Tuesday and the pink horror

Once more, I spent the night checking my email to see if my counter to the counter offer for the Warsaw apartment was to receive another counter. In between popping up when the email jingle alerted me to a message, I lay in bed thinking how comfortable it is to be excited rather than anxious. The night is far longer if you toss from worry. Too little sleep isn't a great way to start a busy Tuesday, but I have to say, the night itself was rather lovely.

It is, however, my early day with Snowdrop. As I get up, I feel a deep compassion for a sleeping Ed (he has been working on his invention every night, late into the night, for weeks now) and I almost do not tell him that I'd let the cheepers out and am myself ready to eat and run. But, he must have sensed or heard by knocking about, because he came down in a rather bedraggled state (yes, more so than usual!) to keep me company and nibble on some fruit.






I then do a hasty retreat. You don't want to be a tardy sitter when people depend on you.

Snowdrop wakes up earlier than usual. Initially she is peppy and boisterous...

(Little one, you so need a bath! You have bits of oatmeal on your cheeks!)






But eventually she and I settle into quiet play. Now, I did find a new toy -- a small football -- lying around, but honestly, I am the wrong person to teach her enthusiasm for the sport. Oh, I give it to her...

(Grab it, Snowdrop!)





(Huh?)

She looks for further instruction and upon receiving none (what, should I tell her to kick it?), she puts it aside and settles down to read. If anyone is going to make a Packer fan out of her, it wont be me.






Trains on the other hand --- yes, I can get enthusiastic about those!






Toward noon, she stomps around, in a tired kind of way...

(I am sympathetic, sweet one!)






... mostly from my lap to a toy, then back to me, begging for a lift.






And this is when I get the crucial email from Warsaw:  the owners of the pink horror have accepted my offer and so tomorrow, if my finicky but very clever attorney sees no impediments, we shall have in place a signed agreement.

I am tickled pink!

It seems that this brash colored flat will be my Valentine adventure after all.

I'll end with that. Some days, you just have to let go of everything but the bare essentials. I think today I covered the bare essentials.

the pink week-end reaches its own finale

This morning, as I roll out pizza dough for a dinner later in the week, I think about how subtle cultural differences often are.

To the naked eye, a Warsaw real estate transaction may proceed exactly in the same way as one in Madison Wisconsin. There is an agent. The agent conveys the offer and the counter until everyone is in agreement. There is a lawyer who reviews the paper trail. There is a down payment. There is a final payment and the keys are handed over. I haven't yet seen if there's a popping of champagne in celebration at the end, but I kind of doubt it. And on this end, in all my home purchases (total of five), I don't recall anyone handing me champagne. The best I netted was a bottle of cheap wine and a crocheted Christmas ornament from an agent who meant well.

But the naked eye doesn't see the whole story. Because honestly, at the gut level, everything about the Warsaw apartment buying feels different. I say to Ed over breakfast... (what? you thought I'd skip the nod to breakfast? Not at all!)






... it's as if Poles haven't quite grasped that capitalism is a cruel beast, with no soft or kind moments, where you might take a pause and gaze lovingly at your daylilies, or at the bat show from your front porch while the beast waits for your next move. (I use examples of favorite activities at the farmette.)

Take my latest (third!) apartment offer, made on the garishly pink place in Warsaw. My sister conveyed the offer to the agent and he conveyed it to the owners on Saturday afternoon. I waited by the phone all evening.

Nothing.

Then comes Sunday and of course, nothing happens on Sunday. Along comes Monday morning.

Nothing.

Ed says -- they're letting you stew.
I respond -- but I'm the buyer! I can, in the meantime, make other offers, look at other apartments! Look at me! I've already backed out of two sales! Grab me now or you may never hear from me again!
Ed repeats -- they're letting you stew.

But I think he is not correct. I think he thinks like an American on this one.

When it is nearly evening in Warsaw, I hear back from the sellers. There is a counter offer.
I respond immediately with my own counter. My sister gently suggests -- maybe you'd like to wait a day? They'll expect you to sit on it for a while.

Time? I'm negotiating. Time is to be manipulated toward a better deal. Time is a killer for an anxious seller. I have a roving eye, always on the lookout for a better deal. Indeed, I have another apartment lined up, just in case.

And here's the second point: that other apartment that's lurking in the background -- we haven't seen it yet, because the owner is feeling a little under the weather. They'll show it maybe later in the week.

People! You want to sell? Don't get me in there at the end of the week! I have the pinkie in the works, I wont be interested later in the week. Don't let yourself be my back up plan! Put yourself in competition with the other place!

My sister tells me that people contemplate. They don't rush. She is not surprised by the need to feel the gentleness of the passage of time.

Subtle differences: a deal is but one aspect of life there. It does not dictate your movements. It takes its place in line with other imperatives.

Ed says I should take up buying and selling apartments as a hobby. Sell this one, buy the next, make a profit -- he tells me. I remind him that I am only on the surface Americanized. Deep down, I understand the longing for order. For stability. For moments of respite. For star gazing, bat gazing, lily gazing. I am, as always, at the cusp of two worlds, following the imperatives of neither very well.


Ah, but if it's Monday then, well, you know -- the little one comes to the farmhouse!






Let's continue the theme of cultural differences for a bit:
Did you know, Snowdrop, that far far away, there is this city...






... where you can take your dog to a coffee shop?






Well, we do not have a dog at the farmhouse, but we do, of course, have a coffee shop, not too far down the road. It's time to pick up some more pickles (they have them there -- the only ones Ed likes west of Brooklyn) and so in the afternoon, after lunch (her smile comes out when someone she knows and likes enters the kitchen)...





... she and I head out.


She gets a wee crumb of a cookie I purchase for Ed (her cap and the cafe mug match: coincidence!).






But the highlight for her is being let loose in the play corner. A new toy to mess with!






And another!






And better yet, new people to greet!






Evening. Snowdrop is now back home. The night isn't too cold. At the farmhouse, I look to Ed -- ready?
Yep.

We go out to eat our Valentine's Day dinner at Brasserie V. Mussels and fries, at the bar. No, my Warsaw apartment negotiations aren't over. Of course they're not. But there's a certain comfort in understanding how things will proceed, how they might falter, how good it will be no matter what the outcome.

I sip my glass of rose wine.






We pack up the left over fries for Ed's lunches in the week ahead. On the drive home, out of nowhere, he says -- you know, we really have a great house. Perfectly small. Just right.

Yes, just right.

the pink week-end, continued

There is this devilish side to me that likes to torture Ed with holidays such as this one. I'll get up to let the cheepers out and say in an off hand manner -- it's my Valentine's day gift to you. Or, I'll spare him the Sunday vacuuming and do it myself -- as a special treat for this day, I tell him. Or, I'll make a heart out of raspberries on his oatmeal.






This is when it begins to sink in that unfortunately, I'm one of those who likes special days. It's a truth he prefers to forget, even as I wont let him. Every day is not Valentine's Day, not should it be. This day of hearts and sweet gestures is one that feels good because you don't typically pamper your emotions in this fashion. And yes, you can be jaded, or indifferent to it, or downright hostile to yet another commercial infraction on your peace and quiet, but for me, February offers too many bleak days and cold nights. A chance to step outside of your routines and play a little with the person or people you love seems like such a fine thing!

By late morning, Ed is scrambling for ideas: a movie? No, too crowded. Nothing is pulling me there. Chocolates from our favorite store? Closed today, my dear -- I say with a wicked smile, rubbing in the idea that Valentine's Day requires forethought. He doesn't give up: dinner out? Not today, so how about tomorrow?

I agree to that. After all, much will be decided in terms of my Warsaw apartment saga in the next 24 hours (though not today -- no one in Poland works on Sundays, not even real estate agents) and it will be lovely to cap off the day with a dinner at a favorite place.

As for today, we settle on going to the annual garden expo. Bring on the thoughts of flower fields and put me in the mood for spring! Especially since it is a cold and yes, somewhat snowy day.






At the expo, there is a small farmers market and Ed is so in luck, because a chocolatier (Roots, which claims to make farm crafted chocolates using local Wisconsin ingredients, including herbs, vegetables, fruits and honey from their farmstead) is selling boxes of sweets and of course now he can be the one grinning wickedly, with a boast that he attended to the chocolates for his sweetie after all.

Too, we buy seeds for tomatoes and seeds for my garden annuals. (I learned how invaluable these are when I visited Giverny at the end of October and found, to my surprise, that most of the color at that time came from annuals. I'm determined to experiment with more than cosmos and nasturtium varieties this year, though these two will always reign as my favorites.)






We checked out all the booths and vendors. I think I joined a dailily club and I distinctly remember putting myself on the mailing list for some iris specials put on by the Iris Society.

Finally, we retreated to the seminar room to listen to a presentation about bee keeping. We have flirted with this idea for years and though we have really no intention of getting our hands into hive management, nonetheless we listen attentively. It's sort of like people who don't want to travel going to a presentation on what to pack for your next trip to Europe -- you do it because the imagery is nice, nothing more.


In the evening, well now, it's Snowdrop's second Valentine's Day and once again, she spends it with us at the farmhouse.






Such a happy event!

(I take off her tights -- she's running so fast that I worry about our slippery floors.)






I remember last year's photo of Ed and Snowdrop: she was calm, he was tentative. This year -- they're old hands (though as before -- her hand is tiny when next to his).






Oh, Snowdrop, you heart studded little girl! (Playing here with her Valentine's Day treat -- a new stacking toy: a penguin.)






Oh, Valentine's Day!


Ed and I are not married, nor do we have children together, but still, I laughed out loud when reading this poem in the New Yorker (I did not find it myself, because, well, I have been too busy vacuuming the house to read my own New Yorker today; it comes to me via the blog of BenandBirdy, so thank you for it!).

It's called "Valentine's Day Poems for Married People" (click here to read) and I would have read it to Ed, except for that crucial fact that we are not married and we do not have children together and so he may not have mustered up the level of amusement the piece deserves.

I hope a smile crept into your day more than once today. Happy February 14th, however you treat it! With love.

the weekend of good pink

I shall for a long time recall this weekend as the one with all that pink stuff strewn about it. From the first moment of daybreak, on the ground, in the early sunlight, with a touch of gold...






At the breakfast table, in the sun room, where a pelargonium popped open...






I know -- big deal, you're thinking. These are stock Ocean images. Is it that the days are showered with Valentine motifs?

Not exactly. Here's the story:

This cold cold morning (0F, or -18C),  I wake up to a predawn message from my sister: call me. Of course, I'm excited. I stumble down to the kitchen and open up Skype. My 5 am is her noon. I had asked her to look at a real screamer of an apartment. Same great location of my last offer, but this unit is different in that it presents itself terribly on the Internet. For one thing, it's painted a deep and profoundly disturbing shade of pink.

Nothing else about the place looks attractive: indifferent kitchen corner, awful bathroom. And of course, you're blinded by the brashness of the walls.

She came back with a report: nice owners, renting it out to very nice students of music. (Not surprising -- it's right next to the Chopin University School of Music -- one of the oldest and largest music schools in Europe). Any other stellar points? Well, it's a prewar building, which means high ceilings. Nice floor boards too. That's about it. As expected, everything else lives up to its reputation in the photos: very unattractive. The building itself -- rather ordinary. With sprays of graffiti.

I give it a few minutes' thought. I call her back. I want to make an offer.

Have I gone mad??

No, as Ed says -- I've learned a lot about real estate in Warsaw.

I haven't heard back yet. But I will within a day or two. And if I find myself owning a pink apartment in Warsaw with terrible everything in it, you'll be hearing about the next step: the renovation.

Happy Valentine's Day weekend to you too!






In other news -- I stood outside and washed the car for fifteen minutes (I know this, because that's how much time you get with the hose at the car wash for $5) in frigid weather (Lilly now has balls of ice liberally sprinkled all over her clean body) only to remember on the drive home that we're promised a big snow tomorrow. Ed says that it has been shown that some people have a gene that causes them to pay for a car wash just as the snow is about to fall. I think he's joking, but perhaps not.

Friday's summary

So where am I at the end of the week? Well, in a good place, as they say. Visualizing the possibilities. Understanding the limitations.

It helps that according to the weather gods, this weekend brings with it the tail end of the bitter cold winds from some deeply northern territories. Here, in Wisconsin, we're not bracing for winter anymore. We've embraced it and we're moving on!

Both Ed and I get up to let the cheepers out. On this bitter cold morning, after another night of corresponding with my sister in Warsaw, I'm up at dawn to give her a quick call and Ed rises too and I say -- if you're up anyway, then you may as well go out and open up the coop, and he says -- let's both do it.

This is as close as we get to recognizing that it is Valentine's Day weekend.

The deal on the Warsaw apartment is still very much on the table (the seller is scrambling to produce needed documents), but in the meantime, I'm looking at other places -- ones with ugly kitchens and terrible bathrooms and horrible floors and walls. I'm trying to imagine how I would transform an awful space into a beautiful space, because ultimately, that's the best way to invest in something you think may be (eventually) a thing of great beauty, isn't it? Whether I have the stamina for flipping an apartment --that's a decision for this weekend. But I'm exploring the possibilities.

Breakfast, at the kitchen table.





Typically on a Friday I do grocery shopping, but I had to squeeze in a doc's check up and a haircut into some available weekday hour and so this was my morning for it and it was grand to emerge from both unscathed and with a fresh look (well, at this stage of life, no hair cut is really original, unless I go to a short short style, which I have threatened to do, just for shock value, if Ed continues to not notice such important details of appearance). It feels grand to not be sick and to sit back and let someone massage the scalp. It's a fine mix of the important with the superficial and silly.

I have a few minutes to kill and I go for a cappuccino at the same place Snowdrop and I have been hanging out these past weeks. That turns out to be a mistake. The table is long and empty and the child's voice I hear is not hers. I hurry with my coffee and move on.






And yes, the rest of the afternoon is with Snowdrop.

Let's play ball! -- she seems to be saying.






Bounce away, Snowdrop.






Tickle, tickle, little pickle!






Last week she tracked the habits of older Italian men (hands behind her back, pacing...), today she tracks the habits of older Italian women: the walk with rosary (in this case, teething beads).






I go home just as the sun sinks low and the winds gust to a vicious speed, giving me a real taste of how biting this season can be. No matter. Tail end, my friends: we're at the season's tail end.

Thursday's discovery

Well, I slept more fitfully, although if my European negotiations had recently been the reason for my nighttime fretting, I should have had a miserable time of it last night. Just goes to show how at a certain point, you can get used to most any set of issues and stumbling blocks in life -- even clumsy negotiations with your small little sum over a small little apartment in Warsaw.

It may be that the deal I was trying for will, in fact, move ahead. But, the attorney (right now, I love attorneys!) who is navigating the legal end of matters in Warsaw flagged ownership paper improprieties and so we are all waiting patiently for the seller to demonstrate his ownership credentials.

Could it be that I fell again for a place with a dubious paper record? If so, shouldn't I go about things differently? Maybe I should be looking for apartments where there are nice young families wanting to sell and move out in their quest for more space? Nice honest young families with maybe a toddler throwing food on walls and scratching the cabinets, but basically letting the buyer see in brutal honesty what the place is really like?

As we wait for matters to clarify, we continue our apartment search -- me on the pages of the internet, my sister, poor thing, slogging through snow showered streets of a February in Warsaw. (Though I have noted that temperatures in Warsaw right now are thirty degrees upwards of where we are right now in Wisconsin, which says something about our cold and their far gentler winter.)


It's a sunny day, but I let Ed free the cheepers. There are some mornings where you just want not to fly out of bed to deal with chickens.

Breakfast in the front room.






Then the drive to Snowdrop's, which is memorable because Lilly, the car, is making godawful noises (it's as if you were constantly shaking a container of metal parts inside) and though Ed has identified the likely problem, it's too cold for him to fix it this week. If you were to be a passenger right now, you'd have to shout to be heard over the racket.

But, there is the sunshine and more importantly, there is Snowdrop.

I admit -- I do spoil the girl by readily lifting her when she asks to be held...






... but she is so happy being in this elevated position!






Who could possibly say no to those outstretched arms?

And she has plenty of "down on the ground" time. There's the old hide and seek (I must someday tell her that hiding always in the same place -- the bathroom, begs for an easy "find")...






And there are jumping and dancing games...






And just today, she perfected reading while running. I can surely understand how difficult it is to put a good book down.






Other memorable accomplishments? Well it's funny actually. As the newscasters announce that Einstein was right (you know -- the story about gravitational waves in the news today), little Snowdrop has her own aha moment. She is running with a rubber ball and it drops from her hand. And it bounces. She looks at it with disbelief, picks it up and drops it forcefully, deliberately again. And it bounces.

For the next half hour or so, all she does is run, drop the ball forcefully and explode with glee as it bounces. Me, I just repeat what she already recognizes -- that it bounces. Snowdrop, you bounced the ball! And of course, I applaud wildly. I feel though that she knows without my approbation that something important has just taken place.






Discovery! It has its interesting twists, but ultimately, isn't it such a good thing?

sleep deprived Wednesday

Did I even get two hours of sleep last night? Let me count the night minutes: one hour of reading my gripping novel, then several spent on an obsessive check of email to see if there was an update on the Warsaw apartment negotiations, then, finally, when the message popped in that my offer had been accepted, another string of emails, this time discussing what steps need to be taken to make this a habitable place (to say nothing of what steps are needed to finalize the sale: as we well know, nothing's over until it's over and there are still technicalities that may unravel the agreement).

It's tough to do negotiations with people who choose to live across many time zones.

And so this morning, I can easily be magnanimous and offer to let the cheepers out at dawn, even though it is only 2F (-16C) outside. I'm awake, go back to sleep Ed. I'll do the morning run.

I have to say, it never ceases to amaze me how your spirits are buoyed by sunshine. It could be thirty degrees warmer and still, without the sun, I'd be psychologically shivering. This morning, I smiled at the patches of pink and orange on the icy snow.






So pretty!






(I have my tiny back up camera to tide me over until the replacement for my beloved mirrorless Sony arrives in March.)

Then, more phone calls with Poland (so inexpensive these days!), consults with Ed over breakfast -- What do I know about real estate deals?! Am I forgetting anything??






... and I am off in my somewhat dazed state to be with Snowdrop who, thankfully, has decided to sleep in late this morning, giving me a moment to exhale.

I will introduce you to the wee little apartment and the fascinating neighborhood where it is located once the deal is signed and sealed. For now, I return to my playtime with the sweet girl who knows how to charm me right out of my sleep deprived stupor.

Have a plastic molecule, grandma!






Grandma, do you suppose he'd let me touch him?
Ah, children -- the eternal believers in a good outcome...






Quiet moments with books...






Lively moments jumping to music (I jump with her, she laughs)...






I forget that I am tired!

In the afternoon -- after her nap, which I wish had been my nap -- the little one gave some thought to a game she might play...






... finally settling on running back and forth with laundry. Why not!






Tonight will be different: today I'll sleep like a baby. I'm thinking twelve hours would be just about right. (That's Snowdrop's exuberant optimism, rubbing off.)