My Prompt workshop ends this week, which makes me sad. I had a lot of fun meeting everybody in the group and listening to their (brilliant) writing. I won't say that participating in the workshop alleviated all of the trouble I've been having getting myself to sit down and write, but it did help me open up the way I write when I do. Also it got me involved with Write Around Portland which will be another interesting evolution come January. That's also when school starts again. Three classes this time, two online and one on campus. I haven't even let myself think about it much, since my brain has been so busy with everything else like moving. The big men with the truck are coming on the 30th to move me into the new house. I still haven't packed a box, though I have made many optimistic packing schedules.
I frequently find myself looking for a moment in which to rest and forget that all of this change is swirling around me. Thus far there are none to be found. Next week I'll get a respite from work when half of our team is sent on furlough to save the company money. I plan to use at least one of those days to do absolutely nothing but read a book, watch a movie or two, and vigorously deny to myself that anything is amiss.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Home again
We did see the inside, we did love it as much as we thought we would, but then we found out there were six other applications on the house already. We were tempted to just give up but decided to throw our hat in the ring anyway, just in case. We submitted our application and wrote a nice letter explaining to the landlords just how much we would love to be their tenants. We crossed our fingers. They chose someone else.
Luckily while we were waiting for them to decide we continued our search for perfect houses. We found one that came damn close two days later. Three bedrooms/one bath, a nice big fenced backyard, a basement, a kitchen with fancy new appliances, a walkable neighborhood with amenities. We liked it a lot, but this was our rebound house. It couldn't possibly compare to THE ONE. We applied anyway, since it's nice to have a backup even when you're pining for the one who got away. Then, as the hours and days passed, we started thinking more about the new house. Thinking about the possibilities of the backyard and whether the shed would make a good writing studio. I started thinking about being able to plant a garden and wondering how much it would cost me to set up a burner for glass beadmaking on the back patio. I mentally planned the layout of my bedroom and my office, and William and I started talking about paint colors.
Then we got the call. They wanted us. It had finally worked. We wanted them, they wanted us, we were all very excited. I drove by a few times to make sure, then tonight we went over to the house to sign the lease. It was even more perfect the second time. Bedrooms were bigger than we remembered, the yard was in better shape, the basement much more spacious. The landlords were even more friendly and easygoing than when we first met them. They even drew out a little landscape plan of all of the plants that are growing in the yard. In short, everything was awesome.
Tonight, a part of me that has been stressed for about three months has finally relaxed. I'm so pleased to know that the weeks of struggling are finally paying off. Now all I have to worry about is the actual packing and moving part. Piece of cake.
Luckily while we were waiting for them to decide we continued our search for perfect houses. We found one that came damn close two days later. Three bedrooms/one bath, a nice big fenced backyard, a basement, a kitchen with fancy new appliances, a walkable neighborhood with amenities. We liked it a lot, but this was our rebound house. It couldn't possibly compare to THE ONE. We applied anyway, since it's nice to have a backup even when you're pining for the one who got away. Then, as the hours and days passed, we started thinking more about the new house. Thinking about the possibilities of the backyard and whether the shed would make a good writing studio. I started thinking about being able to plant a garden and wondering how much it would cost me to set up a burner for glass beadmaking on the back patio. I mentally planned the layout of my bedroom and my office, and William and I started talking about paint colors.
Then we got the call. They wanted us. It had finally worked. We wanted them, they wanted us, we were all very excited. I drove by a few times to make sure, then tonight we went over to the house to sign the lease. It was even more perfect the second time. Bedrooms were bigger than we remembered, the yard was in better shape, the basement much more spacious. The landlords were even more friendly and easygoing than when we first met them. They even drew out a little landscape plan of all of the plants that are growing in the yard. In short, everything was awesome.
Tonight, a part of me that has been stressed for about three months has finally relaxed. I'm so pleased to know that the weeks of struggling are finally paying off. Now all I have to worry about is the actual packing and moving part. Piece of cake.
Friday, December 3, 2010
Home
Lately I've been looking for a new place to live. Living on Hawthorne has been an incredibly valuable experience and I have grown a lot in the two years since I moved to my lovely but very expensive apartment building, but there are so many other things I would rather spend that rent money on. Nevertheless, moving away from the richness of that experience tears at my soul a little bit. I'm not sure what awaits me in this new chapter, whether I will hate moving away and immediately start saving up to move back or whether I will find new things to love, new challenges to respond to. Maybe a little of both.
Alongside my ambivalence about moving comes the gut-wrenchingness that is moving itself. First there's the pressure of finding just the right place, where William and I both feel comfortably at home and have enough space to live our lives without being all up in each other's business. Then there are other requirements, like a neighborhood where we can walk to things and a yard or some kind of outdoor space so I can try my hand at growing things. Then you have to filter out everything that's too expensive or doesn't allow pets or thinks only dogs less than 25 pounds are acceptable tenants. Unsurprisingly, that leaves very little for us to choose from, which means compromise. Oh, the horror!
We're on our third round of applying now. The first apartment we applied for decided they didn't want to allow dogs at all. The second one was being leased by a fairly squirrely guy who said he was going to continue to take a few applications after we turned ours in, which made us a little uneasy. So last night we went out looking again. I spent the day sifting through the same listings I had pored over and rejected over the past few weeks, trying to decide if maybe I really could live in that less-desirable neighborhood or deal with coin-op laundry or find a way to pay a little bit more every month. I came up with several options, none of them perfect on paper, but all worth a drive-by at the very least.
We fell in love with the second place we looked at. The junior-high, butterflies in the pit of your stomach, heart-racing kind of love. We ran around peeking in all the windows we could reach (and when we couldn't reach we stood on things) and though we tried to keep our cool and act like grown-ups about the whole thing, inside our minds were racing with ideas. We're still both flying high a day later, despite the fact that we don't know if the house already has apps on it or if we will even be approved. Despite the fact that we haven't actually been inside the place yet.
Tonight we're meeting with the owner and filling out applications after taking a look inside. My every instinct is telling me relax, prepare for the worst, don't like this place so much because then you probably won't get it. And chances are that someone else has already applied, will soon be living in OUR house. But the romantic in me wants to believe that our feelings are real, that the fact that we connected with this one house so quickly means something. That once, just once, in 30+ years of life's ordinary disappointments, this one will go our way.
Fingers crossed.
Alongside my ambivalence about moving comes the gut-wrenchingness that is moving itself. First there's the pressure of finding just the right place, where William and I both feel comfortably at home and have enough space to live our lives without being all up in each other's business. Then there are other requirements, like a neighborhood where we can walk to things and a yard or some kind of outdoor space so I can try my hand at growing things. Then you have to filter out everything that's too expensive or doesn't allow pets or thinks only dogs less than 25 pounds are acceptable tenants. Unsurprisingly, that leaves very little for us to choose from, which means compromise. Oh, the horror!
We're on our third round of applying now. The first apartment we applied for decided they didn't want to allow dogs at all. The second one was being leased by a fairly squirrely guy who said he was going to continue to take a few applications after we turned ours in, which made us a little uneasy. So last night we went out looking again. I spent the day sifting through the same listings I had pored over and rejected over the past few weeks, trying to decide if maybe I really could live in that less-desirable neighborhood or deal with coin-op laundry or find a way to pay a little bit more every month. I came up with several options, none of them perfect on paper, but all worth a drive-by at the very least.
We fell in love with the second place we looked at. The junior-high, butterflies in the pit of your stomach, heart-racing kind of love. We ran around peeking in all the windows we could reach (and when we couldn't reach we stood on things) and though we tried to keep our cool and act like grown-ups about the whole thing, inside our minds were racing with ideas. We're still both flying high a day later, despite the fact that we don't know if the house already has apps on it or if we will even be approved. Despite the fact that we haven't actually been inside the place yet.
Tonight we're meeting with the owner and filling out applications after taking a look inside. My every instinct is telling me relax, prepare for the worst, don't like this place so much because then you probably won't get it. And chances are that someone else has already applied, will soon be living in OUR house. But the romantic in me wants to believe that our feelings are real, that the fact that we connected with this one house so quickly means something. That once, just once, in 30+ years of life's ordinary disappointments, this one will go our way.
Fingers crossed.
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