Wednesday, November 30, 2011
A Holiday Tradition
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
All Shook Up
Monday, November 28, 2011
Goodbye to my Youth (Further Tales from the Storage Unit)
This weekend I finally tackled the most difficult part of the storage unit. The boxes that I didn’t want to sort through because I harbored a not so secret desire to find a way to keep these items.
I’m talking, of course, about my books.
This isn’t my entire book collection. This doesn’t even have a single book that I read after 2006 (save one or two that I had another copy of.) No, these are the books that I held close in my lonely youth. The books that I read before I was old enough and years after I passed the target demographic. Growing up, these were my friends.
Even at thirty, I can tell you all about Claudia Kishi and Dawn Schaffer. I not only know the differences between the Wakefield twins, but I can tell you about their family history. What, you were expecting Narnia? No, my childhood tastes weren’t as classic as all that. I spent years wishing that I lived in Stoneybrook, Sweet Valley or Sunset Island. I craved friendships as tight as those I read about in books, and took fashion cues from their pages. Red cowboy boots? Samantha Bridges, from Sunset Island. My sixth grade perm? Stacy McGill, fashionista of The Baby-Sitters Club. All the leopard print? Actually, I have no idea who inspired that.
And now they’re gone. The entire Freshman Dorm series. Gone. The bulk of The Baby-Sitters Club, a collection I maintained well into adulthood. Gone. The entire Sunset Island series, save my book autographed by author Cherie Bennett. Gone. My Sweet Valley collection, including Sweet Valley Kids, Sweet Valley Twins, The Unicorn Club, Sweet Valley High, Sweet Valley Senior Year and Sweet Valley University. Gone, gone and gone. All the random little standalone books, the Fear Streets, the Christopher Pikes. Gone.
Eleven boxes of books. Each box containing thirty to fifty books.
As the tears rolled down my face, I finally understood e-readers. I mean, there’s no way I could re-read every one of these books. But just the idea that I could. That I could still check in with my old friends and see how they’re doing. That I could remember when I thought they knew so much, and realize how young and stupid they were.
In a way the rest of packing should be easy. Getting rid of these books hurt. I knew that it would, but hell.
So many memories. Of racing to the bookstore for the latest in the series. Of finding an old special that I didn’t have in a thrift store. Of staying up late on vacation, desperate to know what would happen next. I remember flights to Hawaii, nights in Big Bear, mornings in Oceanside. I remember the discovery of a new series, meeting the characters for the first time. I remember at seventeen, pretending I was buying these books for a younger relative. Once upon a time, it wasn’t cool for adults to read young adult novels.
These books don’t exist anymore. In twenty years, when I have both money and room to spare, I can’t just go out and buy them again. This is it.
This is goodbye.
God I’m a nerd.
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Tales of the Storage Unit
Saturday, November 19, 2011
The Apartment Search Continues
Apartment hunting has gotten real.
I’ve been on craigslist every day, save that lovely week I went without Internet, but until now most of the units I’ve looked at have been hypothetical. Price point, amenities and neighborhood research on apartments that are available well before our desired move in date. And while most of the ads listed are still looking for December tenants, people are starting to post their January vacancies.
We’ve looked seriously into one apartment community, one that I have very mixed feelings about. Otherwise it’s craigslist, craigslist and word of mouth. Will word of mouth be our eleventh hour save?
I don’t know.
What I do know is that Leonard and I have very different ideal areas. His school and my restaurant are about twenty minutes from one another. Naturally we’d both prefer to be close to our own place of interest. I argue that Union Square is a far more fascinating part of the city, but that’s neither here nor there.
Because remember, at this point it’s not about being picky. It’s about finding somewhere that will take the four of us in.
And hopefully, not going broke during the process.
Friday, November 18, 2011
I need to go shopping
As the weather is cooling down in sunny Southern California, one thing has become abundantly clear to me. I am in no way prepared to live in a colder part of the state. I’m not talking about my wimpy Southern Californian tolerance; I did fine my year in Oregon. No, I’m talking about being prepared for cold weather in the way that counts.
My clothes.
Case in point. It’s currently a cloudy 58 degrees.
My current wardrobe is as follows:
- One zip up black sweater – A sweater that has served me well on previous trips to San Francisco. This sweater will likely get a lot of use.
- A pair of black pants – Again, no problem. These pants will work fine in San Francisco.
- A purple cotton t-shirt – Fine for a San Francisco summer (in fact, given the slightly peasant cut, it will probably help with the artsy image I hope to cultivate), but long sleeves might suit me better for the winter.
- A pair of sandals – This is the piece of my wardrobe that I’m most worried about. My shoes. I dislike socks, and 95% of my current socks are ugly, white, and used primarily to go with my ugly, white, restaurant shoes. I don’t have comfortable walking shoes, and even my every day ankle boots have recently fallen out of commission.
What do I need? I need sweaters. I need long sleeved tops. I need clothes that I can layer, clothes where the bottom layer is still warm and cozy. I could use some new socks, a new scarf, some gloves, and maybe some cute new hats. (I like hats – fun fact, I originally typed “I like hates”). I need shoes, pairs and pairs of shoes that are cute, comfortable and warm.
And somehow, I have to find things that I like, because there’s no way that I’m going to have room for even more clothes that I’ll never wear.
Side note, I have a lot of clothes that are getting donated to Goodwill this month. Why am I such a clothes packrat?
Saturday, November 12, 2011
What I'm leaving behind
I’ve lived in the same general area my entire life. My apartment is about five minutes from the shop that my grandfather owned in my youth. A shop that I spent many Saturdays at when my mother took over the business. My childhood home isn’t much farther. Just out of the way enough that I’m not there every week, walking through Back Bay and reminiscing.
My old childhood walk. There’s another item.
For a while, Leonard and I have been composing an Orange County bucket list, if you will. Though we didn’t meet until our adult lives, the two of us grew up a town apart. Our schools were in the same distract; in fact I went to summer school at his high school twice. (Both times so that I could take extra electives, why should I have to choose between drama and band? I could be double the geek!) That said there are many things, many Orange County staples that neither of us have done. We’ve never been to Medieval Times, for example.
But lately, there’s something even more pressing than the Orange County Bucket List weighing at my soul. That is all of my favorite spots that I’ll be saying goodbye to. All the restaurants that I love (and there are more than a few!). Taking the ferry to Balboa, just because. South Coast Plaza and Fashion Island during the holidays. The Snoopy House. All my favorite little shops, the places that I go to when I’m in the neighborhood, even if I don’t have any money.
Walking down the Newport pier. That’ll be one of our final nights, I’m calling it now. Dinner at Charlie’s Chili, then walking down the pier while I try desperately not to cry. Who are we kidding? I’ll cry.
I’m so excited to move. And I know that I’ll be making new memories, discovering new restaurants. New little shops. New places to walk and smile. That’s what this blog will become, what you’ll all read about in about two months.
But somehow, in between packing, working two jobs, and saying goodbye to my loved ones, I have to find opportunities to say goodbye to my favorite places. I don’t want to miss out on my last holiday season in Orange County, because I’m working so hard to prepare for my first year in San Francisco.
Monday, November 7, 2011
Goodbye Friends (part one)
This weekend we experienced what was, I believe, the first of many going away parties. That was not the party’s intention, and I was hardly the guest of honor, but it struck me during the event that the goodbyes had officially begun.
On Saturday we celebrated Leonard’s birthday. The invite list was extensive, with Leonard inviting new friends, as well as old. The crowd was a blend of theatre people, and some of Leonard’s oldest friends. Old in terms of longevity, not age. I’m not making a crack at Leonard’s age (for once.) I know, since when have I resisted a cheap joke at his expense? Let’s just say that since turning 30, I’ve decided to lay off the age related humor. At least until his 40th. Then all bets are off.
Right. Birthday party.
Throughout the evening, there were so many conversations that included the phrase “I hope I get to see you before we leave.” One of my dearest friends pulled me aside so that she could start planning a going away party. Others made promises to come up and visit. For some, this was it. Have a safe drive, Leonard and Maile. I’ll see you on facebook.
But the most heart pulling moments came at the end of the evening. As the party came to a close, the crowd consisted of those who went to high school with Leonard. The only outsiders were those of us who were connected to the group through our partner. The ones who were members of their Estancia family by extension. These people grew up together, and seeing Leonard off was simply another sign at how much they’ve grown.
It was touching to witness these goodbyes, and terrifying all at once.
55 more days.
Holy crap.
Friday, November 4, 2011
Where to Live
I’ve been putting off this posting for a week. I’d mentally written it before this blog was even created, and still I found myself letting it fester in my mind. The reason for this is both simple and complicated. So many people have offered helpful suggestions, and I don’t wish to offend a one of them. So please, friends who have offered advice on this situation, do not take offense. I do appreciate your words, and in the end, your thoughts may be the ones that stick. Your ideas may be the ones to save us at the eleventh hour.
What issue, you may be asking yourself, could cause Maile so much stress, that she opens with such a paragraph.
Apartment hunting.
Without fail, one of the first questions I’m asked is “where do we want to live?” People are curious about what district we’re considering, as though we have all the choices in the world.
Apartment hunting is difficult, yo. It’s even more difficult when you’re doing the entire thing via craigslist, and counting on local friends to tell you how the area is. And for everyone person telling me that one distract is perfect for us, I have another friend pushing me toward their choice district. I truly appreciate the personal touches, but you can understand why my head is spinning.
Let’s not forget the two things that further complicate apartment hunting. Mowgli and River. Not one cat, but two. There goes about 75% of available apartments.
So, long story short, where do we want to live?
In an apartment we can afford that allows cats, preferably somewhere near my restaurant or his school.
If you know of such a place, let me know. In the meantime, if you need me, I’ll be on craigslist.