and the phalanges, probably), and we have a warranty on the engine so that we don't have to deal with this again any time soon (fingers crossed, knock on wood).

The rest of our vacation had a bit of a pall over it, though we tried to make the best of it, despite some friend drama and a few minor irritations (because seriously, I fought this hard to make this vacation even happen in the first place, but yeah, let's make it all about not inconveniencing you) and some serious homesickness for Western Washington and my boo-thang Kym.

We left Seattle Saturday morning, with the intention of getting all the way to Brigham that night so we could swap vehicles for our truck and get back on the road first thing Sunday. We only got as far as Mountain Home, Idaho, because it took us 7 hours to even get out of Washington.

7 hours!

I don't even know how that is possible. It was like all travel slowed to a crawl.

Sunday we made better time, and got to Brigham shortly after noon. However, as we were coming back down I-84, about 10 miles or so north of the exit for the dealership? THE RED TRUCK LOST POWER!!! Same effing thing that happened to the blue truck. In the exact same spot as where our Suburban blew.

I swear, Utah hates us. I mean, I know things happen in threes, but come on!

(We did see a lot of other truck and trailers pulled over on the freeway, also having issues, so maybe Utah just hates road-trippers in general?)

After swapping back to our blue truck, the rest of the drive home was relatively uneventful, though still wracked with stress. I spent the entire rest of the drive just waiting for something else to go wrong, because the precedent was set. Our truck has a few quirks on it that we need to get checked out, like weak air conditioning, engine fans that aren't terribly effective, and the door handles have some issues. Plus, it's not my Suburban, and I loved my Suburban.

So now, I have a massive loan payment on a truck that, at the moment, I loathe (though I'm sure my emotions have as much to do with that as the quirks and stress).

This week, we have the joy of dealing with digging out, both in terms of unpacking and settling back into being home, as well as dealing with the financial and logistical fallout of this week. Our insurance agent will be having a meeting with us, which will be non-fun for her. We need to refinance the truck through a local bank so we can get a better deal on the interest rate (and hopefully ease the burden on my budget). And I will be looking into new paid writing opportunities, since Yahoo decided to shut down its contributor side… meanie heads.

So that road less traveled?

I have a gypsy spirit, I'm all for the road less traveled. I mean, hell, I moved to Wyoming of all places, just to experience something new!

But when I'm on a road trip with a predetermined destination, and limited time frame and financial leeway? I'd like to stay on the intended road, and not have any mechanical issues along the way, thank you very much.

Duhn-nun… Dunh-nun, dunh-nun, duhn-nun… Ay Ay Ay...

It's safe to say it's been a pretty hectic couple of weeks for this Emerald City girl. Between school, kids, family, and random life stuff, I feel like I've been going 8 miles a minute lately.

(Yes, that's a Bob Seger reference)

(And yes, it's okay to combine Ozzy and Bob Seger references… I encourage it, actually)

Winter quarter is winding down in a few weeks, which means that everything is due all at once and none of the instructors seem cognizant of the fact that we have more than one class. So that's fun.

On top of that, this happened:

This was her first night here. She wouldn't leave the door mat!
Now she's my shadow.

Meet Luna!

She's an 8-month old German Shepherd mix that we adopted from the Cheyenne Animal Shelter. She's the sweetest pup ever. Now, I'm not really a dog person, but the kids have been dying for one for a couple of years now. We were waiting until our little guy was big enough (and potty trained enough), and began keeping an eye out for dogs in the last couple of months. Then, through some sort of kismet, we met Luna.

Her first few days with us she was very quiet and timid, but she has warmed up really quickly to us, and in some sort of ironic twist, I have become her favorite. She's adorable, and we're buds, and she's already super protective of all of us.

Maybe I can be a dog person after all…

Then this happened:

New couches!!!

Leather. Reclining. Need I say more?

Finally, this happened:

Yep. I got braces. My top teeth have been crooked my whole life, and I had sort of resigned myself to it. I felt like it would be ridiculous to get braces as an adult. I felt like I'd lived with my teeth the way they were for this long, I might as well just let it go. (Or try, at least)

Then I changed my mind. I think part of it had to do with turning 30, and deciding to take charge of things that I had the power to change. Like working out regularly again. Pursuing writing more. Getting more involved politically.

And getting straight teeth.

37 life lessons

Here is an article by Dawn Gluskin on 37 ways to live life to the fullest. I have to say, I love all of it!

I be jammin'

Some people spent yesterday watching the absolutely EPIC playoffs (where both of my teams won!)

I spent it doing this...

Canning jam! Raspberry, and blackberry-raspberry, to be precise.

And yeah, I made up the last one. From scratch. And it was delicious.

Domesticity for the win, baby!

I love canning. There's something soothing and comforting about it. It's almost Zen-like for me.

Plus, you end up with beautiful jars of homemade food!

(Next up, salsa. Well, soon, anyway.)

And now, if you'll excuse me, I have school work to tend to. Because the soul-crushing stress is beginning to get to me…

Happy Monday

Thought I'd share this little gem. The Husband sent it to me in response to the crap I've had to deal with this past week. If only I could make stickers out of this and stick them to the foreheads of everyone who needs them! Talk about cathartic...

Somewhere over the rainbow...

I'm having a stressful and irritating day, so I thought I'd share one of my favorite songs.

He makes my soul happy...


Over the Rainbow - Israel "IZ" Kamakawiwo'ole OFFICIAL VIDEO from Mountain Apple Company on Vimeo.

Never work with animals or children

So this week has been… hectic.

And we're only half way through.

HUMP DAY!!! Woot woot!

I love that commercial. It never fails to make me giggle hysterically.

Anyhoodle, as I've mentioned before, I'm severely lacking in the motivation department with regards to school. Half way through week 2, and it's not getting much better.

Part of it stems from the fact that we are supposed to hear back from the underwriter today on whether or not our docs are approved. While she said that everything should be fine, and despite the fact that our credit is really good and we have a substantial down payment and we've given them every single piece of OCD-level documentation they've asked for (I'm almost expecting a request for organ tissue samples at this point), I'm still nervous. Because you never know.

The other part of my distraction stems from the fact that it is uncomfortable for me to type, properly hold a text book, or basically function like a regular human being on account of the vicious assault I suffered Monday night.

Yes, it hurt. And yes, I have a forearm tattoo. It's Anglo-Saxon and Norse runes. It translates into "Fate is wholly inexorable". 

Yeah. Courtesy of my cat. Little bastard.

So, I mentioned before about how he is a Long-Haired Asian, and so without regular trimmings, he can sometimes get poop on himself if he doesn't position himself properly in the litter box. It's gross, but it's something I just know will occasionally happen.

Well, it happened again Monday night. He just got a little bit on himself; better than usual, no biggie right? 

Wrong.

So wrong.

I'm right in the middle of making dinner when this happens, so of course it was super awesome timing.

So I stop what I'm doing, carry him to the bathroom, and clean his bum fir with baby wipes. I then discover he had also gotten some on his tummy as well, probably while attempting to clean the first mess. It becomes clear that he just needs a bath; baby wipes won't be enough in this situation.

We confine him to the bathroom while we eat, and then I start gathering the supplies for bath time. 

Well my daughter accidentally let the cat out of the bathroom at this point, and seeing as how he was already stressed about me cleaning him and pissed that I locked him in the bathroom when there was food smells he desperately needed to investigate, he bolted into the bedroom and tried to hide under my daughter's bed. I grabbed him and gingerly carried him back out, trying not to touch the still-stinky parts of his tummy.

And this is when he flipped the eff out and ripped my arm open*.

Let me tell you, it hurt. A lot.

And it bled. A lot.

To the point that I had to bust out the family pack of paper towels because the first-aid kit was too far away.

So I clean my arm and wrap it in gauze, and The Husband taped me up, and we proceeded to trim the cat's excessive fur and give him a good bath.

It didn't go well.

Lots of growling and angry mewing and escape attempts.

And of course, being that I was newly injured, I was only slightly helpful in the whole process. And a little jumpy about more potential attacks.

But we got him clean, we got him somewhat trimmed, and I kept my distance from him for the rest of the night.

All I can say is he's lucky I am morally opposed to de-clawing and find it utterly cruel; and he's lucky that I understand he was stressed and pissed about being cleaned; and he's lucky I understand that he hates being in the confined space of an apartment. He never used to act like this in our old house, so once we're in the new house (knock on wood) I'm hoping his attitude gets better.

Post-bath look of shame… or hatred...

Cute, fluffy, evil bastard.

*You know my priorities are a little screwy when my first thought was not "oh crap I'm bleeding profusely", it was "oh no my tattoo!"

Creep

So the last few days have left me with a sort of perpetual headache. And no amount of caffeine or Advil or fruitless attempts at sleep have helped.

I think I've hit a wall.

You know, that point when your brain just decides that you've put it through too much and it peaces out in a blaze of glory?

Yeah.

I swear, I actually heard something break in there.

So first of all, the house is coming along beautifully. It is getting closer and closer to being done; our docs are in underwriting right now; I have moving boxes stacked against the wall ready to be packed.

My soon-to-be entryway!!!

In theory, this should all be super exciting, right?

Except for some reason it has me losing my mind.

I think because we're so close to being done and ready to move in that I'm more worried than ever about something- anything- going wrong.

I haven't slept well in several days. Probably has something to do with the headache.

On top of that, fall quarter officially starts on Monday. The portal opened today, and in theory I can start working on my readings and whatnot and get a jump on things.

Except that I got an e-mail from my advisor on Wednesday informing me that one of my classes had been cancelled.

You know, a class that I registered for a month and a half ago. A class for which I've had the book sitting on my coffee table for a month. A class that started in five days. And they freaking cancelled it!

Needless to say, that put me in a bit of a tailspin.

I had to find a new class immediately- a lower level elective that wasn't already full- or risk throwing off my graduation schedule. Not an easy feat FIVE DAYS BEFORE THE QUARTER STARTS.

Bye bye Philosophy, hello International Studies...

Then I had to track down the book for said new class. And, of course, it was backordered through the bookstore.

Cue the breaking sound in my brain.

So after a bit of a mental collapse, and a few Gilmore Girls episodes and some tea to soothe myself, I finally found the required textbook through Amazon. And for even cheaper than the school's bookstore!

God bless Amazon!

It should theoretically be here Tuesday, so I'll only be a little behind in that class.

I also got the other textbook shipped back to the bookstore for my refund, just under the cutoff date.

Le sigh.

Then today I went into the portal to start getting myself situated- assignment schedules and syllabi and whatnot- and my required reading schedule for my Sociology class? Has two textbooks.

I only have one.

The course resource guide only has the one listed. Three days before classes even start and I'm already confused, stressed, and slightly overwhelmed. Great.

Needless to say, I've been listening to a lot of Nirvana lately, and I've had Radiohead's "Creep" stuck in my head for days.

Apparently stressed Sarah relies on Alt Rock for sanity.

What's not soothing about that?

Sociology of Marvin the Martian

My textbooks came today.

*dunh dunh dunh*

Yep. Fall quarter is officially just around the corner. Slightly over three weeks away.

I can feel it lurking, staring at me, daring me to once again maintain my 3.9 GPA and my sanity simultaneously.

It's not an easy feat, and thus far I've done... well, not too bad overall. Oceanography nearly killed me, but that was awhile ago, and the scars are finally beginning to fade.

Too dramatic, you say?

I assure you, it's not. That class was brutal. I swear it left me with a limp.

Anyway, this is my LAST fall quarter ever! Well, unless I go to grad school. But right now the thought makes me gag slightly, so I'll put a pin in it until... indefinitely...

So yes, Last Fall Quarter.

This is quite possibly my last "not scary" quarter. Winter will be when I laughingly try to juggle an extra course load, and Spring is when I'll be doing my utterly terrifying degree capstone.

This quarter I'm taking Intro to Philosophy, because I love nothing more than blithering on about metaphysical nonsense, and Sociology of the Family, because it genuinely sounded interesting (and the other sociology class I wanted ended up being canceled for this quarter, so plan B).

My main stress for this quarter (besides the "new class" jitters) is the fact that I will be moving right in the middle of it. Which means that I'll need to arrange internet service before we're even in the house, because I will absolutely not be able to wait two weeks or, god forbid, have to attempt dial-up or DSL! It also means that I'll have to do all of my assignments while also packing, loading, and unpacking my entire life, once again.

Le sigh.

I swear, somewhere inside my brain is a tiny little sadist...

Or just him...

A lesson in futility... and bribery

Potty training.

It's probably the bane of every parent's existence.

It's a stressful, exhausting period of time when every trip to the store, red light, traffic jam, or busy restroom is cause for a mild panic attack.

And there is no "magic formula" because every kid is different.

Some master it in a couple of weeks. Others make you feel like you'll be sending them to school in diapers.

With my oldest, he never had a pee accident (besides aiming issues), but the logistics of choosing between standing to pee and sitting to poop resulted in a few... unpleasant surprises.

With my daughter, she never had a poop accident, because the thought horrified her. However, she would wait until the very last possible second before heading to the potty, and several pee accidents resulted.

With my youngest... well, we're still working at it. Things were going so well a few months ago. And then... I don't know. He lost interest. He'll ask to use the potty immediately after going in his diaper. No matter how many times I ask him if he needs to go, or have him sit and try, he just... won't. All diaper, all the time.

Le sigh.

Because there's nothing like futility.

So what have I decided to do? Well I'm going to take a page out of the Bad Parenting Manual and resort to bribery.

Yes, that's right folks. I need something to act as an incentive, something to ignite his interest in potty training.

And that something is M&Ms.

Step aside, ma'am, we'll take it from here

One for a successful pee. Two for a successful poop. (Get it, get it?!?)

Because I'm sick of diapers. He's almost three-and-a-half. I want the diapers to go away. And I'm going to find whatever way works to make that happen.

Parent Of The Year, over here.

Hey, it could be worse!

(That picture never fails to crack me up)

Good news Thursday

That's an understatement!

Sweet Baby Jesus, today has been a good day. I feel a little uncomfortable getting too excited about it, because I have that superstitious side of my brain that feels like if you openly acknowledge something good, then it will end up going away.

But after such a long string of struggles and obstacles and bad news and letdowns, today was a breath of fresh air.

So first of all, our new mortgage guy did our official credit pull yesterday in order to start our financing paperwork. I was a little nervous, because he said he would call us first thing this morning to give us the update on it, and he didn't call...

But it turns out that he was just busy with a couple of closings today. Phew!

The Husband spoke with him early this afternoon, and our credit is... well... quite wonderful! Not only did our scores jump up fairly significantly since the first mortgage guy pulled our credit in May, but that stupid credit reporting that gave us so much grief a couple weeks back is GONE BABY GONE!

My guess is it fell off due to its age.

You know, just like it was supposed to. Just like we told the previous mortgage guy it was supposed to. Just like we told the collections company itself that it was supposed to.

So suck it, Alaska!

Muhaha.

I think they already did...

So the new mortgage guy has several more closings tomorrow (lucky bastards), so it looks like we will have to wait until next week to sign our disclosures and lock in an interest rate. But our paperwork is good to go. Which is an indescribable relief.

Then after that little tidbit of fabulous news, I spoke with our builder. I had been trying to get in touch with her to see if she had ordered the carpet we picked out last week, and she's a tough lady to get ahold of. But I did, and while she hasn't ordered the carpet yet (apparently she's doing it tomorrow), everything else is ordered and we are totally on track to be done by the end of October!

She also said that the only potential snafu is the well. The well water has to pass very strict regulations (apparently some of the strictest in the country... which I guess is good for water quality) and it takes at least two weeks to complete the process. If they pass the first test, we're good to go. If they don't, however, it can be as long as six more weeks to get it re-tested.

It's like a government regulated Punxsutawney Phil.

Anyway, if the well fails, that pushes back our closing date several weeks, which sucks in an unbelievable way and totally screws us over.

BUT!!!

Being the blessed soul that she is (or decided to be today, anyway), our builder said that in the unlikely chance that the well fails the particulates test and has to be retested, we can go ahead and still move in and just wait until our new closing date! She knows had badly we hate our apartment and how badly we want to be in the house, and I guess she felt sorry enough for us to grant us early occupancy.

And I'm more than willing to take her pity if it means getting in my house on time! So that was excellent to hear.

And then, to make a good day even better, we found out that The Husband is getting a 2% raise! I mean, nothing life changing by any means, but more is more, and we're more than happy to take it!

So, like I said, today was a good day.

A case of the stressed out blahs

So I'm a bit of a stressball right now. And I can see that it is completely ridiculous on my part to be worrying about things that aren't even on the horizon for several months, but I'm feeling under the weather today, and I guess that has made me more susceptible to stressing out about random nonsense.

The kids brought home a lovely cold-y/flu-y thing from school towards the end of last week, and apparently today is my turn.

I'm just so lucky I could swoon!

No really, my head is really fuzzy and if I stand for too long I start to get a little dizzy and, well, swoon-y.

It's been a fun day so far, let me tell ya! What with the splitting headache that makes me feel like someone is stabbing dull steak knives into my brain. Or the waves of nausea that make me feel like I'm trapped in a skiff on super choppy waters. Or the weak, floppy feeling I have, where just the effort to brush my teeth or blow-dry my hair left me needing to lay down for a bit.

Oh yeah, and the utter lack of an attention span!

(Well, I guess the attention span thing may actually be pretty normal...)

But I digress. So I feel like crap today. And it's an absolutely gorgeous day outside. And I can't go enjoy these last delicious days of summer because of the I-feel-like-death-on-a-stick situation I find myself in.

So the next logical choice?

Well, have an overwhelming desire to bake brownies, for one. And anyone who knows me knows that I hate baking outside of Christmastime, so clearly I'm not well in the head!

And also?

Start worrying about the fact that you have to take three classes winter quarter, instead of the usual two.

Yeah...

You know, because winter quarter doesn't start until the middle of January. As in, 2014. As in, four and a half months away.

Let me explain.

This is my last year of school before I graduate with my degree in business management and get that little piece of paper that says "Yay you, you're smart!"

I officially have three quarters left, and I could not be more excited about it! It's taken me, oh, about a bajillion years (choosing what you want to be when you grow up is difficult, okay?) but I'm finally here. The end is nigh!

But for whatever reason, my classes worked out kind of wonky, so I have seven classes left. Which means that I either extend my timeframe and take my business capstone in the summer, or I buckle down and take three classes at once in order to be done on time.

I'm opting for the three classes option.

It's far from ideal. After all, the two classes that constitute a full-time load are generally difficult enough, the idea of juggling three is certainly daunting. Each class generally requires at least 10-15 hours of work per week. And that's not counting the extra time required for research and writing papers and taking tests and all that. Those 10-15 hours are just for the reading assignments (the average is a minimum of 50 pages per week per class), the discussion question responses, and the peer responses.

The three classes that quarter are all going to be lower-level electives, so I'm going to try and take classes that are a little gentler on my sanity, but you can't really predict how that winds up, because there is so much variation between instructors. It's a total crapshoot.

So why not just bump the capstone back, you say?

Well, for one, because I want to be done as quickly as possible. And for two, because thanks to a little-publicized policy change that our lovely former president George W. Bush instituted, undergrads can only borrow so much for their degree, regardless of school.

So if you attend a community college? You can afford to go to school for probably ten years before you hit your cap.

If you attend a higher quality school? You barely squeeze in under the cut off.

And for those attending, say, an Ivy League school? Fahgettaboutit!

(Then again, aren't all Ivy League-ers rich to begin with? So like they're borrowing for their education, amiright?!?)

Anyhoodle, so yeah, because I'm squarely in the independent middle class, and because I'm attending a higher quality school, my loan limits will be reached spring quarter. Which means I'm squeezing in three classes winter quarter. And I'll still have to pay a bit out of pocket for the third class.

But it's still cheaper than paying for the capstone completely out of pocket.

That course is freaking expensive!!!

Accomplishing things is exhausting

Oy vey.

Hi internets! I'm back!

This week has been... well, just as tiring and stressful as I'd expected.

BUT!!!!!

We got so much house stuff done yesterday, and it looks like we are on track on be done and close on time! Two months and counting...

(Fingers crossed)

We did our framing walk through yesterday, and picked out where all of our electrical outlets, phone and cable jacks, light switches, light fixtures, propane hookups, etc will go. It was... productive, though slightly frustrating.

But not as frustrating as the rest of the afternoon went.

After the framing walk through, we went with the builders to the cabinet place to pick out our cabinets and counter tops, and that's when things went a bit pear shaped.

As with every home builder, ours obviously have a profit margin built into the cost of everything, and they therefore want you to stick within a certain budget so as to not compromise that profit. However, our builders' budget for certain things is incredibly unrealistic (we're pretty sure they just pulled numbers out of their butts without basing them on realistic, current prices).

On top of that, they are really pushy about their tastes (and it just so happens that their preferences in cabinets, carpet, flooring, and so forth, are also what they get the best deals on, and therefore make the most money on).

However, their tastes are so not my tastes, and we've gone a few rounds in the process of making that clear. The cabinets and flooring they kept pushing on me are blonde oak. As in, totally 1994.

She was pushing for something like these...

Ick.

I prefer darker, more updated wood, thank you very much.

We also preferred the shaker style cabinet doors over their preference for the arched, raised panel doors. It's a far more modern, updated look, and will make our kitchen up-to-date for much longer.

We chose these, only a bit darker...

So after going around and around on that, they finally backed off, and we ordered the doors we wanted, which made me happy. However, they won't include the hardware- the drawer pulls and door handles.

Really?!?

So we will have to do that on our own later on. Which is dumb. But whatevs.

The irony of the cabinet door kerfuffle?

The cabinet guy came in when we were just finishing up discussing it all, and the builders mentioned to him they need to order some cabinets for another house they're building, and he recommended the doors we had just ordered!

And his reasoning?

Because they're a more updated, modern look and more desirable to buyers!

So that little piece of vindication was nice.

After that I had to pick up the kids from school, so The Husband went with one of the builders to Lowe's to start picking out tile and fixtures and whatnot, and after collecting the younglings I met up with them.

After much debate (and more forcing of opinions), we finally chose tile for the laundry room, both bathroom floors, and our shower. We also gave her our choices for the wood flooring and countertops, and then had to go through the process of picking out a new carpet choice because apparently the cost of the padding was supposed to also be included in the carpet allowance (despite me having asked and her reassuring me that they do the padding separately and the whole allowance just goes to carpet)(grumblegrumble).

This was the point where the builder had to go, and I was perfectly okay with that because I was feeling quite frazzled by the carpet snafu. If I'm paying this much for a house, I'm sure as hell not going to settle for cheap ass carpet that's all thin and scraggly and will wear out within a month.

And that was looking like what was going to happen, until the most lovely Lowe's employee ever came to our rescue.

She took into account our builder's contractor discount, she found a carpet that is nice and thick and was on sale at the moment and that had the color we wanted, and she finagled the numbers around until both the squishy carpet and the pad were exactly within budget.

Suffice it to say, she saved me from a mental breakdown!

Thank you Bridgette at the Cheyenne Lowe's. You're my hero!

After that whole saga was dealt with, it was then off to pick out our lighting and fixtures package. The fixtures were easy peasy. Oil rubbed bronze, slightly victorian look. Donesies!

Bathroom fixtures

Bathroom faucets

Kitchen faucet

Sensing a theme yet?

And it only continued once we moved onto the lighting fixtures. Two 60" ceiling fans, five dome lights, two bathroom light bars, two sconces, two hanging light fixtures, two hanging bar lights, and five exterior lights later, we had a definite (though originally unintended) theme. 

Modern, clean, updated, though also classic. Oil rubbed bronze with warm glass. And the sconces have the leaded glass with the pop of color, that will compliment our front door, as well as the lamp I keep in the entry way.

I only hope that when all is said and done, it actually looks good. Because your brain can only handle so many decisions in a four hour period. After that it turns into spaghetti.

And I don't know if spaghetti has been known for it's design choices...