adventures in amy-land

So I am briefly jumping ahead to the present and putting the housing and roommate stories aside for the day. As many of you may have heard about on last night or this morning’s news broadcast about the recent earthquake that hit in the greater Los Angeles area. I thought you all might like to hear a little interlude about my first earthquake experience, and my not-so-normal dog’s reaction (or lack thereof).  I spend the majority of my days by myself in an office in Newport Beach.  One of the reasons I moved to Orange County was to help my younger brother run his custom Audi/Video and Home Automation company (I will write more about this one later).  So yesterday morning I am sitting at my desk attempting to make sense of the mess of accounts that I was hired to fix and maintain, and I initially thought a big truck must have driven past the building (it got a good shake) then the walls started moving, I felt like some overgrown child had picked the building up, mistaking it for a Leggo toy and was tilting it back and forth. Literally everything was just wobbly, and it took a few seconds for me to realize “Holy Shit! This is an earthquake” Zues, my not-too-bright but unbelievably cute rottweiler, who usually sleeps on the floor next to my chair, groggily picked his head up, looked a little concerned, I put my hand on his head and he laid back down and rode it out. I hear most dogs freak out during earthquakes, not Zuesy Pants (the chosen nickname from Trav who I have mentioned in previous blogs)!

Anyway, after maybe 15 or 20 seconds passed things seemed to stop rocking. I found myself just kind of sitting there stunned and a little nauseous. I got up to go to the bathroom (I wasn’t real sure of standing while it was happening) and felt like I had sea legs, I was that wobbly, and unsure on my feet. Later I found out that several tremors followed and that’s probably what I was experiencing at the time. And as odd as it may sound, I was a little excited. Yes, excited about an earthquake! Granted I didn’t need to duck and cover and nothing fell off the walls here, but the walls are pretty bare. It was such a surreal experience, and all sense of time was literally suspended. In general we seem to assume the earth is firm and solid, walls are immovable (without a demolition ball), the sun comes up like clock work, etc… There are these certainties that we all don’t even normally think about.  An experience like this literally pulls that rug of certainties out from under you for a few seconds, leaving you stunned, speechless and speaking for myself, with a little adrenaline rush.  For a few seconds you recall that the earth is not a giant rock we all live on, it’s constantly shifting and moving, and in those fifteen seconds, I felt like I was a part of that. At risk of sounding like a hippie, I will say that I really felt in a concrete sense, the earth is alive. I know I sound like a hippie, I am from Colorado, so give me a break. Anyway, it took about two hours or so for me to recover. As it turns out, it wasn’t “major” in that no structural damage was reported, no one was hurt, but a few water mains broke, people reported seeing their office windows bow out (I have no windows in my little den), and it was the biggest earthquake they’ve had in about ten years (5.4), so as far as I’m concerned it was big. We often have earthquakes in Colorado, which may come as a surprise, but look at the Rocky Mountains, there are many fault lines in Colorado. I have been “in” earthquakes in Colorado, but never felt anything, when I lived in San Fransisco, there was a time when a flower vase started quaking on our glass table, I thought it was our upstairs neighbors doing something??? There was a Chinese family of indeterminable number living above us. As it turns out that also was an earthquake, but I never had the sense of major movement beneath my feet and all around me! Seriously, this was kind of a highlight as life experiences go. Yes, earthquakes are scary, as are floods or any natural “disaster”, but they’re also phenomenal and really amazing to be a part of.  I’m actually kind of stoked to have experienced one, I’m glad it wasn’t catastrophic and I realized that I should have some earthquake emergency kits set up at work, home and in my car, not to mention our company vehicles, just in case a serious one does ever hit. Still, I feel fortunate to have experienced one. I know it sounds crazy, but ???? for those of you that know me and have known me for a long time, this won’t come as a surprise. I’m a little quirky. So I just wanted to share that with you, and in closing I want to share a quote from one of my favorite authors, Salman Rushdie. It’s perfect for this kind of situation and one of my favorite quotes, so I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do.

Five mysteries hold the keys to the unseen: the act of love, and the birth of a baby, and the contemplation of great art, and being in the presence of death or disaster, and hearing the human voice lifted in song. These are the occasions when the bolts of the universe fly open and we are given a glimpse of what is hidden.

–Salman Rushdie The Ground Beneath Her Feet

Thanks for reading and as always,

Make Good Memories!

So I want to apologize for the delay in my catch up on the Californ-IA move but the stories keep piling on, we’ll get to that later…

After the dramatic move-in sans electricity and refrigerators, meeting great neighbors, etc…

(The “story” to follow occured a few days after the electricity was turned on).

I was sleeping on my futon in the living room because I left my bed in Colorado, I figured that retiring the old waterbed frame that I got at age 12 was probably a good idea. The mattress was almost as old, maybe 17 years old instead of 20, at 15 I got sick of my cat punching holes in the water mattress and waking up to a slow seeping bed and wet sheets and decided a regular mattress would be a better idea. So, I woke up to a loud crash, my dog, Zeus was asleep at my feet, so I figured it must be my cat. Poseidon had enjoyed many nights waking me up by stretching out on the sliding glass doors and rattling them very loudly, so I assumed he found something else to bang on in the kitchen.  I walked into the kitchen and saw on the floor what appeared to be poo. Great, Poseidon’s mad at me for moving and wants me to know it. (Yes my pets are named after Greek gods, and I have a bit of an obsession, or perhaps I just am able to console myself knowing that the gods answer to me, even if noone else will. I’m sure there’s some kind of psychological explanation for it, but then again what fun would life be if you could explain all your weird fascinations?). I grab a paper towel and groggily begin picking up the presents left on the floor (there were at least 15 of them).  I then walk into the bathroom and turn the light on to drop them down the toilet.

Just before i drop the contents of my paper towel in the bowl two feelers pop out!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ARRRRRRRRGGGGH!  So, yes, slugs, big HUGE slimy slugs all over my kitchen floor. And, yes in retrospect I realize that would’ve been a lot of poo for a 9lb kitty, no matter how upset he was about moving.

So, no electricity, no refrigerator, and SLUGS! Big slugs, I’m talking at least four inches in length and an inch in diameter. They were so big that I thought they were banana slugs, they might be, but they’re not bright yellow, they’re stomachs are though. Grey and spotty on top and slimey! I am no slug expert, but for those of you that aren’t familiar with banana slugs, I would encourage you to google them. They are the official mascot for UC Santa Cruz, which says a lot about Santa Cruz, and I’m not sure but I wouldn’t place any bets on their track team (or any sport that requires speed or a solid body for that matter..).  The wharf is cheesy and fun in a very retro 80s hair metal sort of way though.

So the slugs continue making their nightly appearance, 10-20 a night, seriously I was living in a frat house for slugs! After maybe two nights, I recall learning in maybe a science class or something, that salt and slugs don’t play well together. For the night I covered the undersink area with salt. At this point, I emailed the landlord and  figured they were sleeping off their slug hangovers by day, under the sink where the leak (I think I already mentioned this one, the wood was rotted out below the pipes, so it wasn’t a new leak) was. I told him that the cold water not working, and the leak both needed to be taken care of, and that there was a slug problem.  I figured sending him a text picture at 2:30 in the morning was appropriate since he had sent a text message at two in the morning the previous night asking for pictures of the leak (honestly, what landlord wants an undersink picture sent to him at 2 am?). Actually I sent 4 or 5 pictures of slugs to him, hey if one is good five is better right? I believe it was the following weekend the landlords showed up at my house around 11 on a Saturday. The primary landlord, or at least the person I make my rent checks payable to, is 85 or 86 (I can’t recall exactly) and likes to tell me how handy he is, and how his retirement community has a woodshop. Okay, he’s kind of a cute old man, and good for him, he gets around better than most people his age. But…….

In addition to putting a fence up on the one side of the house that didn’t have one (so Zeus couldn’t get out) with the help of his son (the person I usually deal with) and grandson (who incidentally was possibly the most awkward and greasy looking kid I’ve ever seen, but he had a Pixies t-shirt on so at least I knew he had good taste in music!!), my landlord brought a piece of vinyl in and screwed it down on top of the rotten wood telling me how nice it was that it matched the tile in the kitchen (repeatedly). Super! So there’s wet rotting wood in the kitchen but it’s all good now that it’s covered up with vinyl and screwed down (that’ll take care of those slugs for sure!). In addition he goes in to the shower in my master bathroom, where the grout needs to be redone, and slops (literally) a bunch of caulk down. The shower drain was broken, it looked like the screws were broken off on the metal piece, so there was a big gaping hole in the shower floor, this also got sloppily caulked down. It lasted a day or two befor emy dog ate the caulk (insert joke here).

Needless to say, the slugs kept coming in to party in my kitchen, though not in such large droves, but 5-10 a night. Maybe they realized they needed to buckle down and focus on their studies. Frat slugs getting the smack down from their academic advisors. Who knows??? And I kept up with the salt. I also was advised that beer was a good trap for them, aparantly gardeners use this one often. See I told you—frat boys!!!! But I couldn’t pour beer allover the kitchen floor, so salt it was, I turned into a cold-blooded slug killa.  When in Rome…..

According to the neighbors, the previous tenants had the slug problem and I was told there were slugs that were up to a foot long [garden slugs don’t get that big, so unless the previous tenants were doing a slug version of a fishing story, they were indeed banana slugs (though I never saw any that big, I would’ve been afraid they’d pick up a feeler-full of salt and throw it back at me if they were that size!)].  The previous tenants didn’t even have the landlord’s phone number. Muahahahahahaha I had it thanks to the neighbor and I used it often!

I got another visit from my “handy” landlord on Father’s Day, he caulked and screwed some pieces of wood down around the vinyl to try and stop the slugs, he fixed a few of the broken screens in the windows and that was about it. Oh! I forgot to mention when he works he makes this weird breathing-whistling noise! It sounds like he’s reverse whistling or something, and it doesn’t stop unless he stops to talk. He mentions the salt and how great salt is for everything, and tells me how his doctor friend in the retirement home had him soak a foot that had a cut on it in salt water to clear the infection and it took care of his foot fungus too. Lovely!!! Just what I was waiting to hear about!!! After that I sort of made my way with coffee and newspaper in hand into my bedroom. Nice guy, but I don’t need to hear about his medical conditions. Thanks.

Sooooo the slugs slowed down  to maybe 2-3 a night. I guess you’ll always have the hangers on, kind of like that guy who hangs out in the highschool parking lot 2-3 years after he graduates. Somehow that cool-guy factor dissapates FAST. There were still several broken window screens, the sliding screen door was broken, Zeus figured out he could jump up on the retaining wall and run through the space of it and the fence the landlords put out (the neighbors enjoyed watching me chase him through the neighborhood on two or three occaisions before I started gaurding it like a defensive tacklewhen I took him outside), the sink was still leaking. The shower in my bedroom started backing up. I had my brother and his wife over for dinner to thank them for helping me move (and for the great leather couches and furniture I inherited when they moved, the futon made it’s way into the guest room and I finally got a real bed) and found that the back two burners on the stovetop didn’t work. One of the kitchen lights didn’t work, I tried a new bulb. The dishwasher had a horrid mildewy smell. Ahhhhhhh the joys of renting. And you too could have all this for a mere $2500.00 a month!!!!  And with that I will leave you all, and continue on my next blog to describe the roommate searching experience (because 2500/mo is not in my budget) and later the landlord smackdown (oh yes, it gets better!).

Also keep in mind, I actually have been having a great time since I moved out here, I have met some great people, enjoy working with my brother (when he’s not firing me), and have gone to some cool places. I have the most beautiful drive to work every morning along the coastal highway. So please don’t take this as complaining, actually despite what a pain it has been, it makes a great story and has provided me and many other people with some great entertainment!!! So keep an eye out for the next installment of my California experience, and in the mean time, Make Good Memories!!!

Number two…..I’ll probably be writing some daily entries until I get up to date. FYI.

So, after the first night in the house, Trav and I met my brother and his wife for brunch on Sunday. At brunch Dustin explains to me that the rentals sans refrigerators are a very typical thing in Southern California. He never mentioned it to me because I guess he figured all states were like that.  I guess people get very attached to their appliances down here????  He tells me he has a refrigerator a client gave him when they were doing a remodel and that I could have it.  Score! No need to rent or buy a huge refrigerator to tote around with me, if only I had power for that free refrigerator…… Then my brother, Dustin, drives us to the airport to drop Travis off for his flight home. About an hour later I receive a text message, “Amy I have the keys to the rental truck in my pocket and am about to board the plane.” Just when you think it’s over….. So I try to see if there’s a way he can leave the keys there for me or if there’s somewhere I can go to pick them up (lost and found or something). Nope thanks to Homeland Security you can not leave a set of keys, they just might be explosive! I get the need to be cautious, but does anyone else feel like it’s maybe been taken a little too far? I am supposed to return the truck by Monday and will be charged late fees for turning the truck in late. Crap! Travis tells me he will overnight the keys Monday morning and I figure I’ll just have to deal with it, not much I could do to change it.

I spent the rest of my weekend unpacking and trying to figure out who I need to call to get the gas and water put in my name, and when garbage day is (the owners left three trashcans FULL of garbage for me). I try calling the property manager, she doesn’t return any of my calls (at one point someone picks up the phone and hangs up immediately). I was never given my landlord’s phone number, just the address to send the rent to each month. I got a note with the electric company on it, but nothing on gas, water or garbage. Either that day or the next (I can’t recall), I spoke with the neighbor who lives next door to me, a very sweet and soft spoken Polish lady, and she tells me the previous tenants never had the landlords phone numbers, but the landlords were there the day before I arrived and she got their phone number. Anya (I think that’s her name) goes inside and gets the number for me, and I call immediately. I leave a message with Steve, my landlord’s son, telling him what a horrible job his property manager did. I should have been informed in advance about there being no power, no refrigerator, and who to contact to get the utilities transferred to my name.  I also let him know there’s no hot water, the kitchen sink’s cold water doesn’t work at all and from the looks of the fence and ants outside, there are probably termites.

When the landlord returns my phone call he claims that he did give me the gas co phone number and the water company.  He didn’t (I still have the note).  In between the time of him calling me back I realized the lack of hot water was a simple matter of the valve needing to be turned on. I was a little embarrassed about that one, I like to think of myself as being a little more intelligent about those kinds of things than what the average female is given credit for, but not this time… I also drove into work to use the internet in order to find out who I needed to call to get the utilities put into my name, made the calls and took care of everything. Between then and Wednesday there wasn’t much excitement apart from meeting neighbors, camping out in my house, reading and getting ready for bed by flashlight and candlelight and beginning work on Tuesday morning (I did manage to get lost even with a GPS unit on the way to work my first day, BUT the addresses there are strange and the GPS was obviously not aware of that– in my defense.

And on the fifth day there was light. Four days, no power, finally things seemed to be coming together!!

I’ll it quits for now, but the slug phenomenon is coming up soon, so stay tuned…..

I recently moved to Orange County from Colorado, and have had such an interesting transition these first few months, I thought I’d start blogging, because I couldn’t make this up. First off, I’ll introduce myself. My name is Amy, I am a 32 year old single female. I studied Art and English Literature in a small liberal arts college outside of Portland, Oregon, travelled extensively for about five years out of college and eventually wound up moving back to Colorado after leaving Spain with 15.00 in my bank account (there really wasn’t much of a choice). I started working as an office assistant for a party rental company in a small mountain town, I was hired for a seasonal position but was told that it was permanent when hired. Once that job came to an end, I started working for my parents’ audio/video business, they sold the business after a year and I stayed on for another three and a half years as the Administrative Manager (Assistant Comptroller would be a better description of the job though). So I am a walking contradiction, Financial Director by day and artist by night–hey noone can say I don’t keep things interesting! After living in a small mountain town for five years, I realized that if I stayed there, I would turn into a crazy old woman with too many pets, bad hair and worse makeup, with a moderate drinking problem–you know the type. Being a 30-something single well travelled and well-educated single woman in a town of 7500 people is a challenge (not an intellectual challenge mind you, but trying on the sanity and patience). So I decided to move to Orange County, a place I had sworn I would NEVER EVER live in my younger, more idealistic days. (Note to self: Never say you’ll never do anything because by doing that you’re committing to proving yourself wrong). Incidentally I found myself getting excited about moving to “the land of sunshine, fake boobs and David Hasselhoff” as a friend so succinctly described it in my going away party invitation. My reason for moving out here? A job, working for my brother’s audio/video company, and eventually to obtain an MBA in accounting. So I left my job in Colorado, rented out my house and reanted a Budgettruck with a trailer for my car. A good friend from highschool drove out with me and this was what ensued:

Trav and I headed out in the huge Budget rental truck on the 16th of May, with the intent to drive straight through. Zeus (my 100lb lapdog and Poseidon (my 9lb kitty) crammed in the cab of the truck with us. Poseidon freaked and panted for a while but after about two hours he was fine, and curled up next to Zeus in between the two seats or slept behind one of the two seats. Everything went fine, I drove until about 1:30 in the morning and handed the wheel over to Trav  on the western edge of Utah. At three in the morning I hear Travis saying “f#@*!” and wake up to ask what’s going on….all he has to say is, “well I’m not sure but sparks aren’t good” (mind you the front light casing has already popped out 2 or maybe 3 times). So the trailer got a flat tire, Trav calls roadside assistance and is told it will probably take and hour, maybe and hour and a half (we are about 40 miles east of vegas at this point). 5:30 in the morning arrives and the repair guy finally shows up, apparently they didn’t have the size specified and had to go to their shop to get it. Low and behold, Budget gave the repair facility the WRONG TIRE SIZE AND the guy notices that another tire on the same side of the trailer is about to blow. Trav gets in my car to get some sleep, I attempt to sleep in the cab of the truck, I don’t want to leave the pets and have them freaking out too. The truck seats are probably the most uncomfortable seats on the planet I think I could have slept better on a bed of nails. So instead I call customer service to bitch. I tell them that they need to refund some of what I paid them because the truck was evidently not checked well enough to ensure it’s driveability, I have looked at all of the tires and they all have very little tread. I take Zeus out and walk him around and let him go to the bathroom. I get back in the truck and manage a little bit of sleep, I call customer service again to find out when the repair guy will be there and to bitch some more (I’m getting good at bitching, and besides it just made me feel better.  Apologies to the customer service representatives.) The repair guy arrives at 8 am (5 FREAKING HOURS AFTER THE BREAKDOWN). I have Zeus outside walking off of the side of the the highway, he has chewed his head harness so his leash is attached to his collar. Trav is on the phone while tire guy is doing his work. Zeus sees a lizard, and he charges after it, I let go of the leash when I realize he is about to take me with him through stickers and random desert weeds. I am yelling my head off at Zeus, Trav looks like he wants to laugh but is so annoyed at this point he can’t. We finally get back on the road at about 8:30 in the morning, have to deal with Vegas traffic in a 16 foot truck with a trailer. I fall asleep just on the other side of Vegas. I wake up an hour or so later and Trav tells me we have another tire that just blew out, but “f#@&  it we’re driving on it because it’s one of the inner dual-lies and we’re not waiting another 5 hours for Budget to fix it”. Trav is a happy guy right now and I imagine he’s damning himself for offering to drive out with me at this point. Before I left home my iPod crashed, I recovered my music but haven’t downloaded it yet and have my computer geek friend’s library on it. Ema has a 6 year old, so amongst the Alice in Chains and good 90s alternative music mixed in with some great 80s hair metal are Blues Clues, The Wiggles, and Mother Goose Rocks. I decide to put “I’m so Happy You’re Here” from Blues Clues in the music mix just for Trav. I figure he needs a laugh and this will either make him laugh or he’ll get out close to the nearest airport and tell me I’m on my own. I get a chuckle. We get into California, I get excited when we pass Barstow and Bakersfield because I was reminded of Hunter Thompson’s Fear and Loathing, we have already experienced the loathing part on our own. As we are getting closer we get stuck in a traffic jam on the 91 because of an accident (I think it was the 91 anyway, they have so damned many freeways out here I’m perpetually confused, having only I-70 and I-25 in Colorado). Finally we arrive at the house I have agreed to rent at 4pm, 6 hours after the anticipated time of arrival. I have to pee so unbelievably bad and the house is locked up, so I go behind the house and squat. Like Annie said “when you gotta go you gotta go”! At this point my phone battery has died maybe 4 times, I have contacted the property manager several times to rearrange our meeting time and a friend of a friend named Annie, who is planning on meeting us. I call her to tell her we have finally arrived, and bless her, she promises not only to come help us but to also bring beer (we both needed one after our 21 hour trip)! After signing my lease, handing over a huge cashiers check, and the property manager leaving I realize that there is no refrigerator in the house and even if there was there’s no power. I call the electric company and they can’t come out and hook me up until Wednesday (it’s Saturday), being a diabetic, I am freaking out because I have insulin that needs to stay cool, I call the property manager and leave an irate message about her inadequacies as a property manager. I realize that my blood-sugar is now low, I head down to a grocery store close to the house to get some food and hopefully a cooler. I find a cooler, ice, and buy some munchies for the people who are coming over to help. When I get back to the house, the crew, including an unbelievably cute and helpful 4 year old “Justus, spelled J-U-S-T-U-S” have already unloaded half of the truck. I get a beer and we continue unloading, Justus lets me know how strong he is, and what a good helper he is. And the little dude certainly is. He also keeps telling me that I need to come over and hang out everyday with him and his mom and his aunt–too damn cute!! The whole process maybe took two hours to unload. We all sit down and have a beer outside. Justus lets me know that “I wanna play something” eyeing the Spiderman picture on the side of my PS3, unfortunately, no power, no Spidey so I promise that when I get unpacked I will have them over and he can play video games. Mind you the little guy was ready to start unpacking and setting up the house, if only I had his energy…

Annie tells Trav and I she’s going to take us out on the town. So she leaves to get ready. I attempt to bathe (with no hot water), and then go out to my car to put on makeup (since there are no lights in the house) and my car has a dome light. I’m resourceful… Finally we are ready and head to Annie’s house. She drives us down to the harbor and we go to a bar/restaurant called Turks  where the waitress, forgets to bring my second beer and my water multiple times but never forgets Trav, I guess she thought he was cuter than me… Then we go to a great restaurant/bar in San Clemente, right on the pier, and a great dive bar in San Juan. Finally after being up for nearly 48 hours, we get back to the house, stumble through boxes with a tiny keychain flashlight, and pass out.

And this was just the first 24 hours, more to come, it does get better…