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I'm trying to get my niece Stephanie a part-time position with the Consulting Company. Her interview is tomorrow, so I drove her into Boston to show her where our building is, how to get to it from the T, stuff like that.
I don't spend a lot of alone-time with Stephanie. I've known her since she was three years old, when my older brother Chris started dating her mom. Eventually, they got married, and she became my niece. Since then, I've considered her a kid, and really haven't changed that view up until the past couple of years.
She's 18 now, and going to college in Boston, commuting home (which is the house next door to Mom's) on the weekends, mostly because her roomate situation is a mess. There are four girls in one room, and two of them she refers to as "princesses," because they have a ton of money and expect everyone to wait on them hand and foot. These two apparently moved the wardrobes around so that they could have more "privacy." What this meant was that Stephanie was stuck with a bed that had no available light from a window. Luckily, she's switched to a double room for this coming semester, so I hope she'll enjoy the dorm experience a little more.
As we were driving, she was talking to me about a fight she had with her mom, and how Chris often egged them on in these fights, because they were so minor and he found them "funny." I said to her, "He treats you more like an older brother than a stepdad, doesn't he?"
"No," she said, "Chris has been more of a father to me than my own Dad ever has."
I found that really sad, but I'm happy that Stephanie has Chris in her life. For her to say something like that really got me thinking about how lucky I am that I have such a great family. Chris is incredibly good to his biological children, but I never knew that Stephanie considered him anything other than "Mom's husband." In retrospect, it seems obvious, since Chris and I lost our Dad at such a young age, and he pretty much took on the role of father figure in the household after that, even though he's only three years older than me. In fact, at Chris and Susan's wedding, part of my toast said that we had relied on him to take care of us when we needed him, and if he was half as good at that with his new family, they would be very lucky.
And I guess they are.
My younger brother Sean and his wife Heather are considering buying a new house. They bought a 100-year old house in our town after they'd been living together for awhile (a lot of that time with Mom, in order to save up for the down payment). It's a tiny little place, though it has three bedrooms. The ceilings are slanted to the floor on the second story, and the only bathroom is right off the kitchen (when the house was built, it apparently didn't have indoor plumbing). It was a perfect starter home, at a good price, since the woman who was selling it was quite elderly and hadn't kept the place up much at all.
Sean and Heather broke their backs getting that house into shape, and all on a shoestring of a budget. Sean got scrap hardwood from Chris' cabinet shop (Chris owns his own cabinet-making company) and did an amazing pattern in three different types of wood on the dining room floor. They completely gutted the kitchen and turned it into something out of a cooking show. They even made the pantry into a laundry room with enough space to wash, dry, and fold. I love this house.
And they may be selling it.
And I've been living with Mom for over a year, saving up a down payment.
So I asked them if they'd be willing to allow me to make the first bid on the house when it goes on the market. They said that they'd simply sell it to me outright, that they wouldn't even consider selling it to someone else if I was interested. I told them I'd give them full market value for the place, and Sean said, "We'll work that out when the time comes."
I'm thrilled. They estimate they'll be buying a new home sometime in the late summer/early fall of this year, which would be enough time for me to have a decent down payment plus a few more dollars for incidentals (like, you know, furniture or a new furnace, since theirs is over 45 years old).
Sometimes I have a hard time believing that everyone has grown up so fast. I've accepted the fact that Chris is a husband and a father, and I'm slowly beginning to remember to call Heather Sean's "wife," but the fact that I might become a homeowner is blowing my mind. In my mind, I'm still around 25 years old, and not ready for all this.
This did not, however, stop me from accepting Aunt Helen's china that she gave to Sean and Heather when they originally bought the house. They got their own full set of china for their wedding, so I now have my great-aunt's 75-year-old china from Ireland. It's a full 12-piece serving set, complete with platters and covered dishes.
Who knew I'd ever grow up?
If I may possibly have a house, I'd sure like someone to share it with. In that vein, I've set myself a New Year's resolution to have at least a few good dates.
I sort of set myself up for it yesterday by purchasing tickets to a Duran Duran concert on April first. Laurie doesn't really like Duran Duran that much, but I've been a big fan since the 80's, and I'd like to see them in concert again. I won't make her go to the concert (she doesn't make me go to see Richard Thompson, so it's fair), which means I need a date. I figure this is sort of like NaNoWriMo, only for a companion. I have three months in which to find an acceptable date who likes Duran Duran (or at least will suffer through them for me, which may be preferable...always happy to know a man will put up with something he doesn't like just to get your attention) to take to this concert.
If all else fails, I'll fly Greg in, since I know he likes Duran Duran (he ran or still runs a Duran Duran fansite, after all), and I suspect he still likes me, and I know that I like him, so that might qualify as a date.
However, that's geographically undesirable. I'm looking for someone a little closer to home. I'll update if and when I make any progress in this area. It should be an interesting journey.
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Patrick's Daily Journal
