Tales From The Kitchen & Anza Observatory

Funny how one thing always leads to another and suddenly you're planning an adventure and wondering how you ended up here at 4am (or how you're even still awake).

Tonight I tried to bake for the holidays. I had a plan; I was going to light a nice fire in the fireplace, don my festive, red "Naughty or Nice?" apron (I think I've worn it twice in the decade I've owned it), play Christmas music while drinking hot chocolate & Kahlua, and bake at least three kinds of cookies if it killed me. Sounds like a real Norman Rockwell evening, doesn't it? Well that's what I was going for. Those Hollywood moments don't create themselves ya know.

Apparently the cookies (or the Universe) saw it as a challenge. How many monkey wrenches does it take to screw up a Rockwell-inspired evening?

7:00pm. I light the fire, press Play for the Rat Pack, don said apron, make hot chocolate, and proceed to pull ingredients from cupboards. Hey wait... where did all my butter go? I swear there were three sticks in here!

Wrench 1 from Universe: No butter.
Counterfire: Close glass doors on fireplace, press Pause on Rat Pack, remove apron, don coat, head to store for butter.

Forty minutes later I have TWO POUNDS of butter (heh, let's see the Universe get past that one!) and a can of whipped cream for the hot chocolate (extra points!). I hang up the coat, poke the fire back to life, press Play on the Rat Pack, re-engage the apron, re-heat my hot chocolate (add whipped cream! woo!) and proceed to dump ingredients into a bowl.

Oh crap... that's ALL the brown sugar I have left? At least it's enough for this batch but... ::rummaging through pantry:: Darnit, I guess that WAS the backup. Hmmm.

Wrench 2 from Universe: No brown sugar.
Counterfire: I'll just make the things that don't require it tonight.

I continue making chocolate chip cookies. The fire is really going now (I can hear it in the other room even if I can't see it), the oven is hot, the chinchillas are all staring at me from the breakfast nook like I've been abducted by aliens and replaced by a domesticated replica, which is fine with them as long as the replica intends to give them treats. I taste the cookie dough because God knows a quarter of it will never make it into the oven the way I do it, and...

WTF? It tastes weird. Not horrible, but weird. Maybe it's just my imagination? Nope, definitely tastes odd. I go over the ingredients and decide it's either the gluten-free flour I bought at the organic grocery store or the eggs which I now see are expired because they're organic eggs and since I don't eat eggs unless they're in something they rarely get used fast enough. Arg. Okay, well, I'll take my chances that it's the flour, not salmonella, and maybe the icky taste will cook out.

Wrench 3 from Universe: Bad batter.
Counterfire: I'm baking it anyway so sod off.

While the first batch is in the oven, I decide to start mixing the Sand Tarts (read: sugar cookies with almond extract) that my grandmother makes. The dough has to sit in the frig overnight, and does not require brown sugar, so this is probably a good thing to embark on next. I start blending the butter and sugar in another bowl.

15 minutes later: the bell rings but the icky taste has not cooked out. Grrr.

Maybe I can donate these somewhere - like the post office. Make a nice gesture AND get rid of icky cookies AND don't waste all those ingredients. Sounds like a win-win. Except the cookies practically fall to pieces as I remove them from the cookie sheets.

Oh yes, gluten doesn't just taste good, it also holds things together so when you use gluten-free flour, guess what? (I have no idea how I knew that, but I did. Probably that Home Ec class back in 9th grade.) I glare at the expensive gluten-free flour that will probably be in the trash if I can't find another use for it aside from baking. (Okay, not really, I'd more likely give it away on Craigslist first.)

As a last resort, I ask the roommate to try a cookie (which crumbles like the Republican Party as he tries to pick it up). I figure if a guy will eat them, then a post office should have no problem disposing of my mistake (one way or another). He says they aren't bad, but they don't taste like my normal cookies, which means others will notice the weird taste too. CRAP.

Open trash can - insert cookies.

It is now 8:30pm. Score: Universe 1, Traci 0.

I decide I'm going to Vons (a "real" grocery store as opposed to the smaller local one I went to for the butter) and I will try again this whole cookie fiasco when I get back. I'm a late-night person - I can bake until 2am!

I actually consult all the recipes I've pulled out and make a list this time. Yay for thinking ahead! I remove the apron, turn off the music, close the fireplace doors, don the coat, and go to Vons. I spend SIXTY DOLLARS on ingredients. Okay, maybe Peppermint Schnapps and Baileys don't count as ingredients, but one of them is certainly going into SOMETHING I'm making when I get home.

10:00pm. I return with (among other things) brown sugar, new eggs, and attitude. I stoke the fire and put the apron back on but skip the music. I finish mixing the Sand Tarts and get the dough into the frig. I wipe down the counters - three times because Gods, where does all that dirt come from? It's like the counters just make it fresh themselves. I clean the bowl and measuring cups I used so they're ready again. I clean the cookie sheets. Then I clean the sink because it's porcelain and anything aluminum (like the bowl and sheets) makes horrid marks all over it wherever it touches.

11:30pm. I decide to just check email and say hi on IM to the boyfriend before continuing, and you know what happens next...

That's it. I surrender. After 4 hours I have NOTHING to show for my baking efforts. Not ONE cookie. I'm too tired to face the kitchen again so I will live to bake another day (like tomorrow). I decide to just surf the net a bit and go to bed.

Except then I see my mother's CDs sitting by the desk. I had promised I would load them all onto iTunes and send her the files so she doesn't have to deal with it. The CDs have been there at least two months now. I decide since I'm sending her a box of stuff for her birthday, and I've just reformatted the Mac and not yet restored my own iTunes, this is the best time to do it. So I load a CD and grab my book (which I had intended to read by the fire while the cookies were in the oven... HA!!).

I'm currently reading Malcolm Gladwell's What The Dog Saw. It's a great book and I really enjoy Gladwell's writing style. He's talking about late bloomers vs. precocity... comparing prodigies to people that become successful later in life. One of the stories relates the difference of how two authors became famous. One took 18 years and 30 trips to Haiti before he had a bestseller. The other was in his 20s (I think) and took one trip to Ukraine (3 days) to inspire the book that made him rich. I realize I am more like the Haiti guy (the late bloomer), where I need to gather lots of experiences before I can write about them.

In thinking about this, I realize one of the good things about being unemployed is I have LOTS of time to go experience things. (And isn't that how Jen Lancaster wrote her first book as well?) The bad part is I haven't been taking near enough advantage of my freedom. I've been on quite a few trips in the past several months, which has been awesome, but they haven't really been explorations I would want to write about. They've provided very little new experience. So I get to thinking about taking a trip just for experience, but it cant be too far away as the money is running low.

The BF has mentioned before a place about 2 hours from here called Idyllwild. Unfortunately it's a place he went to with a former girlfriend (ew), but if I can get over that it sounds like a cool artist community up in the trees. Perfect for new experiences, yes?

So I pull up the map to Idyllwild and print it out, then go about finding out what's there that I shouldn't miss. I'm already thinking I'm going TOMORROW (I mean, why wait?) except I have cookies to bake. Damn the bad luck. And Thursday is Christmas Eve, Friday is Christmas. And I AM looking forward to them this year even though I feel like a total hypocrite celebrating a Christian holiday when I am so NOT that (except it's really a Pagan holiday that was warped by the Christians, so that makes me feel a LITTLE better). Hmmm. Guess this will have to be Saturday or Sunday.

Nevertheless, one click leads to another and I end up at a web site for Anza Observatory. I'm thinking AWESOME - you gotta love anywhere that wants to watch the stars watching us. Except the more I poke around this site, the more I find out that it's just a guy in a house out in the middle of nowhere AND now he's moved because society has encroached on his little hideaway and polluted the sky with light. ::SIGH::

The good thing is, he has built a page with the pictures of comparisons of star sizes that I've wanted to put together for a couple years. It's not quite as polished as I'd make it, but it works. Awesome! Now I can share it! And here it is:

http://www.anzaobservatory.com/ourplace.html

You may have received this (in part or whole) in email before, but it's always amazing to me to see how small we are in this big ol' Universe. And how TOTALLY insignificant that makes cookies in the scope of things. And I have to wonder how in the world the Universe has time to screw with me over kitchen antics when there's ALL THAT OUT THERE.

Incidentally, and totally off the subject, I also discovered this organization from one of my mom's CDs called Metamusic - Gaia:

http://www.monroeinstitute.org/

From their "About Us" page: "The Monroe Institute provides experiential education programs facilitating the personal exploration of human consciousness ... The Monroe Institute also serves as the core of a research affiliation investigating the evolution of human consciousness and making related information available to the public. The Institute is devoted to the premise that focused consciousness contains definitive solutions to the major issues of human experience and a greater understanding of such consciousness can be achieved through coordinated research efforts using an interdisciplinary approach."

I find this stuff fascinating and lately I've been pointed to a lot of info on brainwave research and such. Wonder where THAT'S going.

So I guess that's finally all I have to say for tonight. Now it's 6am and I have yet to sleep - AGAIN. You gotta write when it strikes I guess.

Have an awesome Wednesday. :)

I Remember It To A Tee

I posted this as a response to a recent blog by Jason Mraz, but since it's such a good memory I'm posting it here as well. My apologies for the repeat to those of you who may have already read it in the comments of Freshness Factor Five Thousand.

My mom took me with her on a business trip to San Francisco when I was in 6th grade. It made quite an impression on me because it was the first time I was allowed to stay by myself (not even at home!) while she went to the office all day.

The Hyatt Regency in Embarcadero Center (i.e., the hotel we stayed at) is where I developed my love of jazz because there was a piano bar at the bottom of the atrium. I wasn't supposed to leave our room so when things got too boring, I would prop the door open in case Mom called on the phone, and I would stand just outside at the edge of the balcony that overlooked the atrium and listen to the notes float past me on their way to the top. I made up all kinds of scenarios in my head about being a princess in a tower, or a grand lady from 100 years ago on holiday as I listened to the music. My imagination was (is) limitless. Nowadays someone would've probably called the cops on mom for leaving me alone in a hotel at that age. Oh well, we do what we have to as single parents.

Anyway, Mom took me to a magic show one night at this little hole in the wall place. It was kind of late for a 6th grader and there were no other kids in the audience. The people on stage called themselves Asparagus Valley Cultural Society. Most of the comedy material went right over my head and by the end I think my mom was a little sheepish that she didn't know the show was NOT really for kids. I mean who woulda thought? Aren't all magic shows for kids? Even if they don't end until 11pm?

As an aside, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. When Katy was around 7 or 8, we were on a trip to Philadelphia. I took her to the movies to see Beavis & Butthead Do America. I knew it might have SOME jokes that went over her head, but I had NO IDEA what Beavis & Butthead were really all about. I mean, c'mon... it was ANIMATED! Aren't all cartoons for kids? And when they say "DO America" aren't they talking about a road trip?! haha But back to our story...

The Mystery of the Peking Snow Duck (which was actually a rabbit, as made obvious by the punchline "that's Snow Duck!" as the "peeking" rabbit is pulled from under a cloth) was the best trick since it was probably the only one I really got (comedy-wise - magic can be understood at any age :).

The magicians said they would be in the lobby after the show and I begged Mom to let us stay and meet them because I can never get enough magic. (Maybe that's where my groupie nature started!)

The big guy from on stage came out carrying a cage. He let me pet the rabbit and asked if I would like to stick pencils in its ears. (Weird, the things we remember.) I giggled and said no. He thanked us for coming to the show and gave me a green tshirt with their name and logo on the front. It was too big to wear, but I slept in it for years, and I still have it (and it fits now).

The best part of the story? Those magicians were Penn & Teller. :)

Picture was taken in 2008. Click HERE for an account of how Penn & Teller started out (and yes, Wier was still part of the act when I saw them in San Fran). I think it's SO ironic that they spent years performing in Philadelphia (where I grew up) but *I* saw them all the way across the country. Not the first time that's happened. I lived in Arizona for six years before moving to New Jersey. After I moved to New Jersey I started working for a company that was headquartered in Scottsdale, in the same building that I worked in while I lived in Arizona. Nothing like moving across the country to work for the people upstairs!

How I Got Here

I’m in the papasan chair on my back patio. Incense mixes with the scent of oleanders to tickle my nose, and low music hums a background for the bugs serenading the almost-full moon over my left shoulder. The sun exited the stage long ago to party with the other side of the globe for awhile, and the breeze has dropped along with the temp. It may sound like a big ol’ cliché, but it’s very peaceful. Okay, oleanders don’t really smell much, but it sounded good, right? And the rest is all true. ☺

I was trying to read a book, but my mind would not stay still. All these phrases and words fill my head that have nothing to do with the story and I feel the need to write, so I’ve grabbed the laptop and here we are. Finally. I know it’s about time, but Time? Pssshhhhh. What a concept.

In my last post, our hero (::Ego’s hand shoots up::) was waiting to hear about which of two places I would call home. I mentioned that I ended up in Bonsall, but it was interesting how all that came down.

On Friday the 13th of June I was pretty far down in the dumps about San Diego. It was not what I expected, and I was not finding any places to live that met my criteria and my snobby tastes, and that were in my price range. The situation was bleak.

Mom and I decided to hunt in Escondido that day. After driving by a couple “no way” properties and playing phone tag with a condo owner, we happened upon a house on East 10th Street in Old Escondido. It was almost 5:00, but we called the realtor’s number on the sign anyway. The girl was about to leave for the day, so she gave us the lock box code and said to call on Monday if we liked it. I wasn’t sure I could wait that long and the rent was way above what I could even consider, but we went in anyway.

I fell in love with the house. I thought surely this was the place I was meant to be in for a couple reasons. First, the address was 221 and 21 has been my lucky number for a very long time. Second, there were dragonflies. (For those reading here for the first time, dragonflies have been one of my totems for about 12 years.)

The house was built in the 30s and had a couple very charming features, one of which was an old-fashioned doorbell that looked like windchimes hanging in a recessed niche in the wall. Under the doorbell, the owner had left a decorative row of hooks like you’d put keys on, and the hooks were all dragonflies. I actually have a very similar key rack already. I took this as a sign.

Further exploration showed the house had 3 bedrooms and 2 full baths. It also already had the 2” wood slat blinds I was picturing in my new place. The front and back were beautifully landscaped (if a bit dry from neglect), and there was an orange tree and an apricot tree in the backyard, just off the HUGE redwood deck. I was already picturing the BBQs and parties on that deck!

I grabbed my camera and took all kinds of pictures so I could concentrate on manifesting our living there. It was WAY above what I could afford tho. (Jenn: I still have to send you the pic of the dark raspberry faux finish walls in the kitchen – I knew you would get such a kick out of them!)

Mom convinced me to call the realtor and offer a deal since the house had been standing empty for a month. I tried, but it went right to voice mail, which was already full so I couldn’t even leave a message. I was disappointed, but finding something I liked that well gave me hope, and I was in desperate need of that!

Since The House was so far above my price range, I had to continue looking just in case. That night I reluctantly got on craigslist again and started making a list of places to view the next day. My attitude deteriorated quickly when most of the ads showed I would have a hard time affording anything decent in the areas I objected to the least.

I came across one ad though for a condo in Bonsall. I thought, “Where the hell is Bonsall?” As I wrote the information on my tablet, I had the same prickly feeling I got when I read the ad for the first apartment we moved to in Midland Park.

I let thinking cloud over my intuition though because I was so set on the Escondido house, and I scoffed at the idea of knowing where I was going to live before I even saw it. Nevertheless, I emailed the ad, wrote down the phone number, and starred it on my paper because at 1440 square feet, at least it would be a LOT of space.

The next morning we decided to view Bonsall first as it was the farthest property out. I tried calling the number in the ad, only to be told the lady was away until the afternoon. We decided to go check it out from outside anyway in case it wasn’t worth pursuing based on the neighborhood. Getting there seemed to take forever and I was already saying to myself, “There’s no way I’m living this far out with gas prices how they are.”

We found the street, but couldn’t tell which unit was the one from the ad. There were several for sale, and a couple for rent, but none of the phone numbers matched up. Still, it was a nicer area than I anticipated so it was not counted out. We moved on, looking at several more places in the surrounding towns.

We finally connected with Kathy, the property owner, later that evening and agreed to drive out to Bonsall again to view the condo Monday morning. She sounded like a really nice lady on the phone and again my intuition prickled, but the brain was on override for the Escondido house.

The second drive to Bonsall didn’t seem as far because we knew where we were going this time, even though we came in from a different direction. The beauty of the area was not lost on me as we passed a golf course and drove along a palm tree-lined road right out of the movies.

When I walked in the door I was pleasantly reminded of just how much space 1440 SF is. The master bedroom had TWO closets (read: I don’t have to sell half my wardrobe!), the floor was all tile (except the bedrooms), and the two full baths right off each bedroom were definitely appealing, not to mention all the storage space I’d have in the garage. It didn’t have a washer/dryer or even a refrigerator yet, but Kathy assured us all those appliances were coming. They were shooting for a July 1 move in date, but I needed it before then.

I explained my hurry with the movers on their way, wanting to deliver in the next couple days. (Not to mention Wilbur’s recent escape reminded me I was on borrowed time for getting those brats back in their regular cages.) Kathy was super accommodating and said if I could get all my information to her, she would process my application immediately, and if I didn’t mind living without appliances for a few days she didn’t mind me moving in early. We got along famously, which is always valuable in a landlord-tenant relationship. I was still hoping that Escondido house would come through, but somewhere deep down I already knew where this was headed.

The next day Mom and I had to switch hotels because I was out of free nights for the first place. We went through the process of sneaking all the animals out of the first hotel and into the second. “On edge” didn’t begin to cover the mood I was in, but it went smoothly.

I was just beginning to relax when the movers called saying they wanted to deliver that day. I still didn’t have an address. I also still had not resolved the bullshit they pulled by loading all my stuff on the truck in Jersey, THEN telling me the price would be almost twice what they quoted. When I objected, they offered to unload the truck back into the house – at 11pm on the night before I’m supposed to drive cross country. Like that was even an option.

They know they have you by the balls once your stuff is on the truck – I’ve read about this scam - but I thought since they had “Not to exceed” on the estimate that they would honor that. Ha. Guess not. What was I supposed to do? I signed the paper (the “new” contract with the “new” price), but I signed under duress (and that’s exactly what I’ll tell the judge when I see them in court).

I brought that up with the owner of the company, who was the one calling to find out where to deliver. We argued, he hung up on me, and I wondered if it would be months and a court verdict before I saw my stuff again. Nothing like a little drama to raise the blood pressure.

After hanging up, I decided I wasn’t going to let this ruin the roll I was on. I gathered all the information Kathy needed and sent it to her. Then I crossed my fingers and called Cheryl, the owner of the Escondido house.

Cheryl wasn’t thrilled about the lower rent I was proposing since they apparently bought when the market was high and had a big mortgage. She said my offer didn’t cover her expenses, but asked me to send my information anyway and she would take a look at it and decide. She and her husband live in Virginia; he is military and was transferred there unexpectedly, leaving them with the vacant California residence.

I know I don’t look good on paper because of past financial mistakes and a low credit score thanks to unemployment a couple years ago. I tried to really impress upon her what a great tenant I am, but it’s harder to do over the phone than in person. I was much more successful at that with Kathy. When Cheryl and I finished talking, I finally admitted to myself that I knew where I was going to end up, and I just had to accept it. Bonsall seemed kinda far out, but it wasn’t the end of the world. And hey, “if you’re not living on the edge, you’re taking up too much space” anyway.

Kathy called me shortly thereafter and said even though her property manager advised her against renting to me based on my crappy credit (and who could blame them?), she was going with her gut because she liked me, so I could have the condo, and the truck could deliver the next day. I was enormously grateful, but not surprised.

What surprised me was the tidal wave of relief at hearing those words. It was like that first gasping intake of air as you break above the water when you’ve been held under too long. I guess being homeless is more of a weight to carry than I anticipated. At least with six animals riding along, and an angry trucking company on your ass it is.

Almost immediately after I hung up from Kathy, Cheryl called back and turned me down. I wasn’t surprised about that either. She said she had received another offer for the full rent they were asking, so they had to go with that person.

I knew it wasn’t true and I confirmed that a few weeks later. I was in Escondido shopping and went by the house out of curiosity. It was still empty with the sign out front. It seemed sad so I tried to fill it with good energy. I felt bad for it because it’s a super cute place and it deserves an awesome person to love and care for it. I hope the good energy will attract the perfect person. I can’t say I have regrets tho because I know Bonsall is right where I belong. How do I know? I’m here.

So that’s how I ended up on the patio behind the oleanders, listening to the crickets and typing away on my Mac.

More tomorrow...

Do Not Use Crown Royal Moving of Brooklyn NY

I am posting this narrative of my experience with Crown Royal Moving, located at 56 48th Street in Brooklyn, NY, web site at http://movingroyal.com, because I HOPE it will help someone else NOT be scammed by this company.

I will be filing complaints against them with several federal and local organizations, plus as many web sites as I can find that report bad movers.

I would like to point out that the loading and delivery crews were polite (with the exception of Eric Lucci once he found out I would not easily agree to their inflated price), and there were only two broken things on the truck, both of which were minor.

My belongings were delivered promptly, but only after I had no choice but to finish paying their inflated price because the owner (Vili) would not honor the BINDING PRICE ESTIMATE with the NOT TO EXCEED AGREEMENT that was promised to me. I don't think my review or my filed complaints should reflect on the individuals that drove the truck, or that loaded/unloaded. My grievances are solely with the owner of the company, Vili, and the managers involved with estimating and managing my move (Paul Towber and Eric Lucci).

Here is what I'm posting for others to read about this company on the scammer lists:

Order #W664077
NYDOT # T37074 - NYDOT # 1230294
ICC MC # 486301
Move Out Date: May 30, 2008

I received an original estimate from Paul Towber for 6000 lbs. He said the cost to move CROSS COUNTRY would be $3500. I found that hard to believe since the other moving companies I'd received estimates from ranged from $5000 - $7000. Paul said Crown Royal Moving could provide the move cheaper because they were the actual freight company, not a middle man that gave estimates, then found a freight company like them to move the load.

I told Paul that if he would provide a NOT TO EXCEED agreement, then I would go with Crown Royal Moving instead of a trusted name like United Van Lines or North American (both of which I had much higher estimates from). He wrote on the Crown Royal estimate, in his own handwriting, that the estimated price was a BINDING PRICE and NOT TO EXCEED $3500. I asked if he was sure that would hold up since it was only handwritten on the document and he said it would. The document does actually have "Binding Estimate of Cost" printed across the top. He said if I had any trouble, I was to give him a call.

Moving day came and the truck was four hours late in arriving. Due to this they did not finish loading my things until 11pm at night. Once they had everything on the truck, Eric Lucci, who was the Sales Manager in charge of the loading crew, told me I had exceeded the allowed space and therefore the price would go up. I told him Paul had given me a NOT TO EXCEED agreement written on the estimate, and I showed him the paperwork. He said he could not honor that price or the Not to Exceed promise, and my only choices were to sign the paper agreeing to pay the inflated price of $5250 or they would unload all my things from the truck back into the house. I argued about the legality of a binding price, but he said since it was so late at night, he couldn't do anything about getting it approved with the owner - either I had to sign the agreement for $5250 or they would unload my things. I signed under duress. Eric told me to call the owner when I got to California and straighten it out.

I called the owner (I think his name was Vili) once I had found a place to deliver my things. Vili was very rude about the price and would not honor the Not To Exceed Agreement. I called Paul and he told me he would talk to Vili but Paul didn't call back. I finally called again since the driver of the truck was calling me repeatedly asking for an address, but Paul would no longer answer my calls.

Vili insisted I either pay him $2500, which was the remainder of the $5250 price, or he would unload my things into a storage unit until I did pay him, and then I would owe the storage cost plus a second moving cost, or if I never paid any of it then I would just lose all my stuff.

Obviously I had no choice and ended up releasing the funds to him on my credit card.

I WOULD NEVER EVER EVER USE THIS COMPANY AGAIN. I was unable to sue them in small claims court for the difference between the $3500 estimate with a Not To Exceed Agreement, and the Final Cost of $5250 because I would've had to file in NY and attend court there, and I couldn't afford to fly back to represent myself or hire a lawyer on my behalf.

DO NOT USE THIS COMPANY.

Please contact me for scanned copies of the paperwork to prove my story.

The Wild Ride of Mr. Wilbur

Yesterday morning I was roused rather rudely and suddenly by Mom's urgent exclamation: "Trayce! Wilbur's out!" My consciousness has never slammed back into my body so fast. I was instantly awake. A glance at the blue cat carrier showed the door still closed and locked, but indeed my fuzzy rat was not in there. I saw how he had chewed through the plastic between the ventilation holes in the side of the travel cage, making a big enough escape route for his tiny, squishy self. This is one of the reasons I feel so under the gun to get into a place - it's like playing against the clock. They need to be back in their regular escape-proof cages.

Katy and I have had to catch Wilbur before and unfortunately he is the smallest, fastest ball of fur I have. He wasn't hard to spot on the dark carpet (he's all white). It's good that hotels don't have a lot of furniture, but he ran under every piece just the same. Even with two of us trying to corner him he slipped past, careening over our laps and wriggling through our hands several times. They say white men can't jump, but lemme tell you, white chinchillas can. Straight up into your face. I'm still the smarter animal though.

When I realized I wasn't going to catch the little brat with my hands, and throwing my sweatshirt over him didn't even work, I tried the oats. Wilbur loves rolled oats, the kind you make oatmeal out of. I buy the organic ones at Whole Foods and put a pinch into each of their bowls when I feed them at night. As soon as he receives his food, Wilbur hunkers over his bowl until every oat piece is gone. It's an intense concentration, the kind only an addict has, and I had no qualms about using it against him.

I put some in his dish, rattled it a bit, and set it on the floor. Mom was very busy stuffing pillows around the chair he was under to block him in when he hopped out behind her back to sniff around. I literally picked him up and effectively ended his romp.

Score:
Humans - 1
Fuzzy Brats - 0

I had cardboard and packing tape in my car from the move, so I used that to cover the hole in the cage. Cardboard is even easier to chew through than plastic, but only if he can get a grip on the edge. So far this has kept him in, but I know I'm only buying time, and there's not too much for sale. I noticed Edwyn started the same project on his cage, so we fixed that up too to discourage any further escape attempts. We also locked all the cages in the bathroom yesterday while we were out looking at apartments. So far so good.

Things are getting better. Probably because I adjusted my attitude. Wanna change your life? Change your mind. I found a house in Escondido I like although I have no idea how I'll afford it every month if they approve me. I found a good Plan B place too in Bonsall with lots of storage and a garage so I can sort through all this crap I dragged across the country and get rid of more of it. I've found more organic grocery stores, which is encouraging, and I think as soon as the Jeep is cleared of all the stuff rattling around in the back, driving will become a lot easier too.

I'm trying to focus on the success I've already had of people chasing me to be their tenant too. I stopped and ran across the road the other day to get a number from a For Rent sign, and an older couple actually turned their car around and pulled over to ask if I was looking for a place to live. I said I was, but their property wasn't available until October, so I thanked them for asking and we went our separate ways. Another guy with a house I viewed called and wanted me to be his tenant. It was a beautiful serene place on top of a hill with a well-tended zen garden, but I knew he wasn't too thrilled about my animals and I didn't like that the electric for all three tenants was on one bill and would be split according to what he thought was fair.

So I still don't have an address, but I hope the house comes through and if it doesn't, I have a backup place. If that rents in the meantime I guess I'll still be looking but hopefully this will all fall together today. I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

Falling Off A Cliff, Part II

We left for SD on Wednesday morning, both Mom and I driving our respective cars because she's hauling some furniture down here for me. We only went about 400 miles the first day and we stopped in Needles, CA for the night. Fortunately Mom had the foresight to call and remind me to fill up the tank before crossing into CA. I couldn't believe the difference in the gas prices! I was bitching about it being almost $4 in NJ, and it stuck around the $3.80/gallon range coming across, but once we went over that state line the price skipped 4s altogether and zoomed up to $5.29 per gallon for the "cheap" stuff! That was my first "uh oh." I held out hope that it was that high because of the remote location and luckily, it is actually a little cheaper in the bigger cities, but not by much: $4.59/gal on average here. And even so, the smog over this city is positively gross. I don't know why people think the pollution is less than L.A. It looks just as bad or worse to me.

They stop everyone at the state line to ask if you have any plants, fruits, vegetables, or animals in the car. I remember them doing that in Arizona too when we moved there. I knew the chinchillas were allowed in CA, but I wasn't sure about the lizards so I didn't mention Spunky and I hid Geco's cage in my suitcase just in case. Turns out they only ask you and they don't really check anything so there was no problem there, but I have to wonder what the point is of stopping everyone to ask if you're not going to do anything to enforce the rules? I'm grateful they don't, but it seems a bit pointless, doesn't it?

We snuck the animals into the hotel again even tho it's a pet-friendly hotel. "Friendly" usually only extends to dogs and cats, because that's what most people are comfortable with. When you mention you have an 8-pound iguana and 4 chinchillas (and a gecko, altho she's the least of my worries), they get a funny look on their faces and the bill hits the roof because they charge per animal.

So I've reached the geographic goal, but I'm terribly disappointed with San Diego. Disappointed enough to want to run back where I came from crying, even though that would be one big ass crow I'd have to consume. Seriously. I called the moving company to see if they could take my shit off the truck, but it's too late. This is a good reason to avoid expectation like the plague, folks. Most times the reality will not live up to the fantasy you've created in your head. I know this from too much experience, and STILL I have some kind of special talent for fucking myself anyway. It's also a good reason to visit the places you think you want to live before you lay out several grand on moving there. I mean, DUH.

I'm trying to stop resisting it. I'm trying to just go with the flow. Be here now. Live in the moment. I hear all the right things in my head, but my heart ain't buying it yet.

When I can manage to step outside my own drama for 10 seconds, I know I suck royally at transitions plus I'm under the gun to find housing which is a lot of pressure and I'm frustrated because I don't know the area yet. So that part of my brain is all "give it a chance, it'll work out fine in the end." However, there is another part of me that truly hates, deep down, everything this kind of place represents with its big box retailers, six-lane roads, rude drivers, and too much unconscious population. THAT part of me is horrified that I'm going to have to participate in this kind of suburban living. That stuff is way more prominent here than back in Midland Park. It totally rubs me the wrong way, and I'm not sure there's enough environmental consciousness, holistic healing, and spiritual practice in SD to counter that. I hope I'm wrong. Right now even the rude, harried, northeast seems more evolved. AAAGGGGHHHH. More evolved than me maybe. C'mon Trayce, are you the Coyote or the Road Runner? I know it's just my perception. I need to quit my bitching. I asked for this. I traveled 3000 miles to be here. Other people would sell their soul to be here. I made it happen. It's mine, now I need to own it. I suck no matter which way I turn today.

This brings to mind a plaque for the wall I saw the other day: Faith makes things possible, not easy. I'm glad I didn't have to buy it to remember it.

I'll get over myself once I find a place to hide out and observe for awhile. I'm just feeling exposed and stupid and bewildered and out of sorts. This must be what animals feel like when they get transported to an unfamiliar area and "let go." I wonder if an actual physical death feels this overwhelming?

Tonight I'm thankful that:

• the temperature here is as awesome as expected;
• Midas made my brakes right for no charge under warranty and they gave me a free oil change;
• I made it safely all the way across the country with six animals;
• I am not alone here right now; and
• I found one house I could see myself living in even if it's out of my price range.

Meep meep. :)

Falling Off A Cliff - Part I

31 May 08

All my material things are finally on the truck and away from my current existence. It's kind of liberating. No, not kind of - VERY. And you know, if everything disappeared and I never saw any of it again, I think I would get over it pretty fast. Especially since it's all insured for replacement value anyway. I'll bet I couldn't even name half of what's in those boxes. The only thing I can think of that's not replaceable is my photos, which I probably should've packed in the Jeep, but too late now. Just a few loose ends to tie up, and I'm off to California.

Last one to leave NJ, turn off the lights, ok?

~*~

6 June 08

Okay, well I ended up leaving on Sunday (a day later than planned) because those loose ends took longer than anticipated to lock down. I'm happy to say that I only created ONE bag of trash, and a small pile of wood (dirty chinnie shelves), in this move. I think about the incredible mounds of stuff I see on the curbs of other people that are moving, and I'm damn proud of my one bag, even though I wish it could've been nothing at all.

I was late because I had to finish taking things where they needed to be so they wouldn't become trash. I sold, donated, or gave away half my possessions (or at least it seemed like half). I recycled everything plastic, glass, cardboard, paper, or otherwise that I could. I packed using my clothes to wrap breakables so I only used one box of packing paper (and that paper will be recycled for packing eBay items when I reach San Diego). All my boxes were recycled from other people's moves (and will be offered for free on craigslist in hopes they can be used again). The only thing I couldn't really avoid buying new was tape. Compared to others, I'd say the footprint from this move will be minimal. Yay me.

The night I left I only made it about 100 miles out to Drums, PA. Unfortunately the hotel where Mom reserved a room for me on her travel points wouldn't let my animals in and I had to leave them in the car overnight. Normally I would've never done that, but the temp was in the 50s, it was 2:30am, and I was exhausted. I mapped out a route for the next day, checked pet-friendly hotels for the following night, slept for only 2 1/2 hours, then took off again around dawn so the heat wouldn't kill everyone waiting in the car. I was SO tired, but I had adrenaline and eventually caffeine on my side. It was a shame I couldn't stay at the hotel longer because the room was really nice.

I drove 12 hours on Monday, about 600 miles, to the edge of Indianapolis. Mom called ahead to reserve a room at the Super 8, where the door goes directly into the room. Much easier to sneak animals in that way. The hotel turned out to be scary though: the neighborhood wasn't great, my white suburban ass was a minority among the other guests, and cops came by to investigate what I think was a potential drive-by at one point. Woo hoo. Nothing like adding a little element of danger. On the upside, it makes the story more interesting now that I'm safely away from there, and it was an opportunity to practice faith and staying present in the Now.

As I was trying to fall asleep that night, I thought about how amusing the contrast between the two rooms was. The first night it was a beautifully appointed suite with 12-foot ceilings, frig, nuker, coffee service, marble bathroom, etc. I wish I could've enjoyed it for longer. The Super 8 was down and dirty, but at least I knew the animals wouldn't die if I overslept. The Goldilocks analogy came to mind: this hotel was too beautiful, this hotel was too skanky, but maybe the next one would be just right. Haha

I woke up Tuesday morning kind of suddenly before the alarm even went off. I took a much-needed shower and while I was getting dressed I heard rumbling noises. At first I thought it was the people upstairs, but after a couple more times I drew back the curtain and sure enough, the sky was looking nasty and offering some very impressive lightning even though there was no rain yet. I was suddenly overcome with a panicky sense of urgency to get out of there. I skipped the hair drying and most of the makeup, threw everything back into bags haphazardly and loaded the car.

The rain was really coming down by the time I was on the road, but I had to stop on the far side of Indy and get gas because I skipped filling up the night before in the interest of safety. Since I was under a roof while the car sucked down breakfast, I took the opportunity to clean up the chinnie cages. I wanted to do it before I left the hotel, but I felt such a strong sense to get out of there I didn't take the time.

Back on the road the sky looked clearer, but when I called Mom to tell her I was on my way she said weather.com was reporting tornado warnings for the area I was driving in. She said there were two big storm cells and I was probably between them, but that I would probably drive out of it at the Indiana state line. I knew that was only 40 miles away. I was hoping if I went really fast maybe I would scoot between them without seeing the second cell. Fat chance.

Things got dark and ugly again in about 15 minutes and I really concentrated on creating a reality where my car, and all the ones around me, ended up safely on the sunny side. There were some truly ominous clouds swirling overhead. I dealt with some rain, but it wasn't too bad, and soon enough the white muted ceiling looked higher and much less threatening. I passed into Illinois shortly after, so I called Mom to tell her I thought I was out of the worst of it. She agreed after looking at the maps online, but my optimism was short-lived.

About 20 minutes later it started raining again and the wind picked up A LOT. It got bad fast. It was hard to keep the car on the road between being blown sideways myself and dodging the semis that were having the same trouble. I could barely see the lines even tho the windshield wipers were going as fast as possible. I looked to my right and the sky was green. On my left I could see the edge of the front, rolling black against the white light below, dripping wisps of clouds like Spanish moss. I've seen enough of the Weather Channel and heard enough from Katy, who has wanted to be a storm chaser since she was 8, to know this means a tornado is likely to form.

I did say this was going to be an adventure, but this wasn't quite what I had in mind.

Indiana is very flat and open, and I know if you're caught outside in this kind of weather, the safest place is under an overpass. I pulled under one to call Mom and have her check the maps again. She said there was definitely a red dot right over me. I weighed continuing forward against riding it out under the bridge, and decided I couldn't just sit there, so I pulled back onto the highway and did a lot of praying.

At one point I looked down and saw I was going 80 mph as I moved back over to the right lane after passing a big rig. To my surprise, a State Trooper shot past me on the left. I was so focused on just moving forward, I didn't even know he was behind me, but I don't think either one of us cared much that I was speeding. It felt like everyone around me was running for their lives. Perhaps we were. I still found the bright side though: I'd forgotten to clean my windshield when I got gas, and at least all the bugs were now history courtesy of Mother Nature's car wash.

Despite trying to keep it light, I was good and scared. I've never experienced extreme weather like that. It certainly gave me a greater appreciation for, and perspective on, Katrina survivors. I was literally shaking, my heart was pounding, and a million thoughts were vying for attention in my head. I was trying to formulate a plan of how I was going to save myself and six animals if it came to that, at the same time I was renouncing such negative thoughts. I was concentrating on staying in my lane, praying I would come out from under the cloud any second, and at the same time my brain is thinking, "Well, if it's true that whatever you're experiencing is what you need to be experiencing in that moment, then I guess the best thing is to just stay fully present." I dunno how you could NOT be fully present in that situation though. I was living moment to moment.

I did drive out of it in about 10 minutes. The good thing about really awful weather is that it's short-lived; I just didn't want to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Once I was sure Dorothy and Toto were not coming to get me, I couldn't resist taking some pictures even though they don't accurately portray the full wrath of what I drove through. I have to say surviving the storm cell left more of an impression on me than seeing the Grand Canyon years ago.

Anyone from the Great Plains states reading this is probably shaking their head going "Amateur!" I guess people get used to it or there wouldn't be such a population in the Midwest, but DAMN. I was grateful I will most likely never pass through there again.

~*~

8 June 08

I hear the Midwest and now some of the Northeast is STILL dealing with those storms I drove through. I'm glad to be safe here in the hills of New Mexico.

I arrived at my mother's house late last Wednesday night. It was another 700+ mile day that day, and I've never been more glad to see Albuquerque. I can't put my finger on why, but I've always loved that city. It feels like home. I wouldn't be surprised if I live there someday, but I know it will be far in the future! I'm not anxious to move again.

I had a lot of doubts about whether I was doing the right thing as I left NJ. I pushed them aside and told myself to stop being a pussy and just keep driving. As I left ABQ and headed up towards the Four Corners area where my mom lives, I experienced a wave of relief. It was the first time since last Sunday that I felt like 'Hey, this might work out afterall. Maybe I did make a good decision.'

My family has convinced me to stay and visit for a week before traveling on to San Diego. I'm anxious to get to the goal and find a place to feel settled again, but I'm trying hard to also learn to enjoy the journey and not just the destination. That's something I haven't been good at so far in this life.

Had a great visit with my aunt last night. She's the one that's taught me everything about Reiki and healing energies and things not of this realm. We talked for almost 8 hours and had no idea where the time went. Neither one of us is good at living by the clock anyway, so I'm not surprised.

Today we had a family dinner at my grandparents' house. I forgot how much I missed those from when we all lived in Arizona. Tomorrow we're visiting Durango, CO. I've been there before - it's an awesome little artsy mountain town - but it's been years. I'm hoping to get some good pics to share. You can actually see the Rockies from here on clear days - it's AMAZING. I still can't believe how big those mountains are every time I see them.

My Mac refuses to play nice with Mom's AirCard network (when you're this remote, that's the only net access you get besides dial-up!), so I haven't been online hardly at all. In some ways it's been super nice, and in others a bit annoying because I'm having a hard time getting email, updating the blog here, and checking the virtual places I normally haunt. The balance to those minor irritations though is the sky at night.

Oh. My. God.

You would not believe the stars out here. I wish I had a camera capable of taking a picture of this. (I tried with my little digital and of course it just came out black.) They go ALL the way to the horizon and you can even see the gauzy light of the Milky Way. I could look out at that all night. I feel so lucky, and so small. It's truly AWEsome.

More when I get to San Diego. We leave on Wednesday morning.

I can't upload pics to my server from here due to lack of FTP on the machine I'm using, so I'll try using Blogspot's pic thing, but if it doesn't work, then pics will be added properly once the Mac finds a network it doesn't hate again.