The Story of How We Bought Blake Hill House – Part II

In case you missed it, here is Part I.

I thought that finding photos for Part II was going to be very easy. I have loads of photo albums. However, this part of the story took place during the years that we became parents, and I had the camera firmly planted in front of adorable baby faces instead of houses. Most of these photos are not great, but they do enhance the story.

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In lieu of a honeymoon, Andy and I decided to buy a house. We had been saving our money for quite some time, and I had taken a second job in order to save even faster. A realtor had been showing us houses in various communities outside of Zion National Park. The area was starting to boom. Although we knew we did not want to live there forever, we saw home ownership as an investment opportunity, and we would be able to live in a nice house in the meantime. We were both tired of communal living and the disrepair of available rental properties.

After months of searching, we decided to buy a newly built house in a town called Hurricane (pronounced “Hurricun”), Utah. The 1500 square foot house had three bedrooms and two bathrooms. We had exactly zero pieces of furniture to put in it. Unbeknownst to us, as we worked our way through the first time home buying process, something else was brewing. On the very day that we closed on our brand new home, the company that we both worked for was sold. Within weeks, longtime employees left or were terminated. Job security was gone, and work became unbearable for both of us due to employee turnover and policy changes.

So there we were, miserable in our jobs, and now we had a 30-year mortgage. We bought a bed, a washer and dryer, a futon couch, and a recliner. We found a dining room table and some other odds and ends at local garage sales. We used one bedroom as an office, and the third bedroom remained empty. I found a new job which I really enjoyed. Andy hung on far longer with the company than I did, until finally, he had had enough. His employment search led to a promotion, working for a different company in Lake Powell, Arizona. We were leaving Utah and our brand new house.

Andy moved to Arizona right away, but I stayed behind in order to keep my health insurance. I was pregnant with our first baby. Three weeks after our son was born, we joined Andy in Arizona. Our Utah house went on the market. We had owned it for less than two years. Being young and optimistic, we thought it would sell pretty quickly. We were wrong. So wrong. A real estate boom had happened, but a bust followed closely behind.

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In Arizona, we lived in a dilapidated, 900 square-foot single-wide trailer at Wahweap marina. (No photo) It was provided to us as a benefit of Andy’s employment. We painted and we cleaned, but our efforts were no match for the rot and disrepair of our accommodations. The toilet rocked back and forth. The roof leaked, and the interior wall paneling was peeling apart. It was hard to live in such challenging conditions when we knew that our beautiful new house sat empty. The trailer cost $0 which was exactly what we could afford since we were now a single income family with a new baby and a mortgage.

Despite the state of the trailer, it did have a million dollar view. I watched powerful monsoons blow across the mesa and fancy houseboats enjoy the lake. The trailer was within walking distance of work for Andy. A. and I could wave to Daddy as he was walking home after work or on his lunch break.

Andy and I waited for our house to sell so we could figure out what our next step would be. We waited, and then we waited some more. Finally, after 18 months, two things happened. Andy was offered a new job in California, and we received the first offer on our Utah house.

We quickly accepted the offer. We were several thousand dollars in the red, but we were thrilled to be moving to California, and we were both relieved to be rid of the burden of that house even though it would take 2-3 years to work off the debt. We swore off home ownership at that point, and we resumed our life as tenants.

Our first rental in California was a small three bedroom, two bathroom house situated on the outer edge of an organic farm. The house was around 1200 square feet. It was such a happy place to live, a breath of fresh air after living in the trailer at Lake Powell. The farmhouse had a galley kitchen, hardwood floors, and our landlord was wonderful. We brought another baby home to that house during the five years that we lived there.

One day, we happened to be looking at the paper, and we saw a larger house available for the same amount of rent. Although we loved our little farmhouse, it was located next to a busy road. We really wanted a fenced in yard for the kids and our rambunctious dog.

Within a month, we had moved two miles down the road. The house, which was a triple wide modular home, was 2000 square feet. It felt enormous. The bulk of the square footage was in the living room/dining room combo. We settled right in, and our third little boy was born there by the end of the year.

I searched everywhere, but I do not have an exterior photo of this house. If you can picture a large modular home from the 1990’s, you likely have an accurate picture in your mind.

We had lived there just over a year when our landlord announced that she was selling the property. She offered it to us first. Fortunately, we had moved back on the financial plus side after the fiasco with our Utah house. We had not even thought about buying a house, but once our landlord offered to sell the rental to us, it opened up the possibility again. The price was right, and the property did have a lot of positive qualities. We saw potential, so we agreed to purchase the house. It seemed like it would be a smooth and easy business transaction.

We should have known better. Nothing in our lives is ever straightforward.

Once we agreed to buy the house, our landlord moved forward with some of the details of the deal. One morning, I looked out the bedroom window and saw a surveyor in the yard. When I asked him what he was doing, he told me that he had been hired by the neighbor. He informed me that the property line ran right through the master bedroom. He also broke the news that the neighbor and our landlord had been feuding for years over the property line. Alarmed, I called Andy and then our landlord. Our landlord assured me that everything was fine. There were no property line issues.

Andy and I were sufficiently spooked. We had felt uneasy about our landlord at other times. We questioned her honesty. After some discussion, we decided to back out of the purchase. We were back to square one. We had to move, and we needed to find a house.

With the help of a realtor, we found our new home. When Andy and I stood on the deck and looked at the view, we were sold.

The house, built in 1964, was 1700 square feet. It sat atop a two-acre parcel, surrounded by undeveloped acreage that belonged to a local winery. The house needed a lot of cosmetic work, inside and out, but we were up for the challenge. We were happy in California, and it felt like we had nothing but time. We closed exactly three months before a real estate boom (deja vu). Everything was going our way.

We repaired, repainted and remodeled every inch of that house during the nine years that we lived there. That house was the first place that had truly felt like home since my childhood in Zion National Park. I was back in the mountains. It was there that I tentatively put down some roots. Our friends became our family. Our daughter was born in that house. I wanted to stay forever.

To be continued…

Part III