Oh, the waiting

The new year was supposed to be a time of less stress. With no more baking class 15 hours a week, I was looking forward to having more time to read, cook, create bellydance costumes out of the boxes of fabric I've accumulated.

How was I to know that there would be a hitch in that lovely plan?

Over the holiday break, He Who Puts Up With Me and I had been discussing the fact that we were getting tired of renting, in spite of the fact that we have a patio with such an excellent view of Elliot Bay (really, about the only thing our building has going for it, other than that it allows dogs). But the price of house in Seattle sent shivers up our spines. The solution, we decided? Build our own house.

The plan was to find a small lot, small enough that it was 1) not attractive to developers looking to put up more than one townhome on it, and 2) not big enough to appeal to anyone wanting to build a big house attached to a big yard.

Just a small house, we thought, with just the features we really want, and nothing we don't need. So we talked to our loan officer about construction and regular loans. Frankly, we were a bit surprised about how much we qualified for. And a little scared at how big of an mortgage payment that would entail.

Then, two days later, we were rudely awoken at 5 a.m. on a SATURDAY (!) by the fire alarms going off in our building. Another false alarm, as always. And yes, this happens a lot. So we grabbed a few more hours of unsatisfying sleep, then hauled our tired carcases out to peruse some lots for sale, mostly in Southeast Seattle.

We took an unexpected detour down a random street to avoid a police patrol car (we were driving around with expired tags...naughty, naughty), and saw a house. A lovely Dutch Colonial house with a blank slate of a yard that made my garden-loving hands start twiching with possibilities.

So much for a life of less stress. More on this later (I promise!).

Hypocrite...moi?

Dodging raindrops on my way back to the office from Nordstrom, clutching my cute new Danskos and my grilled chicken cesear (for which my stomach was ardently begging), I was excited to see my favorite street musician at the corner of Fifth and Pine. I call this guy the Stevie Ray Vaughan Wanna-Be, because his sound has a strong SRV vibe, but it's probably not fair to label him like that.

Anyway, I'm crossing Pine while rummaging through my wallet for a bill or two to drop in the dude's guitar case. I get to the other side and (shocking disclosure alert!) without looking or even thinking I start to cross Fifth...against the light. Not a good idea, because there are cars coming. Honking cars. I jump back with sufficient seconds to spare, so the sickness I felt was not because of any near-death experience, but because I was guilty of hypocrisy.

All the times I verbally railed against people who just walk out in front of cars, all the moments when I extended my middle finger toward cars that have nearly run me over in crosswalks...oh, the shame. I am humbled.

Gifts that keep on giving

With the exception of a box of Applets & Cotlets and a tacky cut lead crystal vase (both from the same relative), Christmas 2005 was a good year for gifts.

By that, I don't mean I hit the motherload (that would have been Christmas 2004, the year of the Kate Spade purse and the special edition U2 iPod), I mean that everything I got was something I would actually enjoy and/or use.

Some nice bottles of wine (and Johnny Walker and Tanqueray No. Ten for He Who Puts Up With Me), yummy candles, a pair of sinfully soft black leather gloves, a divine Global cheese knife, a badly needed warm scarf, better coffee mugs than the ones I already have, an adorable bracelet, a book I wanted, and cash and gift cards to buy more books I want...as well as the cute, comfy Dansko "Mariel" mary janes I picked up at Nordstrom today.

HWPUWM and I decided not to exchange gifts this year, what with last year's excess (but I don't believe for a second that it was really Santa who put that scarf and cheese knife in my stocking), but we did hit the post-Christmas sales a bit. We found steep discounts on some necessities like new bedding, but I also scored massive deals on some cute cardigans I'd been watching at Macy's, and a cheerful pink striped shirt from Banana Republic. Oh, and a silver leather case for my iPod.

Ho, ho, ho.

Out with the old, in with the new

My twin resolutions (just resolutions, not New Year's resolutions, which carry too much baggage, thanks) to eat better (nine months of pastry classes have taken a bit of a toll) and to watch my pennies (so we can afford to once again become homeowners) took a flying leap this morning, when halfway through my walk to work I realized that I had left my carefully packed, tasty and healthy lunch and breakfast at home.

Drat.

Instead, it was a S'bucks scone and drip coffee to start the day. Lunch will be a chicken cesear from the Nordstroms Cafe. Oh, well.

Now that I am freed from the bonds of going to school full time while working full time (I decided to forgo my last term of pastry school, which would have started this week), I am also resolving to be a more dedicated blogger. Cross your fingers for me!