Putting Down Roots & House Crushes

Seth, Kitter, baby, and I are trying to buy a house. We've been renting a lovely townhome since we moved here a year and a half ago, and it really meets our needs. But we are, at our core, "house people." I think it's partially because we lived in a house together (well, not baby) for four years, partially because we both really like to have ownership of where we live (he likes to do updates, pound nails, make things more sturdy; I like to paint walls, hang up big pictures and shelves on the nails he's pounded, and generally make a big nest out of the place), and partially because we both love to have a yard and structure that belong to us (he likes to do things in the garage, mow the yard, check the gutters, caulk the windows; I like to plant things, weed things, pretend I know how to garden, and sit outside every day in the summer if possible). And, with a baby on the way, we'd really like to try to settle into a house before the madness begins (July 27 or thereabouts). I think we also want to start feeling more permanent about living here. Like I said, it's been a year and a half, and it still feels in many ways like we're new. Or maybe not new, just not connected. The circumstances surrounding our arrival were definitely unique: we moved to a totally new place where we already had a built-in friend network (at least I did, with four college girlfriends and two cousins in the area), so we didn't just land and look around like, "Now what?" It was a very different experience than when I moved to Seattle and felt like I had landed in a foreign land. Everything and everyone was new, and it forced me to work hard to meet people, figure out the lay of the land, and make a "home" for myself. Here, we've been able to slide by a little easier. But now we're tired of that. We want to have friends--new friends from here. We want to have a community that's broader, we want to really belong at our new church, and we want to create a life here. So, among other things (like trying to find a small group at church), we're looking for a house. It's a weird and wacky time to be looking for a house because (maybe you've noticed) the economy is a little crazy. It's unbelievable how many of the houses for sale right now are foreclosures, pre-foreclosures, or bank owned. It feels very strange to be trying to find our "dream home," with the knowledge that it might still be the dream home of the family who can no longer afford to live there. There are so many variables in looking for a home, including the fact that we don't even know for sure where we want to live. We like where we're at now, but with Seth's downtown job, the train commute is about an hour each way. So if we move closer to the city, he wouldn't have to spend so much time just getting there and back. And, since he takes the train and we only have one car (an arrangement we really like), we'd like to live close enough to the train that he could potentially walk or bike to it in nice weather. On the other hand, we don't want to move farther away from our friends (some of whom are already 20+ minutes away in the opposite direction of the city) or our new church. Anyway (wow, this is getting long), I've been spending hours online, looking at houses for sale. As you probably know, I've been sick and grumpy (due to pregnancy-related issues) for the last few months, so spending time online is one of the few things I can do for hours. It's amazing to me how different a house can sound/look online compared to the reality of seeing it in person. (Go ahead and make your own internet dating parallels here.) Sometimes the description and pictures really seem amazing and my hopes sky rocket. This could be it! So we set up an appointment with the realtor, pull up to the house, and realize that, oh, that was some pretty sweet trick photography. And the opposite has been true; we've seen a few houses that seemed very questionable online that surprised us with their likeability in person. We've looked at 17 houses in person so far, and none have really grabbed us. Every weekend when I set up an appointment with the realtor, I usually have one house on the list that I really have a crush on. I'm pretty sure it could be "the one" ... until I actually see it. Boo, hopes deflated, cross it off the list. Well, this afternoon, I'm going to see two houses and I have a MAJOR crush on one of them. It doesn't help that there are no pictures except one distant aerial view (which looks charming in its partially-tree-obscured vagueness), but it sounds great from the description. No, it sounds almost perfect. So I guess I'm headed on a blind date with my hopes way too high. I'm hoping it's this gorgeously redone Victorian mansion at a steal of a pre-foreclosure price. But it might turn out to be a drafty, junky money-pit. It's just absolutely amazing what hope and desire can do in terms of clouding your vision (again, insert dating parallels--not necessarily the internet kind--here). So, if you're still reading ... I'll report back after my blind date.