Tag: Victoria

The Big Switch?

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Those of you who regularly read this blog know I’ve been in Santa Fe for work this last week, posting pretty pictures. This one is the last dregs of sunset from our little patio on the hill at Fort Marcy.

The other thing that’s been going on the last week is the Dealing with the Canadians. We’ve been trying to get the finances in place for the Big Move to Victoria, which is mainly about paying for the house we’ve nearly bought.

Which has been a major Pain in the Ass. Yes, this is the blog post of Many Capital Letters.

The pressure to sell our current house has been so great because the Canadians have been insisting on 35% down payment. Yes, a lot of money. This doesn’t even get us an amazing interest rate or monthly payment either, because they tack on extra points for Americans. Oh, and Americans can’t have amortizations of any longer than 25 years.
After a while, we began to feel like a particularly juicy American fish on an uncomfortable hook.
Our Victorian real estate agent has been great, but everyone else? Not so much. I started shopping around other mortgage brokers. Three never bothered to call me back. One said that, oh yes, we’d never do better than 35% down as Americans buying in Canada. Only one took the mission and he’s taken fully three weeks to not give us anything yet.
So there I was in Santa Fe, thinking how beautiful it is and how much we’ve always loved it. And talking on the phone with David about the Victoria PITA and how it just feels like the stars are not aligning for it. And I said, say, is there a good school here in Santa Fe? He looked it up. There is and it’s an Ivy League shool in the acupuncture community. Plus, it was only a few blocks away from where I was working. My colleagues and I swung by there at lunchtime. The facilities are the best of any I’d seen on the tours with David. The campus president was there, alert, attentive, produced an orientation and application packet immediately and there are openings for the Fall session.

David called and talked to him and likes this school even better than the Victoria one.

Our daughter, Lauren, the mortgage broker, looked up rates in Santa Fe and found us a stellar 10% down deal with her company.

Plus, her guy, Damion, is a mortgage broker licensed in New Mexico, so he can do the deal for us. Not only can we get a much better financial deal, they can benefit from the commission. MUCH better than feeding the Canadians their extortionate interest rates.

So this is what it feels like when the stars do start to align in your favor.
Unless the Canadians come up with a really stellar deal for us in the next few days, we’re moving to Santa Fe instead.
Which will be SO MUCH EASIER.
David and I spent a great deal of time in a school of thought that had you pursue your goals regardless of the obstacles. The greater the resistance, the more you were to screw up your will to break through. We could make Victoria happen; there’s no doubt of that. But we’ve come to believe over time that going with the flow of things can be its own reward. And when something is easy and drops in your lap, that’s something to be celebrated.
We’re feeling really good about this. After all the pressure, that’s something else to celebrate.
On the drive home, I saw a fleet of dragonflies at a rest area. They must have been hunting a hatch of some small insect. Easily three dozen enormous dragonflies filled the air over my head. It was magical and surreal. It felt like a good omen.

The Longest Day

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Yesterday was a kind of harmonic convergence of events. Summer solstice, Father’s Day and our grandson’s first birthday.

Here’s Tobiah, with his paternal grandfather, Miguel.

Normally Tobiah is quite a bit more jovial than this, but my step-daughter, Lauren, reported that he’d been cranky that day. Not everyone loves a party.

I got to stop by for a few minutes, on the drive to Santa Fe, to drop off some presents from David and me. I asked Lauren if the year had gone fast for her, too. She said it had flown by. She even looked a little dizzy, thinking about it.

A year ago, David and I were in Victoria, when Lauren’s boyfriend, Damion called us in the early morning to say Tobiah had been born. We lay there watching the morning light over the Japanese gardens at Laurel Point Inn and the Inner Harbor beyond. We’d visited acupuncture schools the day before and David had clicked with the one in Victoria. Our world had shifted, in several profound ways. Now David thought about teaching Tobiah to fish in the lovely, gentle seascape of Vancouver Island.

I admire what Lauren has accomplished. She has a challenging career and a new baby. She and Damion are learning to build their lives together. Juggling all the families can’t be easy. But Lauren cheerfully makes room for everyone who wants to be part of Tobiah’s life. It takes an openness of heart for that, along with a stern resolve.

So Happy Father’s Day to the fathers: Damion, Miguel, David. Happy First Day of Summer to us all — may we have some now, for all of us who’ve had such a cold and rainy June. Hopefully the light of the longest day shone with radiance for you.

And Happy First Birthday, little Mowgli-baby!

Wisteria Hysteria

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This morning, I finished putting out the plants.

Another annual ritual completed. A labor-intensive one. We have this sunroom, one of the things I love most about this house, where I overwinter all sorts of potted plants. Once I feel more or less confident that the spring snows are over, I begin shifting the plants out to the patio, gradually hardening them off.

For those who aren’t experienced with this, indoor plants transpire more moisture through their leaves, because it’s a moister, more contained environment. When you move a plant outdoors, especially in our arid climate with the intense mountain sun, you have to do it gradually, to allow the plant to acclimatize. The leaves get waxier in some cases, and the transpiration pores shrink. Depending on the plant, they also develop a bit of “sunscreen.” Putting an indoor plant outdoors and leaving it there is akin to sticking a Wyoming person on the beach in Florida for the day. Not pretty.

So the first day, you put the plant out for an hour or so and bring it back in. Becauase I have way too many plants, on this schedule, by the time I got them all out, it was just about time to bring them back in again. The second day they can stay out for three to four hours. The third day, yesterday, they stayed out all day and came in at night.

Finally this morning I set them out in the permanent summer spots. No more dragging back and forth. There they’ll stay, unless we get a freak snow storm, which hopefully I’ll know about before it hits.

It doesn’t escape me that this is another last, the last time I’ll perform this ritual in this house. With our move in mid- to late August, the plants will all be still in their places. On my list: find out if I can bring plants into Canada. It sounds silly — maybe not worrying about whether a carpet is happy silly — but some of these plants I’ve had for twenty years. The bougainvillea that David and I bought in the first apartment we shared, back in 1991. There’s my hibiscus, inherited from Val when she moved to Seattle, grown from her grandmother’s plant in Casper more than twenty years ago. I really want to take the orchid David gave me for Valentine’s in ’95 — I’d love to give it a climate where it might do more than subsist.

Perhaps I’ll have a big plant sale. Maybe I’ll just give them all away to good homes and start new.

I won’t have this ritual in Victoria, I think. Freezes there are less rare. I don’t know if people leave plants out all year and only bring them in when there’s threat of frost. Something I’ll learn.

I do know this: the first thing I’m going to do is plant wisteria. Always wanted wisteria.

Overdoing It

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We are tired.

Both of us just tanked yesterday.

We tried for another bike ride, this time on beach road around the point, up through the beautiful homes in Oak Bay, none of which our agent showed us because, well, $1 million wasn’t really in our price range, with intention of tooling around U. Vic. and checking it out.

I wrote in the morning, David read. We went to an early lunch and met with our realtor to sign the final papers and headed for our ride, hoping our stiff and creaky muscles would loosen up.

They did, but somewhere around the Victoria golf course, we realized we had nothing left. I found us a reasonably direct route back to town (thanks to Debra’s terrific real estate maps!) and we turned in the bikes. Then vegged. Ordered food in.

This morning, I still feel wrung out.
A year ago, almost exactly, we were here checking out schools; we rented bikes and rode over to Langford. That was only about 10 miles round trip, compared to the 17 miles we biked up to Sidney on Thursday. I barely made it. So, it was nice to be in good enough condition to do this — a year of working out paid off and I’m finally in decent physical condition again. I felt good when we got back from the ride.
But yesterday… yesterday I was tired.
It’s not just the ride either. Somehow this whole effort still feels huge. Committing to the house here; waiting to sell our beloved Laramie house. Planning out things like how to transfer money and whether USAA will give us homeowners insurance here. The Canadians won’t gurantee that when we show up with our animal family and the moving van full of stuff that they’ll let us in. This is apparently the official posture. No certainty unless you’re a citizen.
Sometimes it all feels daunting.
I’ve moved before. And to places where I knew no one. I want to be here; I love our new house. Why does it feel like such a major effort?
I even feel a little weepy.
However, The Bay store over past the harbour is having a major designer shoe sale. And the sun is bright and warm. I’m talking to the agent Tuesday morning.
Maybe I’ll have some ice cream, too.

Biker Girl

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Okay, yeah, I hate the bike helmet thing. But otherwise it’s kind of a cute pic.
Yesterday we rented bikes and rode up the Lochside Regional Trail to Sidney. About 26 kilometers. One of the really neat things about this area is these biking/walking trails, many converted from railroad tracks. They have the trails marked out so you can go all the way from Victoria to Sidney, or to Sooke.
The Lochside trail goes through beautiful neighborhoods with amazing gardens. The rhododendrons are bloom here, which makes for a gorgeous ride.
We also saw some great houses with incredible views. Also some not so great houses that are still out of our price range. This one to the left was going for $679. (Yes, I called our realtor even though we already agreed to a contract on another house — just to torment her. I told her we’d guessed $700 on this one, so she was duly impressed at our quick grasp of the market.) See all the moss on the roof? Very picturesque and bad, bad, bad. See? I can be taught.
We made it to Sidney (three hours later) and ate at this great place on the water. Wine, mussels, sunshine. And even better, we learned how to take the bus back.
Great way to spend a day. (Oh and we signed the contract for our new house, too!)

And the Winner Is?

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Today was a good day.

Not that yesterday wasn’t. But today was better. More fun. More on target.

This pic was from yesterday, actually. And we liked this house. It’s on a very quiet cul-de-sac, right on the sea (obscured by trees, but Right There). We’d make them deal with the urine-smell thing. What’s up with that, anyway?
We loved the neighborhood, and the garden had big potential. Okay, the carpets were blue with purple swirls (no, really) and maroon. But we could see it. It could be. And they’d reduced the price. Twice.

Now, the house on Snowdrop (you know it — between Violet and Iris?) was brand new and really pretty. Perfect for us. An “executive house,” our realtor called it. Which is amusing, because we’re not exactly executives. But hey. Neat house, lots of landscaping potential, which I can do.

So then we saw this house with an amazing yard and view. Tons of garden potential and view. There was also a gorgeous black cat with an amazing gold lion’s face. Alas, the house itself was crap. Like, crumbling drywall crap. The, you could pour a lot of money into this place and never see any of it again crap. Sad.

The next place, we loved the front, loved the back deck, liked the upstairs living area and bedroooms. Then we opened the Door of Doom. Don’t do it. Used to be an unfinished basement, until they laid carpet around the furnace and hot-water heater. A few bedrooms down there, appropriate for holding white slaves hostage. A little mortgage helper? No no no.

So, finally we went to see this other house that had been top of my list all along, from the MLS pics. First our agent said it had sold. I was a pain and said MLS didn’t think so. So, she checked. But it had expired and she had to call the agent, who was weirdly in Vancouver (across the water on the mainland). Turns out the agent’s aunt lived there. Agent set it up. Said we could go anyway, but the lawn wouldn’t be mowed. As long as the slaves are moved out of their basement cells, I don’t care.

Then we got there. Loved the prospect, high up on the hill. The lawn is freshly mowed and the door locked. No one home. Turns out Auntie forgot that expired listing means lockbox is gone. We went to lunch. Came back.

Finally got to see it! Love LOVE LOVE!! it. The pics don’t lie. It’s fab. Here’s David and Debra looking all pleased that I can’t find anything wrong with it.
After, David and I went for a three-hour walk along the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Steamed crab for dinner. Life is very good.

Good, Bad, Ugly and What the Hell Did You Do to the Garage?

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I have nothing substantive to say.
I know — can it be? But it’s true. Yesterday was a whirlwind of neighborhoods and choices. Getting to know our agent, her getting to know us.
And it was Victoria Day. (You all celebrated, right?) Celebration of the queen’s May 24 birthday. Many offices were closed. The karma was strange.
Our agent was most perturbed to find that at three of the houses she’d scheduled to show us, people were at home. Which she says almost never happens to her, let alone thrice in one day.
At one house, we poked around, then wondered at the light on the coffee pot and the fresh cigarette smoke hanging in the air (no, really). Then we heard the hair dryer running upstairs. Too weird, so we snuck back out. Fortunately we’d seen enough to know we didn’t like it — or rather, we didn’t like the big oil-pumping rigs parked across the street.
Then there was the house where some enterprising but misguided soul had sealed the garage door and drywalled it to make another room — windowless and reached only by passing through the laundry room. This was listed as a “custom upgrade.”
The house we liked best is in a lovely location with an amazing deck off the master bedroom, but an unfortunate urine smell in the upstairs rooms.
It’s been a while since we’ve done the good, bad and ugly house tour. But our agent promises today will be better — that we’re going to what she thinks we’ll like and we’re ready to be in her hands.
No promised fireworks over the Parliament Building last night, due to the steady rain. But it looks lovely lit up at night.

Travel Sunday

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A story in pictures for you today.

Because it’s been a long one. And I’m pretending I can be Heather Armstrong.

No, really. Don’t laugh. Just let me work on it.

So, we left Laramie about 7 o’clock last night, Saturday night, to stay at a hotel near DIA. To stay at the Hilton Garden Inn, for something like the third time now, to take advantage of their stay & park deal. I know I’ve mentioned how much I like Hilton. Granted, we had all day to hit the trail, but we ended up leaving later than we thought, after cleaning out all the flower beds, planting alluring new flowers, mowing, weed-whacking, house-cleaning and packing.

Up early and caught the plane to Seattle. Follow the fish.

What does one do with a 4.5 hour layover in Seattle? Follow the fish.

That’s right — boozy lunch at Anthony’s! (With super cool fish mural on the floor and even better share of the spectacular seismic-tolerant atrium in the Seattle main terminal.) After lunch? That’s right: practice photography skills, because you’re too cheap to cough up $7.99 for WiFi.

Just watch — I’ll get better.

Made it to Victoria. Hotel Oswego is lovely. Balcony with a view of the Parliament Building, the Olympics and the Inner Harbor. Plus wine in the refrigerator.

It’s like we already have our Victoria condo. Good practice.

And the Deer and the Antelope Play

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I had a funny feeling the other day — you know the one, like you’re missing something. A pinprick of nostalgia, a vague longing. What is it, I wondered…and got a flash of an airport lounge.

You have GOT to be kidding me.

Apparently I’m so inured to flying somewhere every-other week, that once a few days drifted past my usual take-off day, my habit reminded me. Aren’t we supposed to be doing something? I actually felt like I needed an airport fix.

Which is a sad state of affairs.

And fortunately, easily remedied as I’m flying somewhere on Sunday. Victoria, BC. It’s been almost a full year since we last visited, when David decided that was the school for him and we put the wheels in motion to drastically change our lives: he to leave his job of 20 years, we to leave our town of nearly that long. It seemed forever then, before anything would happen.

Now we’re going to buy a house. This is it. At least, we hope we are. The Canadian mortgage company is suggesting 35% down. (I know – eek!) So we’ll see what we can get for that. This will be our third house-purchase together. I feel for the younger us, who could never have put that kind of money down back then.

Ironically, our first house is also for sale right now. We paid four times for our current house what we paid for the first. Now they’re asking half for that house of what we’re asking for ours. I drive by, and all my day lilies still fill the front yard. My drought-tolerant garden lines the fence with six-foot rabbit brush romping amidst the silver sage. Pieces of me.

The question we get most often is: will we move back? Three to five years from now, will we return to Laramie. It’s hard for us not to laugh. Not to ask why on earth would we want to?

But you never know what you might turn up nostalgic for.

With Your Faith and Your Peter Pan Advice

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David confessed yesterday that he’s feeling a lot of pressure. I said, of course he is.

In a few short months, we’ll totally uproot our lives and leave the small community we’ve lived in for over 20 years. David will leave the career he’s had most of his life to return to school to do what he really loves. We’re moving to a foreign country, with all of the attendant rules. Never mind that we’re pursuing a dream — it’s a huge effort.

Assembling my tax information for our accountant this weekend, I ended up thinking of 2008 as a lost year. I made a little over $100 on writing — the least I’ve made for five or six years. No wonder it felt weird to me going to Evanston on a gig for Wyo Trucks: I didn’t do any in 2008.

I wondered what I did do last year. Well, I made a lot more money at my day job, especially when I add in the moonlighting I did for another enviro consulting firm. The last six months of the year I went on a business trip every other week: everyone on my team lost huge chunks of their personal lives to this crushing pressure.

I finished my novel — the first full-length manuscript I’ve completed — and made progress on two others. Otherwise, I spent the year breaking into a new market. A couple of essays and a story were accepted or published. Oddly, the money on these came in right at the end of 2007 or now in 2009.

And we worked on the house. Beginning last March, we commenced work to bring our house to top sellable condition for this big move. We spent over $25,000. I’m not counting our time.

This sounds like it’s all about money, which it isn’t. Though our annual tithe+ to keep the country afloat brings these evaluations to mind. What it’s about is keeping your head above water. This article from the Washington Post talks about the multi-tasking pressure that results in tragedy. It’s a long article and well-worth the time to read through to the last word — even through the really horrifying parts. Fair warning: I wept several times while reading it.

The “fatal distraction” of the title is the kind that results in parents leaving the baby in the car to die. No, not trailer trash types who lock the kid in the car while they go hit the bars. Instead these are the conscientious parents. The ones who forget the child hasn’t been dropped off at day care. Who have no idea the child remains baking in the hot car all day. The article describes the kind of person who could do this. They’re the muli-taskers. The ones under a lot of pressure.
Sometimes we get so frantic, so focused on keeping all the balls in the air that something gets dropped. For these people, the thing forgotten isn’t a meeting or a cell phone. It’s the most awful thing possible.

But the point is, if someone can forget their beloved baby in the car, perhaps we can all forgive ourselves for the balls we do drop. Most of us go through our days with two men out and three men on.

Of course we feel the pressure.