04 August 2008
Yes, for those of you who have followed the saga, my house has sold. Last Wednesday, in fact, but there have been snarls with distributing the meagre proceeds amongst my ex-relatives and me. Today that finally seems to have been sorted out, so I feel like I can talk about it.
This was, literally, my dream house. I saw a painting of it in Antique Homes Magazine (that's the painting at the top of this post - apologies for the flash) soon after Peter and I started dating (1998). We even drove up to Gloucester and tried to find it one Saturday, but, as I would learn later, it was hidden in plain sight on Grant Circle. From 1998 until 2005 it was my ideal: a big yellow antique house with half an acre of land, stone walls, multiple fireplaces including a beehive oven, and distant water views. What wasn't to love or daydream over.
When we went to see it, I asked the realtor if it had been up for sale earlier and learned that it had. This was it! My actual dream house. It needed lots of work (and still does, though we did all the unglamourous stuff like replacing the almost-hundred-year-old wiring and such) but was within our price range and where we wanted to live.
Anyway, things didn't turn out as planned. I saw a woman on 3rd (or was it Lex? doesn't really matter) yesterday riding a Vespa knockoff, which reminded me that the little cherry on top of my dream house was to open a yarn shop in Gloucester and drive to work on my Vespa.
My life has turned in a different direction, and I feel so blessed with where I am now. Well, with where we are now. Isobel is a happy girl, despite having to say goodbye to her last binky yesterday (she chewed on it like an old man with a stogie and had all but severed it from the base). There have been tears. There have been woeful tales on the telephone: "Grandpa, I had to throw out my binky and I'm sad", and sleep was elusive last night. But she's growing up, though when I told her how proud I was of her being a big girl about saying farewell to the binky, she reminded me that she's not big, that she's three.
I'd have some knitting content if I didn't have to frog everything I start these days. I'm working on some gloves for my Grandmother, but once I started the fingers I realized they were going to be too big, and I don't have the next needle size down in DPNs so have to get to the LYS, and the cowl I want to match my two-needle gloves keeps pooling, which I don't want in this instance, so I have to mess around with cast on numbers and such to get something that will be more variegated.