Didn’t get the house. Someone came in with a cash offer after us, and so the bank went with them.
I have to be very honest: as someone who studied contracts in multiple classes in law school (heck, almost all of my elective classes were contracts-based), I thought I had a reasonable understanding of the way contract law works. I don’t understand real estate contracts even a little.
I mean, let’s take this house buying experience as an example. A bank lists a house for sale for $150K and advertises it on Zillow, RedFin, and other websites. If you did that with a piece of personal property or with services that you would perform, that would very clearly constitute an offer. But in the wild world of real estate it’s not considered an offer. I honestly don’t know what it’s considered.
In real estate contracts, the purchaser makes an offer to the seller to buy a house that’s been advertised. This puts all the power in the seller’s hands and allows them to pit bidders against one another so they can come out with the best offer for them. Oftentimes, because purchasers are expecting that haggling is a necessary part of the process, they low-ball their first offer.
Can you imagine if this was the way commerce worked for regular goods?
Last Friday, I had to get MRIs of my brain and c-spine both with and without contrast. On Tuesday, I met with Dr. J to go over the results.
The MRIs proved that I *am* going through an acute MS relapse. (Like the numb hands weren’t a clue.)
On the bright side, they also showed that I haven’t had any disease progression in my brain since 2012! No new brain lesions for 2 years? I’ll take that.
On the not-so-bright side, they also showed that I have disease progression in my c-spine, specifically between C5 and C6, which accounts for why my hands today feel like I dipped them in a vat of Ben Gay.
Rae vs. the Relapse: take 3!
So, the fun job of fighting this relapse started a little over a month ago when I started having tons and tons of seizures. Fast forward to today – and I’ve already taken 2 medrol dose packs to try to get better.
When I saw Dr. J on Tuesday, I felt fine. Normal, even! I had even been doing well enough to get back to the gym on Monday for the first time in a month. Dr. J did a sensitivity test with a safety pin and I couldn’t feel it until you got to the very top of my arms – like 3 inches from the shoulder. He didn’t like that (and neither did I), so he asked Adam to do the test at home and email him later in the week.
Adam never got the chance to do the test because last night was seizurepalooza, and this morning, I woke up with the Ben Gay gloves. I emailed Dr. J, and he responded quickly by ordering a THIRD medrol dose pack.
Now, I’m trying really hard today not to second guess Dr. J. He’s been a neurologist longer than I’ve had MS… but it feels like 2 dose packs didn’t get the job done, so why would he think a 3rd would? It doesn’t make a ton of sense to me… but I don’t have an M.D. So, I’m going to take it and hope for the best. If it doesn’t take care of business, I’ll be searching for a new MS specialist. I’ve been dealing with this mess for too long.
There’s Always A Bright Side
Yeah, today, I’m physically feeling bad… but my friends on Facebook totally met the challenge when I asked for “cheer up” material. Having an amazing support network makes all the difference in the world. Nothing helps you feel better than laughing. Here’s the very best of what was shared.
and
And last but not least… the thing that has tickled me the most
Friend 1: Where do sheep go on vacation? (awaits your response) 🙂 Me: No idea. Where? Friend 1: The Baaaaahamas. Me: OMG. Not Baaaaaahrcelona? Friend 1: Or there! Me: This has tickled me way too much. I keep trying to think of where else they could vacation. Friend 1: That’s all that matters, right? Me: It’s definitely a better way to occupy my mind than focusing on anything else. I’m also thinking they’d enjoy Baaaahston Friend 1: OMG. And go to the baaaaar! Friend 2: Baaaaaaahrbados
It’s nearly the end of April, which means that it’s been 4 months, virtually seizure free. I’ve been applying for jobs, well, like it’s my job.
Today, I had a good telephone interview for a position as an administrative/marketing assistant. They want me to write a blog post for them, with the topic left up to me. They just want me to write about something that interests me.  I wonder if they realize that asking a creative person to do “whatever they want” can pretty much stymie their ability to create anything because they think about too many things.
I had a good friend offer me $100 to write about farm animal porn. I love my friends. I love farms. I do not, however, love animal porn.
Regardless of all that, I find it incredibly amusing that I have no problem writing this blog post, but when thinking about writing this “fake” blog post, I find myself filled with the same disdain that I used to have for writing 5 paragraph essays in 8th grade. Â It’s like I care too much about the formatting and am worried about how the content will portray me.
I am actually concerned that if I write about kitten fostering (which is one of my interests on my resume) that I’ll seem like a crazy cat lady, and if I write about music or cooking that I’ll seem like I’m not being serious. Believe it or not, I actually started this entry in the hopes that it would turn into the entry that I needed to write. Â Either way, I’m fairly certain that my first sentence should not read as it currently does. “I love kittens.” is not the start to a decent professional essay. Â It does, however, start a decent essay about farm animal porn…Â *lol*
I love 3 day weekends. I’m always stoked to have an extra day to hang out with my husband. You may be wondering about the title of this post… well, it all ties together because in every situation that ties to this weekend, somehow or other… a wizard did it. It’s the only rational explanation.
Two earths?!
We finished watching the entire series of Battlestar Galactica on Friday night, and holy crap, am I glad that I never ever have to watch another episode of that depressing, histrionic crapfest that constantly begs the question, “Who’s the real monster?”. But we made it through! Every minute of every frakking episode! So I have the legitimate geek cred to say, in awesomely funny situations, “This has all happened before, and this will all happen again.”  That alone makes it worth it. 🙂  (What? There’s no merit badge for my sash? Oh well…)
A Pub Crawl. Really??
Then on Saturday night, we headed down to the Gallery Cabaret to see my long-time friend Andy perform stand-up comedy, like he does every Saturday night. And we magically landed on the one night of the year that happens to coincide with a pub crawl. The place was jam-packed. It was insane – but the comedy was good, so it was totally worth it.
A THIRD audition?!
I got an email on Saturday — the band I’ve auditioned with twice still hasn’t made their mind up about me. Part of me thinks that’s a bad thing, but of all the “wants” they could have of me, what they’re asking for is “more emotion.” This boggles my mind. I’ve never, in my natural life, been asked by anyone to emote more. If anything, I’ve been asked to tone it down. The words “drama queen” and “ham” have been thrown around since I was a wee babe. They want more? Come the 27th (the next time we meet), I’ll give em as much as I can handle.
The Invention of the Sewing Machine: clearly.
After owning it for 2 years, and looking at it longingly in the box, we’ve decided to finally learn how to use our sewing machine, so we’ve been watching a lot of video classes on Craftsy.com. Tonight, we’re jumping into the pool with both feet and are making throw pillows for the couch. We’ve cut the fabric. We’ve wound our first bobbin. Adam’s threaded the machine. Â It only took an hour and a half for our first try at a stitch. Hey, you. Stop laughing. That machine is kinda scary… and besides… we’re pretty sure it’s magic.
So my first real memory of the delicious root vegetable known as the parsnip happened when I was watching Homestar Runner back in 2002 or 2003. There was this great old timey short called “Parsnips-a-Plenty” that I watched and it made me wonder… what do parsnips taste like?
Well, the best way I can put it is this: parsnips are what would happen if a potato and a carrot made sweet, hot, somehow forbidden, dirty love to one another and produced an heir to their mutual awesomeness.
Love Child...
Today, I’m going to give you a 4-fork recipe (That’s like 5 star!) from Epicurious.com.
Ingredients
2 pounds medium parsnips, peeled, cut on diagonal into 1/2-inch-thick slices
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 teaspoon coarse kosher salt
2 tablespoons (1/4 stick) butter (or Ghee if you’re watching your casein intake)
2 teaspoons finely chopped fresh Italian parsley
Preparation
Preheat oven to 450°F.
Toss first 3 ingredients in bowl.
Spread parsnips in single layer on rimmed baking sheet, and dot with butter.
Roast parsnips 20 minutes.
Using tongs, turn parsnips; roast until browned and soft, about 15 minutes longer.
Transfer parsnips to plate and season to taste with salt and pepper.
Sprinkle with parsley.
Serve and Enjoy! 🙂
Parsnips are great pretty much wherever you’d want a milder carrot or a sweeter, crunchier potato. My grandma used to put them in her matzo ball soup, I hear. Last night we had some in our chicken soup, and it came out great!
My favorite pictures with my dad are the ones where we’re both smiling and flipping off Mom behind the camera.
And even though he’s on the opposite side of the country (which may as well be the other side of the world), and we’re not talking to one another, I have to say, rather proudly, in fact: I came my attitude honest.
This Father’s Day, I am grateful for the gifts of Pat Benetar, Jethro Tull, Styx, and Boston being consistently played in my father’s car stereo. For hours of giggling uncontrollably at a toy purchased at Spencer’s Gifts called “The Final Word” that taught me the phrase, “Eat Shit and Die.” which was, of course, only to be used in traffic (with closed windows!), and for his bleeding-edge tech geekery, which meant that I was privileged to learn on top-of the line equipment from such a young age, I never knew how special and amazing a gift that it was until I was an adult… which lead to me thinking, for a little while there, at least, that my shit didn’t stink. (Good thing I grew up! Nothing stinks like unacknowledged privilege.)
To all the fathers out there, taking care of of your children: remember, they’re only kids for so long! Take an interest in who they are and what they want to do. You’d be amazed how one afternoon can make a lifetime memory. Your children are not actually interested watching you play video games. They just want to spend time with you. Interact with them! You can make all the difference in their world.
Speed says, "Always wear your helmet! Especially when watching my movie!"
Oh hubris, thy name is Speed Racer!!!
First of all, let me say that I acknowledge how absurdly stupid this move was… and yet, I was compelled. It was as if I were challenging my seizure disorder to a duel…
Anyway – last night, Adam and I headed over to rent some movies, and we picked up Speed Racer, mostly as a joke, since we both liked the cartoon as kids. I figured, “Sure, this would have given me seizures in the movie theater, but SURELY not on our TV set. Besides, I haven’t had any real seizures in almost a week!”
HUBRIS, I TELL YOU! THE PRIDE BEFORE THE FALL!!!!
Not 10 minutes into the movie, and I was quakin’ like the San Andreas fault. I honestly haven’t had seizures that strong or that lasted that long in MONTHS. I’m talking post-hospital strong.
Sadly, I actually *wanted* to watch this movie — and now that I’ve seen some of it, I know that I would end up probably liking it because it looked so true to the style of Japanese animation while still being primarily live action. It was actually pretty awesome — not to mention there were some very cool visuals (though I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone who has decided to partake in any kind of hallucinogenic drug). Of course, ultimately the ability to watch the movie was surpassed by the aforementioned “awesomeness” of colors and motion. Shiny stuff is my kryptonite. READERS, LET THIS BE A LESSON TO YOU! It’s one thing to have your seizures under control in normal circumstances. It is quite another to watch Speed Racer.
This public service announcement is brought to you by stupidity, boredom, pride, and the letter Y. Not as in, “Y not?” but rather “Y GOD Y!?!?!” and, as always, the sponsorship of Readers Like You.
!!!
In It For The Parking 