It's time I confessed. I have a thing for old men. It's true. Nothing oldophilic or anything, I just think they are SO cute!! The shaky handwriting, the genteel manners, the hesitations, the careful walking style, the loss of hearing they try to play off. My dad's dad, Grandpa T was the cutest of the cute old men. He came around to push my chair in when we dined together. He never criticised my teenaged driving style, he would just quietly brace his hands against the dash and the windowsill as we approached any corner.
What does that have to do with the house hunt? Why am I distracting you with anecdotes at such a crucial time? Because I have an appointment in an hour to meet 'my' cute old man here.
The first night I got here I looked at a place in Burlingame. I drove an hour from my friend's home in Santa Clara to get there. On the way back I drove down El Camino Real, an artery road chock full of strip malls, fast food, and random apartment buildings. As I drove I would take random turns to check out likely looking apartment buildings. I wrote down names, locations and phone numbers.
During one of those side tours, in Menlo Park (just north of Stanford), I used a driveway to turn around. As I turned in, the headlights illumined an "Apartment for Rent" sign. I jumped out of the car, to the consternation of a passing jogger, and got close enough to read the shaky, old-man handwriting. Slanted, trained in penmanship, but with the slight quiver of the old man. It said, "2 Bedroom, available October 2nd, please repeat number 2x when you call".
I called the next morning.
He had to ask his wife about the dog.
They've been recently burned by a yappy dog tenant.
I chattered on and on about how she's so friendly, she doesn't bark, she doesn't know she can push open doors so she doesn't claw at them, etc. He seemed hesitant but said he'd get back to me with a verdict.
That was Thursday morning. By Friday afternoon I was freaking out. We signed a lease on a 1 bedroom, cottage style apartment as a comfort blanket. Right after I did that, my old man called me back! He'd received permission to show the apartment. I was en route to Belmont to check out an in-law apartment (which was sorta workable, and sorta awful--but that's another story). He said he'd call me in the morning to set up a time to view the apartment.
I'm meeting him in an hour. I'm so excited! Will he be adorable? Will he let me and the cute pictures of my dog persuade him? Is the apartment any good? Will he let me sign a contract today?
It's a perfect location. Two blocks from the Menlo Caltrain station. I could be in San Fran in 45 minutes. I wouldn't need an extra car. It's near the library, a park with a pool, Stanford and my friends down in Santa Clara. We could meet for dinner in Mountain View and wander along Castro street.
OK. OK. I know I'm buzzing and I need to calm down. Deep cleansing breaths! I feel like I'm going on a first date. Am I clean enough? Do I look like a sweet young thing? The kind any old man would rent an apartment?
I'll let you know...
September 9, 2006
September 8, 2006
Friday morning 8 am
Sigh. No apartment yet.
What's really hard about all this is that I'm choosing a life, not just an apartment. Anything south of Stanford means it's unlikely I'll work in San Francisco, but all the people I know socially are down here. From what I know of driving in traffic so far, if we live north of Stanford, I'm unlikely to see them much. North of Stanford the communities get older with more quaint homes and more hills, which I like. I hate the idea of having to drive everywhere, which seems to be the lifestyle south of Stanford. (Shall we call that, "SOS"?)
I had an informational interview yesterday at the largest exhibit design firm on the west coast. In many ways, I would LOVE to work there. But it's in Oakland. Which means I'd need a place in Belmont/San Mateo so I can get across a bridge on the Bay relatively quickly. That would mean we both have a 30 minute commute. I could choose Menlo Park and Jrex could bike to Stanford, be able to get back to deal with the dog, leave relatively easy access to my southern friends, but there is little housing available. And Menlo would mean its too far to commute to Oakland.
I know something is going to work out (it has to!), but I'm fighting anxiety/worry. I keep trying to trust that God has worked out some great details in terms of selling our house and furniture, and he knows what we need here. (Did I tell you that the friends I'm staying with here have offered us a free sofa? One that is comfy and big enough to sleep on?) It's sad that despite all the ways that God has met me throughout my life, each time I come up against a new set of unknowns I thrash around and struggle to trust. You'd think I'd learn to just walk in peace!
Whine whine whine. The real dilemma is that all these possibilities are keeping me up at night and waking me early in the morning. I'm exhausted!
What's really hard about all this is that I'm choosing a life, not just an apartment. Anything south of Stanford means it's unlikely I'll work in San Francisco, but all the people I know socially are down here. From what I know of driving in traffic so far, if we live north of Stanford, I'm unlikely to see them much. North of Stanford the communities get older with more quaint homes and more hills, which I like. I hate the idea of having to drive everywhere, which seems to be the lifestyle south of Stanford. (Shall we call that, "SOS"?)
I had an informational interview yesterday at the largest exhibit design firm on the west coast. In many ways, I would LOVE to work there. But it's in Oakland. Which means I'd need a place in Belmont/San Mateo so I can get across a bridge on the Bay relatively quickly. That would mean we both have a 30 minute commute. I could choose Menlo Park and Jrex could bike to Stanford, be able to get back to deal with the dog, leave relatively easy access to my southern friends, but there is little housing available. And Menlo would mean its too far to commute to Oakland.
I know something is going to work out (it has to!), but I'm fighting anxiety/worry. I keep trying to trust that God has worked out some great details in terms of selling our house and furniture, and he knows what we need here. (Did I tell you that the friends I'm staying with here have offered us a free sofa? One that is comfy and big enough to sleep on?) It's sad that despite all the ways that God has met me throughout my life, each time I come up against a new set of unknowns I thrash around and struggle to trust. You'd think I'd learn to just walk in peace!
Whine whine whine. The real dilemma is that all these possibilities are keeping me up at night and waking me early in the morning. I'm exhausted!
September 7, 2006
Long Term Relationship
Bay Area, we're going to have to come to terms. I met you briefly a number of years ago, but now that we're going to be in a longer term relationship I have to be honest about my concerns.
1. You're brown. I know it's not right to judge someone based on their color, but I've been a green girl for a long time. Ya' know, in a seasonal sort of way. Sure you have green trees, but they're more of a gray green. The only bright green you have is the sort that makes me feel guilty water is being wasted on your vain attempts to replicate England. What's wrong with golfing in honest sand?
2. You're crowded. I'm more into an exclusive relationship. I don't know if I appreciate having to share so much time and space with so many other people. Especially since the only real way to get to know you is to crawl up or down one of your 'freeways'. I mean, thanks for not charging tolls and all, but could you start moving your harem a little faster?
3. You're real. I think I liked us better as a long-distance theoretical couple. Until I flew in yesterday I was fine with moving (mostly). But it was all a theory. This is real. I am actually moving to California! Am I crazy? What am I thinking? I have to drive FOREVER to get to you. With a dog. Without driving my husband to drink as I twist and turn with restless energy and whine for hours.
Sigh. I'll keep trying, but I would appreciate some gestures on your part that you really want me here. Like a fantastic apartment with access to bike/hike trails, easy access to Stanford, my unknown future job, and very quiet neighbors. Today. Then, for the rest of the weekend, I can enjoy the friends I'm staying with and get to know your softer side.
1. You're brown. I know it's not right to judge someone based on their color, but I've been a green girl for a long time. Ya' know, in a seasonal sort of way. Sure you have green trees, but they're more of a gray green. The only bright green you have is the sort that makes me feel guilty water is being wasted on your vain attempts to replicate England. What's wrong with golfing in honest sand?
2. You're crowded. I'm more into an exclusive relationship. I don't know if I appreciate having to share so much time and space with so many other people. Especially since the only real way to get to know you is to crawl up or down one of your 'freeways'. I mean, thanks for not charging tolls and all, but could you start moving your harem a little faster?
3. You're real. I think I liked us better as a long-distance theoretical couple. Until I flew in yesterday I was fine with moving (mostly). But it was all a theory. This is real. I am actually moving to California! Am I crazy? What am I thinking? I have to drive FOREVER to get to you. With a dog. Without driving my husband to drink as I twist and turn with restless energy and whine for hours.
Sigh. I'll keep trying, but I would appreciate some gestures on your part that you really want me here. Like a fantastic apartment with access to bike/hike trails, easy access to Stanford, my unknown future job, and very quiet neighbors. Today. Then, for the rest of the weekend, I can enjoy the friends I'm staying with and get to know your softer side.
September 5, 2006
Here today and gone tomorrow
I’m home for one day. Yesterday we drove home from Staten Island after a fun weekend with the in-laws, tomorrow I fly to California to search for an apartment. Here are three (long, sorry!) entries about the last few days in reverse chronological order.
I didn't find the outfit to slay all outfits, but I found some great stuff at H&M (two skirts, two shirts) and four pair of shoes at Macy's. Three were $15 shoes (marked down from $80-90). One pair are my interview shoes. Naturalizer--so as comfortable as three inch heels can be! I love shopping with Mom K. She has great taste and is very trendy. I only have one interview set up for the Cali trip anyway, so I should be fine with what I have.
I didn't find the outfit to slay all outfits, but I found some great stuff at H&M (two skirts, two shirts) and four pair of shoes at Macy's. Three were $15 shoes (marked down from $80-90). One pair are my interview shoes. Naturalizer--so as comfortable as three inch heels can be! I love shopping with Mom K. She has great taste and is very trendy. I only have one interview set up for the Cali trip anyway, so I should be fine with what I have.
Laughing Goodbyes
Thursday night was my farewell gala. The bosses treated all of us, including my replacement, to dinner at the Brewer’s Art. Please note that RyGuy doesn’t believe in vegetables, seafood, or an ‘inside voice’. You should also know that the Brewers art specializes in all three. For my vegetarian bosses, it’s a great choice. Poor RyGuy looked over the menu and declared he would have the crayfish stuffed chicken ‘without crayfish’. With disaster looming I glanced at the menu through RyGuy eyes and suggested he try the third item down. He saw it and exclaimed, “Really?! OK!” (it was the most expensive item on the menu). I nodded and he closed his menu, “Steak Fritz it is then.” Now, I don’t know French, but I suspect that wasn’t the right pronunciation for “Steak Frites”. The steak strips and rosemary garlic fries were the least foreign elements in the menu for our “Langsta, PA” boy. I looked across at BossTwo, an acknowledged cheapskate, “Sorry! I just told him to get the priciest item.” With a mocking, dour expression, he muttered in an Eeyore tone, “I noticed.”
Our table was the loud, obnoxious group in the corner. The one you see and pray, “please don’t put me near them!” At one point I tried to say to RyGuy, “White tablecloths mean low volume”; it didn’t register. As RyGuy put it, “Our table spoils the mood if you’re here hoping to get laid.” He didn’t say it discreetly, and I suspect he directed it at the table behind us where a slick looking guy leaned toward a leggy blond.
In the middle of all of it, BossOne said two revealing ‘jokes’. She’s hinted before that no one really knows her, she’s talked of her anorexia, I know from a close friend who struggled with bulimia the masking/lying/hiding that go with an eating disorder. BossOne seems transparent and honest, so I’ve always been curious about what ‘lies beneath’. This past week has shown me glimpses.
In the middle of a conversation about one of our notorious Attention Deficit Disorder clients, BossOne laughed and chimed in, “OTRgirl is the one who diagnosed me as ADD. She said it totally casually. I was so mad I didn’t talk to her for days.” Rosetta asked, “And are you?” BossOne, still laughing, “Of course I am! But I’d had NO idea!” And I had no idea she’d given me the silent treatment. For future reference to anyone who might want to fight with me: I’m really bad with passive aggressive battle technique. The problem with the passive option is that in order for it to be effective, the recipient has to be aware it’s happening!
The other revealing comment was, “I’m so upset about you leaving I haven’t even looked at a map to figure out where Palo Alto is, I just don’t care!” For the last year and a half I’ve wanted to quit and look for a new job and Jrex kept telling me that I couldn’t. He intuited that the relationship with BossOne was more important than a job change. I doubt he fully knew how true that statement was! As I’m watching her process three MONTHS worth of job notice I don’t think she could have handled it if she’d felt betrayed as well.
Our table was the loud, obnoxious group in the corner. The one you see and pray, “please don’t put me near them!” At one point I tried to say to RyGuy, “White tablecloths mean low volume”; it didn’t register. As RyGuy put it, “Our table spoils the mood if you’re here hoping to get laid.” He didn’t say it discreetly, and I suspect he directed it at the table behind us where a slick looking guy leaned toward a leggy blond.
In the middle of all of it, BossOne said two revealing ‘jokes’. She’s hinted before that no one really knows her, she’s talked of her anorexia, I know from a close friend who struggled with bulimia the masking/lying/hiding that go with an eating disorder. BossOne seems transparent and honest, so I’ve always been curious about what ‘lies beneath’. This past week has shown me glimpses.
In the middle of a conversation about one of our notorious Attention Deficit Disorder clients, BossOne laughed and chimed in, “OTRgirl is the one who diagnosed me as ADD. She said it totally casually. I was so mad I didn’t talk to her for days.” Rosetta asked, “And are you?” BossOne, still laughing, “Of course I am! But I’d had NO idea!” And I had no idea she’d given me the silent treatment. For future reference to anyone who might want to fight with me: I’m really bad with passive aggressive battle technique. The problem with the passive option is that in order for it to be effective, the recipient has to be aware it’s happening!
The other revealing comment was, “I’m so upset about you leaving I haven’t even looked at a map to figure out where Palo Alto is, I just don’t care!” For the last year and a half I’ve wanted to quit and look for a new job and Jrex kept telling me that I couldn’t. He intuited that the relationship with BossOne was more important than a job change. I doubt he fully knew how true that statement was! As I’m watching her process three MONTHS worth of job notice I don’t think she could have handled it if she’d felt betrayed as well.
Last Day at work
In case you’re wondering, denial works! On Friday we all acted like it was an ordinary day at work, and therefore no one had to get emotional. Fantastic!
Of everyone in the office, the one person who got emotional was the last one I expected. When BossTwo came in to say goodbye he gave me a huge hug and told me how much they would miss me. Then he gave me another hug and had tears in his eyes! Wow. It’s weird cause BossOne complains so much about how BossTwo (her husband) won’t show his emotion, but it’s in there. Maybe she just doesn’t get his humor and has trouble letting him express emotion in his own way and time?
RyGuy’s parting comment was, “If you get in an earthquake you gotta call and tell me about it. You know I love hearing about that s__”
Of everyone in the office, the one person who got emotional was the last one I expected. When BossTwo came in to say goodbye he gave me a huge hug and told me how much they would miss me. Then he gave me another hug and had tears in his eyes! Wow. It’s weird cause BossOne complains so much about how BossTwo (her husband) won’t show his emotion, but it’s in there. Maybe she just doesn’t get his humor and has trouble letting him express emotion in his own way and time?
RyGuy’s parting comment was, “If you get in an earthquake you gotta call and tell me about it. You know I love hearing about that s__”
Korean til my ears bleed
The weekend with the in-laws was fine. The problem was having very little emotional reserve for polite small talk. Conversation with Mom and Dad is fine, but we went to church Sunday. All in Korean. They pray before and after every segment of the service. When one says, “they pray” one might picture (if you’re white) a nice polite, “Thank you for your blessings, please take care of all the poor in the world” type prayer. But that’s not Korean prayer. If you prayed Korean style and had to pray the whole thing without taking a breath, you’d be passed out on the floor and blue with lack of oxygen. Which is fine once or twice, but by the fifth time I wanted to run screaming around the room stabbing random objects with chopsticks. Perhaps the 45-minute sermon didn’t help either?
I don’t know if its true of all Korean churches, but each one I’ve visited provides lunch after the service. For seating arrangements, the church breaks down by age and gender. Every other visit I sat with Mom K at the ajumma table (middle aged Korean women). This time the pastor’s wife said, “You young, you sit with young people.” She grabbed my arm and directed me to the back of the room and sat me in front of a young Korean woman. Fortunately the teenager (I’m not that young!) spoke English. Remember how I said I had no energy for polite small talk?!! What were they doing to me? It turned out she was about to start School of Visual Arts in NY as a graphic design major and I was able to give her all sorts of advice. Phew. That was easier than I expected.
Sunday night we had dinner with Chogun Imo and Imo Abaji (Jrex’s mother’s younger sister, and younger sister’s husband). I love that Korean has precise names for each relative. I had a mild triumph during dinner. As I happily wolfed down the Bi Bim Nyang Myun (spicy cold noodles), Imo Abaji passed his dish of the same to his wife and muttered something in Korean. Jrex leaned over and said, “He just said it’s too spicy to eat.”
After dinner at the restaurant, we returned to Chogun Imo’s house for the exchange of gifts. Mom K bought a huge crystal vase for me to give her “in case you forgot”. A logical assumption since this was the first trip we remembered to buy something. Gift giving is not my culture. I’m doing well when I remember Mom and Dad K much less the extended family! I tried to give Mom money for the vase and she wouldn’t let me. She also insisted on paying for dinner. When I mentioned this to Jrex, he said, “It’s ok. They gave Dad $500 for his birthday this year. Everything must be repaid one way or another.”
Chogun Imo barely speaks any English. With what little she had she still managed to tell me to try for children, that I was getting ‘too old’, that she likes babies and I should make some. At least now Mom K is more aware of the situation and so doesn’t jump on the pressure wagon anymore. I nodded and just kept saying, ‘I know. Yes. You’re right.’ Ugh.
My general policy when everyone is talking in Korean is to at least watch whoever is speaking and to emote when others do. Smiling, laughing politely, looking concerned. I decided to do this after watching people in group settings who don’t understand English well. They stare into space and mostly just look stupid. I have no desire to seem like the dumb American in the corner. Plus, this way, they aren’t sure how much I understand. (the answer is nothing. But based on occasional English words and facial expressions I can usually follow the general direction) I like to keep Imo on her toes! Revenge for random baby comments.
I don’t know if its true of all Korean churches, but each one I’ve visited provides lunch after the service. For seating arrangements, the church breaks down by age and gender. Every other visit I sat with Mom K at the ajumma table (middle aged Korean women). This time the pastor’s wife said, “You young, you sit with young people.” She grabbed my arm and directed me to the back of the room and sat me in front of a young Korean woman. Fortunately the teenager (I’m not that young!) spoke English. Remember how I said I had no energy for polite small talk?!! What were they doing to me? It turned out she was about to start School of Visual Arts in NY as a graphic design major and I was able to give her all sorts of advice. Phew. That was easier than I expected.
Sunday night we had dinner with Chogun Imo and Imo Abaji (Jrex’s mother’s younger sister, and younger sister’s husband). I love that Korean has precise names for each relative. I had a mild triumph during dinner. As I happily wolfed down the Bi Bim Nyang Myun (spicy cold noodles), Imo Abaji passed his dish of the same to his wife and muttered something in Korean. Jrex leaned over and said, “He just said it’s too spicy to eat.”
After dinner at the restaurant, we returned to Chogun Imo’s house for the exchange of gifts. Mom K bought a huge crystal vase for me to give her “in case you forgot”. A logical assumption since this was the first trip we remembered to buy something. Gift giving is not my culture. I’m doing well when I remember Mom and Dad K much less the extended family! I tried to give Mom money for the vase and she wouldn’t let me. She also insisted on paying for dinner. When I mentioned this to Jrex, he said, “It’s ok. They gave Dad $500 for his birthday this year. Everything must be repaid one way or another.”
Chogun Imo barely speaks any English. With what little she had she still managed to tell me to try for children, that I was getting ‘too old’, that she likes babies and I should make some. At least now Mom K is more aware of the situation and so doesn’t jump on the pressure wagon anymore. I nodded and just kept saying, ‘I know. Yes. You’re right.’ Ugh.
My general policy when everyone is talking in Korean is to at least watch whoever is speaking and to emote when others do. Smiling, laughing politely, looking concerned. I decided to do this after watching people in group settings who don’t understand English well. They stare into space and mostly just look stupid. I have no desire to seem like the dumb American in the corner. Plus, this way, they aren’t sure how much I understand. (the answer is nothing. But based on occasional English words and facial expressions I can usually follow the general direction) I like to keep Imo on her toes! Revenge for random baby comments.
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