The hunt has ended
So I flew into Midway late Friday night, and everything went smoothly on the way up to my hotel in Skokie. The place is owned by an Indian family, and there have been weddings and parties there all weekend: gorgeous young women in floaty glittery dresses in all the colors of the rainbow and adorable young boys in suits and turbans running around the whole time.
The agent I've been working with had soccer games with her kids on Saturday morning, so I was on my own until 1. I was going to catch a Nia class in Evanston, but got there late and didn't feel like paying full price for half a class, so I decided to head to the farmers' market instead. It was quite a respectable collection of sellers, lots of summery produce and flowers and plants and preserves. As I was walking in, a guardian angel wearing the name of Kathy was struggling out of the market bearing two huge and glorious ferns. I complimented her on them, and we struck up a conversation... an otherwise innocuous event catalyzing a cascade of fortuitous happenings that led to our new house.
She asked about the areas I was searching in, and when I said north Chicago, she got very animated and started to rattle off facts and figures about a little-known pocket area called Norwood Park. She was naming streets so fast, I just handed her my notebook and pen, and let her draw what she was describing. She said locals called it the "cop neighborhood"... it seems this area is a favorite for blue collar workers like firefighters, teachers and yes, policemen. It had old charming houses and people who fiercely loved the area, and was very well-kept with many beautiful parks, not to mention easy access to the Kennedy Expressway and public transportation.
I didn't remember the name from my search... turns out there aren't many rentals in the area, and the ones that do come up tended to be pretty pricey, so they wouldn't have shown up in my searches. I upped my top price a little bit, and sure enough, one Norwood Park property appeared on Craigslist. Here's the listing I found. So I ran it through my little battery of tests: commute time to DePaul, distance to parks & libraries, street view and satellite view in Googlemaps (God Bless Googlemaps... it has made this search SO MUCH EASIER). All the tests came up with good results; time to call the owner. I wasn't too hopeful... it had listed on the 13th, and it was already the 18th; good places seemed to go really fast here, and if it didn't go fast, there was probably something wrong with it. Still, it looked nice and her passionate description of the neighborhood seemed worth at least a visit.
The tricky bit was the dog... he's 60 lbs, and most places, if they even allow dogs, have a limit of 25 lbs. Landlords just seemed really hinky about them (one place I looked at later in the weekend actually had a dog that tried to bite me... got me in the back of the leg, but I had jeans on so it just pinched... I can see why a landlord would be cautious). So I decided to not even bring the dog up until I'd met the owner and checked out the neighborhood to see if there were other dogs around.
I called the number; the owner answered and invited me to come over in about half an hour. I still had a few hours to kill before 1, so I said sure, I'll be right there. I drove up as part of the block was being taped off and tables were being erected for a big block party. The place was packed with grass and flowers and trees and kids on bikes and an entirely white-bread-wholesomeness that felt kind of unreal.
I was met by Rudy, an affable Serbian with a very thick accent and a mustache to match. I realized I was a little disheveled... I was in my exercise clothes and probably a little rumpled from the market, not really thinking about making a good impression. As soon as I stepped into the place, I could see it had been taken care of really well: new paint, all the corners plastered, all new electrical outlets and plates, floors in beautiful condition, all the doors and windows in perfect working order, all the screens intact and new-looking... it looked as nice or nicer than the for-sale houses that were being rented until the market turned (which I didn't want, because they had year-long leases that reverted to month-to-month so they could try to sell again next year, no thanks!).
And the kitchen... ooooohhhh. I walked in there... pretty sparkly black granite counters, stainless steel appliances, a lovely Moen faucet with removable handle, gorgeous new wood cabinets, nice new tile, bright and sunny windows... that's when I really started falling for the place. Before that, I was "ooh, shiny!" but everything else I looked at after the kitchen was "Can we just go back to the kitchen so I can pet the counter some more please?"
The three bedrooms are on the main level, and they're not big... it may not fit our bedroom set. They're basic square rooms; one is towards the front of the house with windows in the closet (they're the triple panes to the right of the front door as you look at the house). We peeked out the back door: a nice little covered deck (probably not large enough for our patio set... I'll have to measure... but at least big enough for a couple of chairs and a little table). A nice little lawn with trees, and a detached 1.5 car garage.
Back inside, we went to the basement. Wow... it was as big as the entire house, finished beautifully with carpeting and white walls, and a second bath with shower. Also, a laundry room with washer, dryer and big double utility sink. And a door to the backyard. He mentioned that the rent included yardwork; he had someone who did the grass on a weekly basis.
He also mentioned the neighbors' dogs, and I gently introduced Wiley and the cats. He was hesitant, then after hearing all about him, seemed okay with it... as long as we would repair any damage, he was fine with animals. Fair enough!
He talked a lot about his kids, all older than mine, one with a PhD back in Serbia, one doing finance in St. Louis, and his daughter just finished a degree at DePaul. So his ears perked up when I said Bill was teaching there. He also was interested in the homeschooling. He told me he already had two applicants for the house, but that he had one more showing scheduled on Sunday, and then me calling that morning, so he'd stop taking apps after that and make his decision. This was a surprise... the other good place we tried to apply for got yanked as soon as someone wrote their deposit check; our app wasn't even looked at.
He also said that he'd been doing this for 47 years, and never evicted a tenant in that whole time. That was because he was very careful about doing character and credit checks, and was very picky about who he rented to. I really liked how he described doing business... he's not heartless, but he's not gonna let anyone walk all over him, either. He said he considered his tenants part of his family, since all his family were in Serbia. I'm a big fan of the "chosen family" concept, so I think I got where he was coming from. Essentially, he wants his tenants to trust him, and he wanted to be able to trust his tenants.
I took an app and thanked him, then wandered around a bit before meeting my agent. I drove by the park he mentioned... it was about four or five blocks away, with an outdoor pool, tennis courts, a big playground, a walking trail, lots of grass and trees, and a clubhouse. Looked awesome!
But I wasn't ready to submit the app yet; I hadn't seen any of the agent's houses, or the other ones from Craigslist that I'd lined up for the weekend, so I decided to look at them first (when you submit an application, you also submit your first and last month's rent as a deposit check, so you're kind of committed once you take that step. The landlord can still reject you, but you have to wait to hear from him before you can apply anywhere else, unless you want to forfeit that large amount of money). He said he was showing again on Sunday; I figured I had at least that long before submitting an app, and I'd hoped to find something perhaps a little cheaper.
Long story short: didn't happen. I saw a lot of foreclosed houses and apartment flats. Mold, water damage, steep and scary stairs, torn/missing screens, broken windows, peeling paint, overgrown yards, dog bite, cops arresting people outside the front door, smokers, flooded basements, no a/c, no garage/basement/storage, no parking at all, speeding cars on road 10 feet from the back door... every single house or apartment had some fatal flaw, and many had more than one. It was clear that, at my price level, I was looking at some real stinkers.
One place I'd seen on my previous trip was sold Saturday afternoon... it was a long commute and far from any park, but I was still considering it as Plan B, if nothing else came along. Then I saw a great little apartment (in Evanston!) that I really liked, and was discussing how to apply, when we got the call from the owner that he'd rented it that morning. Another house we'd made an appointment to see was rented about ten minutes before we arrived for our walk-through. I felt like options were being yanked out from under my feet and started to panic. (It didn't help that I started a period in the middle of all this... the first since the deluge from March.)
I talked with Bill about submitting an app for Norwood; but with three, possibly four, apps, there would be no guarantee that we'd get it. A house with a really bad kitchen and no garage was Plan B (the guy didn't have it listed, at least, and wasn't talking to any other potential tenants at the time, because he was having family stay there for the next few weeks. I'd seen it on the first trip). Dog Bite house moved up to Plan C, but there was no signs of the tenant getting ready to move out... I was a little doubtful that she and Fang would be gone and the repairs (dog-peed-on carpet throughout the lower level) would be done by the time we needed to move.
Saturday night, I settled down at the hotel and combed Craigslist some more. I scheduled four more houses for Sunday, and filled out the Norwood application after calling the owner to see if it was still available. He told me to meet him at his office at 10am Sunday. I tossed and turned... this was by far the best house of the lot, and I didn't know how to tip the scales in our favor.
I woke up at 7 and couldn't go back to sleep. Showered and tried to dress up a little so I could maybe make a better impression than my schlumpy clothes and hair from the day before. Went to the 9am appointment; with the agent wincing throughout, the tenant rattled off all the horror stories the house had produced in the years she'd lived there: basement flooded twice, ruined two sets of carpeting (now it was just exposed cement with carpet shreds here and there), fourth bedroom was an uninsulated attic that froze and roasted alternately, kitchen was unheated and freezing in the winter, etc. etc. Also steep stairs, and another smoker. No thanks.
Then, off to visit with the Serbian gentleman. He was alone in the cavernous office, obviously in the largest and best-appointed corner, with glass walls and doors, The Boss Man. Dozens of picture of his children and grandchildren lined the walls, and a few bottles of expensive booze were on the desk. I gave him the application, and then gave him my own version of a rental app that I'd put together before I headed out to Chicago, with all the information a landlord could possibly ask for and then some (including pet resumés, thanks to corva for the idea!), hard copies of our most recent credit reports and scores, and a check for $3650 (first, last and pet deposit).
He talked some more about his philosophy, then said some things about keys and leases, making me VERY hopeful that he was leaning towards choosing us. I told him that I had a few more appointments and that I had to keep looking, but that as soon as he knew, if he'd call so I could either implement Plan B (whatever it was) or call off the search, I'd be very happy. He said something gallant about wanting to put a smile on my face, we shook hands, and I left feeling very positive. Even the fact that I managed to lock myself out of my rental car and had to wait for 40 minutes to get it popped open by AAA didn't diminish my euphoria.
I saw four more houses... again, each had significant problems that made them unlikely for us. One was really sad; a gentleman was cleaning his childhood home after the death of his mother, and it was still littered with mementos and tchotckes. It was really hard for him to talk about leasing it to a stranger. I tried to give him some good feedback about the house, but it was clear it wouldn't be ready for us until after we'd need to move, and it only had one bathroom. But I'm glad I was the first person he had in there... I think spending some time with him and listening to his stories and witnessing his journey was important.
All day, I was pestering Bill and my sister firefly1 and jillcook, who were all very patient with me. I didn't want to apply for any of the houses I'd seen, really. Plan B house was still there, and we'd go for it if we had to... but it didn't feel... right. Still, it was there and unlikely to get yanked out from under me, so I made plans to see more places on Monday and decided to just enjoy myself tonight to distract me from my phone, which was bull-headedly NOT ringing with news about the Norwood house. I headed to Lakeshore for dinner and exploration, driving through Wrigleyville... whoa. Sports on psychedelics... freebaseball.
Bill mentioned Intelligentsia, a coffeehouse in the area that would stay open late. I parked a few blocks away (Chicago has elegant and easy-to-use parking meter boxes, by the way), grabbed the laptop, and started out on foot. Lots of beautiful people, rainbow flags, funky little eateries, music, a Threadless outlet... I tripped over The Bagel, which provided a TON of great food for less than my crappy room service breakfast cost, preceded with fresh egg challah. Yow.
Then I found and settled into Intelligentsia, and started to comb through Craigslist. I hadn't heard from the Norwood guy yet, and I figured that by this time (7:30 or so), I probably had lost the place. I needed to get moving. I had one more day and I needed to make the most of it... if I settled for the house with the crappy kitchen, I at least wanted to feel like I'd made a valiant effort to find something better. I had set up a couple of appointments for the morning, had a few more prospects lined up for later in the day, and was soothing my jitters with some iced Moroccan mint green tea. The coffeehouse ambiance was doing wonders for me, the loud music and talking and tapping keyboards and wild art and really nice tattooed server guy all making me feel a little better about things. Heck, I had 24 whole hours left to find something! And most of my competition would be at work, so I could have my pick of the newest listings. And Plan B was still there... I could eventually get used to pink-and-white grouted 2"-tile counters, couldn't I?
Then I noticed my phone bouncing around on the table. It was ringing, but it was so loud in the room I couldn't hear it... the buzz was making it hop around like water on a hot skillet. Didn't recognize the number... gulp! It's the Serbian guy! He wants me to COME SIGN THE LEASE AND PICK UP THE KEYS TOMORROW! Through sheer force of will, I manage not to scream and cry and piddle on the nice handmade coffeehouse cushion, but rather thank him as politely as I can before he could change his mind.
I'll go get a ton of pictures tomorrow and post 'em when I can. Lots of details to deal with soon, not least of which is hiring the movers and selling our appliances (anyone need a fridge, gas stove, washer or dryer?). But tomorrow... I have a house to measure, a lease to sign, and a reason to celebrate.
I think I might pick up a cold one, go to the beach, and raise a toast to Kathy.
The agent I've been working with had soccer games with her kids on Saturday morning, so I was on my own until 1. I was going to catch a Nia class in Evanston, but got there late and didn't feel like paying full price for half a class, so I decided to head to the farmers' market instead. It was quite a respectable collection of sellers, lots of summery produce and flowers and plants and preserves. As I was walking in, a guardian angel wearing the name of Kathy was struggling out of the market bearing two huge and glorious ferns. I complimented her on them, and we struck up a conversation... an otherwise innocuous event catalyzing a cascade of fortuitous happenings that led to our new house.
She asked about the areas I was searching in, and when I said north Chicago, she got very animated and started to rattle off facts and figures about a little-known pocket area called Norwood Park. She was naming streets so fast, I just handed her my notebook and pen, and let her draw what she was describing. She said locals called it the "cop neighborhood"... it seems this area is a favorite for blue collar workers like firefighters, teachers and yes, policemen. It had old charming houses and people who fiercely loved the area, and was very well-kept with many beautiful parks, not to mention easy access to the Kennedy Expressway and public transportation.
I didn't remember the name from my search... turns out there aren't many rentals in the area, and the ones that do come up tended to be pretty pricey, so they wouldn't have shown up in my searches. I upped my top price a little bit, and sure enough, one Norwood Park property appeared on Craigslist. Here's the listing I found. So I ran it through my little battery of tests: commute time to DePaul, distance to parks & libraries, street view and satellite view in Googlemaps (God Bless Googlemaps... it has made this search SO MUCH EASIER). All the tests came up with good results; time to call the owner. I wasn't too hopeful... it had listed on the 13th, and it was already the 18th; good places seemed to go really fast here, and if it didn't go fast, there was probably something wrong with it. Still, it looked nice and her passionate description of the neighborhood seemed worth at least a visit.
The tricky bit was the dog... he's 60 lbs, and most places, if they even allow dogs, have a limit of 25 lbs. Landlords just seemed really hinky about them (one place I looked at later in the weekend actually had a dog that tried to bite me... got me in the back of the leg, but I had jeans on so it just pinched... I can see why a landlord would be cautious). So I decided to not even bring the dog up until I'd met the owner and checked out the neighborhood to see if there were other dogs around.
I called the number; the owner answered and invited me to come over in about half an hour. I still had a few hours to kill before 1, so I said sure, I'll be right there. I drove up as part of the block was being taped off and tables were being erected for a big block party. The place was packed with grass and flowers and trees and kids on bikes and an entirely white-bread-wholesomeness that felt kind of unreal.
I was met by Rudy, an affable Serbian with a very thick accent and a mustache to match. I realized I was a little disheveled... I was in my exercise clothes and probably a little rumpled from the market, not really thinking about making a good impression. As soon as I stepped into the place, I could see it had been taken care of really well: new paint, all the corners plastered, all new electrical outlets and plates, floors in beautiful condition, all the doors and windows in perfect working order, all the screens intact and new-looking... it looked as nice or nicer than the for-sale houses that were being rented until the market turned (which I didn't want, because they had year-long leases that reverted to month-to-month so they could try to sell again next year, no thanks!).
And the kitchen... ooooohhhh. I walked in there... pretty sparkly black granite counters, stainless steel appliances, a lovely Moen faucet with removable handle, gorgeous new wood cabinets, nice new tile, bright and sunny windows... that's when I really started falling for the place. Before that, I was "ooh, shiny!" but everything else I looked at after the kitchen was "Can we just go back to the kitchen so I can pet the counter some more please?"
The three bedrooms are on the main level, and they're not big... it may not fit our bedroom set. They're basic square rooms; one is towards the front of the house with windows in the closet (they're the triple panes to the right of the front door as you look at the house). We peeked out the back door: a nice little covered deck (probably not large enough for our patio set... I'll have to measure... but at least big enough for a couple of chairs and a little table). A nice little lawn with trees, and a detached 1.5 car garage.
Back inside, we went to the basement. Wow... it was as big as the entire house, finished beautifully with carpeting and white walls, and a second bath with shower. Also, a laundry room with washer, dryer and big double utility sink. And a door to the backyard. He mentioned that the rent included yardwork; he had someone who did the grass on a weekly basis.
He also mentioned the neighbors' dogs, and I gently introduced Wiley and the cats. He was hesitant, then after hearing all about him, seemed okay with it... as long as we would repair any damage, he was fine with animals. Fair enough!
He talked a lot about his kids, all older than mine, one with a PhD back in Serbia, one doing finance in St. Louis, and his daughter just finished a degree at DePaul. So his ears perked up when I said Bill was teaching there. He also was interested in the homeschooling. He told me he already had two applicants for the house, but that he had one more showing scheduled on Sunday, and then me calling that morning, so he'd stop taking apps after that and make his decision. This was a surprise... the other good place we tried to apply for got yanked as soon as someone wrote their deposit check; our app wasn't even looked at.
He also said that he'd been doing this for 47 years, and never evicted a tenant in that whole time. That was because he was very careful about doing character and credit checks, and was very picky about who he rented to. I really liked how he described doing business... he's not heartless, but he's not gonna let anyone walk all over him, either. He said he considered his tenants part of his family, since all his family were in Serbia. I'm a big fan of the "chosen family" concept, so I think I got where he was coming from. Essentially, he wants his tenants to trust him, and he wanted to be able to trust his tenants.
I took an app and thanked him, then wandered around a bit before meeting my agent. I drove by the park he mentioned... it was about four or five blocks away, with an outdoor pool, tennis courts, a big playground, a walking trail, lots of grass and trees, and a clubhouse. Looked awesome!
But I wasn't ready to submit the app yet; I hadn't seen any of the agent's houses, or the other ones from Craigslist that I'd lined up for the weekend, so I decided to look at them first (when you submit an application, you also submit your first and last month's rent as a deposit check, so you're kind of committed once you take that step. The landlord can still reject you, but you have to wait to hear from him before you can apply anywhere else, unless you want to forfeit that large amount of money). He said he was showing again on Sunday; I figured I had at least that long before submitting an app, and I'd hoped to find something perhaps a little cheaper.
Long story short: didn't happen. I saw a lot of foreclosed houses and apartment flats. Mold, water damage, steep and scary stairs, torn/missing screens, broken windows, peeling paint, overgrown yards, dog bite, cops arresting people outside the front door, smokers, flooded basements, no a/c, no garage/basement/storage, no parking at all, speeding cars on road 10 feet from the back door... every single house or apartment had some fatal flaw, and many had more than one. It was clear that, at my price level, I was looking at some real stinkers.
One place I'd seen on my previous trip was sold Saturday afternoon... it was a long commute and far from any park, but I was still considering it as Plan B, if nothing else came along. Then I saw a great little apartment (in Evanston!) that I really liked, and was discussing how to apply, when we got the call from the owner that he'd rented it that morning. Another house we'd made an appointment to see was rented about ten minutes before we arrived for our walk-through. I felt like options were being yanked out from under my feet and started to panic. (It didn't help that I started a period in the middle of all this... the first since the deluge from March.)
I talked with Bill about submitting an app for Norwood; but with three, possibly four, apps, there would be no guarantee that we'd get it. A house with a really bad kitchen and no garage was Plan B (the guy didn't have it listed, at least, and wasn't talking to any other potential tenants at the time, because he was having family stay there for the next few weeks. I'd seen it on the first trip). Dog Bite house moved up to Plan C, but there was no signs of the tenant getting ready to move out... I was a little doubtful that she and Fang would be gone and the repairs (dog-peed-on carpet throughout the lower level) would be done by the time we needed to move.
Saturday night, I settled down at the hotel and combed Craigslist some more. I scheduled four more houses for Sunday, and filled out the Norwood application after calling the owner to see if it was still available. He told me to meet him at his office at 10am Sunday. I tossed and turned... this was by far the best house of the lot, and I didn't know how to tip the scales in our favor.
I woke up at 7 and couldn't go back to sleep. Showered and tried to dress up a little so I could maybe make a better impression than my schlumpy clothes and hair from the day before. Went to the 9am appointment; with the agent wincing throughout, the tenant rattled off all the horror stories the house had produced in the years she'd lived there: basement flooded twice, ruined two sets of carpeting (now it was just exposed cement with carpet shreds here and there), fourth bedroom was an uninsulated attic that froze and roasted alternately, kitchen was unheated and freezing in the winter, etc. etc. Also steep stairs, and another smoker. No thanks.
Then, off to visit with the Serbian gentleman. He was alone in the cavernous office, obviously in the largest and best-appointed corner, with glass walls and doors, The Boss Man. Dozens of picture of his children and grandchildren lined the walls, and a few bottles of expensive booze were on the desk. I gave him the application, and then gave him my own version of a rental app that I'd put together before I headed out to Chicago, with all the information a landlord could possibly ask for and then some (including pet resumés, thanks to corva for the idea!), hard copies of our most recent credit reports and scores, and a check for $3650 (first, last and pet deposit).
He talked some more about his philosophy, then said some things about keys and leases, making me VERY hopeful that he was leaning towards choosing us. I told him that I had a few more appointments and that I had to keep looking, but that as soon as he knew, if he'd call so I could either implement Plan B (whatever it was) or call off the search, I'd be very happy. He said something gallant about wanting to put a smile on my face, we shook hands, and I left feeling very positive. Even the fact that I managed to lock myself out of my rental car and had to wait for 40 minutes to get it popped open by AAA didn't diminish my euphoria.
I saw four more houses... again, each had significant problems that made them unlikely for us. One was really sad; a gentleman was cleaning his childhood home after the death of his mother, and it was still littered with mementos and tchotckes. It was really hard for him to talk about leasing it to a stranger. I tried to give him some good feedback about the house, but it was clear it wouldn't be ready for us until after we'd need to move, and it only had one bathroom. But I'm glad I was the first person he had in there... I think spending some time with him and listening to his stories and witnessing his journey was important.
All day, I was pestering Bill and my sister firefly1 and jillcook, who were all very patient with me. I didn't want to apply for any of the houses I'd seen, really. Plan B house was still there, and we'd go for it if we had to... but it didn't feel... right. Still, it was there and unlikely to get yanked out from under me, so I made plans to see more places on Monday and decided to just enjoy myself tonight to distract me from my phone, which was bull-headedly NOT ringing with news about the Norwood house. I headed to Lakeshore for dinner and exploration, driving through Wrigleyville... whoa. Sports on psychedelics... freebaseball.
Bill mentioned Intelligentsia, a coffeehouse in the area that would stay open late. I parked a few blocks away (Chicago has elegant and easy-to-use parking meter boxes, by the way), grabbed the laptop, and started out on foot. Lots of beautiful people, rainbow flags, funky little eateries, music, a Threadless outlet... I tripped over The Bagel, which provided a TON of great food for less than my crappy room service breakfast cost, preceded with fresh egg challah. Yow.
Then I found and settled into Intelligentsia, and started to comb through Craigslist. I hadn't heard from the Norwood guy yet, and I figured that by this time (7:30 or so), I probably had lost the place. I needed to get moving. I had one more day and I needed to make the most of it... if I settled for the house with the crappy kitchen, I at least wanted to feel like I'd made a valiant effort to find something better. I had set up a couple of appointments for the morning, had a few more prospects lined up for later in the day, and was soothing my jitters with some iced Moroccan mint green tea. The coffeehouse ambiance was doing wonders for me, the loud music and talking and tapping keyboards and wild art and really nice tattooed server guy all making me feel a little better about things. Heck, I had 24 whole hours left to find something! And most of my competition would be at work, so I could have my pick of the newest listings. And Plan B was still there... I could eventually get used to pink-and-white grouted 2"-tile counters, couldn't I?
Then I noticed my phone bouncing around on the table. It was ringing, but it was so loud in the room I couldn't hear it... the buzz was making it hop around like water on a hot skillet. Didn't recognize the number... gulp! It's the Serbian guy! He wants me to COME SIGN THE LEASE AND PICK UP THE KEYS TOMORROW! Through sheer force of will, I manage not to scream and cry and piddle on the nice handmade coffeehouse cushion, but rather thank him as politely as I can before he could change his mind.
I'll go get a ton of pictures tomorrow and post 'em when I can. Lots of details to deal with soon, not least of which is hiring the movers and selling our appliances (anyone need a fridge, gas stove, washer or dryer?). But tomorrow... I have a house to measure, a lease to sign, and a reason to celebrate.
I think I might pick up a cold one, go to the beach, and raise a toast to Kathy.