Greetings. This blog comes to you from the new OCMehls news desk, replete with little nurgles of static-attracted styrofoam. After a second, labor-intensive day, my wife collapsed to an early slumber, I have decided to blog about the first 32 hours of full-time living in our new house.
Rather than some lame attempt at an integrated narrative, here are 32 random thoughts, memories and highlights, in no particular order (and probably of no particular interest):
1) Almost as much as the new house itself, the new furniture we've been purchasing, accruing and storing over the past four months is providing much joy. Our family room is entirely new, from entertainment center and flat screen, to new sofas, occasional tables and counter stools.
2) Syd's new bunk bed arrived this evening. Our last piece of furniture to be delivered, I believe. She LOVES it!
3) Lori masterminded a phenomenal job on the girls' rooms. She has more brainstorms brewing for the bathrooms, too. She should have her own HGTV show.
4) It's amazing how the few pieces of furniture we had in the old house that made the move here now look either a) shabby and dilapidated (i.e. our old sofa, now sagging sadly in our living room) or b) tiny. Our king-size bed, in particular, astounds me at how it seems to have shrunk. It dominated easily 80% of our old master bedroom, forcing you to walk sideways around it, the nightstands wedged to either side. Now, it looks like a kid's bed in our master. Seriously, there's so much room in there, it's obscene. But, in a good way.
5) Paying $500 to have movers do all the work on Friday was the best $500 we ever spent.
6) I've met two interesting characters in this move. Ed, the head of our three-person moving crew on Friday, was a largely unintelligible Mexican guy (spoke English, just in a slurred kind of way) who maybe had four teeth and wore a black dog collar embellished with two dozen or so inch-long silver spikes. I'm not sure what was stranger – the fact that he was wearing it or the fact that he didn't even bother to comment on it. I was waiting for the "I'm the big dog" joke, but apparently it's part of his standard uniform.
He informed us at several times that he's been moving for 17 years. When questioned about how his back has withstood all that wear and tear, he recounted how he fell out of a tree six years ago and was in traction for months – out of action for a year. Told he'd never move furniture again, he went to the Arizona desert where he met with a "90- maybe 100-year old shaman" who he's known for years. After four days in the shaman's care, Ed emerged from the kiva a new man. He tapped the lump beneath his t-shirt – an apparent bag of some Indian mojo curios that he claims to have worn around his neck every day since. He seems to literally believe he's invincible now.
Later in the day, I met Pat. Pat is a roving drywaller who was sent over by the builder to patch a few errant holes left behind by our A/V installer (a World of Warcraft addict himself, nonetheless). Pat is a pretty imposing sort of guy. Large, barrel chested, with an intense stare from deep-set eyes. The ferret-like Lennar rep who brought him over to the house spoke with the tone of a parole officer. "Now remember what I said about customer service, Pat." to which Pat replied, "Shut the hell up, it's 3:00 on a Friday." Chris laughed nervously and skittered away.
Pat has fiery strawberry blonde hair, much of which climbs up his neck and descends from his unibrow along the bridge of his nose, leaping like lemmings from the tip into the sea of his untamed mustache and beard. I've never seen so much hair grow, with length, down someone's actual nose.
Pat liked to talk. For the 45 minutes he was here, I think he worked 20. The majority of the other 25 were spent telling me about his stint in the '83 invasion of Grenada. For someone who admits to being in Grenada for merely 12 hours (in a conflict that lasted only two days), you would've sworn he was at Normandy. Deployed with the 82nd Airborne, his helicopter was three miles off target when it was shot down into the ocean by a Stinger missile. After his CO got killed, he was next in charge and had to lead his troops ashore. Many of those in his command were picked off by snipers in the trees. He, himself, was hit by mortar fire and lost an inch of his right leg near the hip. This launched him into a rant about the VA's inadequacies followed by his advice to never leave the resort compound when you go to Jamaica for fear of getting beat down by the locals. His eyes were a little hazy when he thought back on "the days when you could check a gun onto a plane." He was never vulgar or menacing, but there's something lurking underneath the surface that's a little...intense. Under different circumstances, I'd be really concerned to hear him say he's "coming back Monday to finish the job."
7) Apple TV is the coolest freaking thing. Even cooler than Blu-Ray...which is no slouch.
8) Finding things we've packed is like some insane game of Concentration. We probably spend two hours a day roaming the myriad boxes looking for crap. "Bar soap...bar soap...I think I packed that....HERE! Crap, spatula set. Okay, com'on Ethernet cable...Daddy needs some Cat 5..."
9) There is a gang that roams our neighborhood. I've seen them, much to my dismay, for a few weekends now. They dress in all-black and like to walk in our front yard – kicking around in the grass. They're crows. Big ass, backwoods crows. And I think one of them has it out for me. They like to pick seeds or some other unseen critters out of our grass. When I show my face at the window or open the door, five or six of them fly away to other developments. But one always stays. Maybe he hops a few times, but he decidedly stares me down. I'm not exaggerating. Sure, I can't be certain it's the same crow each time, but there's always one who wants to be the hero. The gauntlet's been thrown down in this human/avian turf war. Me and that crow? Yeah, something bad's gonna happen soon, I can feel it.
10) I have a love/hate relationship with that cling wrap packing crap. Lori must have stock in the company who makes it, because she wrapped EVERYTHING in the stuff. I admit, its utility is clear. But the only things that hurt worse than my upper back and shoulders right now are my fingertips...numbed from clawing and pulling at that confounded stuff. Why can't they make some sort of antidote for it? Some kind of spray that deactivates the static tension and lets it all fall to the floor. Lori claims that I need to be more patient, find an end of the wrap and lovingly reverse its course around each piece rather than tear at it violently. I think I'm going to create some fusion technology that's one part Saran Wrap and one part the Clapper. "Wrap on, wrap off, Unwrapper."
11) Wood floors are awesome. Distressed wood floors are even better.
12) Our side yards are like a parallel universe right now. Looking through the windows is like looking through a time portal to when the Earth was young and dinosaurs were king. The day we get that landscaped and can enjoy a space that amounts for 5,600 more square feet of our lot will be a great day. An expensive day, no doubt, but a great one.
13) The girls have instinctively begun a daily practice of finding every hidey-hole in the house. The fact that I haven't quite gotten used to the acoustics in here either makes finding them tricky. I hear them snickering from what sounds like one room and then they spring out from a space between the couches. I can't let on that I'm unable to accurately track them. That will only encourage their wild behavior further.
14) When we hear noise in our house, it's because we make it. Not because someone on the other side of a wall is.
15) No one here misses the condo. Visiting it is a bit like leaving Hotel Rwanda to tour the surrounding countryside. Okay, I exaggerate, but you get the point.
16) Having a entertainment center full of cutting edge electronics: good. Five remotes that each resemble a NASA mission control panel: not so good. A future universal remote: priceless.
17) Can we actually have too much storage space?
18) The garage floor. To epoxy or not to epoxy, that is the question.
19) I want to write a symphony for all the button noises the electronics in this house make. The TV, the fridge, the stove and microwave, the washer and dryer, the dishwasher...they all have various, musical alert sounds that, while kind of novel and cool, will undoubtedly lead to a schizophrenic, Pavlovian confusion over whether our sheets are dry or the turkey is on fire.
20) I wonder if one of those streetsweeper trucks could take fit down our front hall.
21) For the kind of money we just put down to buy this house, and the kind of paperwork we had to complete, you think we wouldn't have to fill out additional forms and wait two weeks for a friggin' pool key. What kind of stuff goes on at that clubhouse anyway? It better be like a
Eyes Wide Shut party to make this wait worthwhile.
22) Why did I sign myself up for 32 thoughts? I should've written this 10 hours ago. Then I'd be done.
23) There was a distinct moment yesterday when I felt a tear come to my eye and a lump surge in my throat. Lori was off picking up the girls from school. The movers had left and then the painters. Suddenly, I was alone in the house. I went upstairs to where I knew a bathroom window was open. Upon closing it, the sound and/or the pressure in the air just changed. Like the vacuum created when a plane door closes. And at that moment, I realized that this was all ours. That was the first moment of quiet pause I had to realize the fact that it was a done deal. The drawbridge was up and the castle secured.
24) If I'm not careful, people are going to think I'm simple. if anyone were to observe me over 20 of the past 32 hours, they'd see me walking around with this chimp-like grin. It's totally involuntary. This feels that good.
25) Temporary blinds. You gotta love them.
26) In case you should wonder, our email addresses and phone number remain the same.
27) I haven't parked in a garage in 9 years. Frankly, I didn't when I lived in Lori's house, either. Come to think of it, I don't think I've parked in a garage since high school! And until we unpack the boxes now squatting in half of our new garage, I still won't. What's another week or two, right?
28) It's amazing how having a house actually motivates you to have people over. Since we've lived here, we've never felt compelled to have friends stay and visit. That's all about to change.
29) First it was albums. Then it was CDs. I'm amazed that I've now packed my CDs away since most of my collection is ripped and distributed between my iMac, iPod and, now, Apple TV. In fact, I gave one of our moving guys our CD wall. This coming from the dork who compulsively alphabetized every new CD he bought. Time's they are a'changing.
30) It cracks me up to see Lori worry and fret over the unpacking of every box with almost equal intensity as she did packing them. I figure four weeks in, four weeks out.
31) The sound of my girls laughing and playing in this house is a beautiful thing. And the fact that they're doing it in parts of the house not directly under foot is even better.
32)
I have no regrets.Labels: New house