Monthly Archives: April 2010

I ain’t been pinched yet!

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Alright, so I know smoking is bad, it stinks, people hate it, it causes cancer, stains your teeth, smells up your clothes and hair, and it’s banned pretty much everywhere now. Yadda yadda, I’ve heard it all. So what? I’ve been a smoker for way too long and while I do intend on quitting one fine day, until then, my life is a series of annoyances at smoking laws created by uptight assholes.

It all started with restaurants. First they got rid of the smoking sections. In the beginning, I was fine because I understood why people didn’t want smoke in their faces while they ate. Cool, whatever. Then smoking was banned in clubs and bars – the places where people smoke the most. This was especially annoying because smoking and drinking are like chocolate and peanut butter: Two great tastes that taste great together. Trouble was, if I wanted to smoke, I had to trudge all the way out to the outdoor patio, stand with a bunch of miserable jerks and freeze my tail off. Eventually, I got used to it and got to like the miserable jerks out on the patio because I was one of them and we were like a 2 minute family who had just one thing in common: smoking. It’s funny how that’s often enough in conversations.

Soon after, I started hearing about not being able to smoke in your house if you had a paid worker there. And then something about not being able to smoke in your car if you had passengers. Was it illegal? Who knows. The worst of it came when entire city streets started banning smoking not just 20 feet from any doorway, but on whole blocks, anywhere, everywhere. This meant you couldn’t sit in an outdoor patio of a coffee shop, restaurant, or bar and smoke. Not anywhere. No way, no how. You couldn’t even smoke while walking down the street. My own hometown, the backstabber that it is, recently enacted this law and I have since given it the middle finger. At first I was wary, but over time I realized that they couldn’t enforce it, weren’t enforcing it, and no one cared.

As I proudly defy the law like the rebel I am, like every other smoker in town, I must also defy the laws of hotels around the world. AJB and I travel quite a lot and I’ve encountered more and more hotels instituting non-smoking rules with ridiculous fines up to $250. They reason that smoking is a danger, that extra work must be done to clean the room after you leave, the smell doesn’t come out of the carpets and draperies, and that other patrons dislike it. These all sound like perfectly reasonable reasons. And they are, but what really grinds my gears is that because I smoke, I am treated like a second hand citizen and forced outdoors in inclement weather – which is rude. As a paying customer, I shouldn’t be treated this way.

The bans on smoking are similar to alcohol prohibition in the 30′s. You know how riled up people got over that. I suppose smokers are more apt to abide by the rules because we’ve been conditioned all our lives that smoking is bad for you, it kills, it smells, etc. etc. We have been inundated with anti-smoking ads since we were kids and are generally poorly tolerated wherever we go. It’s as though we’re branded with a gold star. We endure looks and fake coughs by prissy bitches when we walk down the street. We’re also made to feel guilty about our habit – that our smoking isn’t just bad for us, it’s bad for everyone around us, and we will literally kill everyone we love.

What strikes me as curious is why smoking has become the villain of this decade. Why not alcohol which accounts for more drunk drivers, domestic violence, cirrhosis of the liver, alcoholism, girls gone wild, fights, drunk texting, drunk dialing, and a host of other annoying problems? Why not? Because no one is telling us it’s bad. There are a hundred sickly death commercials against smoking, but every alcohol commercial depicts it as glamorous and elite. P Diddy drinks and looks like a bad ass, so can you. Alcohol will get you laid and smoking will give you lung cancer. Ok, so this is probably true, overlook but overlooking the problems caused by drinking creates an imbalance.

I have no idea why smoking has been villainized and other indulgences have not. McDonalds makes you fat and gives you diabetes, but they’re not banned. The world is a fucked up place and while I really do understand that smoking is bad, it’s shameful that smokers are treated like dogs to sit out in the rain. I suppose the reason I don’t really do anything about it because I know that I’m going to quit someday. I don’t really want to be a vigilante for smoker’s rights, but there is a true injustice happening and frankly, people need to have their attitudes adjusted. Until then, I’ve figured out some crafty ways to get away with smoking in hotels rooms and I ain’t been pinched yet.

P.S. I just found a website that indicates California law states 35% of rooms in hotels and motels must be smoke-free. So why are they all smoke-free? WTF?

The Big Stress

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AJB told me that moving is among one of the most stressful times in a person’s life. I’m inclined to believe him. Just a few short weeks ago, we made the final decision to sell our house. We did not take this decision lightly, but I don’t think anyone ever realizes how stressful these things are or how you’ll react to them.

After two grueling weeks of packing (most of which was done by AJB’s assistant) we are officially on the market and had out first agent caravan today. While I remain confident that this is the right choice, it still adds a major element of hardship. We were told by our agent that we should pack as much as possible and clear out the house as best we could. We took this as gospel and cleared out about 80% of our belongings. While packing, it’s hard to know what you may or may not need access to. I asked myself what I could live without and crossed my fingers I was right. At the time, it seemed like I could do without a lot. Little things, like a toaster…we packed it because it takes up space and you can make toast in the oven. OK, so getting along without it hasn’t been horrible. In fact, oven toast is pretty good. I packed up most of my Winter clothes because Spring is here and it’s warming up…except, it keeps warming up and cooling off. And because everything we own that’s left has to be stashed during showings, I don’t know where anything is. We are literally living a bare bones existence, I have one pot holder and no casserole dishes. I did, however, take a stand and kept most of my clothes. Although, it wasn’t much of a stand since I made no formal declaration.

Realizing that there are people in the world who don’t have electricity, let alone toasters, I’m reminded that as an American, I have many luxuries. The hard part isn’t so much living without, it’s that my normal life is disrupted. My day to day routine is fucked up and I can’t find the book I had to return to the library. Things we take for granted are now in new places or in storage. Our kitchen trashcan is in the basement. Our water dispenser is in the garage. It’s like living in Wonderland: Everything is nonsense. Nothing is what it is because everything is what it isn’t. It’s like living someone else’s life. This isn’t our furniture, these aren’t our smells, and strangers are walking through our home leaving lights on and windows open. I can’t cook, I can’t leave my socks on the floor, and aw crap…I packed up The Sims!

Our cats are staying with my brother and I miss them. Knowing that they’re over there, miserable (because they hate change), wishing they could come home, not seeing their little curled up bodies at the foot of the bed…it’s been rough. Not to mention JCS isn’t loving his new guests. I guess this is how parents feel when their kids are off at Summer camp. Empty nest syndrome.

I’m dealing. Some days better than most. With any luck, it will all be over soon and we can start shopping for a house. Of course, this brings up the all new technical difficulties of house hunting, packing up the rest of our stuff, waiting for the old house to clear, waiting for the new house to clear, unpacking, finding new and exciting places for all our things, getting used to new noises, a new neighborhood, and every other challenge that comes with moving out, moving in. Meanwhile, I’m still trying to work, build my new website which should have been done in January, trying to eat right when take-away is so much easier, not getting enough sleep, missing my cats, and living in a fishbowl.

Soon it will all be a distant memory. We’ll be in the house we really love and wonder why we ever moved to Linda Vista Ave.

Getting Specific

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I have this trick that more recently, people call “The Secret”. It’s not really a secret and I don’t want to call it that because I never read the book. Also, it sounds dumb. This trick is simply asking for what you want and being as specific as possible. Seems that whenever I do this, commit my desires to paper or embedded thought, they come true. For example, at one point in my life I was frustrated with dating, hating all the idiots who’d slithered into my life and was ready for a change. As I was walking to work one day, I began thinking specifically about what I wanted out of a mate: Funny, smart, have common interests, doesn’t have to have the same taste in music as me, has a car, is responsible, already has a career, and adores me. If I’d known that two weeks later I would meet my husband AJB, who is all of those things, I might have asked for David Bowie. Just kidding babe. I love you :)

I believe this system works. Call it whatever you want. Whenever I’m vague things don’t turn out the way I envisioned them. By the way, this also doesn’t seem to work for gifties like a new car radio or new lenses for my camera, although this does work when it’s close to my birthday or Christmas. Go figure.

With this in mind, I’ve been trying to get specific about what I want in a new house. AJB and I get a do-over and are on the market. What do I want? When it came to this house, I asked for a house I didn’t hate – and I don’t hate this house. This time, I’m getting detailed.

I want:

A house with 3 bedrooms and two office spaces – office spaces can be located off the main house (on property), but will need to be insulated and be a proper working environment – not a garage; unless it’s a converted garage. A formal dining room and a kitchen large enough to cook a family meal in. Specifically, I want lots of counter space. I want a built-in breakfast nook. I’d prefer a kitchen with 1940′s to 1950′s style upgrades with newer equipment. I like white cabinets in the kitchen. The bedrooms don’t have to be large, but I want a big walk-in closet. I want bathrooms like the kind you see in Martha Stewart Magazine, you know, where everything looks like it was bought at Restoration Hardware. I want pretty tile and Craftsman fixtures in the bathroom, none of this jacked-up Middle-Eastern-friendly tile you see everyone using. I don’t want to have to re-do the bathrooms. I want hardwood floors throughout the house, but won’t complain if some parts have carpeting. The house must be a Craftsman built between 1901 and 1920 with lots of original details. Is a Batchelder tile fireplace too much to ask for? I want that too. We like Clinker Brick or River Rock as details on the front of the house. A want a nice sized backyard with enough room for fruit trees and a small Victory garden; a place we can hang out in during the Spring and Summer months. This house should be located on a quiet, safe, tree-lined street with trees that look like Bruce Ave. in Glendale. No junky neighbors, no busy streets; preferably in the Historic Highlands or Madison Heights area, but as long as the other conditions are met, the neighborhood is flexible. I want a nice little front yard with grass. I want a wrap around porch or a porch large enough that we can sit on and watch the world go by; maybe even a porch swing. I want this house to be up to date with electrical and plumbing and not require too much work to fix up. There shouldn’t be any structural problems, it should have central air and heating. Most importantly, this house should take my breath away and make me feel at home. It should be comfortable and it should feel like the house I was meant to live in.

So far that’s it. If I come up with more, I’ll add it later. I may also start collecting photos. OK Universe…get to work.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times

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If you’re like me, occasionally old sayings pop into your head and you go, “ain’t it the truth?” Well sir, today’s blog title is indeed the truth for these most certainly are the best and worst of times.

I’ve been attempting to articulate what I’m feeling over the last two weeks and finding that run on sentences run away with themselves. I’ve found that the simplest way to put it really is: Best of times, worst of times. You see, after much discussion and only three years later, AJB and I have decided to move. If you’ve seen our magnificent home, you might be wondering why. Then again, if you’ve seen our magnificent home, you may already understand the reasons. This house is truly a sight to be seen, overlooking the grand Arroyo with majestic mountains in the distance, flora, fauna, ancient trees, artistic attention to detail, nooks, crannies, dreamy landscaping and just a stone’s throw from the Pasadena Bridge. All that is true, but while it comes with a great deal of benefits, it also comes with it’s fair share of burdens. It’s not just that it’s hard to maintain, it’s that every job doubles in cost due to the size and historic nature of the house. There is also the issue of living in one of Pasadena’s busiest and clusterfuckiest areas: The Rose Bowl.

Alright, I admit, we should have thought about all that when we moved in (and we did), but we were fairly certain we could handle it. We also hoped that we’d get used to the noise and the traffic. I haven’t. Furthermore, I’m convinced this house is just too big for us. In a mere 5 years all of AJB’s kids will be off to college and we’ll have less need for space. I’m not a big house kind of person anyway. I do love so many things about this house, but we’ve never really claimed it as our own. In the end, the cons outweigh all the impressive attributes on mostly an emotional level. This has always been my house, it’s never been my home.

Today the movers came. We’re staging the house and getting it all prettied up to sell. We’re fairly confident it will sell, but you just never know. These are uncertain times. Meanwhile, the search for a homier house and that desperate “what if we never find the house of our dreams” feeling is setting in. I worry about such things and fear that even though I know we’re doing the right thing, it may not pay off. I hope it will and I’m attempting to stay positive, but again…you just never know.

Over the next couple of weeks the house will be cleared out, prepped, repaired, polished, and primped. Photographs will be taken, ads will be placed, and strangers will walk along my halls, peek into my closet, and poke around in my drawers. I can’t help but think about all the “what ifs” and ponder all the ideas and dreams we had for this house. All the changes we would make, all the gardens I would tend, the additions and subtractions – none of which ever really came to pass. Should I look upon this house as a learning experience? What lessons will I take to the new house?

Regardless of how much I know we’re right, I can’t help but feel sad. I find that I’m constantly reminding myself that we’re doing the right thing, that something better is on the horizon. Burdens aside, I will miss this house because it symbolizes so many things and has been a source of good and bad feelings over the last three years. My emotions are in a turmoil. I suppose I won’t have clarification until we find a new house, until this house sells and we’re able to make a clean break. Only then will I have certain closure.