New House!
The contract was signed for the new Seattle house. Take a look at the pictures. More details to follow. (Isn't it awesome?)
Last look at the Castle Before Buying
Pictures Courtsey of Julie
Seattle, WA | 2004.08.16 | Photos | Castle
Building Tunnels Under the Sand
I’ve discovered that vacationing is not conducive to writing. I spoke about using all this free time to write. I spoke about how productive I was going to be during my month off. I spoke about how I would use this time to discover myself and review my past three years. What have I learned? I talk a lot. But here I am, with a week of time left to finish up a few writing projects. This is my introductory writing assignment and you should grade it on a curve because it is Monday after all.
As you may have figured out from my last posting, I entered into a contract to buy a house in Seattle. When I first decided to buy a house, more than a month ago, Julie (with only a little help from me) started looking through the MLS listings for houses in areas suggested by people who know the area. If you haven’t looked for a house recently, all houses are listed on the internet using a Multiple Listing Service, a computer database of properties for sale maintained by a local real estate board. They are searchable by area and price range and websites using the MLS provide pictures and a summary for each property.
We fell in love with a listing I will call the castle, which was one of the first houses we found--something that, if you ask anyone who knows anything about purchasing real estate, is a bad thing because it’s difficult to negotiate when you really, really want something. The castle is located in Seward Park, an area in Seattle near Lake Washington (which I guess isn’t saying much, because most areas are near Lake Washington). Besides the castle, Julie and I identified about twenty or so interesting properties in various areas, including Seward Park. Except for the castle, all of the properties were gone within ten days of listing on MLS. We clicked on the website every day (okay, twice a day), checking to see if someone made an offer on the castle, but it remained, as Julie likes to say, fated to wait until we arrived and purchased it.
After arriving in Seattle two Thursdays ago, Julie and I drove from the airport to meet our real estate agent, Mary Ann Beck from John L. Scott real estate, a wonderful and honest woman, who probably had her easiest sale ever, as you will see. After picking up my cousin Nancy, she drove us around the different areas in Seattle. Julie and I tried to pay attention, but we just wanted to see the castle. Mary Ann had planned to give us a tour of the neighborhoods and then show us the castle. After spending the last three weeks looking at photographs of the castle and trying to figure out which rooms the photographs depicted, we finally arrived at the castle to see it for ourselves.
As you can tell by the photographs (I’ll post more pictures once I settle in and have access to my own server again), the castle is unique. It’s not a Tudor, Spanish, or ranch style home. It defies classification, falling, perhaps somewhat broadly, in the modern category. The current owner built it on an empty lot in 1986; he planned every detail, from the garden to the two entrances and three skylights on the third floor, and did a wonderful job. When you walk up the wooden stairs leading to the house you find a peaceful, Japanese-style garden (the current owner, a former military and NTSB employee, used an Asian theme throughout the house, which was a strange choice since he’s not Asian and only visited an Asian country once). The garden, with a pebble pond and river cutting across it, is transporting. The pictures do not convey how peaceful and beautiful it is.
Once you pass the through the front door, you are greeted by a bright and open living room. The ceiling soars two stories to allow light to enter through the ten or so windows spaced throughout the two floors. A fireplace in the corner dominates the room; it’s chimney pipe rises three floors to the roof. When you close the door, an incredible silence descends over the house, broken only by the classical music that is pumped throughout the house, which is wired for multiple speakers in every room.
The castle consists of three floors, on the bottom floor is the living room, second bedroom, and second bathroom; on the second floor is the dining area, the kitchen, a small office, and a large porch; and on the third floor is the master bedroom, an office, the master bedroom, and another large porch with a Jacuzzi hanging off it. All the porches and most of the windows have views of Lake Washington. The castle is built on top of a hill, the highest point looking down on the lake.
But enough description: Most of you who read this will hopefully visit the castle and see it for yourself. Suffice to say, it’s one of the coolest houses I’ve ever seen. While some of the rooms are smaller and strangely shaped, and there is no covered garage, the views and peaceful feeling overcomes any deficiency.
Getting back to the story, after Mary Ann showed us the castle, we spent so much time looking at it that we didn’t have time (or, actually, want) to see other properties. After leaving the castle, we drove around for a bit while Mary Ann showed us different neighborhoods, and then went back to her office. We drew up offer papers that evening, but waited until the next day to put in an offer. The next morning, Mary Ann drove us around to a few more properties, but it was academic. Early that evening we put in an offer. After much pressure by the brokers, the seller accepted, we inspected, and negotiated, and all that’s left is the closing, which will be on 14 September 2004. Julie and I are terribly excited. The house is about eight blocks away from Scott’s house, and only a few miles away from Nancy’s house. Talk about cool neighbors.
After our successful house-hunting trip in Seattle, Julie and I spent last week relaxing and enjoying our respective vacations. We took a trip down to San Diego, bought a really cool Tim Cantor painting from his wife in their San Diego gallery. We plan to hang the painting and its corresponding poem on a wonderfully illuminated wall on the second floor in the dining room. On Friday, we enjoyed Balboa park and its museums. While I was a little sick during our trip, except for the drive back, everything was great. As I like to tell Julie, I’m like a wind-up toy that needs a little push to do anything. Once I’m marching along, I have a great time. But sometimes it takes a little shove to convince me to do something fun.
I’m sure you’re wondering what the musing title, “Building Tunnels Under the Sand” is all about. Before receiving an offer for the Seattle job (a job that was on the top of my list of most wanted jobs since I left school), I began formulating plans for escaping Houston. Plan B was my bum plan. I would leave my Houston job and become a bum. This was the all-else-fails plan and I spent considerate amount of effort planning for this outcome. I would live off the benevolent charity of Julie in Newport Beach. During the day, when I was not writing my best selling novel, I would dig tunnels under the beach to live in. Who needs a house when you can build tunnels, especially when we discovered that the houses near the beach went for somewhere between $1.5 and 2.5 million. This was a rude awakening when I contemplated taking a job in Southern California and commuting to Newport Beach.
I am a little disappointed that I didn’t get the opportunity to implement Plan B. I had already picked out the perfect green pail and shovel to start digging. Thankfully, there still are many toys and gadgets that I will buy for the castle.
⊕ Houston, TX | 2004.08.23 | Castle, Diary
Move-In Day
Move-in day! It’s here. Movers are carrying my stuff up the 54 stairs (give or take two landings) and I’m playing moving bingo with the tags. So far, I’m winning except for my second couch, which is MIA (and it will hopefully stay that way so I can buy a bed to replace it in the second bedroom).
Update: my couch was found and safely delivered. It looks nice in the second bedroom and I’m rethinking the bed approach. On a downer note, my computer didn’t survive the move. This will delay (somewhat) the uploading of new pictures to my server. I’ll try to get some pictures up over this weekend.
⊕ Seattle, WA | 2004.09.15 | Castle, Diary
Pictures of the Sparsely Decorated Castle
Courtesy of Julie's Budding Photography Skills
Seattle, WA | 2004.10.23 | Photos | Castle
Broken Glass
I broke a glass today in the Castle. This is the first anything that I’ve broken since moving in. The glass, a retro-style tall glass from Pottery barn or Pier-1 or one of those yuppie home-design stories which I frequent because I’m a self-acknowledged yuppie (although, as the years go by, I’m becoming more of an uppie than a yuppie)—fell from the counter near the sink. The glass wouldn’t have been there if I kept up with my dishwashing responsibilities, but this week’s low feelings and easy distractions lowered my home-front productivity.
If you’re not a klutz then you probably won’t understand how this could have happened. I’m in the kitchen, shaking out pills from my vitamin bottles. After visiting the doctor last week, he reminded me that I should take my one-a-day vitamins, and he suggested I try an extra magnesium pill for my headaches. (There is early research on the benefits of magnesium for migraines, of which my anecdotal evidence doesn’t support.) The magnesium pill consists of a dissolvable plastic-like capsule, the type you can unscrew and shake out the drug. The one-a-day vitamin is a green pill that tastes surprisingly good when sucked. It reminds me of the Flintstone vitamins I took as a kid without the grape flavoring. I haven’t tried to suck on the vitamin for long, still fearing that once I get through the outer layer, I’ll find an inner chalky core. One would think that the glass I knocked over was the one I used to swallow (or eat, as Julie says) the pills, but there’s a fatal assumption in that thought. As is my custom when I’m not in front of people who will judge me as a slob or uncouth individual or have second thoughts about drinking a glass of OJ from a carton that I had repeatedly slobbered, I drank straight from the carton, no glass necessary.
After I finished “eating” my vitamins, I reached over to the sink and my arm brushed the glass. What I was doing with my arm near the sink, I don’t know. The shattering glass destroyed all short-term memories before the crash as my brain focused on minimizing the damage and protecting my bear feet. My arm, as are most of limbs, can be spastic and uncoordinated. There are times when my body is a well-oiled machine, reacting to all stimuli with a precision that is scary. To borrow from my basketball lexis, at those times I am “in the zone” or “on fire,” where I can pluck a falling glass from mid-air and toss it back onto the counter without breaking conversation. This was not one of those times. After my arm knocked the glass, I watched it fall. It wasn’t a proverbial slow-motion fall, but I remember having enough time to think about the glass’s fall and why I wasn’t doing anything about it, like reaching out and making a spectacular catch. It could be that those thoughts occurred after the glass fell to the ground and shattered, but I like to think that I had those thoughts while it was falling and if I felt more coordinated, more in the zone, I would have snatched it before hitting the ground. The glass shattered and spread across the kitchen floor. I put on shoes, picked out the big pieces, swept up the smaller pieces, and imagined the shelf in my cupboard with seven large glasses.
This morning and afternoon, the weather in Seattle was as close to perfect as it can get during the winter. It was warm (for the Northwest), the sun shone, and the mountains were hazy but visible. On winter days, my neighborhood has a wonderful wood-burning smell. I took a trip to a local lunch, a small corner luncheon that is the only restaurant within a five-minute walk from the Castle, and was disappointed yet again. I keep going there with the hopes that they will improve the food, and create a dreamy go-to lunch destination, as I found in Wolfgang Puck Express in Houston (which was right next to my go-to bucks of stars) and the local diner in NYC (of which there were many near to everything—this is NYC we’re talking about). But it was not to be. The food again found me a bit nauseous and if not for the wonderful walk, it would have been a wasted trip.
During my meal (and my requisite bathroom visit), I finished the second-to-last DFW story. This was not a good story. It was painfully long and the ending was trite and disappointing. I almost gave up on it many times, and looking back, I wish I had. As I said before, the last story is supposed to be one of his best. I guess when you’re an experimental writer the very nature of experiments results in some failures. I just wish DFW had marked it as a failed experiment, learned from it, and crumpled it.
Story idea: philosophical discussion with a Rabbi—pay $20/hour to your favorite charity if I learn something and visa versa.
⊕ Seattle, WA | 2005.01.02 | Castle, Diary
Loops in the Park
Today was another cold and clear day. Mr. Rainer (that’s Mt. Rainer to you) was hazy but visible from the lake. I took a long, cold walk around Seward Park, and on my way back, after getting lost and wandering the neighborhood for an addition thirty minutes, I realized that if my house were a bit higher or further into the street, I would have a view of Mr. Rainer. As it is now, I have to settle for the peaks of other not-so-big mountains in the distance. The visibility of the surrounding mountains has greatly improved with the colder weather, as have the stars. I didn’t even know Seattle had stars until this past week.
To survive the freezing temperatures (I’m not sure the exact temperature, but many of the puddles had a thin coatings of ice—very unusual for these parts), I dressed in layers. I wore a long-sleeve black shirt, a sweater over the shirt, my blue zipper-up work sweatshirt, hat, gloves, and scarf. While most of my body was quite snug—almost too much so, I attempted to regulate my temperature by taking off and putting back on my gloves many times during the loop around the park—my corduroy pants, which I assumed from my previous experience with corduroy in the 1980s would be warm, were the weak point. Halfway around the park, the backs of my legs started to itch, which is never a good sign. Except for the incessant itching, the walk was nice. I like to say that I spent much of it planning new stories or NEQID, but my mind was full of the rewrite for the website. When I’m stuck on a project, it’s hard to get my mind onto other things.
I set what I thought was a good pace for the walk, but I was behind a couple that would have none of it. They must have been a newer couple since when they entered the park, he, the guy that is, said, “And over here we have the northwestern ducks, better known in these part as the Seattlian-doe ducks, which are well known in this lake-front habitats,” and on, and on, in his most look at me, over here, hey, down here, damn it, I’m funny, very funny, now look at me, voice to impress his girl. She laughed and I somehow managed to swallow my bile. But no matter how much I increased my walking speed, I never caught up to them or got close enough to eavesdrop for additional not-clever clever remarks. They must have been super walkers or something. Halfway through the loop, when it became apparent that I wouldn’t catch them, I stopped for a bit to rub the backs of my legs. Looking back, I feel it’s now safe to admit that I stopped more to put the couple out of view than to relieve the coldness from my legs. I thought about running to pass them, until I realized that (a) I wasn’t wearing the right type of shoes, and (b) running makes me tired and I don’t like being tired. You’ll be happy to hear that with all the getting lost and freezing my legs off, I did manage to return to the warm Castle, and as far as I’ve been able to ascertain, I sustained no permanent damage.
When I first sat down to write this evening, I attempted to light a fire to ward the cold and fragrance the living room. The fireplace, like the couple before it, fought me. I stuffed wads of newspaper and junk mail under three well-placed logs, but there must have been something in the air because after the kindling burnt through, the wood didn’t catch. I let the embers sit for a while, hoping that something would catch, but it never did. With no fire, I gave up on writing, cooked a delicious dinner of lamb and steamed string beams, and washed all the dishes that had been piling up in the sink. I know that none of this is in the least bit interesting, but I needed to provide background for how I got through my funk. That’s right. I’m now funk-free. The funk gave me lots of time to work on the redesign of the website. In another week, I should be able to hit the switch and share with you all the fancy new whistles and bells. Besides the stylistic changes, I did go back to my original idea of redesigning the website from the ground up. The redesign reuses a lot of slightly rewritten code but I’m happy I did it. As I tried to explain before, it’s now more aesthetically pleasing to me, and isn’t that the important thing?
Continuing on my week of firsts—if you remember, yesterday I managed to break the first item in the Castle—last night (early this morning is more accurate, since Julie hasn’t been getting home until after midnight), I fought with Julie for the first time. We’ve had minor squabbles in the past, but they never amounted to much. When my doctor last week asked about girlfriend-produced stress, I told him that I didn’t have any, thanks to my long-distance relationship. That has all since changed. We fought for a few hours on the phone, which is not the best of places to fight. It’s easier to argue when you’re face to face and your facial expressions can portray the evil thoughts that are going through your head. Suffice to say I was wrong, selfish, and pig headed. I’d like to blame the late hour, the funk, the moon moving through Jupiter, the cold weather, but the truth is, it was all me. I wanted something my way, and I was angry when I didn’t get it. I’m like a petulant child at times, and even when I’m like that, it’s hard to break it. I get into a bad mood after something doesn’t go my way, and that mood permeates everything I do. We’ve gotten over it after cooler heads prevailed, but there’s a lesson in all of this. I’m not sure what it is, but something along the lines of Trust in Julie (TIJ). Now, before you ask if I’m writing this so I don’t have to sleep on the proverbial (not sure why I’ve been using this word so often) couch—forgetting even that we don’t live together or that my couch is very comfortable and in easy access to my movie collection and Netflix—I’m not. That’s why I write fiction: so I can lie freely.
And, moving past my week of firsts, I broke my second item in the Castle. My beautifully self-installed, perfectly centered and caulked, garbage disposal, which was my second house project—come to think of it, there hasn’t been a real third project, I am a lazy man—stopped working. I could understand if I jammed it—by all rights, it should have been jammed with all the crap that I throw down there—but when I turned it on today, it just buzzed. It worked the last time I used it a few days ago. I turned off the electricity and spun the grinding thingy with a fork. It moved freely, which moved my diagnosis from jammed to engine trouble. I’m planning to recheck the electrical connection I made when I installed it, and then I’m going to call in the garbage disposal folks and invoke my right of warranty. Either that or I’m going to not use it anymore and pretend it’s not even there. That’s probably more likely.
⊕ Seattle, WA | 2005.01.03 | Castle, Diary, Julie
Itchy pants
I have ants in my pan…Castle. I saw my first ant yesterday, but I didn’t think much of it. When I arrived home today, I started seeing more. They’re large, black ants, and they’re congregating in the kitchen, and along the stairs leading up to the third floor. I found a few in the first-floor living room (both of the winged variety, which means they were searching for new areas to establish colonies), but none on the third floor (so far). I don’t like bugs. I had an incident with termites in Houston that freaked me out. Now that I’m in the Castle (and own it), the freak-level is much higher. I’m planning to call an exterminator first thing tomorrow morning. I’ll hopefully be able to set up an appointment for this week, so they can start exterminating. I’m not sure how well I’m going to sleep imagining those black crawly things all over the Castle.
My vacuum is plugged in and patrolling the second floor area. I’ve vacuumed up at least thirty bugs so far, and I think I could spend all night sucking up the critters and making little progress. The pile of wood behind my house will have to go because they like damp wood, and seeing as the tarp covering my wood pile is now holey (thanks to the rain and wind), the wood is damp and probably rotting, a perfect nest for them. From what I’ve read, ants don’t usually cause permanent damage unless you fail to treat them. I do have concerns, however. A potential buyer put in an offer for the Castle about a year and a half ago. The offer fell through after the inspection because, the owner told me, the buyer found carpenter ants. Some of the wood siding of the Castle—particularly near the windows and doors—has started to rot and is most likely damp from the rains. I was going to wait until the summer to have it repaired and repainted, but I may have to accelerate those plans.
I’m bug hunting every fifteen minutes. I’m trying not to get addicted to it, but it’s greatly satisfying to suck them up in my vacuum, make them pay for annoying me, and taking time away from other things. I’ve gotten good at killing the ants with my shoe without creating a brown splotch mark on my floor or rug. I’m feeling itchy.
⊕ Seattle, WA | 2005.03.02 | Castle
Bug Hunt Report
My hunting went well today. I vacuumed up a few bugs this morning and about five this evening. I found more big suckers--the ones with wings who are trying to reproduce in my poor Castle. They are safely stored in my see-through vacuum cleaner for the exterminator to study tomorrow morning. A few of them survived the sucking, and crawl around in their glass cage. They will die of starvation or thirst surrounded by the corpses of their family. Ain't I evil?
Here's a doodle of what I've been dealing with:
⊕ Seattle, WA | 2005.03.03 | Castle, Doodles
Barista
The baristas know me. If you’re not a coffeehouse regular, you might now know what a barista is. A barista is the giver of vivacity, the dealer of happiness, the maker of coffee. Unlike the instant or drip variety, there is an art to making coffee, and this art involves grinding, tamping, extraction (timing is very important), steaming, and blending. I’ve thought hard about buying an espresso machine for the Castle, and I’m still of two minds. One says go for it, David. We’re talking coffee, whenever you want it without having to leave the sanctity of the castle. Think of the high-quality espresso you’ll serve with dessert during dinner parties. The other says, think of the possibilities (and likelihood) of overdoing it. Think of the expense and the cleaning responsibilities. And, for the record, you’ve never even had a dinner party.
The barista punches in my order when it’s my turn. Tall mocha with whip, she says. I hand her payment, she smiles, and I slide to the delivery deck. She starts the steamer and heats up my milk. How are you doing, I ask and divert my eyes. The thought of a conversation becomes too much. I realize I should have thought about that before speaking, but it’s out there. She answers, Good, you? She tamps the grinded coffee beans and starts the espresso machine. I decide against the conversation and stay silent.
I’m babbling incoherently, because I gobbled down a tall mocha for the first time in four days, and the sugar and caffeine took to my system too fast, overwhelming my powers to understand and write coherently.
The exterminator is drilling holes and injecting poison into the castle as I write. Poison drips along the outside walls, almost as if essential juices were leaking from the Castle. He expects the ants to die over the next three to four weeks, and you know what that means: I have another month of ant hunting. What joy! I know you’re questioning the sport involved in hunting ants, especially since the carpenter variety that infests the Castle moves slowly. I’ll outline the (substantial) challenges: (1) lugging my chosen weapon, the vacuum cleaner, up and down the stairs between the different levels of the Castle; (2) positioning the suction devices (either the hand held or under the push part) to suck up the ants when they run for the little crevices; and (3) remaining calm when a flying ant (the proto-queen) darts from nowhere and almost hits me in the head.
I spend too much time writing about silly happenings. Did you know that in Seattle, Chinese restaurants have the highest incident of cockroaches? (And here I thought nothing good would come of the carpenter ants invading the Castle.) It’s not because the Chinese restaurants are dirtier, it’s because the Chinese restaurants import their vegetables from places where there are cockroaches, such as the east coast. I wanted to convey that bit of trivia to prove a point about writing. If you’re anything like me (and I hope you’re not for everyone’s sake), you would find that fact more interesting than, say, writings about the broken aspects of my personality. Now, that fact alone is interesting but not story-worthy. Additional research and a story based on the tidbit might be interesting. (I imagine a Chinese restaurant owner trying to explain his cockroach problem to long-time customers. “Oh, no, bug-ologists come here and eat. I told bug-ologists put sign in van so customers not confused. A-okay, no problem.”)
I know research would help me write just as personal experiences help—which is why I try to experience something interesting everyday, instead of sitting around and playing with my toes. I know from experience that television and movies are bad sources. I’ve been watching them for years and except for poorly thought out plot points and characterizations, nothing has worn off on me. I once thought of actually researching using books. Do you remember long ago when I had this idea for writing a story about goblins based on the experiences of Native Americans? I went out and purchased a few books, and I haven’t touched them. The length and time I’d need to read them overwhelmed me. I’m a bad researcher.
Let me qualify that statement. It’s not that I’m a bad researcher; it’s more that I’m an indifferent, lazy researcher. I’ve been thinking of hitting the books again. What’s keeping me away is a concern: after devoting all this time to researching and planning, what happens if I sit down to write and nothing comes out, like what happened with my science-fiction story. I need to give this more thought (in other words, I’m too tired to continue writing).
⊕ Seattle, WA | 2005.03.07 | Castle, Diary, Writing
Vacant Goblins
I’m not going to the gym even though I should. Today cried for the gym: cool and sunny; meeting-free after 2pm; ahead at work. And yet here I sit, typing without exercising; I have no excuse.
I’m forcing this writing. I find myself in that awkward position where I want to write but I have nothing to say. I need to have a fallback position for this time. That or just struggle, write empty words, and hope I eventually touch upon something of interest.
The ants, mostly of the winged variety, have increased. They’re getting sneakier, one almost got away from me before I out waited her, and she showed herself from under the refrigerator. It’s still too early to claim victory, but the tide seems to be turning. Worst places I found ants include, in the far side of the shower this morning (I decided against the vacuum and killed the ant in a mash of tissues); on the couch this evening; flying from the dining room area down toward my face while I sat on the couch. I managed to move out of its way as it flew (badly) and landed on the couch. It freaked me out.
I’ve thought again of the goblin story based on Native Americans. I’ve cracked open my first Native American book. We’ll see if I get further than I did last time. Thoughts: commune with lazy goblins; Kibutzes, which are failures; how did Native Americans survive without private property? Was that their downfall? Is that the goblins downfall?
Things look slow. Smoke rises from carpet fibers that won freedom in the new-fashion way. I look around me to find inspiration and nobody cries. Vacant eyes stare with perfect vision and evil. Research rises over night’s cries. When in doubt string words together with a spider’s used cobwebs. The boredom and pain dominate the discussion. I give everything and receive nothing.
⊕ Seattle, WA | 2005.03.08 | Castle, Story Ideas
Aunts and Trips
Few creatures walk the Castle. I’ve found only a couple of crawlies, one dead, the other barely moving. A healthy proto-queen flies through the Castle, but I haven’t caught it, yet. When I do, it’ll learn to fly within the confines of my vacuum cleaner. (For those who’s hearts go out to the little buggers, when I emptied my vacuum into the trash yesterday, most of the ants were still moving, leaving me with two possibilities: (1) they’ll survive their garbage adventures and start a new colony in the dump; or (2) they’re suffering a slow and agonizing death in my trash bag, begging for it to stop with no euthanasia in their future. I’m hoping it’s the latter.)
I leave for NYC tomorrow, and as part of my tradition, I’d like to share the weather report. But before I do, I have exciting news. I caught the wayward flying ant (stop thinking of your spinster aunt—she neither flies nor infests the Castle). In an exciting turn of events (as if a turn of events could ever be anything but exciting), the flying ant, which flew surprisingly well for an ant (I think all the flights I had previously witnessed were injured flying ants), flew through my dining room and slammed into the ceiling. It bounced off the ceiling and onto my ledge, where it remained quivering on its back. I turned on the vacuum cleaner before she had a chance to right herself, and sucked her up. She’s now crawling—I assume is contently—in her glass cage. Does my heroism know any boundaries?
Getting back to the weather, in Brooklyn, my first stop on my five-day trip, it is now a balmy twenty-eight degrees (Fahrenheit for all you foreigners), with a wind chill making it feel like twenty-one degrees. For my visit, the weather will range from a low of twenty-one degrees to a high of—get your swimming trunks because there’s going to be some beach going—forty-two degrees. I don’t know about you, but I’m having second thoughts about leaving Seattle. It’s fifty-five degrees during this beautiful night, with highs of sixty-nine (tomorrow), and lows of thirty-four (on Monday evening). As I keep reminding you, Seattle has had an atypical winter. These last few weeks have been sunny and warm. I’m sure that this afternoon, the temperatures rose into the seventies and the skies were that diamond blue I spoke about in one of my poor attempts at a story. If this is what winter is like in Seattle, I’m not sure I’ll ever leave. (I bet that made a certain Brooklyn mother’s heart thump faster.)
Do you see what a bug-hunting incident did for me? When I started writing the first paragraph, I was dragging my feet, unsure if I would gather enough energy to write about anything. But after I successfully sucked up the bug, with adrenaline pumping through my delicate system, I was the man of steel, the righter of wrongs, the doer of things that needed doing. And how can such a man not write insightful and provocative things? (Imagine that: me writing something insightful and/or provocative. I kill me!)
I’ve reached the end of my thoughts for today. I’ve been reading more web comics, and I’m anxious to start drawing another pictures. I’m hoping it comes out better than yesterday’s pitiful painting. I drew that with a new drawing program I’m trying out, which let’s me sketch and color in layers. It’s the same program I used on my flights with my work TabletPC (remember the geometric designs), but a different program than the one I used to draw the troll. I’d like to find that troll program again one day.
⊕ Seattle, WA | 2005.03.10 | Castle, Doodles, Travel
Ant-Free Day
Inspiration strikes at strange times. I’m busy and tired all day, and when I drive home, the writing bug hits me and I have all these ideas. I record a few onto my phone, but by the time I make it home (fighting the usual evening traffic), the inspiration has left me and I can do nothing but wonder what happened. With all my gadgets and moleskins, there are few times where I have nothing to record the flighty moments of inspiration. But recording random thoughts is not the same as writing. When I listened to my notes from the drive home, I realized that to turn any of those notes into actual sentences and paragraphs would be difficult. If I had been at a good writing place when the inspiration struck, it would not have been as difficult.
But I’m crying over dumped garbage. Speaking of garbage, I’m naming today an official ant-free day. While I have not sucked up or seen an ant in about five days (they disappeared right around the time I fell ill—coincidence: I think not), I dumped the remaining ants captured over the last week in my vacuum cleaner into the garbage today. In Seattle, the garbage people only collect once a week, Thursday morning for my block. As of twenty-minutes ago, the Castle is devoid of ants and ant carcasses (at least visibly—I’m sure some still linger in the walls). You know what that means: tomorrow I’ll probably find thousands of them crawling around, just in time to freak out Julies for her visit this weekend.
Speaking of Julies, my mother asked me a funny question the other day. She said, “I keep seeing you write ‘Julies’ on your website when you refer to Julie. Is that her real name?” Well, I guess it isn’t that funny, but it made me laugh. I don’t remember when I started calling Julie ‘Julies.’ If you haven’t figured it out, her real name is Julies and ‘Julies’ is a pet name, like ‘honey’ or ‘please don’t hurt me.’ When I missed Julie, I would tell her, “Why are there so many Julies in the world?” To which she’d ask how many, and I’d say, “There are millions of Julies.” Then she’d ask how many Davids, and I’d have to offer the upsetting truth: “Just one.” Yeah, we’re one of those types of couples, you know, the type that talk baby talk to each other and sicken small children and animals with their cuteness. Part of it comes from the long-distance aspect of the relationship. We don’t spend much time physically together (although we spend lots of virtual time together—whether on the phone or in the video-game world, or, as I prefer, both simultaneously), and when we get together, we’re like children. I don’t know what makes us transform, but we’re not the only people who suffer from this type of abomination.
I’m almost back to full health. My congestion, sneezing, and coughing were rather bad today, but I didn’t feel sick physically. Sure, I run around with tissues to catch errant coughs or outrageous sneezes (the type where I squirt large chunks of phlegm onto unsuspecting floors and people), and I sound like a deeper-voiced and sexier version of David. But overall, I don’t feel bad. I’m hoping that when I wake up tomorrow morning, my sickness will be past and I’ll have the energy to return to the gym.
Speaking of writing (okay, I wasn’t really talking about it, but you know it’s always on the tip of my fingers, even if not one of you wants to hear me consternate or complain about it), I did have some interesting ideas on another story as I drove home. As I mentioned before, I had hopes of writing it, but I don’t think it’s going to happen today. After dinner, movie, phone conversations, and soon-to-play video games, I think this is already a full day. I just wanted to say that, yes, I am thinking of writing something other than these everything-is-peachy words, and, no, it won’t happen today, and probably won’t happen for a few more days, as I prepare for Julies’ visit, which involves much cleaning (both Castle- and personal-wise), and mentally preparing to share my space with another.
We’ve reached the edges of my thoughts for the day; at least the thoughts I wanted to share. One of these days, I’m going to find the energy or desire to share my more philosophical musings, the type I talk about for hours on the phone with friends. If you must know (and I know you probably don’t, but I’m going to share anyway), it’s a matter of effort. The thought of organizing these terribly brilliant sounding discussions into writing gives me a headache. What else is new?
⊕ Seattle, WA | 2005.03.23 | Castle, Julie
Lying Ants
My pronouncement of the end of the ant infestation, I now see, was premature. I worked from home today because of the delivery of Julie’s gift to the Castle: a beautiful painting that is now hanging the bedroom. While working, I vacuumed up many proto-queens. They are more active during the hot daylight hours. This is why I haven’t seen them earlier: the days have been colder, and thanks to too much traveling, I haven’t been home much during the daylight hours. I forgot how warm Castle becomes when the sun blazes in the afternoon. The three floors act as a chimney, directing the warmth to the third floor, which becomes unbearably warm quickly.
My sickness is almost gone. I’ve been saying that for the last four days with little truth. My congestion has lessened, and only a dry throat and popped ears remain. Any day now I’ll pronounce my sickness gone, only to renege a day (or two days, thanks to a writing-free day yesterday) later.
I’ve returned to the bucks of stars, having given up on the Motts. It’s cool in here, with normal music and a neutral smell. The coffee was bitter and buttery; the characters are less artsy and more exciting. My words are almost gone. I barely managed more than 500 words.
I have tickets to a Sonics basketball game, which I will attend (I bought a fifth of season tickets, and I haven’t been to one game all season). Julies arrives late tonight for the weekend before she flies to Taiwan and then China. She’ll be back next weekend. Isn’t she a dedicated Julies?
My words are forced and distant today. I’m seeing two styles of my writing: the conversational and the distant. I don’t always mind the distant. My best imagery comes on days like this.
⊕ Seattle, WA | 2005.03.25 | Castle, Diary
Castle Gifts
All the gifts for the engaged Castle (and my birthday).
Seattle, WA | 2005.12.27 | Photos | Castle, Gifts
Eran Improvement 2006
My brother-in-law comes to town and fixes the Castle.
Seattle, WA | 2006.01.21 | Photos | Castle, Handyman, Home improvement
Eran Improvement II
Eran visits again to help fix the Castle
Seattle, WA | 2006.06.18 | Photos | Castle, Handyman, Home improvement
Filter? I don't need no stinking filter!
As part of NEQID (there’s something I haven’t used in a while. I originally wrote “ever-improving David,” before I remembered my wonderful acronym for this quest: “Never Ending Quest to Improve David”), I’ve added another element to my daily Goal. Besides the 1,000 typed words, I will also handwrite one full Moleskine page worth of thoughts, notes, writing. (These very handwritten words are transcribed and reworked from that Goal.) It’s a small addition, but it’ll keep me thinking throughout the day about writing, and give me something to do when during my free moments when I don’t feel like or don’t have the time to open the computer and start pounding away.
I sort of met this Goal today. I probably should have written another two lines to make it official. But close is good enough. Once the cow dies, well, it’s dead, and there’s no amount of prodding that’ll wake it. I don’t know what this has to do with the official writing goals or weather, but there you have it. (Seattle: balmy and intermittent rain, if you’re curious.) For what it’s worth the Moleskine jotting did get my juices running today, which was its purpose. The two cups of yummy caffeine probably helped in that as well. It’s been too long since large amounts of yummy caffeine flowed through my system. Oh how I’ve missed its bitter yet invigorating taste!
We had a bit of a problem with the heating system in the Castle. Over the last few months or so the fan that forces the heat from the furnace around the Castle began to shut off. I rationalized this failure by blaming power outages in the Castle. I had anecdotal evidence as one evening I found a blinking clock concurrent with a fan failure, thanks, no doubt, to the strange weather Seattle has experienced. (This was not during the Big One that left me without power for 24 hours.)
When I reset the system at the thermostat the fan would turn back on after the five-minute waiting period. Over the last few days this failure became worse and more frequent. Last night, as we went to bed, I didn’t hear the fan churning away (the fan acts as white noise as it’s usually on when I sleep, blowing cold and hot air. I only seem to notice it when it’s off. It’s amazing how reliant I am on the white noise. When it’s off I find it hard to sleep). I was bundled under the covers and I told Julie that I thought there was a problem with the heating system.
In the morning I reset the heater and went to work. When Julie woke the fan was off again. After resetting it three times in as many hours, she called the HVAC guy. He arrived this afternoon and quickly discovered the problem. I don’t know how many of you are homeowners (actually, I do: Moms-homeowner, Chuck-not a homeowner (yet), rest of readers-imaginary and therefore probably not homeowners), but the HVAC guy said there’s something called a “filter” that connects to the heating and cooling system. This filter is supposed to be replaced or cleaned every one to three months. I last cleaned the filter at the beginning of the summer because the air conditioner was not conditioner the air enough.
It turns out that when you don’t clean the filter, not only does the heat or cold not circulate around the house, but when the filter is dirty enough, it blocks the fan from blowing air and the system shuts off. The guy said the pressure builds up because the air can’t get through the filter and shuts off the system. Clearly he’s a fraud. In the end, it cost us $150 + $3.97 + tax to fix the system. The first part was my incredible stupidity. The second was the cost of the replacement filters. And the third was the greedy liberals stealing all of my money. (Okay, I’ll admit it: I’m one of those greedy liberals.)
Seattle, WA | 2007.01.02 | Castle, Diary
Hiding in plain sight behind closed doors
Seattle, WA | 2007.04.09 | Cast of Horribles | Castle, Tatami Doors
Dark tables don't tell tales
Ah, our new dining room table. Julie picked it out without any guidance from me. The first table we chose was from a Vietnamese furniture store. We negotiated the price down to a reasonable price, and were left negotiating only the delivery fee. When she wouldn't budge on the seventy-five bucks, I used the slow walk out to try to push her to see our point of view. She waved as the door hit us on the way out.
I think walking out only works in movies.
As to the dark table, after drawing the chair, I grew tired. I figured if I made everything dark, I wouldn't have to draw the other chairs or most of the table. I was right. Don't tell anyone, though. It's all about artistic effect. Or is that affect in this case?
Seattle, WA | 2007.06.04 | Cast of Horribles | Castle, Chair, Diary, Furniture
You can't say I never take you anywhere
Julie and I had this discussion on Sunday: we were sitting around in the evening after visiting the Villa to choose paint colors. We had watched too much Grey's Anatomy (a wonderful show I found on the xbox a few weeks ago), and I needed to get out of the Castle as I was being smothered by the television and the dogs and the stillness. We couldn't figure out where to go. We already ate dinner (leftover Drunken Chicken, which was better the first time around), and it was getting late and dark and cold. It wasn't snowing anymore, thankfully, or thunderstorming, although it has been doing more of both lately. (Funny thing about Grey's Anatomy: it's set in a fictitious hospital in Seattle, and, not surprisingly, it's always raining. But instead of rain it's always thunderstorming, which is probably easier to portray than the sprinkling rain Seattle is famous for. I pointed this out to Julie, and she agreed: it almost never thunderstorms in Seattle. That night it snowed, thunderstormed, and the sun came out. I think it all happened in a fifteen minute window.) Anyway, so we're sitting around and I'm slowly going crazy and I'm trying to figure out what we can do. It's getting late as I download and begin watching yet another episode of Grey's. We can't go to the movies anymore because tomorrow (that is the tomorrow of the weekend, which was on Sunday which meant Monday) was a work day, and I needed to sleep at a normal time to be normal and get work done. So after three more episodes, we decided to call it a night and go to bed. We never did end up doing very much. The next day I thought we should have gone to Lottie's Lounge and drank something. Julie doesn't drink and I'm not much of a drinker either. That said, we could have done something, which would have made this paragraph much shorter--a win-win for all of us.
Don't ask. I'm in a weird mood after closing yesterday and I felt like sharing. The doodle brought it up.
Seattle, WA | 2008.04.01 | Cast of Horribles | Castle, D&D, Julie, Stars, Warrior, Wizard
Move Status Report
We are almost fully moved in, making a big trip last night. The Castle is mostly cleaned out, with only a few odds and ends in some of the closests, and some tools and miscellaneous stuff in the side storeroom. The maids are swarming the Castle today, and the carpet cleaners will steam it tomorrow. We plan to schedule haulers to take away the large mound of junk we piled behind the house of stuff we decided not to take to the Villa or donate.
We still haven't cooked a meal in the Villa's kitchen. We haven't gone food shopping or even house shopping for the odds and ends, such as bathroom mats and necessary kitchen supplies. We leave for NYC on Thursday, so we'll probably wait until we return for the shopping. This week we're concentrating on preparing the Castle for showing. We will eventually list it. We have to. Either that or they'll foreclose on both of our houses.
Redmond, WA | 2008.04.15 | Castle, House, Moving, Villa
Staging the Castle
Here are the photos Julie took after staging the Castle before listing it on the MLS. We spent many sleepless nights moving stuff out of the Castle and preparing it for its showing. Now we just need to keep our fingers crossed and hope for the best.