The Popas Next Door
I got such great feedback from my post teasing our house (thank you!) that I thought I'd write a little more about how it
feels to be in it.
As I mentioned earlier, we've been home for about six months. There's still a ton to do. But as I was talking to my friend over happy hour earlier this week about our process, I said something out loud I hadn't ever really articulated to myself, or to anyone else. I started talking about how having somewhere to land that is ours made our lives feel so much less transitional.
Our 20s are hard. No one warned me about them. I once had a leader in one of my former roles tell me "20s are for learning, 30s are for earning." And I've learned a wholllllllle lot more than I ever thought I would. About friendship, career, how to not ask stupid questions (because they do exist), happy hour, long-term love, public transportation, loss, Walla Walla sweet onions, andonandonandon. Liiiiiife, man. Life.
Once I found the person I wanted to share all my experiences and neuroses with, I was fixated on finding us a home to pour our creative energies into. We went back and forth on pulling the trigger to the point where we decided to stay in our apartment on Queen Anne a year or so longer before really looking for a house. The market was scary. We'd had a big 2014 wedding season. We needed to recover. We needed to save.
Then Raz came home one day and said he decided we should buy a house.
Now, I'm no little woman. I am a loud and proud feminist. Raz does not make our decisions. We are partners in most everything (he's in charge of technology, and I'm in charge of formal correspondence, but that's neither here nor there). We share - a big feat for two only children.
Honestly, he'd been the reluctant one and I didn't really care to push as long as I could redo our apartment in a more "adult" aesthetic. I'm like a grown up Curly Sue: "What's the compromise?" But when he was all in, I said "Do. Not. Tease. Me." He didn't. We went for it.
And here we are. The feels are big. Because in Seattle it's really, really hard out there, especially if you're the new kid and you don't come with an all cash offer $100K over asking. Srsly.
For us to say we've done it, that we're building a home together, that I get to water my geraniums with my Utah watering can that Raz doesn't even make fun of me for buying and have him help me dig trenches for my Walla Walla sweet onions is...monumental. It's everything.
We are good separately, but we are great together. We go to Home Depot on the weekends. I get popcorn and look at paint chips and he rents tools and buys wood. Usually. I truly believe in the power of our partnership and all of the big ideas we're going to throw all over this house. We've already made a bunch of memories.
And the best part? No upstairs neighbors smoking cigarettes and herding elephants at 2 a.m.
As I mentioned earlier, we've been home for about six months. There's still a ton to do. But as I was talking to my friend over happy hour earlier this week about our process, I said something out loud I hadn't ever really articulated to myself, or to anyone else. I started talking about how having somewhere to land that is ours made our lives feel so much less transitional.
Our 20s are hard. No one warned me about them. I once had a leader in one of my former roles tell me "20s are for learning, 30s are for earning." And I've learned a wholllllllle lot more than I ever thought I would. About friendship, career, how to not ask stupid questions (because they do exist), happy hour, long-term love, public transportation, loss, Walla Walla sweet onions, andonandonandon. Liiiiiife, man. Life.
Once I found the person I wanted to share all my experiences and neuroses with, I was fixated on finding us a home to pour our creative energies into. We went back and forth on pulling the trigger to the point where we decided to stay in our apartment on Queen Anne a year or so longer before really looking for a house. The market was scary. We'd had a big 2014 wedding season. We needed to recover. We needed to save.
Then Raz came home one day and said he decided we should buy a house.
Now, I'm no little woman. I am a loud and proud feminist. Raz does not make our decisions. We are partners in most everything (he's in charge of technology, and I'm in charge of formal correspondence, but that's neither here nor there). We share - a big feat for two only children.
Honestly, he'd been the reluctant one and I didn't really care to push as long as I could redo our apartment in a more "adult" aesthetic. I'm like a grown up Curly Sue: "What's the compromise?" But when he was all in, I said "Do. Not. Tease. Me." He didn't. We went for it.
And here we are. The feels are big. Because in Seattle it's really, really hard out there, especially if you're the new kid and you don't come with an all cash offer $100K over asking. Srsly.
For us to say we've done it, that we're building a home together, that I get to water my geraniums with my Utah watering can that Raz doesn't even make fun of me for buying and have him help me dig trenches for my Walla Walla sweet onions is...monumental. It's everything.
We are good separately, but we are great together. We go to Home Depot on the weekends. I get popcorn and look at paint chips and he rents tools and buys wood. Usually. I truly believe in the power of our partnership and all of the big ideas we're going to throw all over this house. We've already made a bunch of memories.
And the best part? No upstairs neighbors smoking cigarettes and herding elephants at 2 a.m.
Photo: Alyssa Wilcox
Dress: Minkpink via Nordstrom Rack