Tag: Santa Fe

Things I’ve Learned from Living in Santa Fe

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This might be the start of a whole new module. Santa Fe is beautiful and the light is gorgeous and there’s great art. There are also more than a few odd people. But we’ll get to that.

What I learned today?

It’s pronounced “ah-saw-EE” berry. Who knew?? All this time, I’d been thinking Acai berry was “a-CAY.” I won’t say I’d been pronouncing it that way, because I can’t vouch that I’d ever said the word out loud. But when the spam subject lines float by in my cursory examinations of quarantine land, my internal reader had the amazing diet solution as a-CAY.

Go figure.

I heard it on the radio. Several times now, the same ad. Finally it clicked through my consciousness. Try ah-saw-EE! Amazing diet blabbedy blah.

You likely don’t care. Or, if you did, you already knew. I’m just so amused that within days of moving to Santa Fe, I now know how to correctly pronounce the latest herbal diet fad.

Apropos of nothing, I know.

So, here it is, eve of my 43rd birthday. Cumulus clouds are mounding in billows of navy and white over the paper-doll mountains. The golden light is slanting. I’m pretty sure I saw Georgia O’Keeffe’s ghost out dancing with the quail.

Time for a glass of wine on the patio.

Dances with Quail

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My new offfice is now set up!

Qwest came today to hook me up, so I am once again live on the ‘net. I feel so…connected. Not a brilliant observation, but there it is. The cables are reattached, the Cadmus laptop docked and all peripherals performing their little jobs.

To celebrate, a covey of quail just trotted by, along the edge of the garden out front. Hummingbirds have been keeping me company all day. There are several large gillia plants, blooming profusely. One of the first things I learned in graduate school was about how the gillia flowers fit hummingbird beaks perfectly. They serve up nectar better than any other flower and hummingbirds give them great preference, guaranteeing consistent pollination for the plants. The harmony of nature. Perfect co-evolution.

Yes, we’re loving the new house.

And, boy, was it a marathon getting here.

The recap:

Our last episode found me in the Burlington, Vermont airport hoping for the best. Thanks to all who watch over me, the best happened.

I made it through Dulles and back into Denver only an hour late. Got to my mom’s about 2am Wednesday night. (Yes, one week ago!) We headed up to Laramie around 7am the next morning. My mom and Dave took the Jag, the Buick, the kitties and the musical instruments back down to Denver.

David and I loaded the U-Haul.

And packed.

And loaded the U-Haul some more.

Never mind that last Thursday was the eighth day of loading, it still took us until 11 fucking-o-clock that night to finish. In the end, the patio chairs wouldn’t fit. Nor would my hibiscus tree, jade tree, jasmine tree and assorted other plants. Abandoned, all.

We drove to Denver in such a stunned exhaustion that I don’t remember much of the drive. I had the easy job: follow the U-Haul truck. We got to my mom’s and to bed again around 2am. Got up at 5:15am to drive to Santa Fe in time for the closing.

At one point, around Raton, I nearly called David to tell him I couldn’t keep going. But I had to. No choice.

We made it to Glorieta by 1pm, though. Dropped off the U-Haul at the new house and drove the Jeep into town for the 2pm closing.

Which took 2.5 hours. I kid you not.

No, I don’t know why. Something about New Mexico legalities with much trading of papers between Provident Lending and Southwest Title and Escrow. I’m pretty sure I have NO idea what I signed.

We stopped at the grocery store for beer and a frozen pizza. While it cooked, we unloaded the traumatized plants that did get to come, watered them. After some food (no, we hadn’t eaten all day, except for coffee drinks and protein bars), we unloaded the U-Haul enough to get the futon out.

We made up the bed with the linens I’d remembered to keep out. Drank a beer to our personal sunset and crashed.

The next day, we unloaded the U-Haul.

That’s right: eight days to load, one day to unload. There’s a lesson there. Just don’t ask me what it is.

Of course we’re still putting things away. Hence my creation of “office” just today. I couldn’t get a pic of both the office AND the view. But the desk at the window is above and here’s what it looks like, with the focus out the window:

I know. Best Birthday Present EVER!

I’ll Think About It Tomorrow

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This may be my last post for some time.

So dramatic. But it’s all such a pain in the patootey that I’m feeling dramatic. Picture me swooning, back of my hand against my forehead. Oh Ashley!

Too much? Yeah, yeah, yeah.

But here’s the deal: I’m in the Burlington, Vermont airport, hoping to wing home through thunderstorms in Dulles to get to Denver at midnight. I’ll spend the night at my mother’s, hop up and drive to Laramie at 7 am. Signing closing papers on the Santa Fe house at 10am, finishing the final load of the U-Haul and driving to Denver to spend one more night there, then on to Santa Fe to take possession on Friday.

And that’s if everything goes perfectly.

The last two days have been a mad scramble of last-minute paperworks. Exchanging one chunk of money for another. My poor mother and Stepfather Dave — who owes me nothing, it should be said — have been scrambling to be our personal bridge loan. My mother has been to Kinko’s THREE times in the last two days, to send faxes for me. Let me tell you, the whole diaper changing/nursing/labor thing pales in comparison. It’s been both silly and infuriating. Selling one house and buying another on the same day is incredibly fraught. I don’t recommend it.

Eh, I wouldn’t listen to me, either.

I’d say stay tuned, but maybe you won’t be able to. The Qwest folks are scheduled to install internet for me next Wednesday. So, really, if you DON’T hear from me until Wednesday, all is well.

If things go badly… well, brace yourselves for ranting.

It’s entirely possible I’ll be spending the weekend in Denver and closing on Monday in Santa Fe. We’ll just see, won’t we?

But look: here’s our plane to Dulles, fully an hour before departure! The windows look out on a blue sky, gently lit by a declining sun. One cumulus cloud mounds in singular splendor over the mountain. Two hot air balloons have launched, one blue, one read, drifting serenely.

All is well, I’m thinking.

Stay Tuned.

Ode

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There go the tornado sirens. 10 am on the first day of the month. A regular forlorn hooting that has informed my life these past 252 months, that I’ll likely never hear again.

Twenty-one years ago this month I moved to Laramie, full of loneliness and ambition. I’d left my college friends behind, a network so intimate and involved that they still feel like family. I came to Laramie for graduate school. The starkness of those early days is still vivid. Living in my little apartment with my cats. My desk in the lab with my manic/depressive Hungarian (is that redundant?) PhD advisor, the air filled with his cigarrette smoke. All the friends who’ve come and gone over the years: grad students, professors, Silver Sagers.

This morning, David and I went for a walk around Washington Park. Then went for Saturday morning Starbucks (I get to have a peppermint mocha twist on Saturdays! Sugar-free the rest of the week) and Daylight donuts (the other special Saturday treat). We drove past our old house, the one we bought in ’93 and sold five years ago. The aspen tree we planted for Father’s Day that first summer stands taller than the apartment building next door. All around it cluster smaller aspen, the ones David and Mike illegally salvaged from the dump, when Walmart discarded them after a hailstorm.

We saw two friends at the donut shop. The writer Mark Jenkins, who’s off to Tibet next week for National Geographic and taking his fabulous wife, Sue along, and one of David’s Game & Fish cronies.

I think this is how it will be — the gradual good-byes. We ran out of time for a party. But this works. Saying good-bye to each thing in the course of errands. To each person as I gather, pack and redistribute around town.

To the vultures who circle above the skylights in my writing studio, sweeping out to the valley, following the cycle of their days.

HEA

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When we last visited our heroine, Sweet Sue was tied to the railroad tracks. The train was bearing down. I stood over her, black hat cocked in a jaunty manner, saying “if you don’t give me the deed to your house…”

Well, she didn’t.

The people at Puerto Court dug in and refused our offer as too low. So we turned around and offered only $5K more for the Glorieta Road house, which is perfect and gorgeous in every way. It must be noted that Kristine Krantz, aka KAK (couldn’t resist!), picked this as the front runner. She wins a free visit to our guest room!! (Okay, okay — so does everyone. But still…)

I keep thinking about those other sellers, of the Puerto house. I feel like they made such a mistake, refusing our offer. I wish I could call them and tell them to ditch their current agent, who is letting their house deteriorate and advises them to hold out for a price *I* don’t think they’re going to get.

But what do I know?

And it’s not my deal. I’ll add that to my mantra list: It’s not my life. It’s not my relationship. It’s not my deal. Rounds it out nicely.

Special Happy Birthday to RoseMarie today. I have a little something for you, but it’s not in the mail yet…

Yes, My Hat Is Black

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My life now is about negotiations.

I find myself becoming a shark. A surprising development, but there you are. We’ve all always known I’m not an especially nice person, but lately I find myself becoming downright mean.

Alas.

And still: I don’t regret it. Sometimes I think you have to be a bit mean, to fight for your own interests. Because there sure seem to be plenty of people out there who will take you for what they can if you let them.

Quick Summary: (nod to Marin)

We offered on Puerto Court, they countered, very high. We countered with a firm offer. If they won’t take it, then we’re offering on Glorieta, which is lovely and wonderful also. (If you don’t know what I’m talking about then you’ll have to skim the last few posts here, here and here.) Seems the people selling Puerto bought it just a year ago, lost the job and had to move. The house has been empty and on the market since December. The seller’s agent and even our agent feel bad for the sellers and seem to think we should make up more of the price difference.

Hence me feeling mean.

I’m sorry the market slumped. EVERYBODY is sorry. We lost about $100K of value off our house and that’s a sorry thing. But it doesn’t hurt us so much because we still have a lot of equity in our house. Which was a house we could easily afford. I’m sorry that things went badly for this other couple, but I really don’t feel we should agree to a less than ideal financial decision for us, to make things up to them.

Call me mean, indeed.

So, that’s where we stand. Hopefully the Puerto folks will be smart and take the offer. I really do feel it’s generous, given all we have to do to fix up the house.

Stay tuned…

A bit of my melodrama:

You must pay the rent!

I can’t pay the rent!

You MUST pay the rent!

I CAN’T pay the rent!

Where is my hero in dusty chaps and a silver Prius? Oh wait, I’m the bad guy!

And the Winner Is… (the real, for sure, one)*

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6 Puerto Court!!!
I know. NONE of you voted for it.
Because it’s a bit shabby in the current pics. I understand. Really, I do. This is all about the potential.

Actually, these pics are from the last time it sold, before it was abandoned for nearly a year and left to languish. And be invaded by mice.

I should mention that the whole “get rid of the mice smell” thing is in the offer.

But after that, some paint, some landscaping and some love ought to shine it up again.
Oh, and a refrigerator.
Who takes a refrigerator when they move?? Taking votes now on THE refrigerator to buy. And yes, in three to four years, we’ll likely leave it behind. After all, who takes a refrigerator when they move? Yeah.

No, you’re not seeing double. This is the master bedroom. The great room kiva fireplace has saltillo tile, the master kiva fireplace has carpet. (Soiled, nasty, soon to go.) They’ve done funky things with the shades in this pic, but the view above? Right out these windows, too.
I’m fantasizing about one of those four-poster beds right now. Oh yeah. A collection for my birthday, maybe? Only 29 shopping days left!

Okay, I know it’s fatuous to show a picture of the master walk-in closet.
But lookee!!

I’ve ALWAYS wanted one. Always, always, always. I’m like the woman in Broadcast News who converted her guest room into a closet. Only I didn’t. Still, I understand the urge.

SO ready to fill those nooks. Once the mouse-smell is gone. Did I mention the mouse smell? No no no.

And master bath. Needs work, alas. No, Felicia, I didn’t get the house with the fab tub. There is a tub, but it’s beensie. WHAT are they thinking?? But, the bath is huge and we’re thinking remodel dollars here. I’m seeing tile surround. I’m seeing sunken tub. I’m seeing glassed-in shower. Ask me again in two years, k?


Guest bath. Decent, eh? No good pics of guest bedrooms. Very blah. We’ll work on them. But come visit anyway!!

Big move now scheduled for August 14. Taking visitor reservations after that. We promise quiet, big skies, sunsets and coyotes yipping at night. You provide the rest.

Yippee-kay-aye!

*Oops, actually not! See later posts for news that Glorieta won with a last-minute nose across the line!

Our Eight Lovely Finalists

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1 Azul Place.

Pros: Most bedrooms, great rain catchment system with drip irrigation. Lovely office. Decent views, with more view potential. Trombe walls. Nice guest suite set-up. Kiva fireplace and patio access in master. Sunken master bath tub.
Cons: On private well which may have issues. Possible offer already.

6 Puerto Court.

Pros: Nice view, fenced yard, walled patio, trombe walls, kiva fireplace in master and patio/yard acess. Empty now for immediate move-in.

Cons: small bath tubs. Views aren’t perfectly framed. Needs a refrigerator. Not as glamourous.

4 Glorieta Road.

Pros: Fabulous views. Best asking price. Really lovely inside. Fantastic walled garden with grape arbor pergola.

Cons: Not in the best sunset-watching position. No fenced yard for the dog and proximity to wild wash could mean danger for the pets. Smaller.

4 Cibola Circle.

Pros: Most traditionally “Santa Fe.” Pretty mountain environment with gorgeous patio. Cozy and lovely, close to town.

Con: Highest per square foot cost. Small. No tub in master. No views. Propane heat. Some highway noise.

4 Camino San Lucas.

Pros: New, perfectly framed views. Gorgeous design. Premium lot.

Cons: Not quite finished. NO internet yet???

Ooops. Now I’m out of time. The remaining ones are:

1 Montana Court

30 Azul Loop

15 Monte Alto

Input?? Votes???

Under Contract

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Oh yeah.

I totally buried the lead on my last post. Blogger’s privilege. Somehow, the bigger the news, the more I want to de-emphasize it. Don’t make the gods jealous and all that.

So, yes, I absolutely told you about my suitcase caroming down the escalator and miraculously killing NO toddlers and only casually mentioned selling our house.

Which we have. Under contract. Sweet words indeed.

The bad news side of our good news is that they all wanted to move in RIGHT AWAY. Being the flexible types that we are, we (read: me) TOTALLY REARRANGED our plan. And we’re leaving for Santa Fe tomorrow to house hunt. My job? The one I get paid to do? I’ll work in the car while David and my mother drive. Yes, of course she’s coming along. House-shopping and Santa Fe are at the high end of her top-ten list — it would be cruel to keep her away. Plus she’s a delight to have along. I give thanks every day that David thinks so, too. And no, I’m not just saying that because she reads my blog.

Just so you can feel sorry for me: I figure I get to spend eight nights in July at home. Isn’t that sad? My home that I’m about to sell. To Californians! At least they’re moving here to be in the UW English Department, which means they love/read/write books. This gives me a lovely sense of continuity. And they love the fish pond, so are unlikely to fill it in.

I know. I know. I shouldn’t care. Here I am, pretending that I don’t.

La la la.

Convinced?

Okay, yes, I’m punchy. See me after another week of house-hunting and a work-trip to Nashville.

Maybe Marin has a point, that not only is it not necessary to blog every day, but that it also might be a really bad idea some days.

But hey — stay tuned for more house-hunting pics! Wheee….

Minding Your Manners

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So, this is funny.
Not the picture. At least, I don’t mean it to be.
This is just a picture of a dinner party on the porch at El Ferol in Santa Fe. In the somewhat shadowy foreground is Laurie, friend and boss, who you might recognize from a previous post. Across the table, facing us, are Annie and Alton. And next to them is Jan’s ex-husband, Fred.
This is how it worked: my mom has long been friends with Jean Galloway, neighbor and Channel 9 supergal now off doing her own consulting thing. When Jean’s sorority sister, Jan, got divorced from Fred (yes, the one in this picture), Jan moved to Denver to be near Jean and several other Delta Gammas from their chapter. Annie, though she now lives in Houston (and summers in Santa Fe) is also their friend from way back. (I’ve never quite pinned down if Annie is a DG, too — ah, my mother confirms that she is.) So, via the transitive property of friendship, my mom and her husband, Dave, are now good friends with Annie and her husband, Alton. And they, being truly lovely people, invited me to meet for dinner while I was in Santa Fe.
Now, normally I would never do this.
But when Kim and Val flaked on going out to dinnner, I called up Annie and asked if Laurie could come, too. Actually, first I called my mother (I know — I’m 42, what’s your point?) to ask if SHE thought Annie would be offended if I asked if Laurie could come along. I thought not, as that whole social group is pretty much “the more the merrier.” My mom confirmed this and assured me that Annie & Alton would also let us split the bill by throwing a couple of credit cards on the plate.
I call Annie. Of course she’s delighted for Laurie to join us. In fact, Fred (Jan’s ex, you may recall, who I’d never before met), was passing through Santa Fe on his way back to Denver (yes, he moved there after Jan did, but no, there was no reconciliation) after visiting their daughter, Becky, who is my age and who I’ve known for something like 25 years, in Scottsdale. And Fred was also joining us for dinner. Turns out that my mom’s Dave accurately predicted that we would no longer be allowed to chip in on the tab once Fred was in the mix.
And so it went. Lovely warm evening. Delicious tapas. Really yummy margaritas with an unpronounceable kind of tequila (Maluchachas? Something like that?). Delightful company. Annie & Alton picked up the tab. No protesting allowed.
So Laurie and I decided we have to send them a gift. Laurie decides to sic HER mother on the task, because her mother, in Kentucky, has entree to a certain something we happen to know A&A really like. (Can’t reveal more here, in case Annie reads this blog post.) Laurie’s mother scores! She’s so excited with her find that she insists on wrapping, packaging and mailing the gift to Annie and Alton herself.
Worse, she won’t tell Laurie how much it was. She tells Laurie that she’s just so pleased that Laurie had remembered her manners and thought to send a gift in this circumstance, that she doesn’t want us to pay her back. Yes, Laurie is older than I am.
We figure we now owe LAURIE’S mother a present.
My mother only commented that we’ll always be their little girls and to give it up.