We spent most of the day Friday staring at the phone, wishing for somebody to come see the house. I did leave briefly to have a good lunch with my pal Kathy wherein I cried in my Thai food about how worried I am that our house hasn’t sold. She recommended that I use a Feng Shui method for selling houses: Take a red envelope and fill it with soil from your yard, something metal from your kitchen, and some wood from a baseboard. Seal the envelope and toss it in a fast-moving river. Even though I thought the idea was slightly outlandish, I followed her advice. However, for lack of a fast-moving river, I flushed it down the toilet.
Friday night we ate dinner at Cafe Trio with Mr. and Mrs. Smith and had a great time. Mrs. Smith has been working very hard to try and get my house sold to one of her friends. In the end, it didn’t work out, but she really went to a lot of effort. I gave her a thank you card on Friday night which read, Thank you for almost selling our house for us. We almost couldn’t have done it without you. She said, “Ah, that’s so sweet. You’re almost the best friends we’ve ever had.”
Saturday morning we met DeDe for lunch at Eggs in the City and in the middle of our omelets, we got a phone call from our realtor to inform us that we had a showing! The red envelope worked! (Actually, it didn’t, because I forgot to do it.)
We rushed home and re-vacuumed and re-dusted everything and scrubbed the floor again with our tears of joy until it shined with a heavenly glow. Before we left the house, I hugged one of the walls and said, “Okay, little house, do your job.”
The showing went well, and may even turn into some sort of (dare I say it?) an offer. More than anything, it gave me hope that things might actually come together for this move before I turn into an ulcer-ridden, psychiatric mess.
Saturday night we attended a gorgeous wedding at Red Butte Gardens for a couple of Ryan’s classmates. It was so beautiful. We really enjoyed ourselves and the chance to hang out with some of the wonderful people from his program. It was likely the last time we’d see many of them for a long while, as we all disperse in different directions.
Sunday morning we treated Ryan to breakfast in bed. (Okay, it was a bowl of raisin bran during Meet the Press, but it’s the thought that counts.) We’ve been slightly obsessed with the coverage concerning the passing of Tim Russert. We both liked him a lot, but Ryan especially fell into the story because his dad died at a similar age (55) and similar way (gone in a matter of minutes). Sad, sad, sad.
Christian and I sang Happy Father’s Day to You, presented him with his cards and his amazing, best-ever Father’s Day gift: A FIVE-PIECE LUGGAGE SET! Seriously, I am scoring no points lately in the Creative and Exciting Gift Department. I did prepare him the other day by saying, “I got you a really dumb gift for Father’s Day, but it’s something you (we) need.” Perhaps he would have enjoyed a red envelope filled with a lock of my hair, my toenail clippings, and a pair of Red Sox tickets. Oh well, there’s always next year.
Sunday night we trekked to Alison and Bryant’s for their annual Father’s Day BBQ. We always have a great time. One of the highlights was when we noticed one of the little girls on Bryant’s side of the family making friends with Max. They were walking arm-in-arm around the yard. Soon we noticed them dancing under a tree, and minutes later Andrea snapped a picture of them re-creating a scene from Sleeping Beauty, in which the little girl was laying dead on the ground. Max kneeled over her—plastic sword tucked in the back of his shirt—and gave her a kiss. A small crowd of older girls was orchestrating the whole thing and cheering him on.
Not long after, there was a sword fight with an opposing boy and I had to intervene. I took Max to a quiet corner of the yard to talk about what was going on. He was highly emotional, which is pretty unusual for him. I think he found himself in middle of a dramatic episode he never would have otherwise sought out.
When I asked him what happened, he explained through sobs, “THE BOY HIT THE GIRL, SO I HIT THE BOY!”
And then when I asked what he was doing with the girl, he buried his head in my shoulder and cried, “I KISSED THE GIRL AND SAID I LOVE YOU AND NOW IT’S A BIG PROBLEM!” How quickly they learn. I told him to play kind of aloof, and if she keeps pressing him for a commitment, he should say, “Look, it’s not you. It’s me. I have issues. I’m sorry I lead you on.”
Instead he just ran away from her the rest of the night, and that worked too.
That’s about it. How was your weekend?