It’s official. I called my landlord this morning and gave my notice. I am packing up my little place on the beach and heading north. A whole mile north and about 40 feet closer to the beach.
We had a great weekend talking about communication. It appears that we are actually on the same page! What a shocker! We both agree we will need to help keep it clean and that my housekeeper is coming with me.
We’re are my house this week, and in my ever-present planning mode, I started putting books I can live without in a box to give away or sell. I’m ready to start taking pictures of the furniture I can live without and putting it up on Craig’s List. I have 2 stools I never use that I’m ready to let go of. My bed, TV and maybe a bookshelf or 2 are also heading to new homes, but not quite yet.
It’s so amazing. A month ago I could barely imagine moving and today, I’m ready to sell most of my stuff. It didn’t hurt that when I came home on Thursday night to pick-up some stuff, I found my door open. Not just unlocked but open. My building manager said he was in there fixing a smoke detector on WEDNESDAY, but he closed the door. Whatever. I never said you could be in there, and I sure as hell never said leave it wide open so the homeless of Venice could have a place to sleep and shower.
On a positive note, my belief that most people are inherently good paid off. Nothing was taken. Additionally, I’m ready to move up the road and live full-time with my sweetie and say good-bye to my dark, little apartment that I’ve called home for over four years.
Monday, April 30, 2007
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Cooking with Electricity!
It is supposed to happen. We’ve decided we are moving into his apartment, which is really nice. It is on the top floor and if I stand in certain places, I can see the ocean. At night, when Venice is quiet, I can hear the waves crashing. In the morning, the sun shines in and makes me happy.
What doesn’t make me happy is the extremely poorly designed kitchen with an electric stove. WHO THE FUCK DESIGNED THAT??? It’s like a midget (little person, whatever) and a giant lived there. One counter is the height of a table (in other words, the worst place to chop vegetables or prep food). The other usable counter space at the proper height is about one foot by one foot. Sweet. The cupboards? Oh holy hell. My 6’3” fiancé can reach them just fine, but me? Plates, glasses and pans (don’t ask) are the height ABOVE the hood on the stove. You know, the spot you put things you never use because you can’t reach them? Yes, that is the height of the REGULAR cupboards in this apartment. I’ve got a lot of work to do to make this place work.
My small, less expensive apartment is dark and noisy. It’s not laid out well for both of us, but hell if my kitchen doesn’t rock. At first, I thought the mini-galley style kitchen sucked, but I’ve gotten used to everything being in my reach. Like cabinets at a normal, reachable height and lots of storage. I love the tile counters that I can plunk steaming hot pans on. I love the apartment-size GAS stove, which cooks my food perfectly (I made rice soup by accident on the damn electric one). My kitchen and bathroom are really the only saving graces of my apartment (and my cool neighbors and the pool outside of my window and the awesome location to tasty restaurants when I don’t want to cook).
Despite my love of cooking, I think it’s also giving up my own space. My independence. In some ways, my control. It’s my apartment. I want it clean so keep it clean so it is clean. So far, that’s not exactly how it’s working in the new place. Kinks. Somehow we’re going to have to come to a middle ground of when a kitchen gets cleaned (me: right after eating or at least once a day. him: when he feels like it be it 2 or 3 days or even a week later).
Most modern couples face these dilemmas before they get engaged. And god bless them. There is so much to think about right now, the last thing I feel like fighting over is whether or not the dishes are washed. But then again, most modern couples don’t cook.
What doesn’t make me happy is the extremely poorly designed kitchen with an electric stove. WHO THE FUCK DESIGNED THAT??? It’s like a midget (little person, whatever) and a giant lived there. One counter is the height of a table (in other words, the worst place to chop vegetables or prep food). The other usable counter space at the proper height is about one foot by one foot. Sweet. The cupboards? Oh holy hell. My 6’3” fiancé can reach them just fine, but me? Plates, glasses and pans (don’t ask) are the height ABOVE the hood on the stove. You know, the spot you put things you never use because you can’t reach them? Yes, that is the height of the REGULAR cupboards in this apartment. I’ve got a lot of work to do to make this place work.
My small, less expensive apartment is dark and noisy. It’s not laid out well for both of us, but hell if my kitchen doesn’t rock. At first, I thought the mini-galley style kitchen sucked, but I’ve gotten used to everything being in my reach. Like cabinets at a normal, reachable height and lots of storage. I love the tile counters that I can plunk steaming hot pans on. I love the apartment-size GAS stove, which cooks my food perfectly (I made rice soup by accident on the damn electric one). My kitchen and bathroom are really the only saving graces of my apartment (and my cool neighbors and the pool outside of my window and the awesome location to tasty restaurants when I don’t want to cook).
Despite my love of cooking, I think it’s also giving up my own space. My independence. In some ways, my control. It’s my apartment. I want it clean so keep it clean so it is clean. So far, that’s not exactly how it’s working in the new place. Kinks. Somehow we’re going to have to come to a middle ground of when a kitchen gets cleaned (me: right after eating or at least once a day. him: when he feels like it be it 2 or 3 days or even a week later).
Most modern couples face these dilemmas before they get engaged. And god bless them. There is so much to think about right now, the last thing I feel like fighting over is whether or not the dishes are washed. But then again, most modern couples don’t cook.
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Home Sweet Home
I flew home a week ago to see my family and handle wedding business (and celebrate my birthday!). After looking at the house on Bear Wallow, and I realized that there is no way in hell (or without lots and lots of work) we can fit all our guests there. Mom and I scoped out another site with flat space, and were lucky enough to book it. So, here are some pictures of spring in the Blue Ridge and the new site.
I forgot how pretty the dogwoods are.
The porch of the main house at the Farm.
The ceremony site. Afterwards, we can play a little badmitton.
The best part of my trip was spending my birthday with my Nana. This woman was in a hospital 4 days before this picture was taken. She's the best! I'm so happy she's feeling better.
The porch of the main house at the Farm.
The ceremony site. Afterwards, we can play a little badmitton.
The best part of my trip was spending my birthday with my Nana. This woman was in a hospital 4 days before this picture was taken. She's the best! I'm so happy she's feeling better.
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