Have you ever wanted something so much your throat hurt with it?

I have.

I do.

I want to own my own home.

I’m just shy of 37-years-old and I have never owned a house.

It’s embarrassing to me because, well…I don’t live in an area where home ownership is out of reach for most people.

There are a whole lot of reasons I’ve never owned my own home that I’m sure I’ll get into another time, but now is not it.

We’ve come SO CLOSE to home ownership a couple of times. We had a GORGEOUS lot of land that had a barn and tons of mature trees (RARE in Utah) and it was just…perfect. Things were tight financially but it was all doable and in sight. We had plans and savings and had moved into a temporary townhouse to begin the process of building and then…my insurance denied my coverage for my high-risk pregnancy with Butterlump and we lost all our house dreams by paying for him to get here. (WORTH EVERY DAMN PENNY, but heartbreaking, none-the-less.)

And then this summer, during the great blogging hiatus of 2011, we were in escrow on an adorable house and it fell through right before close.

I’ve never been one of those people that pulls back once they’ve been burned. I’ve never let it stop me from going out and taking a risk again. It’s both a good and bad thing. Bad because I give things and people and situations second chances and in many cases that is not always such a great thing for my life. And good because well…I give things and people and situations second chances and often those things end up to be VERY good things in my life. But after we lost the second house, I had to back off the whole house thing for awhile. It’s a pretty draining process and I felt pretty cynical for awhile.

I didn’t want another disappointment.

But…

I am really, really, really, really, REALLY super-duper, fantastically TIRED of living in 1,090 sq. ft. with little storage and ONE bathroom for 5 people.

I’ve done it for almost a decade.

I love my little house. We’ve made it into a cozy and adorable home. But my family needs more space and I really need a change.

And those things ended up trumping my fear.

So, we called our realtor and told him we were ready to start looking again. And while we were looking, I saw several houses that I could see our family fitting in. Houses I really liked. Houses I could say I probably loved. None of them were perfect, but no house is, right?

And then I saw it.

A house that I love so completely that it makes my breath catch thinking about it. A house that is in a neighborhood I’ve driven by eleventyhundred times over the years and thought, “Man, I would love to live there. It’s so pretty.”  A house that is new construction. And so well built.  And a craftsman. And has spectacular views. And still has flooring and counters and fixtures that I can pick out. And that I can design landscaping for next summer. And is a perfect size. And full of light. A house that has a literal forest of mature trees in the backyard.

A house I love.

I love it a bit too much.

Because I know if it doesn’t work out it will be a really hard disappointment. When you really love something, there is always an element of fear somewhere that you might lose it, I think. And I really love this house.

It’s not flamboyant. It’s not huge. It’s not flashy or expensive or what most people would put in the category of “Dream Home”

But it is absolutely, totally, and in all other ways, the loveliest, most perfect-for-Loralee house I have ever been in until this point.

Our realtor thinks that we have an extremely good chance of getting it. (Due to the type of loan and some other things it’s a bit tricky so it’s going to take a lot longer than a normal offer/buy process). We can afford it, we love it, there are no other offers on it. I’m trying to stay realistic, but you can’t help what and who you love.

And like I said…I really love this house.

We’re starting paperwork to offer on it tomorrow.

Wish me luck.

(I wish I could show you a photo of the house but until this sucker is signed, sealed and delivered, I have been advised not to talk about or show any particulars online. For all I know, this post will have to come down once we send in the paperwork. But I really, really wanted to talk to y’all about it. Gives me courage, you know? ;) And I CAN show you a photo that is spitting distance from where it’s located. I live in a really pretty place, y’all.)

Photo credit: Ty Mortensen

You know how your week is going to go when you come back from a week away, take 5-minutes hug your husband goodbye as you switch off the baton of primary care parenting, scoop your toddler up into your arms, say “HOW MUCH DID YOU MISS MAMA?!” and then as a reply get vomited on to mass proportions.  In 15+ years of parenting I have never been puked on like that. I half expected Butterlump’s head to start rotating and levitation to occur.

My little pat of butter gave the gift that kept on giving. We all got sick.

I spent the week pretty much like this:

It’s what the flu looks like, people. When you feel so crappy you don’t even care that your 12-year-old is playing with your beloved camera for amusement. (And this is the way, way, WAY flattering photo, y’all.) (I had to maintain SOME dignity. You don’t maintain a whole lot when you spend that much time tossing your cookies.)

Look hard.  Hopefully, you can escape my fate.

We were sick all week. I spent days praying to the porcelain god. It was fairly miserable and I am all sorts of behind on, oh, everything. Getting sick for a week after being away for a week is not exactly conducive to your life running smoothly.

I was in Florida on business for the last week. I went with Where Women Create (and a very awesome roomie who is one of the happiest, healthiest, most well-adjusted people I’ve ever met) to attend The Southern Women’s Show in Orlando. (If you want the who, what, and why of what I was doing there, Suzanne wrote a post about it all.)

One of the cooler things that happened was that we got to spend a few hours with some PR students from my alma mater, Utah State. Preston Parker took a team to Orlando for a PR conference and they were so close by to where I was working that we had them over to work on our social media campaign. I also got to meet and hang with some cool people that I have been getting to know online.

Then I got to meet Nate, otherwise known as BigBags on Twitter. I’m not sure why he’s called that and I’m a little bit afraid to ask, frankly. ;P He is hilarious. You have proof on that by the fact that he took me up on the Halloween costume I suggested. (A deodorant stick. “Strong enough for a man, but made for a woman.”) (I know. So awesome.)

Nate’s been an online pal for a few years. He’s from Utah, like me, and we have tried to meet for quite awhile, but we just kept missing each other at all the bloggity functions.

But then I discovered he moved to Orlando, right where I was going, so we finally got to meet!

I had a few friends who live in Florida I was suppose to hang out during my trip with but it didn’t work out. I was rather bummed out about that. But my Utah peeps totally came through and the timing worked even though we were across the country. I just think it’s hilarious that I spent more time in Florida with people from Utah than people from Florida, which I am so not complaining about since Nate puts the rad in FloRADa.

(Wow, that was so bad even I’m not laughing. I blame all the vomiting.)

Nate braved going to dinner with seven women and he totally held his own. The dude has no fear. It’s kinda awesome. He’s pretty much hilarious and we were having so much fun that we decided to go to Disney World the next night. We both had to go after we got off of work so we only had 4 hours, but we made those 4 hours COUNT, dude. (Especially when the firework music started and we started running slow motion through the street with Nate proclaiming ‘I FEEL LIKE SOMETHING AWESOME IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW!”.) (He’s totally like my twin.) (Only, you know, a dude.) (And with a less complicated to spell name.) (And he totally forgave me for one very embarrassing text message so we’re good for life.)

Even though Space Mountain broke down as we were literally at the gate, that outing to Disney pretty much saved that trip so I am not complaining.

What I WILL complain about?

PLASTIC PACKAGING ON ELECTRONICS.

OMG, WHAT IS UP WITH IT, PEOPLE?!

My headphones died in Florida, so I thought, “It’s ok, I’ll buy a cheap pair at the airport for the ride home.”

I bought a pair of headphones out of the Best Buy vending machine right by my gate. I’ve never purchased anything more daring than a roll of Mentos from a vending machine before so it was a bit exciting and way less embarrassing than, say, purchasing condoms out of one.

When the very polite voice came on the plane’s PA saying you could turn on electronic devices, I pulled out the package and started to open them. Or should I say, TRIED to open them. Because OMG, IT WAS EFFING CLOSE TO IMPOSSIBLE.

I bent them.

I twisted them.

I came damn close to jumping up and down on them repeatedly.

As I was sitting in THE MIDDLE seat on the 4.5 hour flight (I know.) my two seatmates got involved and invested in the whole “trying to open the headphones package” by offering up advice, cheering me on and trying to bend the unbendable plastic shell those freaking headphones were encased in themselves.

Can someone please explain to me why THE hell it is so hard to open plastic packaging nowadays? My seatmate to the left (Don, a software salesman from Miami with startlingly white teeth) said it was a theft deterrent. I am not sure how far it goes on punishing thieves but holy crap does it do enough to torture paying customers. I mean, I am not infirm yet, I know it is not that my arms have gotten weaker it is that somewhere along the way, someone in China thought it would a good idea to put $20 headphones in packaging that is damn impossible to open unless you are packing a machete with you.

Considering it took years for TSA to give everyone their inflight tweezers back, I am still thinking a big ass knife on a plane is a NO.

Our 30-minute packaging opening festival finally ended when I destroyed my pen by turning it into a prison-like shiv and managed to rip it (slowly) open.

Everyone on my row practically cheered when I got the damn things out of the package.

But hey…at least I know that if I am ever incarcerated I will be able make adequate weaponry to defend myself against being sold to a rival she-gang for a pack of smokes and a 3-pack of Ramen.

;)

The following is a text message conversation that took place in Orlando, Florida on October 13th, 2011 at 3:00pm EST. Names may have been changed to protect The Very Nice, Innocent, Unnamed Boy From Utah That Loralee Knows Online But Had Never Met Up Until This Point. In fact, we’ll just call him TVNIUBFUTLKOBHNMUUTP. I’m all about keeping it simple, yo.

LORALEE: Hey! We’re all going to dinner tonight after we’re done with the show if you wanna come along?

TVNIUBFUTLKOBHNMUUTP: Sound good! Let me know when and where.

LORALEE: Meet us at Crave at 8 o’clock. Just so ya know, dinner is on my bosoms!

LORALEE: OMG. BOSS. DINNER IS ON MY BOSS. NOT BOSOMS.

LORALEE: DAMN. YOU. AUTO. CORRECT.

TVNIUBFUTLKOBHNMUUTP: Ha, ha, ha! Sounds great…I think I’ll take dinner on my plate, though. ;)

Luckily, TVNIUBFUTLKOBHNMUUTP, has a GREAT sense of humor.

Those of you without my phone number in your address books should be doing the Hallelujia dance of relief right now.  For those of you that are less fortunate, well…prepare. Because one day? THIS COULD BE YOU, PEOPLE.