Ilanarama!

Still waiting to hear from NCAR as to whether I am getting this telecommuting job, how much it will pay, and other details like that.

Still waiting to hear from the mortgage company as to whether they can really deliver on their promise of a ridiculously low rate.

Still waiting to hear from the newspaper as to whether or not they want me to work on an article that someone called me about the other day and set up an appointment about and then failed to be there when I showed up at his office.

Still waiting to hear from Cruising World as to whether the photo I sent of our engine alternator system shows that it's interesting enough to write the article we discussed.

Still waiting for a check from Wild Outdoor World, and one from Sailing.

Still waiting for my life to magically put itself together.

Our house.

We went over to do an inspection today and chat with the current tenants about problems they've had and things they'd change if they were staying (or if they had owned it). While we were there, another realtor came by with a client. HEY! WE HAVE A CONTRACT, DAMMIT!

Yesterday we saw The House. We were the second clients in to see it -- it's not even out on the MLS yet, but our realtor works in the same office as the listing agent -- and instantly decided that it was The House. We offered $1100 over asking price, as cash (i.e., not contingent on getting a loan, even though we really need one, because the broker suggested it would "strengthen" the offer).

This morning, we discovered that 1) ours was one of three offers -- and three more were coming in, 2) ours was the lowest of the initial three, and 3) the seller accepted ours anyway, "because she has a good feeling about you."

This afternoon, we signed the contract. I guess we're buying ourselves a house.

Rehearsal was fun. Chick is a great part; it's the smallest of the female roles, but every time she's on stage she dominates the scene.

At first we were worried about doing southern accents -- the play is set in Mississippi -- but it's not going to be a problem. With lines like, "Why, Leonora Josephine, have you lost your only brain, or what?" you just can't read them in anything but a southern accent.

In other news: phone interview this afternoon about the telecommuting job back at NCAR. Finally.

Looked at more houses. A dark feeling in the pit of my stomach. I am doomed, doomed. Maybe we should be looking at large cardboard boxes.

So we went and stalked the wild house this morning, accompanied by our intrepid Realtor guide. It's amazing what people are asking for marginally-maintained funky 100-year-old shacks with no land around here. One place advertised itself as 1600 square feet -- but 600 of that was basement with ceilings under 6 feet and tiny windows about the size of paperback books. The place stank of the cigarette smoke of the previous occupants. $275,000. Another house was literally 4 inches from the house next door. The master bedroom's window looked right out onto the blank wall of the neighbor's. ($415,000, because it did have an awesome living room and kitchen, and the poshest address in town.)

I did find one I really liked, and if I can talk Britt into that one I would be willing. Funky, southside (old Mexican town area), half remodeled, half, um, with potential. Less than vastly overpriced at $229K.

Of couse, what the hell are two unemployed people doing, talking about buying a house?

Audition tonight for Crimes of the Heart.

Article on snowpack measurement and snow survey program due Friday. Pretty much done with it, astonishingly enough, and the editor approved my draft so I don't have a whole lot more work to do.

Still wasting too much time on Harry Potter fanfiction reading and writing. Mostly the former.

Got a query reply from Cruising World on a technical article -- they'll look at it on spec, which is better than nothing, I guess. My last spec article (for Good Old Boat) got accepted, but I hate the idea of putting in all that work and then just having to cross fingers.

At the moment I only have two queries and an article out, waiting for replies. So I really should get on the stick and write more.

Still haven't heard about either of the jobs I applied for.

My first newspaper column got published today; I was hoping to point you to the Herald's website, but it looks like they didn't put my column up there. Oh well. It's on the top of the back page, very high-profile, with a cute little picture of me that makes me look about 25 years old, not that I'm complaining. They chose to title it "Talking About the Weather", which I guess is ok.

And last night, out with friends, several of them said they'd seen my article in Inside Outside (also not on their web page, but mentioned on the cover -- it's the article on snowflakes and snowpack) and commented on it. So, woohoo. I feel like a real profeshunal riter now.

Current projects: another article for Inside Outside, get off my butt and try to sell reprint rights to a couple already-published articles, and write more queries.

Rented Being John Malkovich last night. My overriding thought was sheer envy at the creative minds that invented this story. It was much better than I had expected.

It's Colorado. It's 6500 feet. It's January.

It's 55 degrees F.

Trust this to happen the year I move to a ski town.

I'm slowly coming out of my mindless Harry Potter fog. Not that I'm back to normal, but I actually managed to finish writing an essay that has been on my plate for, oh, two months. Sent it off to Blue Water Cruising tonight, a new mag for me -- we shall see.

I need to get myself going again with the writing-for-pay as I got a call from the editor of Inside Outside, a regional outdoorsy magazine. I had written an article for the Jan/Feb issue (just out now, woohoo, picked up a copy and it looks great) and we had talked about me doing another one. Well, I've got a deadline now. This one is going to be tougher because I will actually have to make phone calls and interview people.