Yankees Again
It's official - my house in Georgia SOLD! I know... I can't believe it either. If you haven't been following the saga, I have been paying two mortgages for about 18 months (which sucks, by the way). And in answer to your first question, NO I COULDN'T RENT IT!!! Anyway, after three realtors, two contracts, and one burst real estate bubble, we're no longer residents of the south.
In other news, I can now start wearing a tweed jacket and smoking a pipe - my first book is supposed to be released today. It has been available for pre-order on Amazon for about a month and seems to be relatively popular so far. It got some nice reviews from a couple of heavy-hitters in my industry, which certainly didn't hurt. Next time you are in your local Borders or Barnes and Nobel, mosey on over to the computer section and it should be there. Well, unless it's sold out of course ;)
This past weekend was the big bonfire that signals the close of camp season at Blueberry Hill. E and I had a great summer "down camp" this year - she took off Fridays in July and August and we went down just about every weekend. Now that we will be home on the weekends we can hopefully find time to catch up with all the little things that tend to get neglected over the summer - laundry, yard work, showering, updating StarkNews...
Quick Little Q&A
Hi all! I got an email from an old friend the other day who asked a bunch of questions about what was going on with me (and she chastized me for not posting here for such a long time). I figured I would post my reply to her email here in case anyone was interested.
Q: How are things with you?
A: Things are great, actually.
Q: What are you doing for work?
A: I left the company that I was working for in Atlanta and started my own company on January 1, 2007. Working for yourself RULES! Business has been pretty good, but there is always room for growth. I have a web publishing book coming out this month (search for Jonathan Stark on Amazon) and I am gearing up to start offering online training classes for people who want to learn web publishing and FileMaker stuff. I am speaking at the annual FileMaker developer convention in Orlando, FL next week, so I am excited about that. Basically, the last 6 months have been totally insane, but things are starting to level off. I am actually working fewer than 50 hours per week for the first time in years ;)
Q: Did you sell the house in Atlanta?
A: Nope. I had under contract but it fell through at the last minute.
Q: Have you had any music gigs lately?
A: I have not been playing music, hanging out with friends, going to the gym, jogging, reading fun books, blogging, etc... Even Erica has to schedule stuff with me about 3 weeks in advance. Now that my business is reasonably stable, I am looking forward to getting back to all of those things. It's tough with those two mortgages to do much else but work :(
Q: How many pets to you guys have now?
A: 2 dogs - Margo and George. I am home pretty much every day with them, so they are spoiled. They're super funny.
Q: What else is going on?
A: Well, let's see... I helped to put a new roof on Erica's mother's cottage in Plymouth, MA (I am way too old for that sort of thing), I got an iPhone (it is even better than they said it would be), and we've been spending weekends at E's campsite in the forest (as per usual for the summer).
Oh, and I broke our garbage disposal by leaving it running for about 437 minutes. So, like any good homeowner, I did nothing about it for several days. After that, I started procrastinating.
That I did nothing about the broken appliance for about a week might not seem like a big deal -- I mean, it's just a garbage disposal. The human race thrived with out them for about a jillion years before they were discovered (by Columbus, I believe).
The thing is, our sink would not drain without the disposal running (which is why I had it running for 437 minutes in the first place), so we basically went for a week without a kitchen sink. This means that E's large collection of frequently used, non-diswasher-safe cooking apperatuses were languishing on the counter for quite some time.
(By the way, I looked it up and "apperatuses" is in fact the plural of "apperatus". I would have thought "apperati", but hey, what do I know?).
So, when I had finally had enough of the sweet aroma of decomposing organic matter, I installed a new one. Almost immediately after I had the new one installed I realized that I hadn't actually broken the old one -- I had just flipped the breaker on it. This means that rather than spending $200 on a new disposal, blowing a Sunday, and spending a week staring at a burgeoning insect colony on the countertop, I could have literally clicked one button and been done with it.
Ah, the joys of homeownership. Talk to you again in another six months! ;)
Hunched over the Holidays
E, the dogs and I are sitting here watching Legally Blonde, so I figured it would be a good time to update the blog. Or shoot myself. Ahhh... I guess I'll just update the blog.
It's been a crazy three months since the last update, so I will just hit "the high notes" (otherwise known as "the only events that I can recall").
Thanksgiving
I can't really remember how we ended up hosting Thanksgiving, but we did, and it was awesometastic. We had about 20 people, 15 pounds of mashed potatoes, 3 turkeys, 2 dogs and 1 broken wine glass.
Speaking of turkeys, November 23, 2006 will go down in history as the day I lost my "turkey cooking" viginity. With so many friends and family in attendance, and with an eye toward supplying generously portioned to-go containers, we needed a lot of fowl. One thing led to another, and before I knew it, I was making plans to fry one of those bad daddies in five gallons of boiling peanut oil.
As you may or may not know, frying a turkey can lead to some pretty exciting moments. In fact, near as I can tell, it's a pretty reliable way to burn down your whole neighborhood. In an attempt to mitigate the danger, I pulled out the big guns. Celebrity chef Alton Brown had done an episode of Good Eats about turkey frying, so I decided that the only prudent thing to do was to replay that thing about ten thousand times on YouTube. I actually took notes on it. Seriously.
I followed his advice to the letter. Well, almost. The normally jocular Alton stridently admonished his viewers to never, EVER fry a turkey indoors. He had a strong point, and I agreed wholeheartedly. I had every intention of bird-boiling in the middle of the front lawn . However, it poured on TDay. So, with a brand new fire extinguisher at the ready, I threw caution to the wind and set up in the garage.
When I say "set up", I really mean it. As instructed by my TV, I constructed a turkey derrick to facilitate the lowering of the bird in to the roiling cauldron. I am happy to report that:
- I burned down exactly zero houses
- The fried turkey was a hit with everyone
Camp Xmas Party
In the summer months, E loves nothing more than planting her ass "Down Camp" and has been doing just that every summer for, oh, the last 30 years or so. One of the camp traditions is an annual Christmas party. Since we are newly back in town, we wanted to host it this year so our camp friends could - as my gramma used to say - "groove on da fly crib".
So, one Saturday morning in December we were descended upon by about 25 kids, all under the age about 4. Fortunately, E was prepared with a series of activities including the fixins for a small city of gingerbread houses. It was pandemonium. As you can probably imagine, a jolly time was had by all.
Christmas
While we are on the subject of total chaos, let's talk about Christmas. We had a bunch of parties to attend and right in the middle of the second one, I was struck down with what I thought was food poisoning. You know when you are just sitting there, minding your own business, when out of nowhere your small intestine makes a noise like someone just plunged the toilet? Yeah, well that happened to me in the car on the evening of the 23rd, on the way to my father's birthday party.
Needless to say, we had to leave early, I woke up on the bathroom floor, and I didn't eat again until the evening of the 25th. In spite of my condition, and to prove that I can still party like a rock star, I didn't bow out on any of the three gatherings that we were scheduled to attend on xmas eve and xmas day.
I am happy to report that I am back firing on all cylinders. Unfortunately, now Erica is under the weather :( By the way, all this xmas talk reminds me - if you are wondering why the Northeastern US is experiencing record high temperatures, here's your explanation: I got a snow shovel for Christmas.
Work Stuff
I don't usually get into work related stuff here, but there have been a couple of newsworthy events lately:
After four fun years at The Moyer Group, I have left to start my own IT consulting company. There was no particular event that inspired the change, it just seemed like a natural progression. Plus, going from "second banana" to "chief cook and bottle washer" will allow me to try out some exciting - albeit somewhat risky - plans that would not have been a good fit for TMG.
The other big news is that I am writing a book. It is going to be a niche Web publishing book for a well known publishing company. I can't go into too many details, but let's just say that my typing skills are going to be getting a big boost this year.
Some of you may recall that I had a publishing deal a year or two ago, but for reasons beyond my control, it ended up getting shelved (pun intended). Please join me in keeping your fingers crossed that this one goes a little better ;)
Until next time... TTFN!
Oh yeah, one more thing... Our house in Atlanta is still for sale, so if you know anyone that needs to buy or rent down there, please let me know!
Flip-flops by Chanel
Do I look relaxed? I ought to. Erica and I just got back from a 5 day vacation in South Beach. Well, I just got back from vacation - Erica was there for work. She was attending a conference and I tagged along for a little careless over-exposure to the sun.
We stayed at the Ritz right on the beach. I have to say, there is something incredibly decadent about sitting by a huge pool that's maybe 100 yards from a gorgeous beach. It's like, "Yeah, I could go down to the beach, but that might mean rubbing elbows with commoners. Besides, I don't want to get sand on my Chanel flip-flops."
The Ritz actually has a guy walking around the pool handing out sun block and similar items. On the back of his shirt, in big white letters, it says "Tanning Butler". On a related note, an alert female member of our party noted that the tanning butler's legs were smoother than hers.
Speaking of "our party", a few of Erica's friends from work also attended the conference. Even though they are all from E's work, we all see each other pretty regularly so I know them well, too. It was great to hang with the gang in SoBe. We went out for dinner every night, sometimes just the two of us, sometimes en masse. It was really great.
The first night, four of the six of us had just gotten off the plane and were hungry. We didn't really know where to go, so we asked the concierge if there was a good restaurant in the area that would seat us in our casual attire. He cheerfully replied, "We're on the beach - everything is casual," before directing us to a sushi restaurant just up the way.
As it turned out, the sushi place was the schwank and world famous Nobu. We got there right as they opened and found the place already well populated. Within minutes after being seated, the place totally filled up with well-heeled socialites. There were lots of fake boobs and flashy watches, and everyone was constantly fixing their hair. Needless to say, we were a little underdressed, but that was just fine with us (and, thankfully, also seemed fine with our excellent and attentive waitstaff).
We tried all sorts of stuff we had never heard of and stumbled across some amazing new flavors. It is worth mentioning that this was undertaken without much concern about the cost. It got so ridiculous that, after asking for the check, we took bets "Price Is Right" style about how much the tab would be. The highest guess was under by more than $100 bucks. Whoops. Oh well - it was a good time, and after all, we were on vacation. Well, at least I was on vacation.
After the Nobu dinner, E and I passed out in the room. Everyone else took a power snooze so they could go out again at 11 PM. We have it on good authority that the South Beach late night scene is still alive and well. In fact, one of our peeps got so tanked on red wine that she called everyone she knew, before returning to her room and, uh, "colorizing" an otherwise pristine white Ritz bathroom.
Jeez, I have not even gotten through the first day and there is some much more to talk about. I am going to have to just hit the highlights...
Celebrity Sighting
Okay, so you probably haven't heard of it, but there is this great show on TLC called Miami Ink. It's about a tattoo parlor that is supposedly on Washington Street in the heart of South Beach, and I am basically addicted to it.
On Monday, I figured I would be a total tourist and try to find the place to sneak a peek at some of my fave personalities from the show. As a long-time resident of Boston, I figured this would be a total disappointment. If you have ever made the pilgrimage to the real "Cheers" bar, you know what I am talking about.
Much to my amazement, I found the place right about where I figured it would be and sure enough the facade looked exactly like the show. The only difference was that it was mobbed with other rubbernecking losers like myself. If you have seen the show, you know that the employees of Miami Ink have a deep respect for their clients and their art, but they don't seem very patient. I was dying to go in, but I feared that it would kind of go like this:
Ami: "Yeah, lemme go get him."
Ami goes and interupts Garver from his work. Garver walks over to desk.
Garver (wiping ink from hands): "Would you like a tattoo?"
Me: "No."
Garver: "Then what can I do for you?"
Me: "I don't know."
Long pause
Garver (audibly sighs, turns around, and says to nobody in particular): "God, what a tool."
In spite of my overactive imagination, I stuck my head in the window and immediately saw that for better or worse, they had probably already had enough of the gawking masses and had hired a bunch of anonymous employees to man the chairs. There wasn't a recognizable face in the bunch. "Oh well," I figured, "at least I didn't make an ass of myself," and headed back up the beach to the hotel.
I was just about back to the pool when I spied an oddly gothic looking girl walking off the beach (as you might imagine, black clothing is not very popular in south Florida). She was walking right at me and I was thinking, "Damn, I think that's Kat Von D," who is the lone female Miami Ink tattoo artist. As she got closer, I changed my mind about 5 times: "Yeah, that's her! No, it just looks like her. C'mon, that is definitely her. Nah, I was just at the shop - it's my imagination." She had sunglasses on and had her head down so her hair was in her face, but there's no mistaking a full leg tattoo - it was definitely her.
In retrospect, I realize that the whole time that I was debating her identity with myself, I was openly staring at her as if I was behind a 2 way mirror or something. By the time I snapped out of it, she was practically on top of me. Then, right at the last second, apropos of nothing, I blurted out, "Hi!" I didn't even think it - it just sort of popped out, like I had Tourette's.
I realize that saying "Hi" to someone does not sound all that bad, but believe me, it was. It is hard to describe the extreme awkwardness of my timing, and my inexplicably high voice. It was so absurd that as soon as she was past me, I actually smacked my forehead in disgust, like "You idiot! What were you thinking?" I guess the moral of the story is that it is never too late to make an ass or yourself.
Oh well, there is still more interesting stuff to the Miami story, but I have to toddle off to bed... maybe I will be able to write more before I forget everything. Nighty night...
South Beach Diet
As you may or my not know, I spent about half of the nineties wintering in Miami. More specifically, I lived on South Beach. This distinction is important. If you've never been to Miami, I can tell you that in the mid-nineties, it was a big, rough, unwelcoming town with a large and cranky homeless population. South Beach, on the other hand, was free and easy, laid back and beautiful.
I suppose this is due to the geography. Miami is on the east coast of south Florida. Even further to the east, is a long thin-ish strip of land called Miami Beach. It runs about 15 or 20 miles north to south, separated from the mainland by the Intercoastal Waterway. South Beach is the southern 20 blocks or so of Miami Beach.
At the time, pretty much everyone on South Beach was a current, former, or wanna-be model, and the climate was such that bikinis were almost always appropriate attire. It was awful. The architecture was classic deco, but painted with South Beach's famous pastel colors. If Ted Turner ever colorized Fritz Lang's Metropolis, I bet it would look a lot like South Beach. I took it for granted at the time, but it is like a surreal and beautiful dream in retrospect.
And then their was the nightlife. Back then, I was the closing manager of popular new restaurant. That means that I was the poor bastard that had to wait around until absolutely every last drunk (including - in fact, especially - the line cooks) had either passed out, puked (or both) before finally stumbling out in to the warm tropical night air. At which point, I would head upstairs to the "office" to count the money and phone in the totals to the bank.
I use the term office loosely, because it was really not much more than a crawl space in the the attic of the building. You see, real estate is so expensive in South Beach that every possible square foot of usable space had to be devoted to dinner tables or kitchen. Heading up to the office meant climbing up a narrow, ladder-esque set of stairs, crawling past hanging kitchen whites, boxes of votive refills, and piles of check presenters to a 10 x 10 area crammed with a huge safe and desks for three people: me, the general manager, and the chef (Kerry Simon, who is now a food celeb and I have since seen on Iron Chef).
Actually, I didn't have my own desk. I shared it with the other closing manager who was also over six feet tall (and female - that's SoBe for ya). I mention the height because the most notable aspect of the office was that the ceiling was only about 5 feet from the floor. Worse still, it was supported by exposed I-beams, which meant that absolutely every one of us had war stories about nearly knocking ourselves out cold after some particularly gruesome shift had rendered us inattentive to the low headroom.
I don't suppose you have ever had the occasion to bang your head on a solid steel beam that is supporting a couple hundred tons of concrete, so let me tell ya... they don't have much give to 'em. In fact, as hard as your head may feel to the touch, it's more like an over ripe cantaloupe compared to forged steel. The last thing that crossed my mind before blacking out the first time was "WOW that beam is REALLY solid."
In spite of how all of this probably sounds, I loved that job. I am a night owl, so I didn't mind the hours. My fellow employees were great and a pleasure to be around. Out of professional courtesy, I got to eat and drink for free at all the best places in town. In fact, I so rarely paid for a meal that when I got back to Boston, I would often accidentally walk out on a bar tab or dinner check.
Sorry, I seem to have gotten off on a tangent. My intension was to tell you about the night life in South Beach. Let me just say this: When I was finally ready to close up the restaurant for the night, it would usually be about 3:30 or 4 in the morning. I would change into running shorts, lock the doors, and jog up Ocean Drive. Here's the thing. The streets would be PACKED. Lines out the door of every nightclub. Complete gridlock on the streets. Neon lights flashing, horns honking, people laughing, yelling, fighting... total mayhem. And things were just getting underway.
You may be wondering what this all has to do with Stark News current events. Well, Erica's job requires that she attend a few professional development conferences every year. So, she signed up for one in South Beach in early November, and she is bringing me along as an early birthday present. They are putting us up in the Ritz right on the ocean, which is reportedly so schwank that they have attendants circling the beach-front hotel pool offering free massages. Yes!
As you might imagine, I can't wait to go back and see what the beach is like these days. Hopefully, the whippersnappers have kept up the SoBe tradition.
Other stuff
Jeez, there is so much more to tell. Erica and I battened down the hatches at the campsite for the winter. I spent a week in Saratoga Springs teaching a training class. I am leaving tomorrow to teach another one in California (at Apple's iPod repair facility, of all places). And last, but far from least, we spent a long weekend in Vermont attending my cousin Jenny's wedding. This was one of my favorite weddings ever, although it would be difficult to articulate all of the details that made it so. Instead, let's just say a picture is worth a thousand words.
Uh, Where Am I?
Fall is probably my favorite season, especially now that we are back in the northeast, but where did the summer go? Such a clutter of things. Go here, go there, do this and that. Next thing you know, BANG - 6 weeks (or months or years) have gone by. And, every day my list just gets longer.
Many cool things have transpired since my last post - I just wish I could remember what they were! I feel like the last couple months have been a demolition derby of running, flying, talking, teaching, writing, reading, eating, drinking, laughing, singing, and more. Note that I did not mention mowing or weeding, much to the chagrin of our new neighbors.
At this point, everything has kind of blended together into a crazy dreamlike summer landscape. Here some highlights:
I Joined a Band
I sort of joined a "Faux Rock" band (yeah, that's a pun on "Folk Rock" band, ya nerd) with Erica's friends Sharon and Steve. On weekend nights, we have taken to sitting around the campfire banging out impromptu versions of everything from Dave Mathews to Britney Spears. It has become such a regular thing that we somehow decided en mass to form a band to play at FlameFest '06. What is FlameFest '06, you ask? Some background...
As all y'all loyal readers know, Erica has a primo campsite in an area of Miles Standish State Forest called Blueberry Hill. Between Memorial Day and Labor Day, you can't get her ass outta there with a crowbar, and for good reason.
BBH is all sun, sandcastles, swimmies, beer, BBQ, bug spray, campfires, sing-a-longs, more beer, stars, crickets, and breeze. It's kind of like a time machine back to your innocence. I would say it is priceless, but MasterCard has ruined that one for me.
Anyway, the camp season officially ends on labor day weekend with a massive bonfire -- think, Burning Man, but in the woods -- which has this year been dubbed "FlameFest '06" in order to give the band a fitting debut. Or at least to have something cool to print on the t-shirts. No, I am not kidding. There are actually t-shirts.
I Became A Shut-In
Well, I still have not sold or rented my house in Atlanta, and the double mortgage payments have really started to kick in. Which is to say, I have gone from a "comfortable" type of income, to a "maybe I should think about getting a paper route" type of income.
If you have known me for more than ten seconds, you know that I prefer to eat out. And I don't just mean dinner. And I certainly don't just mean once in a while. I am talking about three meals a day, seven days a week. Call me crazy, but I don't like having food in the house. It grosses me out.
Now that I am house-poor in the extreme, I have found myself trying to capitalize on the investment in any way possible. It started with eating every meal at home, but then became something way weirder.
I found that after I was forced to get over the adjustment of eating in, (which was truly jarring) I turned into what could most accurately be described as a really big squirrel. I literally never leave the house. I just forage around the pantry in my flip-flops and three day old jeans like a wild animal that snuck into the house through a crack in the basement.
Something interesting happens to you when you never see the general public. It is hard to put into words, but you get into a sort of paradoxical state of mind where you simultaneously crave and dread social interaction. You miss it, but when the opportunity presents itself, it seems like too much work.
Imagine getting a dinner invitation and thinking, "Oooh! That sounds like fun!" But then the realization dawns on you, "Oh... I will probably have to take a shower. And put on pants." It has actually occurred to me to wonder, "Did I brush my teeth this week?" Poor Erica.
But wait, there's more!
I have some other fun stories, but I have to hit the sack. Next time I see you, remind me to tell you about scaring the pee out of George, and catching Maria in a lobster trap. Later!
Greetings from Sacto
Wow, it's been a long time since the last update - sorry about that ;) This summer has been nuts, and it ain't over yet. On top of all of the trials and tribulations of our move north, I have been traveling a lot for work.
In fact, I am typing this very message to you from the bar of the Elk Grove Brewery, just outside of Sacramento, CA (the cool kids call it "Sacto", I'm told).
On top of that, we have been spending every possible weekend at Erica's campsite at Blueberry Hill in Plymouth, MA. It is a wonderfully white-trash version of the Cape Cod experience. (For those in the know, it is sort of like the Jorgensen compound on at Derby Lake, MI, although decidedly more rustic - think "outhouse" and you are getting warm).
Electricity and cold water are the height of technology - no internet, cell phone, and precious little hot water to speak of. Usually, the main event of the weekend is the Saturday night campfire where everyone toasts s'mores and sings along with whomever has the guitar. It's great.
On the "new house front" all I can really say is that we have been settling in great. Every week it seems to get better. We are still swimming in boxes and the disaster that is our mail situation (four addresses in as many months), but that has not stopped us from having a few people over a couple times already.
Even the dogs love it. They get to tear dog-ass all over the backyard (which they have completely demolished already) and they are in dog-heaven when we take them on walks around the neighborhood.
We still are not ready for an offical house warming, but we will keep you posted. It is looking like it will prolly be in September, because Erica started painting the bedroom tonight. For Erica, painting rooms is like eating potato chips - you just can't stop at one. So, I expect that we will be swimming in boxes AND dropcloths for the forseable future.
I'm afraid that's all for now - stay tuned for more info soon!
It's the day of the big day!
I can barely believe it, but today is the day we get to start moving into the new house. The previous owners have been renting the house from us since the closing two weeks ago. They will be moving out by 5PM, we will show up with the realtors for a final walk-through, and that's it - we're in. Well, sort of.
Our stuff from Atlanta, which has been in storage for about a month, will be arriving tomorrow. The movers are slated to arrive at 8AM. Since we won't have any furniture until then, we are going to stay one more night at our hotel, and then officially be living at President Avenue tomorrow.
Alert readers may be saying to themselves, "Hotel? I thought they were in an apartment." This is true - we were in an apartment. Now we're not.
Last Thursday I was at the apartment working as usual. At about 1PM the dogs went bonkers. They jumped up out of a sound sleep and shot snarling and barking to the front door like rabid attack dogs. This is highly unusual, so I went running right after them and get around to the front hall just in time to see the door close and hear someone pull a key out of the lock.
This was alarming because we don't have housekeeping, the maintenance guys always knock, and Erica doesn't have keys. I had to assume that someone was trying to break in!
Why doesn't Erica have keys, you ask? Well, right after we moved into the apartment, I misplaced a set of keys. Actually, I think I dropped them in the woods the time George took off after that cat (see "George Escapes" below). So, I figured someone had found the keys and was just going around trying every door until they got to the right one. Fortunately, one good look at the dogs tonsils seemed to have changed their minds about browsing around our apartment.
Way back when I lived in Boston, I was twice at home while being broken into. One time I woke up, the other time I didn't. Both times I was pretty rattled, but this time I was kind of non-plused. Especially considering I had the dogs on my side. So, I didn't give it another thought and went back to work while the dogs patrolled the living room.
About 30 minutes later, Erica calls and informs me that the property management company called her. Apparently, they thought we were to move out the day before, and the "burglar" was a cleaning crew. Furthermore, they had another family moving into our apartment the following morning, so if we would please start packing, they would appreciate it. Mind you, it's about 3 in the afternoon, we have no place to go, no truck, no boxes, etc... We were still getting mail there, for crying out loud. Not to mention that I had a magazine article due the next day and was planning to work on it that evening.
Needless to say, a flurry of phone calls ensued. Evidently, the management company had been leaving messages for us on the apartment phone, which we didn't use and therefore never picked up. They just figured we had moved out - until the maid got a face full of dog, that is.
For a variety of reasons that I won't go into here, we agreed to move out by noon the next day. By 5PM we had a reservation at the Residence Inn near the airport, and the first carload was packed. By 8PM it was unloaded at the hotel. By 2AM, the second carload was unloaded. Everything was moved except for the dogs and our bathroom stuff.
I got started on the magazine article at about 3AM.
We got the key!
Well, intrepid readers, today was quite a milestone. Erica and I closed on 195 President Ave, and we couldn't be happier. We met the sellers for the first time and they were extremely nice. I guess they have two little girls, one of whom is set to start school, hence the move to East Greenwich. They were definitely sad to leave the house, and I can see why ;)
The closing was quite uneventful. We just slid a bunch of papers around and signed like The Donald on alimony day. Now I know how George Takai must feel when the Star Trek convention rolls into town.
As you may or may not know, the previous owners (our "tenants", as we like to call them) are not moving out until June 21st, so we have to wait a couple weeks to move in. So, the dogs will just have to continue doing victory laps around the apartment on the wall-to-wall until we can get them to their new backyard.
Alert readers will note that I have made no mention of selling the Decatur house. That is because the Decatur house has not sold (or even gotten an offer!). So according to my calculations: 1 mortgage + 1 mortgage = 2 many mortgages. We are going to try to rent it for the time being. If you know anyone, let me know.
We can't wait to throw the first shindig. Hopefully we can have everyone over soon!
Holy Giant-Post, Batman
Wow, it's been a while since the last update, and lemme tell ya, it's not for a lack of news. Here are the highlights.
Final Mortgage Approval
Let's just say that after grappling with a bureaucracy of Orwellian proportions, we barely escaped with our mortgage approval letter intact. It was days of yelling - like, actually yelling - on the phone. 'Nuff said.
Anyway, everything seems to have worked out in our favor and we are slated for a June 7th closing.
Evans Drive Off Market
Yep, that's right. We are looking to rent it. Our realtor told me last week that even the veteran brokers in his office are having their worst year ever. So, rather than drop the price and take a fat loss, I am putting the word out among our friends in the ATL area - I'll give you a deal on rent if you can keep the yard under control (which is no small feat, I warn you).
Atlanta House Empty
Last Saturday I embarked on the 1300 mile drive from Providence to Atlanta. I got to Evans Drive late Sunday and the place was a mess. Vegetation in the yard was out of control, lights were mostly all burned out, and there were cobwebs that Tarzan could have swung from.
Best of all was that some realtor had used the downstairs bathroom before realizing that the water was shut off. Since the AC has been off and Atlanta is already enjoying 90 degree temperatures, the aroma in the house was - shall we say - a bit cloying.
Monday was spent preparing for the arrival of the movers and doing errands - emptied out the attic, cleaned out the fridge, cancelled gym membership, cancelled storage space, picked up books and files from the office, making arrangements to meet the movers, etc...
Tuesday was the day of the big day. At 7:00 AM, I drove out to a hotel near the interstate where the movers had spent the night. There were four movers - Charlie, Charlie, John and True (yes, you read that right). They were all from the Providence area, smoked like fiends, and were wicked ball bustahs.
The driver and head honcho was one of the Charlies, who was quite a character. His last name happened to be Parker, so at one point I made a stupid joke implying that I had him confused with jazz saxophone icon Charlie Parker. Blank stare. Late in the day when things were winding down, I asked him how long he had been in the moving business and he said 18 years. So I said, "Wow, I bet you could tell quite a few stories," to which he replied, "Yeah, I guess I could," and left it at that.
The other Charlie was pretty funny, too. The first thing he said to me when we met was, "I'm sixty-two, you know!"
All the guys were awesome and did a great job. They worked their asses off on a humid 90 degree day and the packing and loading went quickly and flawlessly. Also, they were extremely polite to me (although not to each other, which was hilarious).
Anyway, we left their hotel and went straight to the storage space. They had that all inventoried, repacked and loaded on the truck by 8:45 AM. Then, we headed over to the house where they were alarmed to find way more stuff than they were expecting. There were concerns that it would not all get done in one day. So, phone calls were made, contingency plans were laid out, and packing commenced.
Around 8:30 PM they had the truck all packed, I signed a mountain of paper work, and the four of them piled into the front of the truck. I drove them back to the highway so they wouldn't get lost. Once they saw the signs for the onramp, they gunned the truck past me with arms waving and cigarette smoke streaming out of both sides of the cab.
On Wednesday I started back. I got on the road a lot later than I wanted to because I kept finding things that needed to be done in the house. I would be ready to go and think, "Did I leave anything in the freezer?" or "Did I forget to move the propane tank off the back porch?" or "Did I ever put that wet laundry in the dryer?" and so on and so on...
I finally hit the road around 2:30 PM and immediately hit the only serious traffic of the entire trip. I knew I was in trouble when I saw the helicopters. It took me and hour and a half to go from Chambodia to Gwinnett, which is to say that by 4:00 PM, I was still basically in Atlanta. But the weather was nice, I had a ton of CDs with me, and I was not in a rush, so it was really no big deal.
Once I got going, I didn't stop except once for gas. Next thing I knew, it was midnight and I arrived at the Comfort Inn in Harrisonburg, VA. I had called ahead for a reservation because I had trouble finding a place to stay on the trip down. I guess this is the busy time of year for hotels halfway between New England and Florida.
Thursday morning I got driving around 11:30 AM. I spent much of the day on the phone with work stuff which made the time fly. I barely remember the drive. Around 4:00 PM, Erica called to say that she and her friend Paula were going to eat at Haruki in Providence and wondered if I could make it. Since she and I have never eaten at a sushi place (she does not eat fish), I said I would somehow get there in time. I was dying to see her first attempt to eat with chopsticks ;) So, I took a risky shortcut and made it in time for an order of california rolls. Unfortunately, E was done eating so I missed the chopsticks. The good thing is she liked the food, so I guess we'll be going back. Hope springs eternal.
Sheesh, that's enough for now... I left out some good stuff but I don't want to take up your whole day. Bye for now.
Home Inspection
Today was the day of the inspection, and Erica and I were joined by her mother, my father, both realtors and the inspector, Lane Ukura.
Upon our arrival, Lane was quick to alert us to the fact that he was not having a great day. You see, the septic inspector at the previous house showed up 2 hours late and then side-swiped Lane's big shiny white pickup truck. Oh, the humanity of it all.
Anyway, displaying the resilience of a true professional, Lane grabbed his trusty walking stick - think "telescopic ski pole" - and proceeded to poke just about everything in the basement for at least an hour.
As an aside, he let us know that the stick cost "6.95 at the Jaub Laut, doncha know. They're chahging 50 bucks fer em at LL Beans, if you can believe it!" So, if you ever need a telescopic ski pole, apparently Job Lot is your source.
Erica and her mom took about one million pictures and mapped out the whole place to scale on a pad of graph paper. It was pretty impressive.
Ultimately, the inspection turned up the typical stuff - some old wiring, a very old boiler with corroded valves, an improperly vented bathroom fan - nothing too earth shattering. So, I am happy to say that we are still heading full steam ahead into the East Side!
A boring update
I just had time to read through my previous post and noticed that a few things have changed in the last ten days. Mainly, that our closing date has changed from June 20th to June 7th, but we can't move in until June 21st.
Just in case you thought purchasing a house was easy, read on.
The sellers originally asked for the 20th as a close date. We think this is because they have a kid and they don't want to pull him or her out of school right before the end of the year. They are only moving to East Greenwich (which is only about 30 minutes away) and could prolly make the commute for a couple weeks, but hey, who am we to judge :)
So, fine - the 20th it is. Then came the big "But". We had locked in a mortgage rate a few months back and the lock was set to expire on the 7th of June. Since Mr. Greenspan saw fit to jack the rates a bit, it is VERY MUCH in our best interest to make sure the locked in rate is honored. Hence the 20th didn't work for us.
Finally, after what our realtor characterized as a "heated exchange", it was agreed that we would close on June 7th, move in on June 20th, and the sellers would pay us rent for the time in between.
Bored yet?
As an aside, I don't know how much of a "heated exchange" it really was. After all, she needs to make us feel like she's earning that commission...
Tomorrow is the house inspection and I am fairly certain that it will be interesting and full of surprises. The question is, how big will the surprises be? At the very least, we will have tons of pictures to post. Fun, fun, fun!
We got the house!
Many thanks to everyone who sent good vibes our way - it looks like it paid off! I can't tell you how excited we are. The place is just perfect and we can't wait to share it with everyone!
As you know from the previous post, we put in an offer yesterday. This morning we found out that the seller had also received another offer and was refusing both. So, we knew that we had a competitor, but didn't know what their bid amount was.
We countered with an amount that was significantly higher than our original bid (although it was still under asking) and re-crossed our fingers. We found out late in the day that the deal was accepted! The only drag is that I am in Mississippi on business, so E and I can't properly celebrate :(
Our closing date is June 20th, so we may have to make arrangments to stay somewhere for about a month because our CVS sponsored housing runs out in a couple weeks. E's going to request an extension, so we'll see what happens with that. They have been quite generous so far, so you never know.
So, next steps are to arrange for all of our stuff (which is still in the Decatur house) to be moved up to Providence. And of course, we need to sell the house down there - yikes!
Stay tuned!
(Is it just me, or are there a lot of exclamation points in this message?)
We think it's love
Well, we did it! We placed an offer on 195 President Ave on the East Side of Providence, and we couldn't be more excited. It's a great dutch colonial on a corner lot in an unbelieveable neighborhood. As soon as we walked in, we knew this was the one. We have our fingers crossed, big time.
The layout on the main floor is really nice. The kitchen was recently redone with granite countertops and a breakfast bar that is open into the dining room. It is the first kitchen we have seen that Erica wouldn't want to immediately rip out. This was the first sign that the place was a keeper ;)
The living room has a big working wood fireplace and french doors into a sun room. The kitchen, dining room, and living room work great together and just have a wonderful flow. Although we probably shouldn't get our hopes up, visions of dinner parties are already dancing in our heads.
Upstairs is pretty straight-forward. There are three bedrooms and a full bath. There is a lot of great light and the rooms are a good size.
Half of the basement is nicely finished, there is lots of storage, and the quirkiness quotient is high because there is an actual bomb shelter. Yes, you read that right. A bomb shelter.
The house has a modest sized fenced yard with enough room for the dogs. There is a detached single car garage with space in the driveway for two more cars. Interestingly, on the other side of the garage, is the garage of the church around the corner so we would have only one adjacent neighbor.
If you are curious, here are some more pix. So, everybody keep their fingers crossed and we will let you know what happens!
P.S. Erica and I want to send a special shout out to Erica's mom Sue, who came with us today despite of the fact that she is recovering from a severely broken ankle. She was a good luck charm and we are sure that we wouldn't have put in the offer. Especially considering that she was the only one with the foresight to bring a checkbook, which was required as an earnest money deposit. Thanks, Sue!
Getting a little frustrated
Wow, we've been house hunting for 2 weeks and have just not found anything we are in love with. Well, that's not exactly true. Today we drove around East Greenwich and came across a "for sale by owner" property that was just beautiful.
The owners (who were delightful) showed us around and gave us the history of every nook and cranny. They raised their four boys there (oldest one is just going into college) and didn't think they would ever leave, but they are originally from PA and family changes are prompting a return to their roots.
The wife gave us the history of every tree planted on the lot, for crying out loud. Sample comment: "See those plum trees along the driveway? The boys planted those for Jim on father's day ten years ago. Oh, I remember when they were only this high..." You get the idea.
In spite of the fact that the house was more traditional than we probably would have liked, I have to admit that I fell in love with it. I could have moved in and never left. It just felt so comfortable and safe - it was like the house was hugging you.
Alas, when we picked up the house flyer at the end of the tour, it was about $100K over our budget. Sigh. So the search continues.
We are both getting anxious to find a place, but I think Erica has it worse than I do. It is tough to start a new job - and a demanding one, at that - without having a stable familiar place to go at the end of the day. Meanwhile, we still have not gotten an offer on the house in Decatur, so the pressure mounts!
Stay tuned...
Oy vey - another house?
Wow, have we been seeing a lot of houses! Lots and lots of y'all have voted for Rochambeau, and I have to say, it is probably still my favorite so far. Unfortunately, the owners appear to be smoking crack because there is no way they are going to get what they are asking. And even if they did, I don't know how we would come up with the $100k to make the place water-tight (which it is not). Anyway - we'll see what happens with that. In the meantime, here are some others we have seen:
Burrs Lane - This coulda been a contenda. We had passed it over at first glance because it was listed as a two family. But then E thought that since I will be working from home, it might be cool to use one of the front doors as the business entrance and break through the wall upstairs and make that one big unit (hehe, I said "big unit"). Here is a link to the realtor's site.
So, we drove by it and I have to tell you it was like stepping back to the 1800s. The place is right off Benefit Street on the East Side. The street is an impossibly narrow and short dead end. Very quiet and preserved. Kind of hard to describe, but absolutely charming locale. Alas, it went under contract the next day. Fingers crossed for bad buyer credit!
Williams Street - Sigh. Talk about a near miss. This place was purchased in questionable condition by an architect and his wife about three years ago. Since then, they have redone it as only an architect and his wife can - beautifully. In fact they were not planning to ever leave so they did everything really top-notch.
And then kids happened. They are expecting their second and now the place is too small. E and I were in complete agreement that they did a great job on the renovation, we love the vibe of the place, the area is perfect. Unfortunately, the damn thing is too small. No matter how you slice it, we just can not fit two dogs and a home office in there. Crap. It is really nice. Here are some pix.
Magellan Street - Tonight we went to see 44 Magellan Street on the East Side of Providence. It is a little gambrel that was owned for years by a now little old lady who has moved on to, let's just say, a more supervised situation. So, one of her kids is trying to cash in on the house. It is big enough, but just barely, it has not been updated since the 60's, and it is directly across the street from a drug and alcohol rehab center. Of course, we are talking east side here, so bear in mind that the rehab center is a beautiful old brick building with a slate roof, but still...
I think this place could make sense at the right price, but it does not seem like the house we would live in forever. More like a flipper. Oh yeah, there is one more problem with the house - I think the neighbors might be closet cases. The seller's realtor told us that the lady next door called him to complain that the roller blinds on the east side of the house were not all pulled to the same height and did not line up perfectly when viewed from the outside. It must be nice to have ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to worry about. Here is a bigger pic.
George Escapes! - After seeing the Magellan house, we ate at a really nice restaurant in Providence called Chez Pascal. The tables are so close together that we struck up a wonderful conversation with the people at the deuce next to us.
As always when we return home, task number one is to walk the dogs. After the two of them laid down some nice pipe, George spied a cat. Naturally, he wanted to say hello, so he yanked the leash right out of my hand and took off like a rocket after the cat, who - of course - also took off like a rocket. Trouble is, the two of them were heading straight for 295 south (the busy interstate highway that our temporary housing is situated on).
Not my finest dog walking moment. I don't know if I was more nervous about him getting hit by a car on the highway, or trotting out of the woods with a dead cat in his mouth.
Anyway, Margo freaked, Erica came running out in her pajamas with a bag of dog treats (she could hear me yelling for George), and the bunch of us when tromping into the woods next to the highway in the pitch dark.
Thankfully, Margo led me straight to George, who was standing perfectly still in the woods. It was as if his leash was caught on something. I grabbed him and found that he was not stuck at all. I thought it was really weird that he was just standing there like a statue, but hey - at least he was safe and sound.
So there we are, all standing there breathing a sigh of relief, when the cat comes flying down out of nowhere and lands smack on top Margo's unsuspecting head. Evidently, George had the cat treed and she decided that it was time to take control of the situation.
It was pretty funny.
Quick Update
Hi all! I just wanted to bang out a quick post to inform the enquiring minds (thanks for all of the nice emails, by the way). Erica started her job, we have looked at a few more houses, and have dined out every night at some of Providence's most fab restaurants (courtesy of Erica's CVS relocation package - sweet!).
Erica's Job - Not too much to report yet on the job. E has been getting oriented and having lots of meeting getting to know the lay of the land, but has already started to identify some of the trouble spots which she was hired to rectify. She seems to be even more excited about the job than before, maybe because the challenges (and her potential solutions to them) are starting to come into focus.
Dana Street - One of the houses we looked at tonight was 92 Dana Street, on the East Side of Providence. It was kind of nice and in a great area. It is actually right up the street from the Rochambeau house. We could see ourselves living there, but it was far from exciting. Seeing it actually made us more aware of the fact that we are getting pretty attached to the idea of the big ole Rochambeau house.
Eighth Street - The second house we saw was right in the same area at 230 Eighth Street, also on the East Side. You know when you see a place and you immediately fall in love with it and will pay any price to get it? Yeah. This was the exact opposite. Even with Erica's well known powers of imagination, we could not figure out how the hell this place could be turned into something nice for us. It was weird, because the outside looked pretty promising. Unfortunately, the inside had been completely stripped of any shed of character.
After being underwhelmed by the two houses tonight, we talked to our realtor about going back to see Rochambeau again on Saturday. So, we might have more exciting news soon. Also, two offers have been put in on the East Greenwich house on King Street, so it looks like that option is out. That's all for now - talk to you later!
House Hunting, Part 1
Erica and I spent the entire day today looking at houses with our realtor, Lori Marchetti. Lori is very nice and quite helpfull, but maybe best of all, I love her name. It makes me really feel like we are back in RI.
We looked at eight to ten houses on the East Side of Providence and in East Greenwich, but only saw two that were possible keepers.
Here are the details of each:
King Street - The first prospect was on King Street in East Greenwich. It is a small house from the early 1700's that was completely redone by an architect that graduated from RISD. There are wide plank floors and exposed beams all over the place - all of which are over 250 years old. The rafters in the basement have bark on them, for Christ's sake.
These detail are contrasted beautifully with modern upgrades like Silestone counters and a jetted tub. It is absolutely beautiful and the renovation is impeccable, but it is definitely quite small. Here are a couple pix.
Even better than the house is the location, which is incredible - walking distance from harbor-side restaurants, main street shops, and even MKEL. Goddard Park and the highway are very close.
Downsides are that there is no room to put our (i.e. Erica's) stamp of individuality on it, and that it is definitely really small (very low ceilings, small rooms, very little privacy, etc...). And - OBTW - it is not cheap, either.
Rochambeau - In a nutshell, this house could be absolutely spectacular in five years. It should be a bona-fide East Side victorian trophy house, but it has been poorly maintained. It is not that it has been totally let go - let's just say the current occupant's priorities were not on painting, woodworking, etc... This is understandable considering that they are a working couple with four kids heading into college.
It is in a pretty nice area of Providence on the corner of Camp and Rochambeau on the East Side. The lot is triangular and on the corner of a five way intersection, so there is only one adjoining neighbor (a couple of artists in their 50's).
It simply must be seen to be believed. Almost nothing has been done to it since it was built in 1907. It still has many original lighting fixtures, a 7 foot long slate sink, slate roof, etc... there are a couple of fireplaces and wood stoves, and the basement is sprinkled with antiques, like the original porcelain enamel stove. I must have said "Oh my god" about a hundred times.
The big "however" is that the whole thing needs a good bit of TLC, and we are not sure if we could do it justice. It has been painted badly many times, the kitchen is terrible, and the four bedrooms on the second floor all have deadbolts on the doors (the realtor guesses that it was used as a rooming house in the 80's).
Did I mention that the third floor is servant's quarters that were converted into an apartment complete with kitchen and bath? The current occupants use it as a home office and in terms of disrepair, it is probably the worst offender in the house, but damn.
Here are some pix from the realtors site, and here are some Erica took while we were there.
That's all for now. I gotta hit the sack - Erica's first day is tomorrow and she is going to need help selecting an outfit in the morning ;)
We Made It
Okay, we are officially safe and sound in our temp digs in Cumberland, RI. It is pretty cush, actually - second floor, corner unit, two bedrooms and two baths. The dogs are in heaven because there are two couches and the place has wall-to-wall carpet in every room. As you might imagine, they have never taken to hardwood floors.
For the aficionados of the drive between Atlanta and Boston, we should let you know that we have it down to a science - I think the best route from ATL to Boston is to leave 85N to 77N to 81N to 84E to 90E. It is not the shortest route, but it is definitely the most painless and scenic.
We had absolutely beautiful weather the entire drive, although we did go from t-shirts on Friday morning to ski jackets Friday night. The dogs were great except that they were pretty rambunctious all night in the hotel. None of us slept much. Erica was a little car sick on the second day, so we stopped at most of the rest areas we saw.
Notable notes:
Georgia - The night before we left, I loaded up Erica's iPod with a bunch of new music. Well, not exactly NEW, but recently purchased, at least. When I was done, there were 674 songs on the little bugger. One of the albums I downloaded was The Stranger by Billy Joel. In case you don't know, that album contains a song called "Movin' Out" which I thought was apropos for our situation.
The next morning as we were driving out of town, Erica starts plugging in her iPod. I jokingly said, "If 'Movin' Out' comes on, I am going to freak out." Of course, there were 674 songs on there and it did not come on - we spent the next 3 minutes or so listening to "Diane" by Guster.
And then "Movin' Out" came on. Like, the very next song. We almost had to pull the car over because we could not stop staring at each other in disbelief. Strange and powerful forces are afoot in this world, and I am pretty sure Billy Joel is behind them.
South Carolina - Speaking of strange and powerful forces, what is more fun than watching the struggle between God and Porno played out tit-for-tat (so to speak) on the billboards of I-85? SC is a weird state - you go from the giant peach water tower, to the raunchiest looking strip joints I have ever seen, to billboards saying things like "One nation under me. - God". It's totally schitzo.
North Carolina - A car pulled up beside us on the highway and honked to get our attention. I looked over and the passenger in the other car was gesturing to our car, but we could not make out what she was saying. It sort of seemed like she was trying to tell us that something was hanging out of the car door, or the gas cap was open, or something like that. After they drove on, we made a joke about "Planes, Trains and Automobiles" and decided that she was either drinking or just pointing out how cute the dogs were ;)
About 150 miles later, we stopped for gas and realized that she was trying to tell us that our left rear tire was flat. Oops. Didn't even feel it at all. We debated unloading the entire car and digging out the spare, but decided against it. I had visions of doing so only to find that the spare was also flat. For the record, this has happened to me more than once.
Actually, it still had about 10 lbs. of pressure left in it, so I filled it back up with air and figured I would drive for ten minutes and check it again. Oddly enough, when I checked it at the next exit, it was still fully inflated. I checked the thing every hundred miles or so for the rest of the trip and it never went back down. I think Billy Joel was watching out for us.