GIANT WAVES CONTINUE

Thursday, December 29, 2005

I meant to post this last week, but in the holiday rush I am late.

There were 15-20 foot waves last Wednesday. Very dangerous but also, a surfer's dream. Big surf has continued on through this week, though not with the intensity of last Wednesday.

130 people had to be rescued by the Coast Guard and a very experienced lifeguard actually drowned. They are telling people on the beach not to turn their back toward the surf.

All this big wave stuff has turned Encinitas into a very busy place! There are a lot of old VW buses with surfing gear strapped on them and tons of traffic at the beaches. It's really cool and weird to be inside working at a bustling little ad agency, and then outside everyone's on vacation. Feels like a Twilight Zone episode.

GROWING UP

Wednesday, December 28, 2005

Sarah actually made it through her first sleepover at a friend's house. She's tried before but has always called us to come get her in the middle of the night. But last night, she made it all the way through! And today she made origami teacups with a new kit she got as a gift. She is so amazing. Wish I was there.

GOT THE HOLIDAY TRAVEL BLUES

Tuesday, December 27, 2005

I usually have an admirably high tolerance for travel-related hassles, but for some reason, today was particularly irritating.

Maybe it's because this is my 8th trip back and forth to Chicago since November. Maybe it's because so many more people are traveling over Christmas this year versus other years (it seemed to be nearly as many as Thanksgiving). Maybe it's because I didn't get much sleep last night (I had a nightmare about a big snake that was lost somewhere in our house, probably spurred on by my mom having a big lizard in her house, yuck).

Somehow the taxi driver was late and didn't know where he was going, the passengers were more numerous than usual, needed showers, and were personal space encroachers, I got chosen for "additional screening" for the first time since 2001, the flight was quite bumpy, the luggage was late, the parking lot shuttle was even later, and it all just got to me more than usual.

I remember when I used to think flying was fun... or at least, productive quiet time. Maybe it will be again after the holiday travelers cease traveling.

I think when we do end up moving, I'm not going to get on a plane for a very long while.

DAMN, NOT ANOTHER ONE!

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

I found yet another Michele Edelman... yes, she has 1 less L than the other Michelle and me, but still. She is the VP of Marketing at Warner Home Video. I have put a link to her on my page, along with the other Michelle Edelman who is a virtuoso violinist.

Maybe I should organize a little convention? Preferably on a Wednesday night.

THE MOST BORING INDIVIDUAL ON THE FACE OF THE EARTH

I have been here for about a month and am starting to settle into a routine.

I wake up at 6 a.m. and go for a walk for 30 minutes. Shower, breakfast, pack lunch, talk with Carol. Depending on how many times I hit the snooze alarm and how long I chat with Carol, I get to work between 8:30 and 9.

I call Don on the way to work to find out about him and the kids.

Work till anywhere from 6 to 8 p.m., depending on how much is going on. Call home several times throughout the day. Go home and make dinner and talk with Carol.

Mondays I go grocery shopping after work. Wednesdays I do whatever other errands I have, make phone calls, meet a friend for a drink or dinner; Carol's kids come over on Wednesday nights and I like to be out of the way. Thursday night is laundry night. Friday I travel home.

Occasionally I meet a friend for lunch. Occasionally I watch TV in the evening and I am reading books. Occasionally I get the car washed.

This sums it up.

PERSPECTIVE IS EVERYTHING

Monday, December 12, 2005

Everywhere in the world there is crime, bad weather, and miscellaneous other trouble. It's all a matter of your perspective.

It takes 6 minutes to report the weather in Chicago and also in San Diego. It's just that there's a lot more ground to cover in Chicago. For example, last week when the snow hit, there was a 3 hour commute time from Chicago to any reasonably located suburb. In San Diego, it was cold for a couple days. High 50s. People panicked. There were space heaters and turtlenecks.

It takes about 12 minutes to report the general news on the local evening segment. In Chicago, most of this is devoted to crime. In 2004, there were 36,786 violent crimes committed in Chicago, so only the most horrific ones can make the news. In San Diego there were 6,774 violent crimes in 2004. Considering Chicago is about twice as big as San Diego, one would conclude that Chicago is a far rougher place even without the media emphasis on the worst of the worst of its crime. Still, San Diegans feel no more secure or crime-free than Chicagoans. In fact, one of my workmates pointed out an area where "there's an element." What could that mean, 2 teens keying cars? Or maybe I misheard and we were near the zoo and he said there's an elephant?

I am writing this down so that I can remember. Perspective is a very important thing. I hope to be able to tell my kids, you're not cold. Siberia's cold. Not all kids get cars when they turn 16, some of them have to live in cars. You may live at the beach, but life isn't a beach. (Though I hope to perhaps impart this knowledge to them in a more uplifting way...)

PRICE CUTS

Tuesday, December 06, 2005

Fired the agent on our Lisle home. She was kind of dumb, which doesn't help any when the market is slow. Hired new agents. Cut the price by $30,000. Having part of the house repainted. Having our stucco inspected and warranteed.

Cut the price in Marco Island by $20,000.

Still waiting.

PS, I believe we can conclude that the statue of St. Joseph does NOT work for Jews.

AN OFFER

Wednesday, November 30, 2005

We got an offer on our Marco Island place today. It was a very lowball offer from another real estate agent, who seemed to just be "fishing." We countered the offer, but the numbers are so far apart, I'm sure we will never hear from that person again.

Hopefully it's a sign of more to come...

THANKFULNESS

Tuesday, November 22, 2005

This week is Thanksgiving. I will be going home to the 20 degrees, and to the warm hugs of family. Sounds really good, all of it.

It's a week to take time out and think about being grateful, about what is right in life. It seems more important this year, when my family is separated and we mostly talk about what's wrong about that.

But in the scheme of things, we live great lives. We are temporarily out of synch, not where we want to be. But we live great lives.

We complain that it's cold when it's 60 (here in San Diego) or 20 (in Chicago). But we don't know the cold of Siberia, in an unheated home with plastic on the windows, and no socks.

We're starving by lunchtime, but we truly don't know the meaning of that word.

We make holiday wish lists that mostly include more of what we already have. We have no idea what it's like to be without.

Strangers are kind to us. We can go to the doctor whenever we want to. We don't have to sleep lightly at night, thinking we are unsafe. We have fresh water every day. Transportation to wherever we wish, whenever we wish. We have love, and the time to enjoy it.

This year, I'm thankful for all those scarybad things that I don't know and have never experienced. That my complaining is the complaining of a loved, educated, healthy, and in so many ways, wealthy person.

GUILT GUILT GUILT

Thursday, November 17, 2005

Yesterday, Chicago awoke to 19 degree temperatures and snow flurries! Here was what the weatherman wrote in today's Chicago Tribune:

high: 30
low: 13
January-level chill; the coldest November 17 in 46 years! Sunny, readings well below normal. The coldest high here since March 8. Winds ease but afternoon windchills only return to the teens. Increasing cloudiness Thursday night. A bit of light snow or some flurries arrive after midnight. Steady/slowly rising readings late.

Reality is setting in. They are there, in the cold and the wind, and I am here, where I am starting to feel the difference between 61 and 65. I feel terrible that the houses aren't selling and they are having to endure what we thought we would miss: another Chicago winter.

Sarah is in a talent show this Friday. As it turns out, she is the only one in her 3rd grade class who was selected and she will perform for the whole school along with kids from other classes. This is a big moment for Sarah! She will be playing 10 Chocolate Cookies on the piano and no doubt, she will do a great job and look super cute. It's the first such performance that I will miss.

Sarah was also selected to read aloud in the school holiday performance, something she's been wanting to do since she first started participating in them back in Kindergarten. This too, I will miss.

Don't get me wrong, I'm really happy about everything in our lives and think that the current arrangement is the best for all, under the circumstances. But the circumstances are starting to bug me.

FIRST WEEK AT WORK

Sunday, November 13, 2005

I spent a full week at work last week. And it was great! With 40 people in the agency, it took me only 15 minutes to meet everyone that I hadn't previously met (though, I was tested on everyone's name on Friday and I got a C, so maybe I should have taken 20 minutes).

So far I have contributed to a pitch and about half the clients. And I've read nearly everything that's been published for the last 2 years.

I was most impressed by everyone's zeal, knowledge, and professionalism. In a city that's known for being laid back (I saw the research on San Diego for the Convention & Visitors Bureau client last week, so I am not just guessing here), NYCA is anything but. I think I have finally found a place where my own energy will be matched by everyone in the building's.

The evenings were (how shall I put this) boring. But that's okay. I adjusted to the time change and read a lot. This week I will meet up with some old friends that I have not seen in awhile, and start scouting out all the things we'll need when we finally do move. Doctors, lawyers, temples. Corvette places.

IT'S ALREADY HAPPENING

Wednesday, November 09, 2005

I have been eating this stuff called Flax cereal for the past 3 days. This morning it started to taste good.

WHAT WE KNOW ABOUT SAN DIEGO: UPDATE

Monday, November 07, 2005

It's my first day at work, and I guess, my 3rd official day as a San Diegan (San Diegoer? San Diegite?). So I do know a few more things now.

1. It's not 72 all the time. Sometimes it's 68 and sometimes it's 75. A "big warmup" is going from 68 to 75 in 1 day.
2. UGG boots are for 68 degree days. (I previously thought they were for 20 degree days.)
3. Garages are not for cars. They are living rooms with electronic doors.
4. It's really suspect that "Ahnold" Schwarzenegger was elected governor, as nobody claims to have voted for him.
5. You can get cheap liposuction done in Mexico.
   

NOT QUITTING MY DAY JOB

Last week, Don drove my car out to San Diego, and I stayed at home with the kids for 3 whole days.

And I use that term very loosely... I went to work and had babysitting help during the day.

And still. It. Was. Hard.

Let me detail for you, 8 p.m. to 8:17 p.m. on any given night.

8 p.m. Sarah, you need to practice piano before you go to bed. Go do it.
But I want to watch That's So Raven. I haven't watched TV all day, Mom!!!
Go play piano. I don't want to hear about TV.
That's so unfair. Dad lets me watch TV!
GODOIT!!!!
(She storms off to the piano. I hear paper fluttering and angry playing.)

8:02 p.m. Dogs are pacing. They have to go out.

8:03 p.m. Outside with the dogs. Becca comes out. She isn't wearing any pants. Put the dogs on the outdoor chain and get her back inside.

8:04 p.m. Retrieve the dogs. It is now raining. They look forlorn.

8:05 p.m. Drying off the dogs. Sarah is stuck on her new piece. Have to help her through a few measures. Phone is ringing. The machine picks it up. It's our realtor. Have to call her back after the kids are in bed.

8:06 p.m. Forgot Becca has no pants on. Ask her to tell me the story of how the pants got off. I get the runaround from a 3 year old. Ask her where the pants are. She put them in the hamper. Re-pants her.

8:08 p.m. Packing lunch for Sarah. Getting Sarah's allergy meds ready for her. Getting the homework sheet out for tomorrow. Cleaning up dinner dishes. Doing a Spongebob puzzle. All at the same time?

8:11 p.m. Sarah is finished practicing and is taking her allergy medication in front of That's So Raven. She is "starving." Too bad, no eating right before bed. Reprise of "that's so unfair, Dad lets me." We practice the hard spelling words during a commercial.

8:12 p.m. Becca is playing too rough with Eddie. Eddie is growling at her. I send them both to different corners. The dogs spot a cat coming downstairs and take off after it. Phone rings again. It's my mother. I could pick it up, but I don't. I don't want to scare her.

8:13 p.m. Cleaning up the living room. Shoot, I forgot to feed the fish. Start defrosting food. Throw in a load of laundry. Pour a glass of water for Sarah.

8:15 p.m. Heading upstairs with the kids for a bath. Becca climbs on the back of the office sofa, which gets her put into the corner again. Sarah's room is a mess due to an unexpected mid-evening outfit change; help her clean it. Becca gets the first bath while Sarah picks out her clothes for tomorrow. Sort the mail.

8:17 p.m. Call husband on his cell phone and tell him he is the greatest husband and father in the world. Because that's just 17 minutes of it!

IF IT'S GOOD, WE DID IT

Saturday, October 29, 2005

Heck with all this move stuff. Now here's something important. The first Edelman Dykshorn report card that has GRADES ON IT.

We picked Sarah up from school yesterday and huddled around the report card in the parking lot, like kids trading baseball cards.

Then we sang songs about As and Bs all the way to gymnastics! And we went out to dinner and told the waiter! And ate too much dessert!

Funny though. People seem to think that we parents deserve a lot of credit for this. Yes, we do the flash cards and the butt-kicking and the correcting of homework and the setting of rules and limits. But WE did not get the A- in math. WE did not pay attention in class and remain patient with ourselves while learning the concepts. This is Sarah's moment. Not the parents.

As for us, we are happy that simply doing our jobs, is helping Sarah reach what is her own personal potential. (And fearing we are not saving near enough for college.)

And of course, we are happy that we are the most embarrassing parents in the school. Here is the song we wrote after dessert:

• Report card, report card, you make us so fat
• Report card, report card, we love you for that
• With all of your As and Bs, you certainly aim to please
• Report card, report card, only 30 more till the SATs!

DOES NOT LOOK THAT BAD

Thursday, October 27, 2005

Well, as of this morning, here's how Marco Island looks. Pretty good! You don't see a lot of debris or down trees or anything. We still have not heard about our building in particular, but newspapers said the hurricane moved further to the south and so most of the island was untouched.

PRAYING FOR THE LEFT TURN

Wednesday, October 19, 2005

Egads. Hurricane Wilma is headed straight for our property in FL!

KEEPING OURSELVES OCCUPIED

Sunday, October 16, 2005

The last time Don's favorite baseball team, the Chicago White Sox, were World Series contenders, he was 3 years old. (There were still only 48 states. A loaf of bread cost 20 cents. You get the picture.)

Needless to say, we're all baseball all the time.

Sarah and I only today learned that Mike Sosa is no relation to Sammy Sosa. Don would be embarrassed to be hanging out with the likes of us, but really, he got no choice.

Meanwhile, our cat, Oakley, has given a commentary on the whole waiting-to-sell-a-house limbo:



Right on, Oakley.

THE RABBIT, THE DWARF, AND THE UNDERWEAR

Wednesday, October 12, 2005

I met Holly right after I had the most amazing lunch of salmon eggs Benedict. I just had to photograph it for you because it was so charming.

I had driven around Holly’s neighborhood a little bit before lunch, and it’s quite cute. It’s an area of older homes adjacent to a very pleasant shopping area. I could see myself getting a latte across the street and dropping off the dry cleaning and then zipping to work. I was excited to meet Holly and see what she was like.

Holly invited me into a living room that could have used Susana’s talents for a good week (see earlier post: the obsessive compulsive cleaner). There was clothing, toys, and various household items, just everywhere. I’m not sure where they sit.

In one corner was a cage with a giant white rabbit. Ricky. Ricky looked at me with his red eyes as if to say, really, are you sure about this? Because I’m not, I just have no choice, being a bunny and all.

Holly is on disability because her epilepsy medication makes her sleep constantly. Sometimes she works in a chiropractic office and sometimes she works at Von’s (a grocery store). But mostly, she has to sleep.

This explains why Holly is a tad behind in her and her son's laundry. She sorted boy’s underwear on the table where we talked. (OK while she talked. I was for some reason not in a sharing mood.)

Some of the conversation:

• You’re moving from Chicago? My neighbor is from Chicago. Maybe you guys know each other!
• My sister has three kids and she never does the dishes. It gets so bad at her house that she sometimes has to throw away her dishes and get new ones.
• My other sister has 2 disabled kids and whenever I stay there, I never get any sleep because they bang on the piano and they can’t be quiet when someone’s sleeping on the sofa.
• I was working real steady for awhile, but I had to stop for awhile because of an infected tattoo and then they wouldn’t let me come back.
• I got my son a mouse as a pet when he was 3 and a half and he kept that thing alive for two years. We’re not sure where the mouse actually went.

Honestly, it was like viewing a train wreck… you know you should move on but there’s just a morbid sense of wondering what’s next.

Then she took me upstairs to show me the room. Also no furniture, and there were cat carriers and litter boxes absolutely everywhere, in addition to the continuation of the mess from the living room. She told me they had 4 cats and 1 visiting cat. (What could this mean?)

I didn’t really have the stomach to look at the bathroom.

Then we went downstairs for more fun chit-chat. At this point, her friend had arrived. Gina (pronounced jy-na… yes, like hip-hop anatomy speak), is a dwarf. My mother tells me we should be referring to Gina as a “little person,” but medically and technically, she’s a dwarf. She was drinking Coke from a 2-liter container. And she is a bus driver. It all seemed so disproportionate. She sat at the table while Holly resumed sorting the underwear. The conversation continued:

• No drugs. I don’t want to see you shooting up in the hallway [this was necessary to say, I’m sure, because I had on my low-rise jeans and I look sort of menacing in them]
• The street parking is usually real good. As long as you make sure you lock your doors and don’t park too close to anyone, nothing ever happens.
• My son is really smart. Like, when he was 3, he was eating a McDonalds, and he looked sort of green and asked me if hamburgers were made out of hamsters. It really scared him. I told him, no! Silly. They’re made out of hamburger.

There was a story about Spaghetti-O’s and hand-washing, but really, it’s not fit even for the Internet.

I would have stayed to see what would happen next, but I was starting to feel itchy. Ricky looked at me like, please send an SOS to Rabbit Rescue for me…

THE GREAT ROOMMATE DERBY

Let me start off this entry by its conclusion. As of November 1, I’ll be bunking up with Carol, an energetic 47-year-old divorcee who knocks around her 4-bedroom house alone in a gated community in Oceanside. Her two teen kids mostly live with their dad in the house they were raised in, a few blocks away, and she moved into this house so they could be in quick walking distance whenever they wanted. They wander over a few nights a week, and then on the weekends, when for the most part I’ll be gone anyway.

She is a gregarious person facing living alone for the first time in a long time. Although I’m in very different circumstances, we share that feeling of being in a transition, but also in a time of personal discovery. I’m sure we’ll get along great. (Also she’s been working out like a fiend since her divorce so maybe she’ll kick my butt into shape.)

Living in a house ended up feeling like the right thing to do. There are families all over Carol’s block. It feels like the normal rhythm of life. I have gotten way too used to the presence of kids, and at least 20 feet separating you from your neighbor. All the apartments I visited seemed so impersonal and cramped.

At Carol’s, I get my own bathroom and I don’t have to park on the street. The benefits of these things are apparent but you’ll see why they looked especially good in a few paragraphs.

On my way to Carol, I met lots of interesting characters that I chose not to live with.

There was Priya, who’s writing her PhD dissertation in the psychology of attachment. This would have been good, I might have gotten some answers about my personality. Hers was the most expensive of the listings, and without any furniture. I am not too keen on having to rent a bed for what I hope will amount to a really brief time.

There was Matt, who lives with his wife and 5-year-old daughter, also in a big house. I started to get the feeling that many of these people bought homes above their means and now that adjustable interest rates have adjusted, they need some extra money. Matt’s going for his masters in physical therapy and his wife works in management at a hard disk company. Matt was very cool and was actually my second choice. But my bathroom was also the 5-year-old’s bathroom. There’s just something ookey about shaving in a shower you know will be graced by a 5-year-old who’s unrelated to you; I would have been obsessively scrubbing that puppy every single day. And, I could see myself waking her up constantly because my flight schedule on the weekends to and from Chicago is kind of brutal. They would come to hate my body hair and my odd hours.

Then, there were the people who made me wonder: do you really expect that someone will want to LIVE with you?

There was Sherri the realtor. I should have suspected something, when a realtor in one of the hottest markets in the country, is renting an apartment. At any rate, this woman was a major collector of flea market items. It was as if everything on eBay that lists for 99 cents, was in her apartment. She had everything from wall clocks to little tea sets, all meticulously displayed nearly everywhere, but never dusted. She had classic furniture such as the pink tweed La-Z-Boy with the doily on the back. Her listing said “beautifully decorated.” Hm. Anyway, she pounced on me immediately about my family’s plans to move to the area and our plans to purchase housing. I felt as if I would be subject to a Chinese water torture of talk about buying a home if I moved in with her. Not to mention we’d have to share a bathroom… which also had a curio display case in it!

There was Dee, whose listing said she was English, when what she really meant was, she speaks English. Dee is a perfume saleslady who works 2 other jobs and lives with her teenage son, Tez. Tez was dark and brooding, like a rap sheet in the making. I would be sleeping with my eyes open.

There was Susana, who is a divorcee living with her 9 year old daughter. Susana is an obsessive compulsive clean freak. She cleaned the whole 15 minutes I was there and washed her hands twice. There was nothing to clean. She worried me.

But the topper was Holly. I am going to devote a post purely to Holly in a minute.

WHAT WOULD JANET DO?

Wednesday, October 05, 2005

Starting to look for roommates. Here are exerpts from ads of a few I am NOT going to pursue. For your enjoyment.

5 BEDROOM HOUSE IN OCEANSIDE
Four people are living at the house at the moment; two of us leaving. Roommates staying: 28 year old and 27 year old male professional touring musicians; working most of the time and playing shows most of the weekends. Male or Female, must be financially responsible, very clean, easy going and a love for reggae music is a definite plus. No drugs.

Paints a picture, n'est pas? Do ya wonder why the 2 are leaving?

$7 - FREE FOR WOMAN INTERESTED IN FUN ATMOSPHERE
I live in a very comfortable apartment in North County. My place is centrally located and it’s in close proximity to the freeways. I am a conscientious, spiritually open-minded oriented man. I am honest, intelligent, and governed by morals and ethics, and I am willing to consider welcoming into my home a fun, feminine single female who is looking for a nice place to live, and desires working on a relationship.
THIS IS NOT A PROPOSITION FOR A SEX SLAVE. I want love, passion, and I long to find that special person. this is just one of many ways, in which I might find her.
Of course we will have to meet so that we can interview one another, talking about family, friends and so on.

Does he really want a girlfriend who's actually just looking for a place to crash? Also is he actually doing to collect the $7 in rent if she's not interested in fun? How does this work, exactly?

Thankfully, there are also perfectly normal people out there too, whom I will be calling up shortly. Or at least, more normal than these.

IT'S COME TO THIS

Well. It's become clear that our homes are not going to sell immediately and that I will have to go to Plan B.

For awhile it was really not clear what Plan B was. The options:

• Pospone starting my new job. This didn't make me very happy, because who knows when the properties will really sell? Indefinite = bad. Also I really want to start!
• Move everyone out to California and rent a place temporarily. Also not a great solution because the kids might have to change schools again once we find permanent housing. Sarah would be in three 3rd grade classes in one year. It just did not seem fair. Not to mention the expense of 2 mortgates and rent.
• Join the military. Free housing at Camp Pendleton. I think this won't work. I'm way too sissy to get through basic training, and Don has flat feet.

We finally faced the prospect of my moving out in advance of the family and renting something for awhile till our real estate issues resolve themselves. Using our endless supply of frequent flyer miles, I'll fly back on the weekends to be with everyone and spend the weeks in San Diego.

I have not lived by myself in 14 years. When I think back to the time when I did live by myself, it was generally not good. I was a mope. I ate the same thing for dinner every night. I need people.

This is when it hit me. I need roommates. Rooming with others will help defray the cost of this interim period. And, I won't be such a mope!

Maybe I can be like Janet on "Three's Company"!

GLAD THAT'S OVER

Well, we received our Canadian lead testing kit in the mail last night. After dinner, Sarah and I suited up in HASMAT-like fashion and tested the lunchboxes.

I'm proud to report that we in fact are NOT poisoning our children.

As well, our whole kitchen smelled like sulfer for a good hour. Gross. But a small price to pay for the truth.

Back to obsessing over moving...

OH GOOD, A DIVERSION

Sunday, September 25, 2005

Saw a newscast that soft lunchboxes like the ones my kids use, may contain 500x the safe levels of lead. But only ones that come from China. How many can that be?

Checked the kids' lunchboxes. MADE IN CHINA!

There are only 3 motivating forces for Jews.

1. The reminder of past guilt. (e.g. That thing you did, ruined my life.)
2. Guilt. (e.g. It continues to plague me daily.)
3. The promise of future guilt. (e.g. I will never get over it.)

This thing hits all 3.

Add this to the fact that this particular guilt includes the act of having made food for someone else (the hallmark of any Jewish mom, and I don't do it that often, so I pack a lot of identity into those school lunches)... and the threat of cancer... this is now a five star crisis in our house.

Despite the cataclysmic nature of this news bulletin, the lady at Walgreens had no idea what I was foaming up about. (Her kids buy lunch at school.) So I found home lead test kit on the Internet and ordered it, so that we can test the lunchboxes for lead. (And I even ordered extra in case one proved inconclusive or we accidentally break the sterile field or some crazy thing.)

An hour later I thought to check where the lead test kits come from. EEGADS, Made in China! Does anyone smell a conspiracy here besides me?

Then found lead test kits made in Canada and changed my order. Top exports in Canada:

1. Molson Golden
2. Lumber
3. Fuel
4. Hockey equipment
5. Sheepishness

So I'm not sure they can really be trusted to test lead levels, but at least you don't have the clear conflict of interest as with the ones made in China.

We're breaking out the paper bags temporarily. Of course it might already be too late, and they'll have 6 eyes and 12 limbs by middle school. Guilt guilt guilt.

VIEW FROM BELOW

Becca, our 3 year old, may be little, but she really captured it all this morning.

I heard considerable noise coming from her room this morning (at 6:45 a.m. Preschoolers do not understand the concept of "weekend"), so I went to see what was going on. Becca was routing through her books.

She saw me and said, "We still move to Cantifordia?" (pronounced "can't afford ya")

"Yes," I said, wondering where this was all headed.

"Can I bring this book?" she asked. In her hand was a book that she swiped from her sister some months ago and is now claiming for her own.

"Becca," I told her in my best Reassuring Parent voice. "Of course you can bring that book. You can bring all of your things."

"I can bring this lamp?"

"Yes."

"I can bring this chair?"

Actually, we're going to sell that chair, it's a glider rocker that we used when the kids were babies. But she is testing me. What do I do? Where is Dr. Spock at 6:45 on Sunday?

"Yes you can bring that chair."

"I'm getting a SWIMPOOL. I want a straight one." (she makes hand gestures to show me straight, not curved)

"OK..." Note to self, straight pool. I also have to remember to move near a good hotel, as certain picky relatives have said they will not sleep out on the patio (read post 9/23). The list of requirements is mounting. I am getting a headache over my right eye.

WHAT WE KNOW ABOUT SAN DIEGO

Saturday, September 24, 2005

1. It's like 72 degrees all the time.
2. It's approximately 2000 miles from Chicago.
3. There are no gutters on the houses because it does not rain.
4. The Pacific Ocean is cold.
5. You can go to Mexico for the afternoon.
6. It's the nation's 7th biggest city (Chicago is the 3rd largest, and is more than 2x the size of San Diego).
7. Despite the differences in size, San Diego has just as many Corvette dealers and specialty shops as Chicago (14).
8. It has a county fair much like you find in the Midwest, only less stinky animals and more craft stuff.
9. It can't keep a mayor to save its life because of campaign corruption (ah we from Chicago know all about this).
10. It is home to 22 species of bats (OK now I am reaching because we really don't know much).

DON'T GOOGLE YOURSELF IF YOU HAVE SELF-ESTEEM ISSUES

Friday, September 23, 2005

I found another Michelle Edelman, who is a violin prodigy and apparently a very sweet individual. I have linked her website under my links.

I bet she would have absolutely no problem relocating herself to Southern California and is not obsessing about housing.

IT DOES NOT ADD UP

House in Chicago suburbs + our condo in Florida = lean-to in SoCal (in a very good school district)

So at the moment we are trying to buy a house in Southern California. It would be simpler if we had won the lottery or bought Apple stock in 1982. But as my mother usually points out, I like to try things the hard way, just to see what it's like.

We will lose our beloved basement but apparently, will save money on heating bills, snow removal, and gutter cleaning. So there's that. Also any of you who are thinking of visiting, might have to sleep out on the patio. But San Diego is perfect for outdoor snoozing. You'll be fine.

HOW DID WE GET HERE?

On this crazy day when hurricanes are displacing the country's poor into school houses and stadiums, we're not anywhere close to CNN where every self-respecting person with a day off should be. We're in our backyard, huddled over a self made hole in the ground.

We buried a statue of St. Joseph in this hole.

It's not really that odd, in and of itself. We are trying to sell our house. People believe that St. Joseph is the patron saint of home selling. Saint Teresa of Avila prayed that Saint Joseph would intercede to obtain land for Christian converts, and buried medals with a symbol of devotion to St. Joey to seal the deal.

I guess what is odd is that we are Jewish, and have no business burying St. Anyone in the yard. It makes me wonder. Will this work for us? And if it does, what does this mean about the whole Jewish thing.

At any rate, this ritual shows you the state we are currently in over here. We are a typical Midwestern family of four who, since September 9, when I signed on to help run a great but undiscovered ad agency in San Diego, have been slowly becoming unhinged at the prospect of transplanting ourselves to California.