Real Estate Adventure

This morning we burst out of bed ready to face our day with the realtor, Susan.  I gobbled three eggs for my diet, but they menaced my stomach all morning.  It was my job to orient Egor on the way to the realtor's office, but I became completely lost and confused within minutes.  We still made it there on time.  I noted the traffic and shuddered.

Susan was mid fifty-ish and tastefully dressed.  I did not regret the trouble I took to pick out the perfect outfit.  We started off in the more affordable neighborhoods ($650K) and then she whisked us off to the $1 million dollar homes.  I have to ask myself, what is she thinking?  the company sent her to us and we told her what we could afford.  The houses in Torrance were uninspiring, pasteboard looking creations, clumped closely together and barrio looking.  The expensive homes  in Palos Verdes offered an exquisite view of the ocean, and darling courtyards.  Sadly the homes themselves had a palpable 1964 vibe, older but not old enough to be quaint. Location, indeed.

Rentals in the neighborhoods we likes were about $500 more than we could afford unless we wanted to share a bedroom with Tyoma.  I despised the cramped townhouses with tiny thumbprints for backyards.  I need to re-evaluate raising Tyoma somewhere he could not run free or have a backyard.

We broke for lunch at a wonderful restaurant named Marmalade's.  My diet has gone to hell.  I had chicken a la orange and it was superb. Rice! Yum! E noshed on the most scrumptious fettuccine with real wild mushrooms.  We looked at more homes during the afternoon.  Prices were $650-$800 range.

I confess on the outings we saw some of the ugliest interiors ever.  I guess when location is so valuable, folks feel, they can do any damn thing they please. Big bold wallpaper patterns, matching upholstery and smug owners who wanted us to experience their home were not uncommon.  I cherish weird, smile at tacky, and contemplate the odd. Pretentiousness leaves me cold.  I don't want the snooty wallpaper to keep me up at night with its specious observations.

One rental home was painted bright lemon yellow.  The yellow prevailed inside the house on all the walls.  the only things non yellow were the lilac door and the uncoordinating cherry floors.  Another odd thing.  Many homes were about 1300 feet or less and had very dark flooring which made all of the rooms look cramped.  Anyway, the landlord of the Lemon House greeted us at the door with a bossiness that was jarring.  she was impatient and domineering and kept after us about the rental particulars, no smoking, no shoes on in the house, when rent due, and so on.  she was almost hysterical and I wondered if she was on drugs.  She seemed to be going through the worst PMS ever after drinking 40 cups of coffee.  I watched her eyes, she did not seem stoned, she seemed, mad--old fashioned mad.  Gripped by the sort or irritability and rushing speech that I bipolar person might experience.

In the evening we dragged ourselves in at 4:30.  It was time to unwind for the big meeting tomorrow.  I counter the minutes until the free snack bar opened and loaded up on South Beach friendly fare.  I longed for a glass of wine, but at $12.50 a glass, I drank tap water and vending machine ice.

We wound up ordering room service.  I don't think my poor brain could handle giving E the wrong directions one more time today.  We conked out at 9:30.

Trip to California

Don't watch an Air Emergency marathon right before a plane trip, is all I can say.  I have the jitters anyway, just because this trip is so important to us.  I know we have only been looking for a job for a few months, but we have been out of money since February. Getting seated on the plane, E gives me the window seat.  Bless him. As the flight attendant performs her obligatory take-off seat buckle demonstration, I try to push missing Tyoma out of my mind. 

We take off  and the physical thrill engulfs me.  I love the roller coaster pressure of flight.  The idea of soaring throughout the clouds to an unnatural elevation thrills me. Unfortunately the blabbing of the pilot brings me back to missing Tyoma.

I do miss him. I know Mom will do a good job, but still.  It sounds ridiculous, but imagine.  If you are used to wearing a watch when you are out and about, you become habituated to checking it for the time.  This is how I miss Tyoma.  My eyes want to find him, check him and process that tiny bit of information before I can carry on with a clear, untroubled mind.

The best way to relax is to look out the window and write what I see. The light blends into late afternoon and clumpy curdled cheese clouds catch my eye.  The clouds are luminous, but offer no respite for the parched desert  below.  Arroyos on drab sands look like branching veins, gin blossoms that roll into cauliflower-eared ridges and hills.  As we increase our altitude, the land below reforms into a fossil bed.  Armies of trilobites meander on the ocean floor, bumped and whirled by unseen eddies of turbulence, that I can feel perched in the sky.

Well, that squeezed all the poetry out of me.  I turn my focus to fellow passengers.  A deeply concerned black man, who spent all of his time making phone calls at the gate folds his hands together pensively.  I could not quite overhear his conversations, but he had the air of one dealing with family tragedy.   He was not calling to inform anyone of news, but rather to reassure others that he is on his way.  I stare at him and want to say something to him, or even just to lay my hand on his arm.  He shifts posititon and I glance away. I don't want to disturb him with my open sympathy.

An Asian family with a 14ish son sit placidly.  The boy brought a skateboard for a carry on which caused a commotion as the family tried to check it at the front of the plane. He is pudgy and has an earring in the cartilage of his ear as well as newish looking skater togs. Something about his beaten down demeanor tells me he is picked on by other kids.  His parents and grandparents bow in unison to the flight attendants offering drinks.

Two twenty-ish girls, long haired and busty,  sport spaghetti strap tank-tops and new high-heeled sandals. Oddly, their make up is subtle and flattering. They fuss over their two carry-on dresses that they hoist out of the overhead compartment.  I try to avoid eye contact as I take in the spectacle, so they don't see my amusement, but the duo do not seem self-conscious.  They are too immersed in the adventure they are about to embark on to notice anyone else.  I get a closer look at the dresses, they are flimsy, inexpensive and fashioned with the sort of glittery tackiness I thought died in the 80s.   Generic plastic hangers complete the scene.  I half way expect them to change their clothes in the aisle, but they are simply twittering over their new dresses. I suspect that the girls will have a riot in Las Vegas.

The rest of the passengers have bowed heads, silently focusing on their private tasks.  There seems to be a pattern: laptop, laptop, book, book, book.  I am the only one writing in a paper journal. Am I so antiquated, so soon? At least I don't have a typewriter.

I close my eyes, enjoying the smooth buoyancy of the flight.  Vibrations from the plane are rhythmic and soothing, the shushing of the engine, hypnotic.  A train ride in the sky.

The drink cart approaches.  I am excited by the possibility of wine.  We obtain our drinks and peanuts (which you must request). I listen, above the sound of the plane no one is speaking.  It is hushed except for the sound of peanut wrappers and Egor chewing ice.  My wine feels warm and smooth.  Out the windows, the trilobites have shifted into relief--etched into the landscape, looking more geological and less surreal.

As we come close to Nevada, I wonder about all the others who have looked down on the same scene.  The eternal expanse of seabed is unbroken by roads.  I wonder how civilization crept over this expanse of dry furrowed land to find Las Vegas.  Five, ten minutes pass.  The earth slyly transforms into a mottled desert, and then into greener terrain transected by vivid ocher roads.  Tiny patches of metallic crystals glimmer.  The randomness of the landscape becomes grid like and rectangular.  It looks like we are flying over an immense stretch of green and brown circuit board with soldered roads.  This gives way to turquoise quarries and a milky blue lake populated by tiny watercraft whose wakes I can see. Viva Las Vegas.

LAX

This is so shameless, writing so much about my impressions when I should be devoting time to my concerns and feelings over the job.  I guess that I am so tired of living with it, day after day that it seems mundane and old.  do i want to remember these worries so vividly years from now.  Why bother? I will not forget the worry, it will always be with me, it will simply attach itself to some new, and perhaps less significant thing in my life.

LAX was dazzling and busy compared to the laid back glitz of Las Vegas. The lights here are brighter, the hum of humanity louder and more pressed.  I felt as if I needed to jog just to keep up with the casual pace of the residents.

Egor drug me along to the shuttle area. He had already incorporated the new pace into his system.  I felt confused and disoriented as we boarded a shuttle for the car rental place.  Our driver was an immense light skinned African American woman with brittle blond hair crimped tightly around her scalp. Her gravely voice boomed cheerfully though the speakers. Smiling brightly, she saluted other drivers and staff as she tore through the airport at top speed.  I could hear our luggage shifting nervously in the bins beside us.  I am amazed by how skillfully she maneuvers the minibus.  As we get off, she is sweet and patient with us tourists, although she seems about as tired and dazed as we are.  Her name is Phyllis and she won't take a tip.

It's after 10 pm when we hit the rental counter.  The sleepy rental agent is very patient with us and draws a map to our hotel.  I wonder how often he must give this speech and how he manages to still be so gracious.  At the hotel I have my first experience with valet parking and in my confusion manage to walk into Egor twice.

Our room is very pleasant and I unpack in a frenzy, mostly looking for my brush and face wash.  It takes ten minutes to coax the snarls out of my hair.  I collapse at 11:30.

New Suit!

Ain't he a cutie in his new suit!!! I think I'm going to start dressing him up more often and taking adorable pictures. Egor for president!!!

 

And thanks to mom and Dad for the lovely Bulova watch, it's gorgeous!

It's so wonderful to see him so happy and proud. This summer has been so hard on him. i hope we can find a new place to make our home. someplace with good schools for Tyoma and hopefully someplace we can still see our friends.  how cool it would be to have Pat and Kurt come out to visit with us over the summers. Oh! Crossed fingers!

Aquarium Monday

We finally found a home for our aquarium!

E drove mom's disintegrating van to Robert's place to drop off our 55 gallon aquarium.  Mom's van is always full of ominous creaks, rattles and smells and driving without the A/C made the whole experience rather, unsettling.

Roberts place is a single wide trailer which he has gutted and plans to build anew.  Walls have been torn down and electronic fixtures dangle menacingly, giving the space a post-apocalypse feel. He plans to fit the floors and walls with lacquered plywood, stainless steel and glass for an ultra modern feel.  I wish him luck. This could take years.

But!  His home is on an acre of breathtaking land overlooking the mountains.  Personally, I think a few throw pillows and paper lanterns would suffice, his location is gorgeous!  Egor said if he even finished up half his space like he planned he could sell his place for a fortune.  I don't see it. Robert would host fabulous parties and everyone would come and worship him!

Baby Shots

After rescheduling THREE times, we finally got Tyoma's 12 month shots. He was a very good baby and passed all the Doctor's developmental tests. I was a bit worried since he says and losses so many words, but he is right on track.

Yay! Natuarally, his post-shot cries were earth-rattling, but at least Papa was there to help out. Tennisfiend took the Lexus to CSR to check it out. We will hear results later.

Juniper Hell

Heh. I had gin and tonic last night at the hot tub party. Not that I had much, since gin has a nastiness that I associate with Whitechapple and dead prostitutes.  Brrr. Anyway, before I fed Tyoma this morning, I did my usual thing, washing my hands and making formula. Blah. Gin smell.

An hour or two later, I worked in the back yard and came into the bathroom to another gin smell. Blah. I figured that I was either loosing my mind or that gin was truly the most foul drink ever--lingering around my person in an eternal noxious cloud. When Ewbliette came over to visit and I compulsively washed my hands for the tenth time this day--more stink. Heh.

My handsoap is juniper scented! What a relief! I can guarantee that I will not sip a bit of the odious stuff for at least another year!

In other news, Tyoma is walking very well! Ewbliette spent time with him prior to the big trip next week. She will help out mom next Sunday and Monday. I gave Ewbliette all my neurotic legal papers, instructions and  imperatives. With her usual good humour, she laughed heartily over my juniper story. :)

Hot Tub!!!

OMFG! Ewbliette and Brotherkurt bought a very fancy hot tub! I visited tonight and the experience was spectacular!

Zow! The tub seats a generous six and has 1,000 remote controls. Unbelievable! Six jet pressures per station and twenty light effects. I swear the thing will blast off into orbit if you hit the wrong button! Seriously, seriously cool!

 Ewbliette had an assortment of towels, robes and slippers elegantly laid out for the two of us, when I arrived. We selected more natural  options(whee!) and bubbled away for the next two hours. Few resorts could offer such a nice tub and the company was priceless! Yay!

Lexus

Tennisfiend came home tonight and mentioned that we might get a new car.  A connection with a local bank gave us an in on the auction of a foreclosed car--a 2000 Lexus coupe. Whoa. Might work out, TF seems ecstatic.

I am surprised. Where are we going to get the money?

Maybe,  I am not so surprised. Egor's Taurus is 15 years old. We bought it from one of his co-workers for next to nothing. It has gold peeling paint and no air conditioner. And it clicks ominously when you turn it. Sigh.

All this right before our trip. We don't know if we will get the job. A security clearence is vital in his feild of work and he just doesn't have one. And damn, if we move to LA we will be living in a shoe box that costs a fortune. But we must buy a new car. We will see what happens. If this looks like a good deal, we will take it. We can't drive his crappy Taurus from here to there and the shipping on the car would cost more than it's worth. My vote, get a car there after we've moved. Alas!

Hair, Glorious Hair!

Well, the driverside window to my car is totally broken. It's been going to hell all summer long. It gives a rubbery moans as you lower the window and then stutters to a halt. It seems to go up just fine, which accounts for the problem. My brain is on auto-pilot and I close the damn window after I open it.

I feel like an idiot running errands to the bank and picking up fast food, having to open the door in my anceint car. Stumbling  out to do my business, people look shocked as if I have made a major social transgression. What kind of person am I to be humiliated by this? Probably the type who was made fun of all through school. Huh.

Today, Rodeyo gave me the loveliest, blondest highlights! But, he was in the pissiest mood evah! Sometime after noon, his inner fabulousness kicked in and I sighed in relief. Despite the crankiness, he tossed me a freebie hairspray and was sweet as pie as I trotted off to my poor sad car.

I felt extra stressed today, anyway. Blah. T minus six days.

Walking?

Well, Tyoma took his official First Three Steps today. Mom reported walking this Monday (I've been helping with Tennisfiend's upcoming seminar) and I saw a step or two last week, but this is official!!!

Also today, he waved "bye-bye." He's waved before, at eight months, but the light was not on. Now he understands that the hand wave means "good-bye," not just, "I'm waving and you're waving." I can really see a little person, just begining to think for himself! Yay!

Tired

Blah. I did not sleep well last night. Too much excitement. I’ll compensate for the tiredness with a bucket of green tea. My diet is slowly working. I’m back to a size ten, but my jeans are still pretty snug. If I wear them on the airplane my legs might drop off. If I wear my twelves I’ll be hauling my trousers up every ten minutes. Next time I buy jeans, I’m getting the stretchy kind.

Late Night Meeting

Tonight TF came home feeling unwell, undoubtedly unsettled by last night’s match and the ton of insane stuff going on at work. My poor baby! I fixed soup for him and tucked him into bed early. Then the phone rang. He had to dash to a meeting in 45 minutes!

I waited up till ten to hear what had happened. Looks like folks are lawyering up in earnest. The company that wants to buy TF’s company will be in town Friday the 21^st. I pray that the company sells!

Tennis Maniac

Tennisfiend is a member of our local tennis league, so I answer occasional phone calls from other members needing to re-schedule matches. This guy, “Dave,” called three times about tonight’s match. He sounded rather manic to me. After TF came home from the match, he confirmed my suspicions--Dave was a lunatic. When E made a call, Dave yelled obscenities and would not calm down. He continued cursing for the rest of the match.

Russians find profanity particularly offensive. I was brought up in a rather earthy household, and I dropped my vernacular very quickly. I think in all the years we’ve been married, I’ve only hear him say “shit” once. He was big time offended by Dave and even wrote up the incident. TF has played some obnoxious characters in the past, but he said this guy was over the top.

Tennisfiend in a Hardhat

Originally uploaded by

No, the stylist for the Village People didn't break down our door and give my man a sexy new make-over!

Tennisfiend is posing for a Photoshop job that will put him with his team under a helicopter in the desert. We've taken a zillion of these photos. Do you realize how hard it is to take a picture you have to pose for? One eye is too squinty, now the other one is, now he's in the sun, wait! Too much sun, and the squint is back! I hope this one will work out! I'll post the incredible final result.
ETA: they had to reshoot the picture. The lighting was too hinky.

In Action...

Our relatives in Moscow wanted some action photos. Heh. Here's book reading at its best...
 

He loves to look at books and play with his electronic toys.  He is such a good baby!

Our Enigmatic Son

Some photos taken by Tennisfiend.
 
 Placid   Mona Lisa   Windblown 

Oddly enough, my parents seemed to think that Tyoma was not feeling well due to teething pain. I don't see it. The little guy looks pretty serene to me.

R&D 100

E made it on this years Research and Development 100 list! How cool is that!

Air (Conditioner) Emergency!

You know those dramatic National Geographic Air Emergency programs--a shocking and tragic story about poor design, questionable maintenance and pilot error; all of which combine into a tragedy costing hundreds of lives? Well, here we have Air Conditioning Emergency.

The story begins--a cheap outdated swamp cooler, designed by goofballs, with parts supplied by unscrupulous internet-based companies. The technical crew responsible for adequate operation of the bleed-off valve (ehrr, me) neglects routine maintenance due to an industry culture rife with brain cramps. Leading up to the final crisis, the pilot (Egor) leaves the bleedoff valve on full throttle overnight. He believes that he is cleaning the system, when instead he is flushing calcium build-up into the water lines, leading to devastating and misleading water-line clogs.

The next morning the bleedoff valve is not working, leading the pilot to assume pump failure. The pilot replaces the pump with a speedier model, which only exacerbates the debris problem. Alerted by a seriously stinky house, the technician makes repeated trips to the roof, equipped with a pointy object to clear the line. The technician is sorta clumsy, tripping over additional support gear (garden hose) and handling the heavy, smelly pads causes additional heart palpitations and irritation.

The technician realizes that the pilot, should have replaced/cleaned the old filter basket when he replaced the pump, since unfiltered gunk jams the new filter and pipes. Her quest for an appropriate filter part finally lands her in the labyrinth that is the garage of Mom and Dad.

Armed with the pointy object and fresh filter basket, the technician heads to the roof for the fifth time. The house is smelling foul again, will she succeed? Will the house ever feel as fresh and clean as it did last night?! Can the technician cope with the conflicting suggestions of her well-meaning mother and the perplexed pilot?...... *commercial break*

Nah. The Technician did the best she could with the clogged lines, clearing them repeatedly. She had a half a glass of wine and attended to the fussy passenger squalling for yogurt and peaches in fussy-business class.

The house still smells bad. The pilot will need to disassemble the water distribution pipes and listen to the technician complain. Perhaps the outcome can still be inspirational and the crew can celebrate with a nice dinner. Stay tuned....

E.T.A. After receiving the above message in an email, the pilot not only left work early, but he also bought a new AC motor (so we don't have to hand-start the existing motor if the power fails like we did last week). The craft is working swell and the house smells like baking salmon and couscous...

Dinner

Wow! It was so cool to get out for and evening! We had a mediocre meal at La Posta, but it was good to see E's old professor. Mom and Dad were there, too. Both of them whipped out their dress-up clothes and looked spiffy, if not 1992ish.

It was so nostalgic to be back at the old restaraunt, where I've celebrated many special occasions. Walking through the main lobby, I was happy to see the SUV-sized bird still there.  As a child it was full of healthy parrots, parkeets, cockatus, and other tropical birds, including a toucan.  I don't know how legal that is now, but in the 70's living 40 miles from Juarez, you could have featured bald eagles, condors, and passenger pigeons and no one would blink.

During a lean time, La Posta featured inca doves.  These birds are cheerful and sweet, but also nondescript and odiferously poopy.  The incas had a long turn in the cage since it is fairly difficult to kill them.  They are the cactus plant of the bird world. Tonight, a mangy blue parrot squaked, while two other parrots lost feathers in the corner. Sad.

I decided to check out the fish tanks, since they had an impressive display when I was a kid.  Gone, of course was the aquarium maze of exotic fish. I remember being tansfixed by all of the glittery jewels of fish as a kid.  It seemed as if therer were as many tanks there as in the local pet store (10-15), but it must have been less.  the centerpeice of the aquarium display was the pirrahna tank.

At it's finest, it held a mini-school of pugnacious, healthy pirana fish with an attitude.  The owner would feed them raw hamburger and on special occasions, feeder goldfish.  Sometimes I would see these harried feeders gasping in a corner of the bare tank, since there was nowhere for them to hide. Once, after seeing the show I heard stories about how they would bite (bite at?) the owners fingers.  I can't recall if the stories came from the owner or a family friend who liked to alarm little girls.  My adoration for the sharp toothed big piranas is probably why I loved my dear oscars so much.

Today, the big tank still stands. A behemoth still, standing about 4 feet wide, 2 feet deep and about three feet tall.  Piranas have come and gone.  For a while they had oscars, then back to piranas.  Tonight I could see three decrepit bored and blind piranas and two plump and chipper feeders.  I wish the piranas luck, the feeders looked too confident.

The food quality goes up and down, as well, depending on the current manager and economy. But tonight we avoided the Ragu-like red enchiladas (it is blasphemous to mix tomatoess with red chile to make red enchilad sauce) and stuck with the Camble's Cream of Chicken Green Chile enchiladas. Not a bad meal, it was worth it to sit in the lava room amidst the dramatic lighting, scraggly rubber plants and gee-whizz giant lava rocks. The lava room is quaint, but you do suspect that the family got together over some beer and tequila to cement the rocks and boulders in to place.  The 70's rocked.

I digress! MV seemed very happy to see us and had some career advice for

Labor Day with Patricia

Yay! Ewbliette had today off ! We had a chance to hang out and it was really sweet!

We started off around eleven (she slept in till ten!), with some Tyoma time. We're prepping for my Cali trip, she's going to give Mom a little break during the weekend we'll be gone. I know Grandma and Grandpa love the little one, but he can really wear a person out!

I made us coffees and we gabbed until Mom arrived. We decided on lunch at Chiles, and celebrated with a fried cheese (Good Lord!) and identical main courses (Chicken Loose Bowel Wraps). I usually love the ribs, but after my Outback Upchuck*, I decided to pass.

After lunch, we dashed over to Barnes and Nobel, where I resolved not to buy anything. We had a blast clothes shopping for Ewbliett, who picked up a gaggle of cute outfits for work. I can tell you one reason we are such good buds--we both shop the same way. When it comes to clothes, we are very pragmatic and sensible. When it comes to books, the weirder, the better!

At the last minute, I wound up recruiting Ewbliette as an emergency babysitter for tomorrow evening. Tennisfiend's old professor from Moscow State University will be in town tomorrow, and since he is a friend of the family, all of us will be dining at La Posta tomorrow. Bless her for stepping up!



  * Both Mom and I felt sick after our meal at the Outback Steakhouse. I tossed my cookies a few hours after dinner. Ewbliette said that a girlfiend can't eat their ribs due to the amount of MSG in them. Huhn!

Das Trench Becomes Das Landscaping Feature?

Well, it rained just enough on Das Trench to cause Das Erosion, so Tennisfiend took off some precious time from his US Open vigil to pick up some flagstones. For fifteen bucks, we received an impressive stack of rocks. As I watch TF embed the stones in the gravel lining Das Trench, I am skeptical. I suspect the rain will still wash away the gravel, leaving the stones looking sorta naked next to the bare landscaping fabric.

We shall see. Flagstones are always cool looking. I dug up two of out dying rosebushes and have great plans for those stones....