Category Archives: house

room mate roundup

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I have this fantasy where I live in a giant luxury dorm condo complex and all my favorite people are my neighbors. I am surrounded by all my best friends and we win the lottery, quit our jobs and just laugh and drink champagne and walk barefoot through meadows. Or something like that.

I first started this daydream my sophomore year of college, when Anna and I lived next to two of our girlfriends. It was amazing – but short-lived, as the “economical” complex we had chosen was plagued by a panty bandit that spurred us to move – true story.

Anyway, I loved being able to walk to see friends, and know that I’d always have someone to hang out with and that a party could begin at a moment’s notice. We ate brownies or cereal for dinner and I never made my bed. I don’t know that we owned a vacuum and I had no idea what the word Swiffer meant. Glorious, I tell you.

I lived with a series of room mates after college and had a lot of adventures (and dramatic falling outs over absurd things). I always loved the comfort of having a full house. Especially because it quadrupled my wardrobe and provided endless junkfood.But, in time, we all grew up. And fell in love with boys. And then took the crazy wonderful step of living with said boys (and in my case: his dog, two snakes and sword collection).

People warned us that it was going to be so hard (I’m saying those words in a stupid voice in my head), and that we’d really be tested by cohabiting. Well – that never really happened, once the snakes miraculously disappeared…

Jim and I have now lived together for more than three years and I can honestly say he’s been a fantastic boyfriend, fiance and now husband. He somewhat begrudgingly plays the part of my former female room mates by: A) telling me I look fine no matter what I wear, B) eating Doritos with me as I simultaneously complain about feeling fat and C) taking turns cooking and cleaning.

I love my husband and my house, and am excited to come home everyday.

But man I do miss the extra outfit options.

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Queen Creek Olive Mill

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The idea of going to a mill reminds me of going to Plimouth Plantation as a child. Makes me want to churn butter and make my own flour.

I’ve since learned that doesn’t happen at an olive mill.

But – there are all kinds of delicious olives, oils and spreads. Pretty cool spot to spend a rainy Sunday with a friend, before the two of you spontaneously devote eight hours to redecorating your bedroom.


Decorating preview…

Home Ownership: A Year in Review

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It’s hard to believe it’s been a year since we settled into our first home. An event of this magnitude can only be summed up in list form. Here are my highlights and most poingant memories from the past year:

1. The blissful realization that I don’t have to move this summer – for the first time in nine years. Actually, I don’t ever have to move ever again unless I feel like it.
2. Shock and awe at a $9,000 plumbing estimate. Kinda made me wish I’d been a plumber. Note – we still haven’t resolved the tree root problem, but are $9,000 richer for it.
3. The joy of having friends and neighbors in the area pop in.
4. Mice and rats and exterminators, oh my.
5. Building a block wall.
6. Witnessing dog jump over block wall.
7. Modifying block wall to dog-proof it.
8. Countless dinner parties, wine club nights and bbq’s with friends.
9. Freaking out when I got my property tax assessment. Called parents, realtor and friends in a panic – only to learn it’s irrelevant to the actual value of the house.
10. Learning how to bribe Jim into endless projects (love you).
11. Trying to plant flowers for the first time with little success.
12. I feeling of pride I get every time I show someone the house for the first time.
13. The harsh realization that there’s no landlord to call when things break.
14. The even harsher realization that any discretionary money is now spent at Home Depot, not on clothes.
15. The irony of getting an anonymous complaint from the City that our weeds are too high.
16. My first experience cleaning baseboards.
17. The rainiest winter in years means roof leaks abound!
18. I have a new interest in seasonal decorations that had previously remained dormant.
19. Dogs + irrigation + grass = mess
20. I love being a home owner.

dead mouse walking

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You may recall that just a few weeks ago we had a teensy tiny issue with a stinky dead rodent in our attic. It was pretty disgusting and not something I hope to experience ever again.

I thought we might be in the clear, but yesterday we learned that we are apparently rodent magnets.

Let me set the scene:

I got home from work amid a huge downpour. It had rained all day – a rarity in the desert – and it was all I could do to get home, in heels, without landing on my face.

I hopped on the elliptical and got a workout in before I had to head to my neighborhood book club. As I got off the machine I saw something small and dark scurry down the hallway. Within ten seconds of witnessing this I had four simultaneous thoughts:

1. As much as I hate cockroaches I really hope that was a roach and not a mouse.
2. Did I completely imagine that?
3. If I ignore it, does it make it go away?
4. Can the dogs fix this?

At any rate, I made a swift leap onto the safety of my bed (reminiscent of the hot lava monster game of childhood when you couldn’t touch the floor) and called Jim in a panic.

In hindsight, I can’t blame him for laughing at me, but in that moment I needed someone to be as hysterical as I was. A MOUSE. In our house. A MOUSE! Fievel, Mickey, Mighty MOUSE.

As luck would have it Jim couldn’t leave work to save me, so I called my next lifeline, Zoee. I immediately announced to my favorite realtor that it was time for me to move. I could not possibly live in a house with mice. Zoee also found my situation purely hysterical, but agreed to come to my aid despite torrential rain.

My heart rate had now been raised to cardiac arrest level for about 10 minutes. I could’ve lifted a car with all that adrenaline.

Zoee arrived and with the courage of a valiant knight surveyed the house for a mouse (found none) and blocked all the doors with towels to keep the little bastards confined.

At this point I was more than ready to vacate the premises and head to book club. I enjoyed a wonderful evening with some fabulous ladies despite a lack of electricity. Fortunately Emily keeps a large stash of candles and wine on hand.
What’s also fortunate is that Jim doesn’t seem to possess one ounce of my rodent fear. He’s been a trooper setting traps and ‘removing the goods.’ We’ve caught three mice so far and are continuing our efforts with a vengeance. Stuff like this definitely makes me miss the days of renting and having a landlord who was obligated to fix everything. On the other hand, I suppose one day this will be funny. When that day comes I’ll be sure to let you know.

Did I mention that the roof started leaking during all of this? Right.

How to ground a flying dog:

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When we moved into our house last year the backyard was closed in with a chainlink fence. We wanted a more secure fence for our dogs (and ourselves) so we had a masonry company come put in a six foot tall block wall. Up until two weeks ago this seemed to do the trick in containing the pups.

Our surprise came two weekends ago when we heard Bruno barking like crazy at the neighbors dogs. This is not a strange occurance, but he sounded different (yes I can decipher dog barks like Cesar Milan, amazing, I know). We decided to investigate.

Turns out the little guy can now leap onto the top of the wall and hang there to get a better view into our neighbors yard. That’s right – my dog is a peeping Tom. This photo isn’t him, I found it online, but it’s exactly what we saw:

After recovering from our initial shock we immediately scolded him and saw that from jumping up on the wall he was cutting himself up pretty badly. A little home first aid did the trick but I was terrified that he’d take his newfound jumping skills and get all the way over the wall. I don’t imagine our neighbors dogs would be all that pleased with a strange collie plummeting into their turf.

I turned to Google for help – my trusted advisor on all strange situations, and we got some great ideas on ways to modify our fence that wouldn’t leave it looking like a penitentiary. I opted for fence modification over any sort of electric collar or underground fencing in that Bruno would likely find a way to get around this system or hurt himself – he’s rather accident prone. I was floored at hoe much info’s available on modifying fences to keep dogs from jumping. I took comfort in the fact that my little hurdler wasn’t alone in his plight to escape. This site was particularly helpful: http://www.dogsdeservebetter.com/clova.html.

It took a lot of trips to Home Depot and a day’s worth of work but we found a way to contain our dog. We affixed wire (similar to chicken wire) as almost a rim to the side of the fence he was jumping onto. Cross your fingers – but it’s been a week and he’s still grounded. Now if only I could find a vine to grow along the wire and make it prettier…

latest adventure in owning a house

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Last week Jim and I noticed a bad smell in the hallway by our water heater. It seemed to come and go so at first we tried to ignore it and blame it on the dogs. Then it started to get really bad.

Jim was concerned that we might have a gas leak, so he and his dad set to work making sure we didn’t. I had no idea that spraying soap bubbles on a gas line can reveal a potential leak. Fortunately, that wasn’t the issue. My mom told me you can also spray soap bubble on a tire to find the leak. Who knew?

Our investigation and the increasing odor let us to an anonymous conclusion: dead rodent.  Where was it? In the attic. Somehow. The little bastard must’ve climbed through our roof vent and then tragically died when he couldn’t escape. I feel terrible that a creature met it’s death in our home, but he didn’t knock when he came in.

The miserable task of exploring the attic for the carcass fell on Jim’s shoulders. Mainly because I’m a girl and that’s a blue chore, not a pink chore. Poor guy was up in the nasty crawl space for 45 minutes and couldn’t locate the source of the smell amid all the insulation. He did, however, find a dog Kong toy. it wasn’t ours, and how that got up in our attic is a mystery to me.

Today I googled ‘dead rat in attic’ and was floored at how many sites came up. No one had surefire solutions but at least I learned we’re not alone. Moral of the story? Jim is a good sport and scented candles are a must.