one year in LA

Still a newbie, but definitely learning the ropes, I am extremely proud to say that I survived my first year living in LA. Not for the faint of heart, LA chews you up and spits you out, all the while asking how much more do you want to take? Then, when you look it square in the eye and say bring it on bitch, it backs off and says ok, I guess you can stay.

Victorious? Well, not quite yet. Still some obstacles to overcome, and I certainly have not met my main goals in coming here. But for now I am happy to be healthy, employed, in love, and finding my space in the city of angels.

The other night as I was leaving Santa Monica and merging onto the 405 from the 10, I saw the lights of downtown LA on my right far off in the distance, the buildings of the Wilshire district at my immediate right and the hills of the San Fernando Valley ahead. It was a sight to behold--I mean it is so damn beautiful and breathtaking that sometimes it hits me and I get a little choked up.

Where else in this country, maybe in the whole world, has all this to offer?--ocean beaches, nightlife, endless action, culture, mountains, cities within cities, amazing weather, shopping galore, everything...except my family.

Dunno, guess LA's growing on me a little.

WANTED: Joy (Part I)

It’s peculiar how you can forget what really makes you happy. You’d think that you’d always remember these things, sort of like riding a bike. If you’ve done it and lived it, it should be part of you forever, no?

Here I sit in LA land (aka LALA land), where all my dreams pointed to for the last 2 years. I moved mountains to uproot my life and relocate here. My heart and the promise of fulfilling my highest aspirations fuelled me through the challenges of coordinating a massive move for both my daughter and myself, including selling our house, leaving family and friends and shipping our possessions.

I moved in with my love Andy, my daughter is thriving at her new school, the weather is to die for and I’ve had all summer to play and discover my new world. Sounds awesome. Then why has Dinamo lost her passion for living and loving? Basically I feel like I’m on the edge of flatlining.

#1 reason: I need to work. I need to get an actual job, not just spend hours a day looking for one. Between perfecting my resume and cover letters to be my most fabulous self on paper, browsing career websites, applying for jobs and reading the masses of industry articles I’ve subscribed to in order to stay current, I literally spend about 5-6 hrs a day online. I now hate my computer…and the whole process of looking for work. Especially when you find out through CareerBuilder’s ‘fantastic’ little feature outlining the competition that 279 other people also applied for the same job that you did.

#2 reason: I feel alone. Andy is sweet, but he can’t provide me with a lot of what I need. A girl needs her own circle of friends to hang with and talk to. I love looking at his face, but it is now burned in my retina. Variety please!! Andy and I don’t have the depth in our relationship that I want and need. He rarely asks me questions about what I like, what I feel, what I dream…sometimes feels like he’s just not that into me, but how do I dare say that when I know he adores me? I also feel like I have to solve all my problems myself. He helps me the very best he can, but he doesn’t have experience dealing with pressures and complex issues. So I’m either on my own, or I call Rob for help which luckily he is still willing to give.

#3 reason: I’ve lost touch with my spirituality. The fact that I’ve been in mere survival mode over the last couple months means I have pushed aside my relationship with the higher power. I am in such unfamiliar territory, physically, emotionally and mentally. This is where I should find the greatest use of my faith, yet I overlook it. My mother and Rob both have strong spiritual leanings and they remind me of its power in their own gentle ways. Maybe I need to be beat over the head with it. Or hit rock bottom (oh, please no).

Rob sent me Deepak Chopra’s Book of Secrets last week. I am more than half way through it already. The timing was right for me and it’s reminded me that I need to get back to seeking my joy on a daily basis. I def have not been doing that. When I am feeling like shit, how can I attract the job of my dreams? As long as there is no vibrational match, my job and I will not meet. I have to get in the right state of mind for it to come. And I do believe that. In the past I've been able to get there. Why is it so hard now?

Because I can't find my joy.

finding my voice

I suppose as I look back on these days a year from now, it'll all be a blur. Kind of like a dream that floats from fantasy to nightmare and back and forth again. Visions of palm trees swaying in the ocean breeze give way to the incessant shrill of sirens and racing engines outside our bedroom window. It's sensory overload.

I made a conscious choice to seek a new kind of life that would challenge me to reach the next level--for my career, my social life, my love life. At the center of that new life is a man who is charming, brilliantly creative and totally in love with me. But also included in the package is a quirky artist who's pretty high strung sometimes, likes a lot of attention and has just a touch of an ego. OK, it's more than a touch, but it's not bad....really.

Andy likes to talk. He spends a lot of time talking...to me, to friends, basically anyone he can. It's another outlet for his creative energy I guess. I don't have that need. I usually prefer writing my thoughts and feelings over talking, unless, of course, I am coaxed with a beverage, or if someone shows great interest in what I have to say. Also I tend to clam up when things are bothering me, and as you know, things have been bothering me. Rob was great for drawing out all sorts of stuff from me, but Andy hasn't discovered the value in that yet. He's still learning me.

My point in all this chatter is that Andy's habit of talking a lot mixed with my tendency to be somewhat quiet, plus the anxiety I've felt trying to find my own identity here has led to me kind of lose my voice.

One day last week Andy and I had coffee with a friend of his I hadn't yet met. Wow, was I in for a treat. This woman, instead of talking about herself (which many people out here seem to do), asked question upon question of me! I suddenly rose to the occasion and enjoyed a real conversation with her. Like a long lost friend I heard my own voice speaking again. I did more talking in that hour than in all the time I've been out here.

And the best part of it all was that it made me feel good again. I felt real. I felt validated. It kind of bothers me that it took that conversation to realize what had gone wrong with me. But I didn't dwell on that. I tucked it in my pocket and took it with me for next time.

Last night after some sex play with Andy I voiced my opinion on something that normally I would have kept to myself. He responded perfectly. I can see that this new thing called communicating through spoken words is working, so I'm going to keep building on it.

It feels like I'm a long way from reaching the next level in my career, my social life and my love life. But if I find ways to reclaim my identity I think the power that comes from that will propel me to where I want to be even faster.

and away we go

As I boarded the plane on the first leg of my trip I tried not to cry. I'd just left everyone I loved (except Andy) behind. I had a seat all by myself in the 2nd row on a little commuter plane where I thought I could stew in my feelings.

Then appeared our flight attendant Shane. Shane was clearly destined for a successful Disney career with his well-delivered comedic script outlining all the flight safety instructions. Smoking is strictly prohibited on this plane. However, feel free to use our only designated smoking area located outside on the wing, so the rest of you can then enjoy today's feature presentation of Gone With the Wind. And my favorite line: ...and if this flight should suddenly turn into a cruise please use the floatation device located underneath your seat.

The next flight wasn't nearly as entertaining. For most of the 4 hours I slept off and on with the help of some earplugs. In my awake moments I thought of Mom. I thought of my sister Lynn and our teary hug last night, and of Annie my drinking buddy, and of leaving Christie behind for a few weeks, and my Maria who I hoped didn't hate me again. And I also thought of Rob who I was sure was thinking of me on such a pivotal day in my life.

Like my mood, the landscape of this United States of America changed every half hour. I love that about flying to California. It's always fun to wake up from a snooze and peek out the window to see some new fascination below you. As I watched the changing scenery I also noticed the shift in my state of mind. I emerged from a little sadness to acceptance to anticipation the more I thought about Andy waiting for me at the airport.

Goddamn, I am moving in with a man! It hits me every once in awhile as if it was a brand new thought. This is huge. There's seriously no turning back now, not that I'd want to. How exciting

this all is. Nine months in the making--what a friggin massive undertaking this has been. And the day really came. I did it. I really did it.

I landed at LAX after one of the best flights Ive ever had. I said to myself I am home, hoping my mother couldn't hear me because surely she'd correct me. Down the escalator I've rode only 3 times including today, and into the arms of my beloved Andy who arrived with his customary welcome bouquet.

Welcome home, Darlin'.

The drive to our new apartment took only 30 minutes. We loaded my things into our arms and headed up the elevator, around the corner and down the hallway to our door where he unloaded everything neatly in the hallway. He unlocked the door, picked me up into his arms and carried me across the threshhold.

mom--a week of wisdom

Leaving friends, family and the place you've lived for 40+ years is not easy. There were many people I didn't want to say goodbye to. There has been some guilt along the way, but I seem to overcome that when I consider the big picture--the amazing opportunities for Christie and me.

I worried a little about the young girl who would 'take my place' at work, I worried about Rob feeling the loss of me, and I worried about Maria's feelings mostly in being so far away from her sister and me. But I knew they'd all find their way before long.

It's Mom who worried me most. Not really worry...but concern. She has shown the biggest reaction to my announcement of moving away. She's had a hard time the last couple years since a relationship ended and she hasn't had a fulfilling one since. So she seems to rely on her daughters more. And she referred to me as her rock more than once. She's had some physical complaints lately, which isn't really her character. I can't help but think they are psychosomatic.

So when I chose the closing date on my house and my flight date to LA, I built in a week to spend living at my mom's. And it's the best thing I could have done. It was good for her, and it was good for me.

Mom's house has been a perfect haven to chill down after the stress of coordinating a move and enduring months of chaos. It was just her and me, and quiet times. I finally had quality time to spend hanging out with her. I helped her with all the things she couldn't or didn't want to do on her own. She was the epitome of gratefulness. And it felt really good to take care of her. I may have even spoiled her!

As our last few days together came to a close, I was worried that we'd had no heart-to-heart conversations about my leaving. Every time I'd brought it up, she'd say I don't want to talk about it. I'll enjoy the now and just do what I have to do when the time comes. I never forced her to talk about it, and still wonder if that was smart. I know from experience that feelings trapped inside can fester into something not so good. But I didn't have the heart to bring out her pain.

Instead, we enjoyed the still mornings waking up to birds chirping outside her bedroom window, were amused at her inability to form a complete sentence before finishing her 2nd cup of coffee in the morning and we appreciated the opportunity to take care of each other in ways we both needed and had not been able to do in the last 30 years living apart.

At the 5:30 am drop off at the airport the day I left, Mom was the brave soldier she'd always told me to be whenever I was afraid as a child. I stood on the sidewalk at my drop off point, suitcase at my side, as she came out for the hug. I'd been strong and tearless up to this point, which was easy to do as I reflected her. But the hug broke the floodgates and I had to swallow hard to contain my emotion.

She looked at me and said Now go write a beautiful chapter! I smiled through the blur and turned towards my new life.

our last goodbye

For the last 9 months I'd been wondering what it would feel like to see Rob for possibly the last time, to 'say our goodbye'. There were times when I cried just imagining it. More than a few. And his probably outnumbered mine.

Last Saturday we'd gone out to dinner at that Thai restaurant and ran into Annie and her husband out of the blue. Dinner was so-so, to be honest, but we laughed a lot and enjoyed being together. I'd just come out of an extremely enotional week, so the fact that I may have been all out of tears probably helped.

After dinner we went to Rob's house. We didn't drink (also good for keeping the emotions at bay). We talked for a short bit then had a snuggle. Like two kittens we curled up in an old familiar position we'd known for the 4 years we'd known each other. I lay my head on his chest with his arm around me and he touched my hair with his other hand. It was very sweet and comforting, as Rob is. A tear trickled down my cheek onto his shirt, but only one.

I was proud of me. I was proud of us. We didn't drag it out, we didn't purge our souls and pour out our feelings. We didn't need to make it painful. We hugged, and smiled, and I walked away.

Bye for now.

going over the rainbow

I couldn't help but think of Rob every time I listened to this Amos Lee song. These lyrics in particular speak of our relationship and all he's had to accept in the last couple years. To love me and toknow he has to let me go because he loves me.

I'm in love with a girl,
Who's in love with the world,
Though I can't help but follow.
Though I know some day,
She is bound to go away,
And stay over the rainbow.
Gotta learn how to let her go.
Over the rainbow.

Sometimes we forget who we got,
Who they are
Or who they are not.
There is so much more in love,
Than black and white.
Keep it loose child,
Gotta keep it tight.
Keep it loose child,
Keep it tight.

the joy of giving

When you're sorting through your shit preparing to move, you have to seriously consider what's worth paying $1/lb to ship across the country.

Although I scored a small fortune on the sale of my house I'm still frugal at heart. But I'm not frugal with my heart. Oddly enough this shipping dilemma has led to a new kind of joy. The joy of giving.

There are certain things I own that have great sentimental value, but seriously, I knew they would not belong in my new life or our new apartment. I did not want to sell these things to strangers or donate them to Goodwill. I wanted to choose a new home for them.

My rocking chair was hard to part with. This was the chair I sat in endless hours as I nursed Christie as a baby. It squeaked a lot and it wasn't very pretty, but it holds such sweet memories. Like the dents left in the side of Christie's little head, caused by the wooden arms her head rested against as I cradled and breastfed her. She was so in her glory nursing, that she ignored the pain on her head and was left with little indents after her feeding. And in that chair I used to sing Elton John songs to her until she fell asleep. Daniel was her favorite.

It was hard to let that rocker go, but one of my friends has a niece who just had a baby. They don't have a lot of money, so I thought this would help. Plus I wanted to give it to someone I knew or someone I had even a distant trail to. Dunno, makes me feel better.

Then there was a piece of art I purchased when I moved into my house 4 years ago. Nymph of the River by Frederic Leighton. A demure young nymph stands at the edge of a river curious, about to dip her toes into the water. I loved this print and it hung across from my bed for the last 4 years. To me it symbolized my newly rediscovered sexuality. I embraced all it stood for and it watched over me as I became a sex goddess again, or so I was told.

Although I still love the piece, it would have been a real misfit among Andy's art collection in our new apartment. I also felt it would be a source of inspiration to my friend Annie who is standing at the same crossroads I was at 5 years ago. She's teetering on the edge of freedom with a renewed passion for living. I fully support her and to give her this print was a symbol of my friendship, love and support.

The real joy was in the fact that she loved it and understood my intent completely. The nymph has found a new home. I feel good and soon Annie will too.

moving forward with Maria

Maria emailed me asking nicely if I wanted to get together to talk about some of our issues. Of course I jumped at the chance. I invited her to come for waffles.

She showed up at noon. I was pretty calm considering I hadn't seen her in months. Maybe I was just ready to trust that things were going to be all right. Everything else in my life seems to fall into place perfectly, so why wouldn't this?

I drank in the sight of her as she asked me questions about my trip to LA. I showed her the brochure of the apartment building where we found a place and she asked lots of questions and had only nice things to say about it. I was in heaven.

She talked about her life, the semester she just finished and how she wants to go to law school after she graduates (whoa). Maria and I sat at the dining room table for 2 hours and talked about so many things. It had been so long since we'd communicated like this...All the while I am floored by how smart, mature and beautiful my daughter is.

We got onto the subject of my moving, or "my leaving her" as she would put it. I explained how both Christie and I feel like this is such a great opportunity for us. We are bored here and looking for new things to learn and experience. It's not that we're "leaving her", we're exploring a new piece of life. Maria found it hard to see it our way, but luckily it didn't turn into a fight or an attack on me as it always had in the past. We agreed to disagree on some things.

When I asked Maria if she would come out to visit, she said she wasn't sure she could be in the same place as Andy. I asked why, and she responded that she didn't like him. I know what that means. It means that she needs a scapegoat to blame for this whole scenario. And since Andy's the one who lives in LA, it must be his fault that Christie and I are going there.

Maria is too smart not to realize the illogic in her line of thinking. But I didn't push her on it. Time heals all.

Before she left, she came over to me and gave me a hug. Despite all the words and feelings that were exchanged over the last 2 hours, it was the hug that meant the most to me. I have craved that for so long and today I got it. Thank God. I love my daughter and I feel that she will now accept my love again.

lost & found in LA

On day 2 of my LA trip I was set into a tailspin. When checking my email after breakfast I found a very long heartfelt message from my 19 year old (estranged) daughter Maria. The message began: I am writing via email because I feel that this is the only civil manner that I can convey this message. After this, I would appreciate no further contact with you in the future, but I think that it is important for you to hear my thoughts.

My heart sank. I tried to just scan the rest of the email lightly and not get overly emotional about it, but how does a mother do that? As hard as I tried to separate myself from the feeling, it followed me everywhere for the next few days till I totally broke down and cried.

Basically Maria's message described her angst at "losing her sister" and how she feels I continue to make very selfish choices and I am to blame for all of her and her father's unhappiness, etc etc etc. She begged me not to take her sister away from her.

Since she had asked me not to have further contact with her, I did not respond. Frankly, I was too messed up to respond. But Christie started receiving texts from Maria wondering why "Mom had not responded". Obviously I needed time to digest the message, decide how I felt about everything and what my response would be. I decided I'd deal with it after my vacation.

However, it continued to affect me. As the days went by, I felt very out of sorts. Physically I was fine, but mentally and emotionally I was floundering. I was surrounded by so many unfamiliar things and felt totally out of my realm. I had lost all enthusiasm, which worried me considering I was about to reach the point of no return in moving there. We were about to sign a lease on an apartment.

It also didn't help having the 3 of us in Andy's small, and very messy, apartment for 8 days. Christie complained to me privately that the bathroom was disgusting and there's no room for her stuff etc. Her complaints combined with my anxiety left me a little panicky, thinking how do I fix this?

I got up the next morning and cleaned his bathroom for over an hour. I risked hurting Andy's feelings, but bottom line I needed my daughter to feel comfortable. I don't think he was offended. I simply explained that it wasn't quite up to women's standards.

Another thing I *learned* on this trip was that I definitely need a sense of order in my life. I found it stressful to not have space to put my things, and not know when or from where my next meal was coming, and to not have a stocked fridge or cupboards. In a way I felt like I was on Survivor.

I'm not saying that Andy's way is wrong...apparently it has worked for him somewhat for the last 15 years. BUT I now know that I need routine and a sense of control over the basic necessities of life.

In the middle of the mayhem I had lost my sense of self, and couldn't seem to define who I was anymore. Thinking back now, I remember reaching (mentally) for something that I knew would ground me. I thought of 2 things: my Conversations with God book, and my routine. And then I felt peace.

And since then, I've realized that I will be lugging along that 4-volume book to LA no matter how heavy my suitcase is. The routine I will just demand for myself. If Andy joins in, which I think he will for the most part, that will be great! He's been living like a rudderless ship because his life is so non-routine. He's an artist who works from home and paints when he feels like it. He looks for any excuse to get out of the house--that means endless trips to grocery stores or restaurants to eat. I don't have that kind of time. To me it seems very wasteful. To him it's something to do.

At first I was thinking that this has not been a fun trip. While it may not have been filled with all the fun and games of my previous trips, we did plenty of laughing and loving. Mostly I learned a lot. I think it was crucial that I experienced what I did. It will prepare me for the big move and then maybe I won't feel so out of place once I get there. I know it will be challenging enough to deal with everything being brand new. I need to stay in touch with who I am and get what I need.

I still adore Andy and we're still moving! We signed the lease, I gave my notice at work, so onward we go! :D

meltdown ahead

I'm having a hard time writing these days. I'm out of Dinamode, and right into planning mode, just running a marathon towards the big move to LA. Basically, I'm driving myself really hard all day and there's not an ounce of energy or creativity left by night.

I can handle this for awhile longer, then I shall collapse into my lover's arms and take a good long break. At least that's the intent. Good planning always pays off, so I'm sure this will be worth the effort.

So, I'm afraid I'll be way too boring and that's why I haven't been writing much. I depend on my emotions to fuel the blog. And I really haven't been allowing my emotions to come through. I feel I can't afford to right now. Once I'm done packing and such, I may allow myself a minor meltdown. For now I have to indulge the workaholic in me.

the meeting

I'm glad I didn't call him a dickhead after all. Jeff, my ex, behaved himself yesterday when Christie and I went to meet him.

It was the first time in about 3 years that he has even set eyes on me. Pretty astounding that the 3 of us sat at a table and had a productive conversation. We talked about Christie and me moving to Los Angeles. He didn't bark, he didn't bite. Only one small snarl, when he spoke the word 'boyfriend' (referring to Andy).

I feel good about the way I handled myself. I started and ended the conversation, and got all my points covered. I supported Christie as she needed so that she could express herself in front of a dad she's pretty intimidated by. He now knows that she wants to move to LA and there's nothing he can do to convince her otherwise.

He has agreed to provide me with a notarized letter giving his permission. Of course, he wants my assurance that I won't ask him for child support once I'm there. Why would I, after having managed the last 2 years without it? I am proud of the fact that I can support her on my own.

We also talked about Maria. He said she is very hard to handle at times., and very hard on him. But he feels he is one of the only people who has any control over her. It could be that he can still yell louder than she can. Or it might be because he bought her the car she is driving.

I told him that I feel bad that I can't reach Maria, but I am very proud of her accomplishments. She's doing very well in university while holding down a part time job. He said he would tell her that I am proud of her. For that I am also thankful.

Before he left, we all agreed that Christie would spend some time living at his house during the month of June--as long as she is comfortable there. She can spend the remainder of the time with me, her best friend's family, or with other family members. But come mid-July she is getting on a plane for LA where she will live with me, and Andy. :)

daddy dearest

So the ex (I am not going to call him Dickhead) is trying his damnedest to get Christie to live with him for the summer. Not only that, but he wants her/us to consider having her finish high school here, or stay for at least the next year while I go on to California "to get settled".

WTF?! NO WAY.

Why he is changing his tune after telling her a month ago it was ok to move if that's what she wanted...I don't know. Father guilt? He's now sorry that he didn't get to know her in the last 15 years? Is he also sorry about every time he sat glued simultaneously to the tv and the couch while she visited him? Or that he called her a c*** 3 years ago, prompting her to move out of his house permanently?

He emailed me that he needs my cooperation on this. Right. Shall we join forces to convince her that it is in her best interest to stay in this little town and live with two people (him and Maria) who fly off the handle the minute they don't get their way, and who swear like sailors when so inclined? And live 2500 miles away from her mother who she is very close to and happy with?

Should she also pass up a chance to go to a high school that specializes in film and media arts which would give her a head start on a career she really wants? Not to mention the obvious opportunities that will present themselves living in Los Angeles...

All this so that Daddy can have his way. We'll see. I suggested the 3 of us sit and discuss this situation. I never thought he'd agree to physically be in the same room with me. He hasn't even seen me in the last 3 years, maybe closer to 4. But he called me this morning and made arrangements to meet at noon tomorrow.

This'll be interesting. Christie says she's gonna puke. I say bring along a bucket. Her dad has to hear her say how she wants to go. In the past she's been too scared to say much to his face. He tends to be pretty overpowering in conversations. The only way she's gotten through to him was through text conversations and some emails. I am hoping that she will be able to be heard in person. At the very least my presence should give her courage to tell him what she wants and doesn't want.

the war is over

This is the play by play on the bidding war on my house...

Offer #1 came in Friday night. The chick who was born with my name called me Friday as soon as I got home from work. She wanted to know when she could come over to present me with her offer. I said she could come soon, but I mentioned to her that I was getting a 2nd offer this weekend and that I would need to consider that one too.

She was stunned and said but we had a deal! I agreed that we had negotiated a price, but said that until I had written offers in front of me I wasn't going to turn anything down. She was clearly miffed, and a few minutes later she appeared at my door. I invited her to step inside, and she started again about us having a deal and was reluctant to give me the offer at all.

I said that I had not received the other offer yet, but I would like to consider both and get back to her early next week. She gave me the offer and I wished her a good weekend. I could tell she was pissed.

The other buyer emailed me this morning to say she had her offer ready and wanted to bring it to me tonight. We agreed on a time. She came over and handed me the papers. I was somewhat shocked and ecstatic when I saw the price. She offered me the full listing price--holy shit!!

Just when I thought it couldn't get any sweeter, I made another $6000 in 2 days. Plus we agreed on a closing date of June 27th date which suits me so much better than the June 1st that the chick with my name wanted.

Life is good. I sold my house in less than 3 weeks. I couldn't wait to tell Andy.

Then I called the chick with my name. I told her that I just had to accept the other offer. And before I could explain why she interrupted by blurting out well I wasn't going to go through with that offer anyway. I found another house that was way better.

Despite her snotty remark I told her I was very happy for her and wished her luck. The bidding war is over. And I killed her with kindness.

open house - weird and wonderful

My Open House was a success. Instead of the thunderstorms that were predicted, we had gorgeous sunny and warm weather...which made my deck look even more appealing than it already is.

It started slow. In fact for the first hour I only had one visitor. And it was the same woman who I showed the house to earlier this week. She'd come back with 2 girlfriends (good sign!). I talked to her quite a bit again and I know that she is interested, but her offer would be conditional on the sale of her house.

In the 2nd hour I had about 5 more visitors. One in particular seemed very enthusiastic about my house. Her first name was the same as mine, even spelled the same, which is a bit different than most. We joked that we wouldn't forget each other's name. Again, she was a woman about my same age and lived nearby, was splitting up with her boyfriend, and had 2 kids. Wow, is this kind of weird?

Oh, it only gets weirder. So as I hand her my brochure with all the house info and photos on it, I also jot down my email address and phone number. Later she called me. She was sort of slow to ask, but she said is your name (insert my 1st and last name here)?

I said yes, why? She said I saw it in your email address and do you know that that was my exact maiden name? I said you're kidding me! And they're even spelled the same...wow, that's really strange. And she further commented that it must be a sign that she is supposed to buy my house. (No argument from me.) And I dared go on to ask her what her middle name was. When she answered Maria I actually felt spooked. That is my middle name!

I have never experienced something quite as eerie as that in my life--at least that I can recall. How weird is that?? Imagine if she went back to her maiden name (she is divorced) and bought my house. Could you imagine how confusing the paperwork would be??

Yes, it's a little creepy, but mostly I am really happy because now I know I have 2 people that are really interested in my house! And this one said she would be able to give me an unconditional offer. Woohoo!

house week

OK, she's on the market. My house, that is. Two days after my listing hit the MLS, Craigslist and a number of other websites, I had an enquiry. Someone wanted to see my home. Wow, it's really happening. Can I do this myself?

Of course I can! To save $10,000+ on realtor commission I can do this myself. It was a bit nerve wracking I must admit. Having a teenager in the house was a wild card. I would have had to risk a new buyer seeing forgotten dirty underwear thrown in the corner of Christie's closet. At least she agreed to finally toss all the empty Vex bottles (teenage drinking trophies) from her closet shelf a few weeks before. But with a teenager, you just never know...

But on the brighter side of teenagedom, it was Christie who whipped the house into shape in the 3 hours notice I had for my first showing. I'd received the call while at work and they wanted to see the house 45 mins after the time I usually get home from work. Everything turned out just fine, thanks to Christie. I even had time to throw some Pillsbury crescent rolls into the oven to make the place smell yummy.

OK, so this woman wandered through my house for over a half hour. I thought that was a good sign. She was pleasant enough, and even seemed tickled to be exploring my house, each room like a treasure discovered. She obviously liked what she saw. We talked awhile and she asked a lot about the house.

I had a good feeling about her. Rob had told me before I listed that there's a 90% chance that the very first person interested is the one you end up selling to. I could definitely picture this woman living here. She lives in the same town and is splitting up with her husband, has 2 kids. The same as I was when I bought this house! I had a pretty strong inkling that my buyer would be a lot like me and I marketed it that way.

That was Tuesday. This Sunday will be my first Open House. So I pretty much have to keep my house clean all week. I am nervous, of course, but confident too. I would love to wrap up this sale before the end of April. Everything else seems to go my way, why wouldn't this?

goodbye memory lane

I decided to take a walk after dinner tonight. As I rounded the corner of my street I realized that I had not gone for a walk in months. This was something I used to do twice every day when I had Snoop. Since I gave him away the weather has sucked, and I've been so busy and tired at night.

So, as the sounds of the chirping birds lifted my spirits and my anticipation of spring, I was countered by feelings of loss. I miss my doggie. Well, really, maybe it's not so much that I miss him. It's more that I'm worried about him and what he thinks of me. Would you call that guilt?

I forged ahead and turned my thoughts to the good instead of the bad, which is my nature. I started to get some good fresh air in my lungs, breathed deep which I sometimes (OFTEN) forget to do. Decided to take a longer route than I normally would...

I approached a house where the sidewalk was covered in chalk drawings. Awwwww. My heart always opens when I see such things cuz it takes me right back to the early years when my girls would decorate my entire driveway and both sidewalks with their masterpieces. I absolutely loved giving them new buckets of colored chalk every spring. I secretly wanted one for myself, but I let my little budding artists go nuts with it. By late summer all that was left in the bucket were little colored nubs. The pink was always gone first.

Just as I started to get all nostalgic remembering Maria in her happier, carefree days I walked into a large I <3 MOM scrawled in bright pink chalk. Tears welled up in my eyes. I swallowed it away and forged ahead.

Maybe I'm a glutton for punishment, but I walked right into my old neighborhood--the one where we lived for over 10 years. I recognized old craggy trees, familiar gardens I used to admire and even the same crooked sidewalks. I'd maneuvered those sidewalks for all those years, whether pushing a stroller, pulling a wagon, or riding bikes with my little ones. Still not fixed, but full of character, just like the neighborhood.

I realized that I'd soon be saying goodbye to all these familiar places, forever. I doubt I'll ever see them again once I move to LA. It made me feel sad, mostly because I already miss Maria. The best memories I have of her were made in the years we lived in that neighborhood. I know she's no longer a part of it, but to me it's something tangible that reminds me of her. Though I have to leave the neighborhood behind, you know I'll hold on tight to all the memories that were made there.

buy me, buy me!

I listed my house this week--holy shit! It won't be long now. I hope to sell it fast and $. It's the last big to-do on my list. And then we're outta here!

Wish me luck.

freedom for Dad

Christie and I visited my dad one day last week. He's living on his own now since his brother (and roommate for some 40+ years) recently died. My uncle had lived well into his 80s, so it wasn't a tragic death. His heart just gave up after a long illness. But neverthess Dad is now on his own.

Without my uncle to rule the roost, as he surely did, my dad has a new freedom. Sure, he misses having my uncle to talk to, but he's calling me more now which is allowing me to get to know him better. And he's been going out every day, which is something he pretty much avoided due to a lifelong battle with anxiety/depression.

If you recall, Dad spent the better part of 2009 in the hospital after having fallen at home. His arthritis has crippled him where he can barely walk on his own anymore. Other complications prevented him from being discharged for the longest time. Besides, he was not able to get around, and my uncle was too frail to be of much help at home. So, until my dad could build up his strength, he was kept in the hospital.

All that time without my uncle telling him what to do, and what to think, my dad seemed to open up in many ways. He seemed genuinely happy at the last hospital he was at. He had a private room overlooking the city skyline. It was clean, quiet and he had dressed it up with a lot of his own things that visitors brought from his home.

The nurses just adored Dad and hung his photos (photography's his hobby) all over the ward. It made my dad so proud which is a huge deal for a man who never felt good about himself. The nurses would tell me what a sweet man he is, and it really touched me. For the first time I felt honored that he was my father. Sounds awful that that was the first time, but this is a man I never quite got to know as he was always so drugged up with meds. I grew up knowing that he was my father, but never felt a bond with him.

Things between my dad and me have been very superficial for my whole life. He has not been much of an influence, but maybe we'll get a short chance to have some kind of relationship now. He's getting older and more importantly, doesn't take very good care of himself. Plus, I am moving to California in a few months. So, if it doesn't happen now, it probably never will.

It's too late for me to tell him how to eat, remind him to exercise, all that's pointless. He drinks his Diet Coke by the gallon, eats no vegetables, and depends on meds to make him comfortable in every way possible. His approach towards health is very different from mine. But at least I can visit him and bring some happiness to his day. And I can clean his place. OMG pigsty. They were hoarders their whole lives, so there is barely room to sit when I do go there. Well, that's another story.

We had a nice visit with Dad. After scrubbing his kitchen and bathroom, he took us out to eat. My favorite part was seeing him happy, seeing him talk to the waitress, and enjoying his 4 cups of coffee and 3 egg omelet with cheese (roll eyes here). Things were going so swimmingly on this outing, that I decided it was time to tell him about the move.

"Dad, Christie and I have some exciting news... We're planning a move."

Dad smiles big. "You're moving back here?"

"No Dad, a big move."

"To California?"

Now I smile big..."Yeah."

He launches into a 5 minute story about the purchase of his zoom lens, where he bought it 5 years ago, how much it cost, etc etc. All the while I'm thinking how strange this is, but it's not. Not strange at all considering this is my dad.

Another 10 minutes go by. Dad pipes in, "Well I'm disappointed about your exciting news. But I hope you find all that you're looking for there."

"Thanks, Dad." And really all I can do is reassure him that we'll be back home to visit a couple times a year.

"And there's always the telephone," he adds.

"Of course."

time to tell Maria

I've been waiting for my divorce to go through before I tell my 19 yr old daughter Maria that her sister and I are moving to LA. As we know, the divorce is now a done deal. The ex even reimbursed me (small victory). Now I have the more difficult task ahead of me.

Maria hasn't spoken to me since Christmas when we had a pretty decent time together. She found something to be angry about a couple days later. I've emailed and texted her a bunch of times, none of which she even acknowledged. I am tired of chasing her only to be ignored and I've decided it's not right to beg for her love. And I'm certainly not willing to change who I am or who I love in order to appease her. I'd never ask her to do that for me. Besides it would only be a temporary fix, until her next blow up.

Last time she hung with Christie, apparently she said she doesn't want to see me because I always tell her bad news. I'm not sure what prompted that, but she must feel the news of the move coming...I'm sure of it. I was truly hoping we could have had some nice visits over the last couple months. Unfortunately she avoids me.

I am sad to say that I have not heard Maria's voice or seen her beautiful face since Christmas Day. I know deep down she loves me despite the anger she holds onto, but she has pretty much rejected me.

And now it's going to seem like I am rejecting her. And I am not. I don't ever want her to feel like I'm abandoning her or giving up on our relationship. But she won't see it that way. She won't see that this move is such a good thing for Christie and me. She'll only see what she expects to see--something bad caused by me. She won't see that there's also a great opportunity for her--to come visit LA and learn how fabulous a city it is. My God, it was made for her! And to have a better relationship with both her sister and me, on new terms.

Regardless, I have to do this and I have to trust that she'll come around eventually. I hope that she will come visit us, and we'll have quality visits for the first time in a long time. Maria is my flesh and blood, my first born. She's someone I used to know and touch and be completely fascinated by. I love her, I've learned so much being her mom. There's been such distance between us in the last 5 years and soon there will be 2500 miles more between us.

I don't want her to blame me, or more importantly, to blame herself. I want her to just accept it and see that it is the best thing for each of us.