Month: July 2005 (Page 1 of 2)

I can’t stand this kind of constant, low grade stress I’m suffering from this pending move.  I’m not sleeping well, which makes the days sorely trying.  On some level I believe that I’m making mountains out of molehills out of the potential problems we could have with this move.  What if our house doesn’t sell and we end up paying a double mortgage until Christmas?  What if the septic inspection fails?  What if we don’t have as big of a down payment as we had hoped?  None of these potential problems are very realistic.  Even if they are real problems, they’re not insurmountable.  Rationally I know this but the stress hormones course through my body anyway.

Part of my sleeplessness problem yesterday at least came from drinking a Pepsi with lunch.  Normally I do not drink any caffeine so even something as innocuous as a cola makes me feel wired.  I know better under less trying circumstances but to ignore my sensitivities when I’m stressed is downright dumb.  If I’m going to indulge, I need to be smarter about it — chocolate, french fries, cookies are much better choices for me.

Even though I didn’t sleep last night, I still woke up at 6:00 a.m. as usual.   Exhausted and still carrying that stressed feeling in my belly.  I skipped my usual Saturday morning riding lesson because emotionally I couldn’t handle the challenge, even though Clipper has been such a good boy for quite a while now.  Since going back to bed was out of the question, I did what I do best to conquer stress: manual labor.  I started packing in earnest.  When I ran out of packing tape, I attempted a short nap.  After 40 minutes of dozing I went to Wahlgreens and bought 2 rolls of packing tape then indulged in a McDonald’s lunch, sans cola.  Armed with packing tape I managed to clean out one closet, empty, pack, and dismantle two bookshelves.  I can tell I’m tired because I didn’t feel like moving the last two boxes of books to where the other boxes are.  I have twenty boxes packed so far.  Three more bookshelves to go but first I have to get more book boxes.  And someone is coming to look at our house in an hour.  I hope they buy it.

The reason I didn’t post yesterday about the outcome of Dave’s interview is because we don’t know yet.  The office manager said he’d call Dave yesterday, which he did but Dave was meeting with our lender at the time so had his cell phone off.  The OM called back when Dave was on the plane, hence the cell phone was off again.  Dave tried again when he deplaned but it was after 5:00 p.m. by then.  Undoubtedly we’ll know something on Monday.  That’s part of the reason I’m so stressed — I had hoped that at least the question of Dave’s employment would be resolved by now.  Time to take a chill pill.  Or do more manual labor.  There’s plenty of that to do.

Even though I didn’t see any property I liked on my trip last week, we are currently in escrow as of yesterday.  The day after I got home, I noticed a place on a real estate website that seemed very attractive.  Unfortunately before my realtor could look at it, someone had already made an offer.  Then another very attractive property in a good location came up on the website.  My realtor (my dad) made an appointment to see it and reported that it was everything we wanted.  We asked him to make an offer, which was counteroffered, which we counteroffered, then finally accepted yesterday by the sellers.  Our escrow account opened, inspections were scheduled, movers arranged and scheduled then rescheduled, travel plans made and remade.  Whew.  Dave is in Seattle at a job interview as I write this.  I hope I have good news to share by tomorrow.  In any event, he gets to see the house that we’re buying tomorrow.  I’m not going to describe it since we’re just in escrow now and so many things could go wrong between now and our August 22 closing date.

Even though that date is 3 1/2 weeks away there is much to do in the way of sorting through the junk we’ve accumulated over the last 5 years of living here and training Lucy Cat to wear a harness so I have a little control over her during litter box breaks on 2-day journey up north.  Sister Cat already knows how to wear a harness and submits to the pressure of a leash, which is how I keep her from escaping the backyard during their supervised evening outings.  Lucy Cat is too fat to jump the 5′ cinder block walls so she roams unleashed in the enclosed yard.

Clipper is still moving to his new stable the week of August 8, although I hope it’s later in the week so I can ride him a bit longer.  He’s doing so well, I’m please to report.  His confidence over jumps is much improved and he’s far less spooky than he used to be.  Most of the improvement has to do with my riding him better.  At the jump approach I sit back on him and encourage him forward with my leg cues.  I used to approach jumps in the two-point position but somehow that gave him a way to duck out.  By sitting on him, I’m making him wait another stride before the fence, which seems to give him more confidence.  He used to spook in the same spot every time until I started bending him hard into the rail.  Now when we go into the arena, I don’t give him a chance to look for spooky things.  I immediately ask him serpentine at the walk and he walks by that scary spot at the northwest end of the arena without jumping sideways from the bogey monsters in his imagination.  It’s a very stressful time right now but things are going very, very well.  And I can’t wait to escape this SoCal oven to the cool greenness of WeWa.

My trip to Washington a week ago lasted a brief 48 hours.  I flew up on Tuesday and flew home on Thursday.  From the moment I arrived I felt like I was caught up in a whirlwind.  As I mentioned in my previous post, I looked at several properties, met with Clipper’s new trainer, met with my lender and future employer.  Despite all the activity my few precious moments of peace were spent at this bed and breakfast on Camano Island.  My room (the Eagle room as it is decorated tastefully with bald eagle art) faced the bay so I could lie in the raised 4-poster bed and gaze at the view.  I was reading Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince on this trip but I took breaks from the text to enjoy the smooth water, the herons and gulls fishing in the shallow embayment.  The mountains Three Fingered Jack, Whitehorse, and possibly Pilchuck were visible if I turned my head slightly to the left.  Mount Rainier was visible if I scooched over to the right side of the bed.  The full moon rose over the southeast mountain into my picture window view before it was fully dark.  Several times in the night I awoke to moon beams shining into my windows and across my bed.  I wanted the view more than the sleep so I didn’t bother shutting the blinds.

The sun rises early up there this time of year so I awoke for good around 5:00 a.m., which isn’t much of a stretch for me anyway.  Breakfast wasn’t for another couple hours so I made some decaf coffee and enjoyed my view.  The sun was too far to the northeast for me to see it come up without getting out of bed so I just waited for the world to turn enough to see the sun turning those mountains an early morning gold.  I watched a man hunt for crabs in the shallows of the bay.  He had the tell-tale plastic bucket and a pitchfork and wore shorts for shallow wading.  The idea is to step (gently) on an unsuspecting crab, because you can’t see the bottom after you’ve stirred up the mud and silt from wading, then slide your pitchfork or shovel under the crab that is under your foot.  Make sure it is a male before you drop it in your bucket, otherwise release to ensure the female will be around to spawn future generations so your grandchildren can enjoy catching crab this way.

The location of this B&B was handy for me since my dad lives about 20 minutes away.  However, since the B&B is on an island and a popular residential island at that, there is only one road on and off the island.  If anything, like road construction, line painting, or an accident disrupts the flow, you’re stuck either off or on the island.  In any event, not getting to where you want to go.  Last year when we were up there for my 20 year class reunion, we looked at a 10-acre property on the island.  However, after a few days of getting off and on the island in a long line of traffic, no matter what time of day, we said no thanks.  It’s lovely and we like to visit but we wouldn’t want to live here.

In the 48 hours I was up in Washington, I looked at approximately 10 different properties, met with my future employer, met with our lender, met with Clipper’s new trainer, and read Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince.  I told my employer that I would definitely be able to start on August 15, which means that I’ll be moving the day after Clipper boards the van to his new home.  Where I’ll move depends on how Dave’s interview in Seattle goes next week, how soon he’ll be able to follow me up, and when our house closes.  Prospective buyers have been coming to our house but we haven’t had any offers yet.  Those will come.

I didn’t make an offer on any of the properties I looked at but was tempted a couple times.  Thankfully I slept on the decision(s).  Several places oozed charm and privacy but were too wooded to be horse properties.  I’d prefer to leave them to people who want to live in the woods.  A dairy farm certainly had the acreage for pasture but was too near high voltage power lines for my comfort.  One place was a manufactured home on a busy road, across from a future 30-home development.  No thanks.  Finally yesterday I went to a gorgeous home on flat, river-bottom land.  I love the location, the open-ness, the views of Mount Baker and the San Juan Islands.  Dave is going to see it next week if it’s still available.  If not that one, we’ll continue shopping.

A lot has happened in the few days since I announced that I had a new job to look forward to and that this job would put a long-awaited move in motion.  Last week my husband was on vacation and like the responsible suburban-man he is, he spent his entire week plastering, spackling, painting, trimming shrubs in the yard, etc. so we could list our house for sale.  And we did.  On Sunday.  The first open house is next Sunday.  Now I have to make sure that everytime I leave the house it is slighter neater and cleaner than company ready.  Bikes have to go outside, bed made, dishes out of sink, sinks and toilets wiped  down, clutter put away, vacuum.  It’s not that big of a deal since we’re both fairly tidy.  However, my eye for dirt has become keen.

For a long time it seemed like nothing was happening on this major relocation effort.  Now all of a sudden, everything is moving so quickly.  I’m flying up to Seattle for a couple days next week to look at a few properties and hopefully make an offer on one.  I made all my travel plans yesterday.  This transition stage of planning to move then actually moving is rather stressful but it’s better than moping about nothing at all happening.  I’m looking forward to getting settled though.  The only important thing missing is that Dave still needs a job in Seattle.  He has a couple leads.  Let’s hope that one of them pans out.  In the meantime I feel like I’m walking around in a bit of a fog.  Pinch me!  I can’t believe this is finally happening!

The planning phase is my favorite of all the phases required for change.  I always feel a little hopeless dreaming, as if the dreams won’t come true.  They often do, though, even if not in the same form originally imagined.  Until recently I had a hard time recognizing that my dreams, all of them, have come true.  This life I have is exactly what I wanted.  Still, this knowledge doesn’t prevent me from disbelieving my dreams.  In other words, my dreams seem to be just dreams with no chance of coming true, no matter how many times they have come true.  Oh me of little faith.

I love planning.  Planning is better than actual action.  I’ll explain that in a minute.  Planning is action, without the work.  Planning is researching mortgages, calling the real estate agent, making lists of things that need to be done before it can go on the market, finding a new place to live, figuring out whether the cost savings of a do-it-yourself move is worth the work and hassle.  The action (or adventure, in keeping with the theme of my blog) is the actual doing.  Accomplishing the things on the list, physically packing, lifting furniture into a moving van, driving the moving van over 1000 miles of freeway, unloading the moving van.  Those kinds of tasks are Dave’s forte.  He’s good at action.  I’m good at planning.  Together we get a lot done in an organized manner.

Yesterday I mentioned arranging for Clipper to move.  Later in the afternoon, I priced UHaul compared to the professionals at Bekin.  I expected that UHaul would save us a lot of money.  Our savings will still be thousands of dollars but renting a UHaul van and packing, loading, driving, unloading, unpacking, etc. is still going to cost several thousand dollars.  That was a surprise.  And the short house hunting trip that I’ll take in a couple weeks will cost close to $1000.  We were prepared mentally for sticker shock on a new place.  We weren’t prepared for the cost of actual moving.

I also researched financing companies yesterday, only to learn from an experienced real estate agent that it’s best to be flexible about the financer.  A mortgage broker may be the best option.  I’ve used them before satisfactorily.  Now I know enough about mortgages to be dangerous.  Fortunately I haven’t committed to anything with my chosen mortgage company so anything I have done so far can be undone.

Today will be an action day: painting, sorting through the piles of papers I’ve accumulated in graduate school, sorting through clothing I haven’t worn in years, scaling down.  Tomorrow we meet with the real estate agent then solidify househunting travel plans.  I have much to anticipate.

I’m not going to post about the news in London here, mostly because the author of Pomegranatesandpaper did it so beautifully on her blog.  Like her, I believe that the best we can do is go on about our lives and take care of the things we can control and maintain the attitude that most people in the world are very nice, normal people who engage in nice, normal activities.  Like any playground, there are always a few bullies who have to try to make it miserable for the rest of us.  Most of us go on and play happily despite the bullies.  That’s what I propose to do while I keep the victims, their families and loved ones, and even the bullies in my prayers.

In the meantime, I have a major move to worry about.  Yesterday I arranged to have Clipper shipped the week of August 8 so that he’ll arrive and get settled in his new home before I get there. That probably means at least a week of not riding for me but that’s a small sacrifice to ensure my sanity about this.  Thankfully the trip only takes 1 1/2 days for Clipper.  For the cats and I, the trip will likely be two full driving days.  Two full days of cats meowing at me from inside a huge dog carrier where they have room to lie down comfortably as well as use the catbox, and drink water.  Unfortunately, past experience has shown that they refuse to be comfortable and comforted while on the road.  All I can do is provide the environment.  I wish there were professional cat shippers.

Yesterday I received the long-awaited job offer that will allow us to move to Washington (the state), which is my homeland.  Tentatively beginning August 15 I will be a part-time microbiologist for the Health Department for Skagit County.  So part of what I predicted is coming true.  I doubt we’ll buy the house in Bow, like I predicted, mostly because it’s out of our price range with me only working part-time and I’d rather have land that has some topography.  Much of Bow is in the delta region, which is flat as the proverbial pancake or Kansas, take your pick.  Instead we’ll likely live near Stanwood because logistically the commute would be better for Dave and still very tolerable for me.  Most importantly that’s where Clipper’s stable is located — at least until our kids are birthed, the property is properly fenced and a barn is built.  Clipper will be spending several years at this stable.  Let the fun of selling a house and moving two states away begin!
Speaking of Clipper, look at that cute boy!

Clipper and I have had some great rides recently.  He (or should I say ‘we’) seem to have turned a corner.  He isn’t spooking at his usual spots and he’s jumping more jumps willingly, softly.  We’ve come a long way from rushing around the arena.  He canters more slowly and his body in balance.  The new jumps aren’t as scary, especially if he gets to follow an experienced horse over them.  Yesterday I jokingly told my trainer that Clipper would be great in the hunt field since riders often jump in one big mass.  She actually agreed with me to my surprise.  I always thought that she thought hunting was a terrible thing to do to a horse — running pell mell cross country and jumping solid jumps.  A horse (and rider) could get hurt out there!  She went on to say that Clipper would be great cross country.  So there is hope I’ll get out of the arena some day.  Not here in SoCal but some day after we move to a place with a lot more space.

Since I’ve been unemployed and graduated I have been more creative with my cooking.  Yesterday I mentioned the delicious chicken piri piri I made for our July 4 barbeque.  Last night I tried another chicken recipe that I wasn’t terribly excited about but it ended up being delicious.  The reason I wasn’t thrilled with the prospect is that the main ingredient were grilled chicken breast (yawn) and lettuce (whoopee).  However, the things that went with it made the salad.  This recipe came from a reader of Sunset magazine.  The recipe called for a white wine vinaigrette but I improvised and borrowed the dressing recipe from another chicken salad recipe.  This one calls for 1 TBSP balsamic vinegar, 2 TBSP mayo, 2 TBSP peach preserves, 1/4 tsp pepper, 1/4 tsp salt, 1/4 tsp ground ginger.  It sounds weird but it’s really good.  For the salads, grill 1 chicken breast for each salad (that is actually a lot and next time I would take 1/2 breast for my salad) and toast 3/4 c. of pecan halves in a 350F oven for around 10 minutes.  To assemble, cut the chicken breasts across the grain, and put on top of a cup or so of lettuce per plate.  Add toasted pecans, sliced ripe nectarines, crumbled goat cheese, and a TBSP or two of the dressing.  Yum!

When I began blogging over 2 years ago, I had something like this blog in mind where I would report on the progress of any given project I had going.  I suppose in some ways this blog has met that goal.  After all, you did get to hear me whine about graduate school until I finished a few weeks ago.  Now you get to hear me whine about not having much to do until I get a job.  Well, job hunting is a project.  I’m just not making very good progress so far.  Sure I work hard at it but it’s competitive out there!  I am making a great deal of progress cleaning out files and book shelves.  However, my office is messier than ever as the project progresses.  I should take before and after pictures.

On the subject of July 4, Lorianne from Hoarded Ordinaries posed this very interesting question:  What is the price or cost of freedom?  My knee jerk reaction is that of the little girl’s in her post: freedom is free.  Or at least it should be.  Tyranny, on the other hand, is expensive.  And getting out from under tyranny is even more expensive, which I suppose some moron would argue that that is the price of freedom.  I disagree.  Freedom should be free and no one should have to pay to escape tyranny.  This argument is closed in my opinion so don’t try to convince me that I’m wrong.

How was your July 4?  We had a quiet one.  In fact it was too quiet.  I felt rather isolated from my family members.  Dave’s parents are on vacation in Canada.  I don’t live close enough to attend the annual family barbeque at my cousin’s house.  I wanted the annual family barbeque to be at my house this year but we haven’t moved yet.  I had hoped that we’d be settled into our new place in Washington by now but the job market has prevented us from doing that so far.  Maybe Labor Day…

Still, I managed to put together a very nice barbeque for ourselves.  I tried a recipe for marinated chicken I found in Sunset magazine some time ago.  It’s a Portugese/African fusion marinade consisting of 1 c. fresh lemon juice, 3/4 c. olive oil, 1/4 c. chopped garlic, 2 TBSP hot chili peppers (hence the name Chicken piri piri), 1 tsp. ground cumin, 1 tsp. dried thyme and oregano each.  The recipe calls for 2 cut up chickens but I just used one and obviously had plenty of marinade when I took out the chicken (marinade at least 4 hours).  I’m not sure it would’ve been enough marinade for 2 chickens though.  Anyway, our kettle barbeque isn’t big enough for two chickens.

After you light the charcoal, wrap cobs of corn in foil and put them toward the outside edge of the grill while the charcoal flares up.  Let the chicken drain before putting it on the grill but reserve the marinade.  After the coals have burned down sufficiently spread them in the thin layer the put the chicken on the grill and close the lid.  Watch for flare ups and spray with a squirt bottle (or gun) if necessary.  We didn’t have that problem after an initial flare up — the chicken didn’t get burned.  Turn the chicken over after about 20 minutes then place fresh asparagus directly on the grill or make a packet of foil and put that on.  Meanwhile, heat up the reserved marinade in a sauce pan and let it boil gently for a while to kill any chicken bacteria.  Then add a cube of butter and let it melt.  Keep warm.  When the chicken is done (no pink — cut to test) serve with the vegetables and put the heated marinade on everything.  Enjoy!  It is the best grilled chicken I’ve ever eaten.  It would still be good without the peppers if you’re sensitive to spicy foods because the lemon flavor really comes through.  Yum, the thought is making my mouth water and I haven’t even had breakfast yet!