Closure

The house hunt.

When we last left you, we’d looked at 39 houses.

This thing we’ve been calling an adventure was more like an odyssey.

We saw No. 40 sometime in December. It’s a distant memory now. Another poor showing like so many others that wasn’t worth mentioning at the time. Interestingly No. 40 stood just a few doors down from No. 35, which at that time was still the most desirable on our list. … No. 39 was a dingy ranch with a kitchen that was about the size of the average bathroom. The basement was large but unfinished. The backyard, which was tiny, sloped severely into the house. Like so many others we saw, it needed a lot of work, and it was overpriced.

So we pressed on.

We kept pushing for No. 35. A two-story with a pleasant-looking façade. Good-sized bedrooms. A finished basement. An open floor plan. A good neighborhood. A beautiful yard. … It needed some updates, but we were convinced it was the best we’d seen -- and might ever see. We were getting desperate.

The problem: It was overpriced. We made an offer in the fall, but the sellers countered, and we walked away. … We kept our eyes on it, had an appraiser go through it for us and made another offer in December. The sellers countered again, and again we walked away. Even while our intelligence and research told us the home was overpriced, the sellers would. not. budge.

Kates and I were thisclose to giving up the search, settling for duplex living and making the best of it.

* * *

Then Christmas arrived.

Amid a sea of changes that occurred at the university during that week between Christmas Day and New Year’s Day, a couple I work with announced they were leaving for a new career opportunity. Looking to sell their home quickly and aware of our situation, they suggested it could be a perfect fit.

We took our first peek at it during the first weekend of the new year. And it was love at first sight. It was everything we had been looking for and more. The similarities to our beloved house in K-Town were striking.

A raised ranch with three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a finished walk-out basement, a large fenced-in yard and hardwood floors. … But it got better. There was, of course, the two-car attached garage. The home had new windows, among several other major improvements. There also was a second below-ground basement with a bathroom, creating a whole extra level; previous owners rented the extra space to students and it was ripe for using as guest quarters, or for resurrecting my museum and using as a home office. Perhaps best of all, there's a basketball court in the back yard that was ripe for years of family basketball games.

We really wanted make an offer, but there was a slight obstacle. The sellers were not working with a realtor, and we were -- a realtor who had patiently shown us 40 houses over the course of nearly a year and was allowing us to rent her duplex at a pretty good rate without a long-term contract. … We felt bad enough about taking a look at the house without our realtor. Kates and I thought it was the right thing to stay loyal to our realtor, and we talked ourselves out of making an offer.

But when I told the seller of our decision, she left the door open for us. It was the kick Kates and I needed and -- to make our long story shorter -- our realtor graciously gave us her blessing to move forward without her.

* * *

So we moved forward. And the sellers accepted our offer. The initial discussions and then the transactions after we broke from our realtor were so smooth that the realization we might finally have a home was a little anti-climactic, almost too good to be true. In fact, Kates and I had been so tortured by the whole house hunt -- 10 months, 40 houses, four failed offers and several other close calls -- that we weren’t taking anything for granted until the papers were signed and we had the keys.

For those same reasons, we tried keeping our negotiations quiet. But in a small town like The ’Ville, it wasn’t long before people were stopping us at school, at church, in the grocery store, and saying things like Congratulations, I hear you’re buying (insert sellers’ names) house!

We kept the process moving. When it came time for the inspection, I called in “The Deal Breaker” again, and his opinion the second time around was quite the opposite of the first. Repeatedly he said, “Yep, somebody put a lot of work into this house. I wouldn’t walk away from this one!” Music to our ears.

Soon after that, the appraisal came in -- and it was lower than the sales price we’d agreed on. Under the conditions of our agreement, the sellers had little choice but to agree to the appraised value. Or the deal would fall through.

That’s when things started getting interesting. Our original agreement called for the sellers to pay our closing costs, but our loan conditions -- while the appraisal worked in our favor -- made it highly unfavorable for the sellers to pay our closing costs. Kates and I now had to come up with the money for closing costs, in addition to the 3.5 percent down payment that was already required for us to close the deal.

We crunched the numbers, got some lucky breaks, and decided we could make it work. The closing date was set for Friday, Feb. 24.

* * *

Oh, but after all we’d been through, it could not have been that easy. The day before the closing, I received a message from our bank representative saying the closing was being delayed for a week because the necessary paperwork wouldn’t be complete.

To say we were frustrated was an understatement. All parties had agreed on the terms of the contract and the bank's hold-up on the paperwork was driving us mad. … As if that wasn’t enough, I received another message Thursday that the closing date was in jeopardy again. As of 1 p.m. yesterday we still were unsure whether we’d be closing the deal or dealing with another delay.

But soon after that, I received a voice mail. It was on. Kates and I went to the title company at 3:30 p.m. yesterday ( ... Only after yet another bit of drama. Just before Kates was about to leave school for the closing, the daycare called her to report Phoebe was sick and vomited. Kates picked her up, our friend Gina met us at our duplex so she could watch Phoebe, and Kates and I went off to the closing ...)

By 4 p.m. the paperwork was signed. Finally, we are homeowners again.

Afterward, we returned to what's quickly become "the old house" and relieved Gina from her baby-sitting duties. After all, Phoebe was jumping on the couch when we walked in the door.

We wasted little time packing some sandwiches and snacks and headed for the new house. After weeks of talking about it, Phoebe finally got her picnic on the living room floor -- with strawberries. 

Our excitement is indescribable. For 15 months, we've been sitting here in limbo. Those first six months of living as a divided family were hard enough. But even after our family began living together again and we moved into the duplex in June, very little about our lives felt stable. We'd acquired good jobs, we became engrained in the community -- but we never felt settled.

We didn't have a place we could truly call home.

Now we do.

Championship Sunday

Some week.

A week ago, Kates and I were in the midst of a three-day weekend, thanks to Martin Luther King Day. Monday, she went shopping for the day with some girlfriends, aka my coworkers, while I stayed home to work on some projects of my own.

But there would be no time for relaxation the rest of the week. At work, legislative themes dominated my assignments and thinking. Wednesday night, we were gathered around the radio and listening to the governor's state of the state address like a fireside chat, while Phoebe sat at her table coloring. I spent most of Friday afternoon in a meeting with the state's department of higher education. And by the end of the day, those of us around the table were looking at each other wondering what happened to the refreshment we expected to be feeling after an extra day off.

Then there's the whole house hunt. When I wasn't dealing with the responsibilities of my work this week, I was crunching numbers and thinking about the latest and greatest house to present itself for us. ... But I'll save the details on that for another time. I'll leave it with this: We have an offer pending.

And yet all I really wanted to talk about this week was Packers football.

There has been a whole lot of hoopin' and hollerin' in our household during the last few weekends. They beat up the Bears to end the regular season. They put away Michael Vick and the Eagles to open the playoffs. And last weekend's drubbing of the Falcons was beyond entertaining.

Then the Bears beat the Seahawks to advance to today's NFC Championship game against the Packers ... Hooooooooooooly cow. In K-Town, we were in the heart of the Packers-Bears rivalry, and we could feel the drum beats all the way down in The 'Ville. ... Just check out this Fan-O-Meter that went viral.

This story says everything you need to know ...

Love those big rivalries all you want - Lakers-Celtics, Yankees-Red Sox, Ohio State-Michigan. They've got nothing on Packers-Bears for grit.

For 90 years, from a time of leather helmets to these days of instant-replay challenges and excessive-celebration penalties, the Green Bay Packers and Chicago Bears have played rough. Through cold and wind and snow and bitter winters, these two bloody-knuckled pioneers of the NFL and their founders, Curly Lambeau and George Halas, have left marks on the game that will never go away. Twenty-one NFL championships between them, dozens of Hall of Famers who line the walls in Canton and a combative history of rugged, emotional matchups.

Then, there's the whole social media thing. I've said it before and I'll say it again: It's times like these that define why I love social media. Seeing the status updates and tweets of my friends and contacts further illustrate how big this game is. No matter the distance, the virtual discussion makes it feel like you're all in one room. ... The one-liners, taunts and links were popping up all week. Today, I'll bet four of every five updates I see are related to the game. Like this one being posted by several people ...

The Dead Bird Epidemic has finally come to an end: 53 Eagles found dead in Philadelphia; 53 dead Ravens in Pittsburgh; 53 dead Falcons in Atlanta; and 53 dead Seahawks all over Soldier Field! And the Wisconsin DNR just issued the Packers a Bear permit…

The buzz has consumed me this week. So much that I had to keep myself from writing Go Packers! at the end of everything I wrote.

My heart is going to be racing when the opening kickoff finally arrives.

Good reads
a Aaron vs. Jay, Packers vs. Bears in NFC title game
a For Matthews Clan, N.F.L. Is All in the Family
a James Starks gives Green Bay Packers an extra dimension on offense
a Distant and Fading Memories of First Bears-Packers Playoff Game
a Packers' best way to stop Hester: Don't punt
a Packers’ Rodgers Handles Pressure With Ease
a Green Bay Packers' choice of Aaron Rodgers over Brett Favre has worked out well
a A Packers Cornerback Is Overlooked No Longer
a No. 6 seed Green Bay Packers and New York Jets each need one more road win for a trip to the Super Bowl
a NFL playoff teams are linked by having star quarterbacks
a Cutler passes exam, but tougher test vs. Packers sure to follow
a Lesson Learned, the Bears’ Tice Is Teaching Again
a The Onion: NFL Season Seems To Be Building To Some Sort Of Climax

38, 39 … and lucky No. 35?

In case you were wondering, yes, we’re still looking for a house.

We resumed the hunt once more last Sunday, after going to church and indulging in the brunch buffet at the student union.

On the outside, House No. 38 had immense charm. An older home with fresh red paint and white trim. A large front porch. A two-car garage and a second one-car garage that was set up as a spacious workshop. And it sat on two lots, leaving Phoebe plenty of extra room to run and play.

Then we stepped inside. The blue carpet throughout the home was stained and filthy, and we found no signs of hardwood flooring beneath. Every wall in the house was covered with dated, floral print wallpaper -- in various shades of blue, of course. The kitchen was spacious, but it was connected to the formal dining room by a narrow hallway and maze of cabinets. Upstairs, the bedrooms were tiny.

Outside, although the property consisted of two lots, the house sat awkwardly on a corner lot, leaving enough room for a small back yard adjacent to a street that ran west of the south-facing home, and the wide open lot to the east. It would have been far more ideal if the open lot connected to the back side of the home, creating a huge back yard. And that two-car garage -- we could see daylight through the settling concrete blocks.

Bring on House No. 39. Another nearly century-old home. It sat on a corner in a neighborhood near campus that is loaded with beautiful historic homes. The home is set far from the road, creating a long sidewalk leading to the front step. The home’s tall, thin makeup and gray stucco exterior also conjured up thoughts of some haunted house straight out of a Scooby-Doo episode. The fact that we were toured it in the darkness of night might have had a lot to do with that.

Inside, many of the home’s features were breath-taking. Gorgeous hardwood floors. Large rooms with 9-foot ceilings. Built-in shelves and a fireplace in the living room. Ornate, original windows. And sun rooms on the first and second floors that would were so inviting, I think Kates and I both had visions sprouting from our heads of lying in chairs and reading books on sunny Sunday afternoons.

In a lot of ways, the interior of the home reminded me of something from the movies. Like those Manhattan apartment interiors you see in so many romantic comedies. I’m thinking of “You’ve Got Mail,” or “One Fine Day.” As we got into our car afterward, I said the home, arguably, was my favorite of all the older homes we’ve toured.

But. Like all of the older homes we’ve toured, it needed its share of repairs and upgrades. Most notably, in this case, the upstairs walls were showing severe cracks. The one-car garage, located at the basement level, was a let down. And Kates and I shuttered to think what it might cost to heat and cool the monstrosity.

All of that brings us back to House No. 35. The house that has been head and shoulders above nearly everything we've seen so far. The house that is so close to everything we've been looking for. The house that is so complete, it makes us feel ashamed that we grieved so heavily over our offers that didn't pan out last spring.

Our intelligence tells us House No. 35 is priced too high, as we suspected, and that hasn't done much to attract potential buyers -- which is good news for us. Our people and their people have stayed in regular contact and negotiations are continuing. The only thing we can do now is be patient and hope everything works in our favor ...

Unless a more perfect home presents itself. Which could still happen.

34, 35, 36, 37 …

Kates and I returned to house hunting this week. There are signs that the housing gods might finally be working for us … Then again, maybe not.

We saw two homes on Sunday …

The first, House No. 34 on the list of homes we’ve toured, was a pleasant surprise. Within moments of walking through the front door, Kates and I were charmed by its spacious foyer, the open floor plan and its original hardwood floors. Each of the first floor rooms were connected to the foyer, which nearly made for another room in the home's center -- a long living room to the left and a formal dining room and kitchen to the right. The dining room featured built-in corner cabinets, while the kitchen was large with plenty of storage space in its vintage cabinetry. The end of the foyer connected to two first floor bedrooms and a small office room with built-in cabinets and a large window looking over the backyard.

An enclosed wrap-around staircase took us to the unfinished second floor. It was nothing more than two rooms of drywall and rough flooring; word had it the previous owners built the home in the 1960s and never finished the second floor. We could finish it off and turn it into an ideal master suite, we thought.

Admittedly, the home needed a lot of TLC. But visions of some new paint, a few new light fixtures and changing out some hardware had Kates and I believing it could be a gem of a house. We loved the home’s layout and said later that, of the 33 houses we’d seen previously, it was the first one that truly gave us the good feelings we felt the first time we stepped inside our house in K-Town. The home was listed well within our price range and we began contemplating an offer.

Yet, we couldn’t deny the house had its drawbacks. The backyard, although fenced, was slightly smaller than our backyard in K-Town. The garages -- yes, there were two: an attached one-car and a detached two-car -- were in disrepair. And the most questionable of all, the home sat across the street from a fraternity house.

We moved on to the next house, and our minds began whirling with visions again. Interestingly, I realized after walking through a couple rooms that I toured the home -- somewhere among House Nos. 25 through 28, I can't remember -- last spring and didn’t think highly of it. Back then, however, someone was still living in the home, perhaps making it hard for me to look past his furniture. Seeing it again, empty, gave me a different perspective; both Kates and I liked it.

It had a finished basement with hardwood flooring, a fireplace and built-in shelves. Upstairs there was a good-sized living room, dining area and kitchen with three bedrooms connected to a hallway. A large deck, with a screened porch, connected to the back of the home and looked over a large yard that would have given Phoebe plenty of room to run. The home also was part of a quiet, picturesque neighborhood with winding residential streets.

Once again, Kates and I were talking offer scenarios, but drawbacks loomed again. The house was located on the edge of town and backed up, with no fence, to a country road with cars whizzing by. The home also had a split-level layout, which we want no part of, reminding us too much of the duplex we’re living in now.

After a break on Monday, we were back at it Tuesday night. We found plenty more to like.

House No. 35, sits on another quiet residential street, within blocks of the campus. It’s a two-story home that was built in the 1970s with characteristics strikingly similar to the two homes we did place offers on last spring. Again, Kates and I were charmed soon after stepping inside. The open floor plan featured a large kitchen with loads of storage and counter space, and a living room with a fireplace and built-in shelves. The second-floor included three bedrooms that were large enough to hold all of our bedroom furniture -- another key component in our search because the bedrooms in our K-Town house didn’t do that.

From there, the house only got better. It featured a large, finished basement that even had Kates smiling at the possibilities of becoming the new home for my baseball museum. The dining room connected to a large two-level deck. There was a large fenced-in yard ripe for some excellent landscaping and Phoebe's exploration. A two-car attached garage. New carpet and updates throughout the home. A large playroom for Phoebe off the kitchen. … It had everything we’ve been looking for, and it was making Kates and I giddy.

Our good run continued at House No. 36, a 110-year-old farmhouse that had been restored from top to bottom. The woodwork still smelled of fresh varnish. The hardwood floors gleamed. It had new windows, too. Upstairs, the bedrooms -- which were huge -- had new carpeting. And the bathroom was spacious and luxurious, with a whirlpool tub as its centerpiece. In a word, the house was gorgeous. And perfectly within our price range.

But there were drawbacks. The kitchen was small. There were only two bedrooms. The basement wasn’t good for more than some storage. And there was no garage, though the lot was plenty big enough for us to build one. In the end, we decided -- as much as we loved the house -- it wasn’t practical for our needs and raising our family. If Kates and I were seven years younger and starting out, we would have jumped at it.

We saw one more property, House No. 37, Tuesday night. I pass it every day on my way home from work and the outside has little appeal. But the photos we’ve seen of the inside intrigued us, and its backyard is one of the biggest parks in The ‘Ville … But I’ll spare you the details and say, simply, that House No. 37 didn’t come close to the level of the previous four. I was ready to leave after walking through one room and paid more attention to my Blackberry for the rest of the tour.

Thus, four of the last five houses we’d seen were better than almost all of the previous 33. Kates and I were hopeful Tuesday night that we might finally be getting somewhere … We couldn’t deny our love for House No. 35 and completed paperwork that night to submit an offer.

Wednesday morning our hopes were dashed, though. The sellers issued a counter-offer and we didn’t answer it. We’d grown nervous about our loan’s requirements and the accompanying closing costs. We decided to go the responsible route rather than wipe out our bank account and then some to make the down payment.

Furthermore, we learned the sellers weren’t willing to budge from their counter-offer, which we believed was unfairly high. As far as we can tell, the sellers, who haven’t lived in the home for more than a couple years, are simply trying to break even on their purchase -- not giving into the fact the market is a mess and housing prices have plummeted.

We know how that feels. We’ve been there. We’re working to pay off the debts we incurred trying to make the last move. We’ve been bitten by the housing crisis, and we’re in no mood to rush into anything.

It sucks. But we've been through so much -- 37 freaking houses in eight months, and three failed offers -- that we've fallen numb to our sour luck. We’re holding tight to the mantra that the right house will present itself when it’s meant to be.

Life goes on

This week has been so rough, it's getting hilarious.

On top of my flash drive exploding. And a pressure-packed week of work. And not getting to bed before 12:30 a.m. each of the last four nights. And Phoebe waking up in the middle of three of the last five nights, further disrupting our sleep. And our TV nearly catching fire in the middle of Roy Halladay's no-hitter ...

I locked Phoebe and myself out of the house yesterday morning. Kates had to leave earlier than usual for a meeting, leaving me to fight the morning battle of getting Phoebe ready for daycare alone. We came out as winners and were rushing down the stairs, albeit a few minutes behind schedule, when Kates texted me to ask how things were going ...

"Leaving right now," I wrote back. Then Phoebe and I proceeded to walk through the door. I shut it behind us, took one more step on the front porch, looked at my car and realized I didn't have my keys.

I texted Kates again: "Just locked ourselves out of the house." A few moments later Kates replied, "I'm on my way."

Phoebe and I proceeded to take a seat on the front stoop. She lit up at the sight of "birdies" flying overhead and the peacefulness of our neighborhood in the morning. In truth, those few minutes of waiting for Kates to rescue us -- and explaining to Phoebe how a bird's nest is like our house and that birds fly through the air to complete their daily tasks and find food just like Mommy and Daddy go to work -- were minutes to cherish.

Soon Kates pulled into the driveway. She handed me her keys so I could unlock the door and grab my keys, and Phoebe rushed to Kates's arms in excitement ...

We all moved on to our daily tasks, just like the birds.

One of my tasks on Thursday was really an enormous pleasure: Being present to help celebrate the centennial of our historic Administration Building. A building I've adored and taken so much pride in since those first days I laid eyes on it. Echoing the words of our president, I will never ever take for granted the privilege I have to work in that building each day.

On Thursday night, we were house hunting again. House No. 33 lies in another one of the neighborhoods we so desire, a couple blocks from the campus. It's a white house, with a large front porch and a barn-shaped roof. It doesn't have a garage, but the lot is huge, allowing plenty of space to build a garage and plenty of room for Phoebe to run. ... But any hopes we had of making it our own were dashed soon after we stepped inside. While the layout is wonderful -- with its open foyer and grand staircase -- the center of the house is sinking and the structure has been terribly neglected.

That story has played out over and over in our home search. Sooo much potential, but we'd have to win the lottery and take sabbaticals to restore some of these homes.

Sigh.

Weekend tidbits

Kates spent the afternoon in her classroom and is still there this evening. In the meantime, I spent the afternoon playing with Phoebe, in between taking care of the homestead.

And now we’re watching “Toy Story.”

Such is becoming our Sunday routine.

* * *

On the bright side, how about those Green Bay Packers!?

I was thrilled to see they were on national television today, and they looked good -- real good. Except for the fact that they had trouble stopping Michael Vick in the second half. And Aaron Rodgers looked Favre-alous throwing that fourth quarter interception that could have turned the tide and lost the game for the Pack.

But, hey, the Packers are 1-0. … The Vikings are 0-1. And Favre is appearing more like even he doesn’t know why he decided to play another year. He didn't look good the other night against the Saints. ... Ok, so he suited up for the first game, but I still doubt he’ll play the whole season.
Adding to my weekend sports fun, the Cubs were in Milwaukee this weekend to play the Brewers. I made the discovery Friday night when I was flipping through TV channels in search of a game. Phoebe immediately joined me on the couch, and when Kates came into the living room and I announced the finding there were high-fives all around.

The three of us watched the game together, and Phoebe fell asleep while cuddling with me and watching a baseball game for the second time in three nights. She did the same on Wednesday night while I was watching the Red Sox game.

The Cubs won Friday night’s game behind the rejuvenated Carlos Zambrano, but I was just as pleased to see the Brewers win one today.

Nothing like the enjoyment of watching your hometown teams on TV. Even when you’re living hundreds of miles away.

* * *

We resumed our house hunt this weekend …

We saw three houses. No. 31, No. 32 and No. 1 on our list.

The first was a mansion that was out of our price range, but we wanted to check it out anyway. It has a layout similar to the home that’s been our benchmark since we saw it last spring -- House No. 29, the one that we would buy in a heartbeat if only it weren’t on one of The ’Ville’s main drags. The difference is the house we saw yesterday has been completely refinished and restored, from top to bottom -- including the attic room, which had been transformed into the ultimate man’s lair. The yard was gorgeous, too.

The second home we saw is an old farmhouse Kates has been keeping her eye on for the last few weeks. It sits on a large lot and the interior has a ton of potential. Hardwood floors, ornate woodwork, a large kitchen and four bedrooms upstairs with the possibility of a second on the first floor. … Those bushes, by the way, would come out immediately, too.

On the downside, the foundation has some severe cracks, and a little bit of tugging on the wallpaper showed its holding the plaster together. The property also has two unattached one-car garages, which we’d want to demolish in order to build one two-car garage. The home sits on a corner lot that features a gas line hub, which just scares me considering what happened in California. And I’m not in love with the neighborhood.

The home is well -- well -- within our price range, which would allow us plenty of extra funds to turn it into something really beautiful. … The debate we’re having, however, is whether we have the time, resources and energy in us at this stage of our lives to do the job.

For our third viewing of the day, we went back to the first house we saw last spring. The price had been hacked quite a bit since we last saw it, and a few more looks at the charming exterior convinced Kates and I that maybe a second look might change our minds. …

Nope. Almost as soon as we stepped inside again we remembered why we didn’t like it the first time. The first floor layout is awkward. The three bedrooms upstairs are tiny and there’s virtually no closet space. And the basement is just plan creepy.

And so the search continues.

* * *

This week our landlord, aka our realtor, had a new washer and dryer delivered to our place …

We used for the first time today. And it is heavenly.

Home stretching

We’ve just closed the book on another weekend together. I said good bye to Kates and Phoebe at the airport a little over an hour ago. Now I’m back inside my apartment, and suddenly have the chorus of Elvis Costello’s “This House is Empty Now” looping in my head …

Phoebe’s little voice sure fills up a room. Not hearing her talking to her baby or playing with her blocks on the floor a few feet away from me will be a tough adjustment during the next couple days.

But we’ve been doing this back and forth thing for four months now. If everything falls into place, we’ve got less than two months left. We’re on the homestretch now.

* * *

Kates and Phoebe booked a late flight and arrived Thursday night. I was at the airport to greet them as Kates rolled Phoebe in her stroller from the gate. Phoebe burst into giggles the moment I caught her eyes and then she hopped into my arms … Throughout the flight, she had been telling the passengers around her, “I go see Daddy on air-pane!” Adorable.

You would’ve thought Phoebe would be ready to crash from all the traveling and excitement. But she never got a wink during the flight, and she was chatting and singing all the way back to The ‘Ville. She was still going strong when we arrived at my apartment around 10:30 Thursday night.

Every time we put her to bed this weekend, we couldn’t keep from laughing at the way she threw her baby and all of her accessories into her crib. So focused, so serious, slamming each piece over the rail like she was dunking a basketball. You could almost see her mentally checking off the pieces in her head as she threw them, one-by-one …

“Baby!?” Grab baby, throw it into crib, check …

“Baby’s bottol!?” Grab baby’s bottle, throw it into crib, check…

“Baby’s bib!?” Grab baby’s bib, throw it into crib, check …

“Baby’s jooce!?” Grab baby’s juice, throw it into crib, check …

“Baby’s banket!?” Grab baby’s blanket, throw it into crib, check …

“My banket!?” Grab blanket -- which is so big, it nearly covers her face when she carries it balled up. Throw it partly into crib. Throw the remaining part over the railing. Check.

Kates brushes Phoebe’s teeth. We read the “baby Jesus” book on the “big bed.” We give hugs and kisses. And, finally, she sleeps.

* * *

On Friday, I headed to work while Kates and Phoebe stayed at the apartment …

I left work early Friday afternoon, picked up the girls and we headed to House No. 22, aka The Home That Once Seemed Destined To Be Ours … Kates’ thoughts were similar to mine the first time she stepped into it: She really liked it. And she could see all of the potential in it, too.

But she also came to the same conclusion: That the problems may be too much for us to handle, and for now we might have to just let this one go.

We’re told the owner has taken care of the sewer that was backing up, and he’s made plans to fix the circuit breaker and repair the brick facade. But we're not sure we can trust the repairs are being done properly, and we still have doubts about the windows and roof.

Sigh.

Later Friday evening, we saw two more houses, including House No. 25, which I had taken a peak at last week. Although it had a lot of promising features, Kates found less to like about it than I did, which affirmed my decision not to push an offer on it.

The other house we saw Friday night, House No. 28, was a large, gorgeous farmhouse on a huge corner lot in the middle of town. So picturesque with it’s white picket fence, white siding, porch and large trees -- Kates and I kept calling it “The Farmstead.” … The interior of the house was just as breath-taking with its updated kitchen, a large family room and a dining/living area with original wood floors and exposed beams across the ceiling. Upstairs, the master bedroom connected to a large enclosed porch with a south wall loaded with windows …

Of course, that home was well out of our price range. But this is the point we’ve reached now. We’ve seen just about every house on The ‘Ville market, so we’ve begun folding houses out of our price range into our search, just to see them. Because we can, we’ve got nothing to lose and it’s fun to dream.

* * *

On Saturday morning, I was on professional duty, assisting with the University’s commencement ceremonies. I had to moderate a morning news conference with the state’s supreme court chief justice, who was addressing the graduates, and then I was making the rounds to make sure media members were getting what they needed (I won’t bother telling the story about a certain television news reporter who didn’t show for the news conference, but arrived 10 minutes into the afternoon ceremony, dressed in ratty jeans, thinking she could walk on to the stage to plant her microphone on the podium and pull the chief justice off the stage so she could do a three-minute interview with him during the commencement ceremony.).

Job-related tasks aside, attending the commencement ceremony was inspiring in more ways than I’d expected. The ceremony has changed little in the 8 ½ years since I was going through it, in the very same arena; all of the memories of that December night came rushing back as I watched the students line up and surveyed the smiling families packing the bleachers. As I looked at my new colleagues seated on the stage, I caught myself recalling the people who were on that stage the night I graduated; a lot of the faces have changed, but some are still the same. One of them: our registrar who is retiring this spring after 35 years at the school, having processed an estimated 35,500 graduates.

I was inspired by seeing some of the students I’ve come to know this semester graduating with such zest for their futures. I was inspired by seeing some of my colleagues graduating with master’s degrees. I was inspired by the chief justice’s words.

… All of which served as another reminder for why we’re here.

* * *

Eventually, Kates picked me up -- we were back to being a one-car family for the weekend -- and I was informed she had promised Phoebe she could go on the swings, her new favorite past time. So, we drove to the nearest park with a playground and swingset, with me still dressed in my suit, and we played in the park with Phoebe. She swung, she climbed, she slid, we ran.

While we were in the neighborhood, we also checked out a garage sale … And a house for sale, now known as House No. 30. It’s a house I’d stumbled onto a couple months ago when I was driving around town in search of possibilities. The house’s plain white exterior shows no hint of charm, but it’s tucked away on a cul-de-sac, and it sits on a huge piece of land.

Almost on cue, our realtor called after we had done a round of peeking in the vacant home’s windows and began walking back to our car. We made a pit stop so I could change clothes, ate some lunch and then we were back to house-hunting …

First, House No. 29. It’s a large Victorian-style home that we’d been eyeing since I made my trip here in November. But I immediately brushed it aside when I discovered it’s location on one of the busiest streets in town and the exterior was in need of a lot of maintenance … Still, we continued to wonder every time we drove past it, and we couldn’t deny the interior photos we’d seen were full of intrigue. Again, at this point in our search, our mantra seems to be “Why not?” Every thing is a possibility.

So on Saturday we stepped inside, and it didn’t disappoint. From the back door entrance, we entered a huge kitchen with custom cabinets and new stainless steel appliances. There are hardwood floors throughout the first floor as the kitchen leads into a large formal dining room and the floor wraps around into a sitting area with a wood stove and then the living area. The bottom of the grand staircase connects to the living room on one side and the kitchen on the other before leading to a large, open hallway upstairs.

On the second floor, there are four large bedrooms. One of the bedrooms has a closet with a staircase that leads to the attic -- a staircase! that leads to the attic. As Kates and I traveled up the staircase our jaws dropped and the angel chorus should have been cued. There we were, standing in a huge, beautiful attic room with dormer windows on all four sides. It was a complete third floor. The possibilities were exploding from our heads.

Even the basement was spacious and appealing. Four rooms, including one that's partially finished, a laundry room and plenty of storage space. Plus, there was a fruit cellar with a red-brick, domed ceiling. So cool!

The two bathrooms in the house have been completely updated, and there’s gorgeous woodwork throughout the home. The yard also is filled with lovely flower gardens and fruit trees. And the home is well within our price range …

We would have snatched it up in a heartbeat. But …

The bad news: The one-car garage is nearly crumbling and needs to be replaced, preferably with a two-car garage -- which could be doable, considering the space in the back yard. The exterior needs a serious paint job, and the windows could use replacing, too. The house is a century old. And it’s on that dang busy street.

Plus, there’s that whole issue of selling the house we own now, which doesn’t appear to be happening any time soon.

Sigh.

Next, we moved on for a better look inside House No. 30 ...

Inside the front door, we were greeted with bright, mustard-colored shag carpet. But a further look revealed a spacious living space with cherry-colored woodwork and built in cabinets. Best of all, Kates and I managed to pull up a corner of the carpet and figured out there is hardwood flooring throughout the home. …

The home is decorated in a way that’s totally retro ‘60s, with flowery wallpaper throughout, pastel colors and defined lines. The upstairs includes two bedrooms and a bathroom that’s decorated with a black tub, a light teal tile and a bright maroon sink.

We spent a long time inside the place, gazing at the yard and living space, and analyzing all of the home’s nooks and crannies. Indeed, we consider it another strong possibility. It’s downfalls are few, but they are critical ones … The kitchen is tiny (think of the size of your average middle-class bathroom). The foundation walls are suspect. And there is virtually no closet space, because most of the closets, which are already small, have furnace ducts jetting through them.

Sigh.

When we arrived home on Saturday afternoon, we tried to take comfort in the fact that we’ve found three homes that have piqued our interest -- House No. 29, House No. 30, and House No. 22, aka The Home That Once Seemed Destined To Be Ours (which could still become ours depending on the fix-its ... ). We’re also looking for comfort in the fact that all three have been on the market for several months, which means we might still have a shot at them if the puzzle pieces come together this summer ...

Then again, we’ve been through enough during this adventure to know nothing is guaranteed. And there are bound to be several more twists and turns and tumbles before this ride comes to an end.

* * *

By Saturday afternoon, I didn’t want to be pulled to look at another house for a long, long time … A week, at the least. Kates and I have agreed not to submit any offers until we have a clear outcome on our house in K-Town, and we’ve found a duplex we can rent for the summer if we need it.

For the rest of the weekend, all I wanted to do was be a family and enjoy their company.

On Saturday evening, we took Phoebe to the Fun Fest at the elementary school. We saw the fire trucks and strolled past gobs of activities for the local kids. We ended up on the playground again, however, with Phoebe running back and forth between turns on the swings and the slides … Later, we got some carry-out, and watched a spring thunderstorm roll in.

On Sunday, we slept in and did nothing of importance. Kates read her book, and I napped on my favorite couch while we watched the Cubs on WGN … When the game finished, we headed to the University for a walk and landed once more at the playground with Phoebe. It was so enjoyable, we’ve made a pact to take regular walks on the campus, if not every Sunday night … Back home, we cooked up some salmon and baked potatoes for dinner, and settled in for some Sunday Night Baseball. The whole day was bliss and the best glimpse yet of what our lives might be like once we're settled in The 'Ville.

Today, I took a vacation day from work so I could stay home with Pheebs, and Kates could check out her new school and meet her new colleagues … For lunch, we hit A&G's, a bar and grille in town that is a popular mainstay of the local restaurant scene …

By 5:30 tonight we were heading back to the airport, and Phoebe clearly knew what was up. Earlier this year, we mused about how much she understood what was happening. Now that she talks endlessly about seeing Daddy on the “ ’puter,” going to see Daddy on the “airpane,” and going to Daddy’s “ ’partment” -- not to mention mimicking her caretaker scolding a boy at the daycare (the other night at dinner, she randomly started saying “No, no, no, Austin! … 1 … 2 … 3 …”), I’d say, at 2 years old now, she has a pretty clear understanding of what’s happening around her and that things are changing …

More and more she begs for hugs and kisses -- even when we’re only leaving a room. And she’s been more cuddly when it comes to watching a ball game or one of her movies. The time the three of us can spend in one room together is now more precious than it's ever been.

Tonight, Phoebe’s sad stare out the car windows while we drove to the airport was enough to make me well up.

We made our airport time a little more fun than just the prolonged-hugs-and-long-goodbyes … I helped Kates get their bags checked in. Then we had more than an hour to hike -- gallop and run, really -- around the terminal. With Phoebe holding my hand all the way, we ran in circles -- literally -- and we tried to give Phoebe some geography lessons using the maps painted on the terminal floors.

But, as they say, all good things must come to an end. Soon, the time came to say goodbye. I hung around to watch Kates and Phoebe pass through the security gate, and then waved and blew kisses to them through the security windows as they found some seats in the waiting area.

During the drive home, I cranked up my iPod and spent a lot of time reflecting on the weekend and what is to come.

Sinking feelings

I’m pretty sure that tonight I’ve hit my lowest point in this adventure.

My refrigerator is nearly empty because I’ve barely had the time or money to go to the grocery store. I’ve been living off beef and cheese sandwiches …

Our bank account has taken a big hit, thanks to taxes and this whole house-hunting thing …

Things in my professional realm right now are -- shall we say, difficult. Some things have unraveled and I’m in a tough spot.

And I miss Kates and Phoebe terribly. I miss our house. I miss coming home to work in the yard. I miss K-town. I miss watching Cubs and Brewers games. I miss knowing that on any given weekend we could be going to a game. I miss Summerfest. I miss making plans to go camping.

Above all, the real estate market is making me sick.

None of the showings on our K-Town home over the weekend have materialized into offers. And if the feedback we’ve been getting from lookers holds true, we could lose thousands in any deal. All the money we’ve invested in our house these last six years -- a bathroom remodel, a roof replacement, a deck addition, landscaping. It hardly matters now, and heart-breaking doesn’t begin to describe our emotions.

Today, we looked at House Nos. 25, 26 and 27 … And No. 25 was ripe for us to make an offer. But the scarcity of offers on our K-Town home, and the prospect of a loss, is causing us to put the brakes on laying down any offers in The ’Ville for awhile.

The cherry on top of our heap came this evening when I checked my mailbox and found a greeting card from my parents congratulating us on our new house. They mailed it before the deal sank on Saturday.

Tonight is the first time since my first week here that I’ve wondered, What the heck am I doing in this place!? … I’m feeling guilty about influencing Kates and Phoebe to relocate here. About the mess we’ve gotten into with our house. About the impact all of this might have on Phoebe’s childhood. And I’m doubting whether we’ll truly be happy here.

Then I have to remind myself. Be patient. It’ll come. Everything will fall into place. And that we’ve accomplished the most important feat by getting Kates a job for next year. Everything else will come.

I have to remind myself of the reasons we wanted to take this leap of faith in the first place. That I’ve only been here a few months, and Kates and Phoebe will be here in a couple more. That there’s plenty of new opportunities waiting for us here. And that there are plenty of trips to Cubs and Brewers games, camping vacations and Summerfest concerts -- although, maybe not this summer -- left in our future. The world is more mobile now than ever.

Ironically, my mother e-mailed a timely passage to me this morning …

“I am certain that God will bless me, but I don't know how. When we think we know exactly how the One who made us is going to take care of us, we're apt to ignore the angel messages sent us along the way.”

One week

What a difference a week makes … Or not.

A week ago, I was lamenting our frustrating home search, when, on Sunday everything changed -- or so we thought. That yielded to a banner week -- or so we thought. But tonight we’re back where we were a week ago -- sort of.

Here’s how it went down. Literally.

While I was looking at what we’ll affectionately call Dud House No. 19 last weekend, I noticed a home a few houses down that was marked for sale and asked our realtor if we could take a look at it. Almost all of the houses we’ve seen have been on our realtor’s suggestions, but this one was on me. That’s how we found our charming little house in K-Town -- I stumbled on it one night and asked our realtor about it -- so I thought I might work my magic twice. …

It -- House No. 22 -- had all the makings of a great house for us. It was in our ideal neighborhood (we’ve looked at five houses there now), and it was very similar to the house we let get away (which is located just a couple blocks away). It had three bedrooms and three bathrooms. A finished basement. Two-car garage. A breezeway and a big yard.

When we got our first look inside the place during a visit Sunday afternoon, it quickly was apparent the house would need a lot of updating. The home was built in 1976, and frankly -- aside from the carpet that had been replaced recently -- it appeared as though the owners hadn’t changed anything from the day they moved in. The living room had a dark panel wall. The light fixtures were dark and dated. The walls were laced with dark-stained baseboard and chair railings. The appliances came in a classic ‘70s mustard color.

But all of those updates were cosmetic things I knew Kates and I could handle, and have fun doing. Those updates paled in comparison to the size, layout and living possibilities of the home. Kates would finally have the dining room she’s long wanted. I could recreate my man’s lair/baseball room in the finished basement. The house had plenty of space for Phoebe to roam and play, including a loft area on the second floor. And I was having visions of spending summers sitting in the breezeway and coming up with ways to landscape the yard.

On Monday morning, we placed a solid offer on the home … And that afternoon, Kates was offered a teaching position at the only public elementary school in town. That deal went down like this: While Kates was visiting The ‘Ville a couple weeks ago, my college roommate’s wife’s brother – who teaches at the school and knew Kates was looking for a job -- tipped off my old roommate that a position was opening. I relayed the message to Kates and she went to work brushing up her resume. After a whirlwind process of securing transcripts, letters of recommendations and submitting her application, she was contacted about an interview. The search committee interviewed her Friday -- via Skype! How cool is that!? -- and on Monday she was offered the job. It was networking at its finest.

On Tuesday morning, the seller returned with a counter-offer on the house. We countered. He countered again. We countered again. And he accepted what likely would have been our final offer. … By Tuesday afternoon, I was delivering earnest money to our realtor and signing papers. (And I was handling all of that while navigating one of the busiest days I’ve had in my new job at the University, coordinating a series of television interviews and a series of extensive interviews for a radio station that was working on a feature story about one of our programs.)

By Wednesday, we had made some adjustments to try speeding up the sale of our house in K-Town, and we were feeling like all of the dominoes were finally falling in our favor. The clouds were parting. The picture was getting clearer.

But some uncertainty about our home offer began seeping in Thursday and Friday. Heated phone conversations. Confounding e-mail exchanges … I prayed for some signs to what we should do.

This morning, I met an inspector at our prospective home. A storm was brewing in the sky, but the property couldn’t have looked better to me. While the inspector began to jot down notes, I started snapping pictures of the yard and all the color in the trees and flower beds.

Once we’d moved into the back yard, the inspector noted some drainage concerns along a concrete patio. He found some significant moisture damage in the windows. Almost all of the screens needed to be replaced. He found some rotted siding. He had concerns about the way the air-conditioning unit was attached to the home. He said the roof, which supposedly was just six years old, appeared closer to 10 or 13 years old from moisture and a lack of ventilation. And when he worked his way inside some bushes that were hiding the front of the house, he discovered the brickwork on the front porch was bowed and ready to topple from the bottom up.

The homeowners hadn’t just gone 34 years without updating the home. They’d neglected it, too.

Inside the home, the inspector began telling me stories about a reputation he had among some builders and realtors as “The Deal Breaker” because he was so meticulous with his inspections.

We found more moisture spots in windows and ceilings. Most of the windows were stuck and couldn’t even be opened. We found leaky and corroded pipes ... Yet, as the dollars on fix-it projects continued adding up, somehow the inspector came to a conclusion that those mustard colored appliances still had some good years left in them.

The real deal breaker came after we entered the finished basement. As the inspector and I were checking a storage room, I discovered the carpet in one corner was soaked with water. We opened up the adjacent door to the furnace room and discovered the floor was flooded. With some further inspection, we figured out the water draining from an upstairs bathtub was causing the sewer to back up into the furnace room. There also was mold on the walls … If that wasn’t enough, “The Deal Breaker” told me the type of circuit breaker was a known fire hazard and referred me to Web sites like this one.

Three hours after I was taking pictures of the yard and imagining our life there, I knew we had no choice but to terminate our offer. The number of repairs had gone beyond the money we were comfortable investing in the home and virtually killed any hopes we had for cosmetic updates … And frankly, I was relieved to come to the conclusion. “The Deal Breaker” had done his job, probably saving us thousands of dollars and hundreds of sleepless nights. God had given me the sign I asked for.

This afternoon, just a few minutes after I’d returned to my apartment from seeing Dud House No. 23 and Dud House No. 24, our realtor called saying the seller was at The Home That Once Seemed Destined To Be Ours, now known as Dud House No. 22. He wanted me to meet him to point out the problems …

As I drove back to the house, I thought, Hmm, this could be a good thing. Maybe he’s willing to fix the problems and wants to renegotiate …

Not so. He insisted he had no knowledge of the problems, made no apologies for what we found and showed no interest in trying to retain me as a buyer.

The house hunting has officially resumed ... But Kates has a job!

Not home yet

Three more houses today.

That brings the number of houses we’ve toured in the last three weeks to 21.

Which I’m pretty sure is double the number of houses we looked at during our rookie search in K-Town six years ago. I recalled at least nine homes when I was trying to count them up this afternoon, and that search ran about a month and a half long.

We thought that was a grueling, frustrating search. At least we submitted offers on three of those homes in 2004.

This time, we’ve submitted one offer. It’s still pending, and if it fell into our favor, it’d be a miracle.

Having received some encouraging listings from our realtor late last night, I headed into this morning feeling good. There was a home with some promise available in our targeted neighborhood. Sure, it was another classic ’70s split-level, but it had sort of a colonial facade with tall pillars on the front porch. Looking at the interior pictures, I had hoped some French doors along the back porch, some new paint and a few more updates here and there could do the trick.

I was wrong again.

The current homeowners are smokers, so the house reeked of their stale cigarettes. The back yard also was smaller than I had expected, and it had a tree stump in the middle of it that must have been four feet tall and five feet across … On the bright side, the basement rec room and den area was everything I’d want in our next home. But that dang smoke scent was way too powerful and I knew there was no way we’d be moving in there.

The second home of the day was just built, and it sits in a newer neighborhood … But it was so plain and had such little charm, it was almost unbearable to stand inside. No basement. Tiny yard. The kitchen was huge, but it had just a few cabinets -- and there was carpeting in the kitchen. Who puts carpeting in a kitchen!?

The third house … Why bother. It was among the worst yet.

The day wasn't all bad. I stopped at a secondhand store today and secured a copy of "Juno" for five bucks. Awesome movie, thrilled to add it to my collection.

House hurting

So I looked at five more houses today.

None of them were worth considering.

Our realtor led me through two during my lunch break …

The first looked promising from the pictures we saw online, and it held some promise when we pulled up … Then we walked to the back door, and I saw that the back yard consisted of a small concrete patio between the house and the garage … The interior had some of the charms of a 19th-century house -- a big dining room, a grand winding staircase, a tall living room with plantation shutters -- but the home, like so many we’ve seen, also needed a lot of work. The flowery wallpaper -- so not our style -- was almost as dated as the house. The kitchen was tiny, and the washer and dryer were inside it. The floor was uneven, the ceilings and walls had large cracks. There was no basement …

The second home had some potential, but it would have required a second mortgage just to update it. The built-in oven in the kitchen appeared to be about 50 years old. The bedrooms had hardwood flooring, but the rest of the rooms had musty brown carpeting or vinyl flooring that was peeling up in the corners. The yard was decent, but the house sat on main road …

Next please.

We chose three more to look at tonight, the first of which had just entered the marketplace and a lot of people are wanting to see it -- or so we were told …

But it didn’t quite live up to the hype. It was a split-level -- the kind of layout Kates and I don’t want but can’t seem to avoid in our searches -- with an open floor plan and a large living area. But all of the updates appeared to have been done hastily, and they hardly fit our style. Plus the laminate flooring in the kitchen was bubbling, and the back yard backed up to the high school parking lot. If Kates and I went for the house, we’d likely spend just as much money redoing all the updates as we might have spent on improvements to an older house.

We moved on to another 19th-century home that looked promising in its pictures -- a wraparound porch, beautiful woodwork inside … I knew that one wasn’t going to work out the moment we stepped on the caving porch. The windows were in poor shape. The paint was peeling. The rooms were small. The upstairs was a sauna. The basement was a maze of pipes and hanging electrical wiring. The one-car garage was in total disrepair.

Oh, but we saved the best for last.

I decided to throw the final address into the mix for good measure. Kates and I had seen it listed for several weeks and weren’t overly impressed with it, but the pictures were intriguing and the yard looked nice. I thought it at least deserved a look … Bah! After we pulled up, our realtor warned me it had been student housing, and I was turned off the moment we stepped into the two-car garage -- which had been divided in the middle by a studded wall. One side of the garage was empty; the other had been transformed into a rec room with a pool table. And it reeked so badly of smoke and lord knows what else, I almost spewed. The entire house wreaked and the layout had no rhyme or reason. It was labyrinth of stairs and doors and rooms that seemed to go on and on and on. Which I supposed could be fun -- but not really.

This house hunt is starting to become torturous.

I've also been fighting a cold this week. I barely have a voice. The door of my dishwasher is jammed, so I only have a couple dishes to use. My refrigerator is nearly empty because I have't had time to go grocery shopping.

Everything's great.

Clearing

Finally, the uncertainty that has clouded the last few months is becoming a little clearer …

The snow has disappeared. Temperatures have reached the high 70s. And yesterday we were graced with a refreshing spring thunderstorm … The downfall is that today I’m dying to be working outside in a yard. Driving down Main Street this week and seeing the outdoor garden centers sprouting up in store parking lots has been killer.

We could be filling that void soon -- we hope. Just a couple more months.

Yesterday, I said goodbye to Kates and Phoebe once more, after a whirlwind week during which the three of us camped out in my one-bedroom apartment and got a glimpse of what our new lives in The ‘Ville might be like.

They arrived last Saturday evening with my parents, who had driven them from K-Town for a family rendezvous here. Joel, Stephanie and their little ones drove up from the Entertainment Capital of the Midwest and the nine of us partied in a hotel room at the Holiday Inn for the K-State/Butler game. Partied is a terrible exaggeration, of course, since we had two toddlers who spent the day in cars and Butler beat K-State soundly.

Saturday night’s dinner was at the neighborhood Applebee’s. While the mere sight of all of us sitting around a table and having good conversation was pretty awesome, the highlight came when we drew a free dessert. Our waitress mistook my mother’s hand gesture for a signal that it was my father’s birthday. So it was a complete surprise when the waitress showed up with an entourage of clapping birthday singers and a dish of chocolate brownie with vanilla ice cream. We accepted the dessert and laughed it off while the waitress walked away red-faced upon learning no one at our table was celebrating a birthday.

After a late night Saturday, we somehow managed to pull ourselves out of bed and get to 9 a.m. church with my parents. For weeks, I’ve been attending the little brick church downtown and, like so many of my experiences here, I’ve been captured by the warmth of the people. Better yet, I’ve been excited by the church’s acceptance of its youth, outreach to visitors and members alike, and the contagious energy within the building -- church values that Kates and I have starved for in recent years. On Sunday morning, I was overjoyed at the sight of the children marching down the aisles and waving their palms, and the sounds of brass and handbell choirs. The music throughout the service was wonderful, and it was an energizing way to start the week.

For lunch, we bought some Subway sandwiches and headed to the university, planning to eat in the Union. We ended up around my office’s conference table because the Union was closed … I gave a tour of the office and we spent the rest of the afternoon at my apartment watching the basketball games.

On Monday, my parents headed south to stay with Joel and Stephanie. And it was back to work for me -- while Kates and Pheebs got started on getting to know the town. Kates drove me to campus every morning. Some days, they picked me up for lunch; some days I didn’t see them until my work day was finished. On Thursday, I spent the morning working from home and headed to the office for the afternoon. While I worked, they made trips to the library, shopped and played.

* * *

Our evenings were spent touring homes and searching for that perfect neighborhood. We visited six homes on Monday night, five on Tuesday night and two more on Thursday night -- in addition to revisiting four homes that we’d put at the top of our list during our Monday and Tuesday night visits. After building a list of homes we’d compiled the last couple weeks, Kates immediately started working the phone Monday morning and connected with a realtor, Merla -- or “Merwa” to Phoebe -- who graciously and patiently led us through each of the homes …

We saw all kinds. Older homes, newer homes. Homes that were beautifully decorated with modern updates. Homes that were covered with hideous wallpaper, and way too many homes with 1970s-style, dark, wood paneling. Some homes -- like one we saw on a huge countryside lot -- had enticing ground floors, but got scratched by nerve-racking amounts of water-damage in their basements. We also saw a 1905 farmhouse that had been beautifully updated with large rooms, a finished basement, a brand new garage and all the charm of The Farm -- but it sits on a busy, well-worn road in between two less-than-desirable neighbors. That home was one of the properties we revisited Thursday night, but when we got out of our car and heard the teenage daughter cursing a storm at her father -- inside their junkyard of a backyard -- it was no wonder the house was priced so unbelievably low.

I’ve said from the beginning, I’m looking for a neighborhood where Phoebe could comfortably ride her bike, we could take walks and I could enjoy working in the yard ...

We found the golden nugget in a two-story home that sits on the bend of a picturesque residential neighborhood, just blocks from the university. It was built in 1967, but it’s been completely renovated from top to bottom, inside and outside. The living area has hardwood flooring, the kitchen has been updated, the bedrooms are large, and it has an octagon window for Phoebe. The potential for the yard couldn’t be any more appealing to me -- Kates called it “an oasis” -- and the driveway is flat and situated in a way that I could finally have my own basketball hoop … There are some drawbacks, though they’re nothing we couldn’t fix -- like the island and cabinets placed awkwardly in the dining room, some water damage in the basement and some drainage problems in the backyard. There’s also a wall that was knocked out to expand the master bedroom, but instead creates an odd juxtaposition on the second floor.

The question looming now is whether we place an offer on that home, or we pursue the notion of building a home that’s customized for our family … Of course, all of this rests on the contingency that we sell our home in K-Town by June. And the prospects of that happening aren’t looking too good right now.

* * *

In the midst of the house-hunting, Kates’ job hunt also got a shot of momentum.

After mulling over a couple less-than-appealing options, a near-perfect opportunity popped up in the form of a text message on my phone Tuesday morning. A friend of a friend dropped a line to me, and that sent Kates into gear, compiling the information and documents she needed to apply.

With some key insights from a couple connections, she spent most of Wednesday and Thursday doing some research and perfecting her resume …

The timing of the opening, the connections and the job itself almost seem too good to be true. But it also seems to be another sign that all of this is meant to be …

We can only hope and pray it works out.

* * *

Phoebe could not have been more delightful to have around …

Ok, there were a couple tantrums that pushed our nerves. She refused to let us watch anything but “VeggieTales” and her Little People “Happy Birthday” DVD. Trying to look at houses with her wasn’t easy either; trying to keep her from touching things and staying off furniture was … ugh.

But nothing beat the moment I caught her eyes on Saturday afternoon. My parents pulled up, I opened the back door of the car and Phoebe, in her car seat, let out one of her signature loud shrieks at the sight of me … In that moment it hit me that now she’s truly a little girl -- a little girl that will be turning two years old in a week. She’s grown so much, and I’m saddened that I’ve missed so much time with her the last couple months.

Kates and I have seen it again and again. But this week, as we introduced her to new people and worked ourselves into a new environment, others reminded us of it, too … She’s smart. She learns words the moment they leave your mouth and her memory is sharp. Our ability to have conversations with her now is something we relish.

On Sunday morning, she bounced up from her crib and delightfully proclaimed, “I wake up!” … Every time, we went somewhere she waved and said “Bye Daddy’s ’partment.” … We had dance parties and we played blocks, two of Phoebe’s favorite past times.

When I came home for lunch on Monday, something triggered Phoebe to say “basebol!” So, having watched a lot of spring training baseball over my lunch breaks the last couple weeks, I turned on ESPN and found a ball game. Phoebe joined me on the couch, with my Cubs blanket, and contently watched the game for several minutes. It was bliss.

She runs. She jumps. She shouts -- oh, man, does she have a set of lungs. But her boundless energy and endless wonder with the world around her is pure joy.

* * *

The personification of our week may have been Wednesday night …

I had endured a stressful day of work, Kates had endured a draining day in the midst of her job search, and we were both eager for a night off from looking at houses. … So we accepted an invitation from my friend Gina to attend a community dinner at the church -- and we had a grand time.

Volunteers served up some great-tasting lasagna and salad, we connected with some new families and Phoebe charmed everyone around her. Kates and I went in feeling agitated and uncertain; we came out smiling and feeling as though we belonged. As we walked to our car, Kates sighed and said with a smile, “That was refreshing.” I seconded that emotion.

As this week approached, Kates and I were curiously nervous about how it might play out. After all, we’ve been living apart for three months, and she, understandably, feels like an outsider to this place. On the other side, I spent a major part of my life in this region and had friends from the day I arrived … I hardly need to mention our apprehension of moving to a much smaller town. Or my doubts about the three of us living in my small apartment for a week.

But we couldn’t have shared a better week. We got out. We met new people and interacted with the community. Bickering was a rarity, and we truly had a load of fun.

The view of what may lie ahead for us has become so much clearer this week. We’re halfway through the transition now. And I can hardly stand to see what the next three months have to offer.

The adventure continues.