Monthly Archives: November 2014

Competing for one room

The housing situation is grim in these parts. I know because I’ve been competing for the least expensive places in the area. The money for these places would buy a more attractive place in another area, say, more inland.

I went to the house this afternoon, to where I had an appointment for an interview and to look at what is being offered for rent. The landlady, a woman who is the daughter of the owner,  turns out to be a lively 83 year old, and somewhat of a garden-artist.

The yard is full of plants, and some thriving from recycled washing machine water. She also has a compost pile to enrich the soil of the beautiful garden.

The living area is crowded with photos and books, couches and chairs – all with blankets tossed over them and cushions tossed helper skelter. But it is a cozy atmosphere and very homelike.

The bedroom for rent is quiet and faces a patio. There is a separate entrance to get into the room. The closet has wall-to-wall shelves. I won’t be able to bring all of my storage there, but much of it anyway.

So, I thought I was chosen, but after the interview and the look-see, she said there were 12 other people for her to interview.

I went back to Larry and Sue’s home where I’m staying, and put together ten things that I liked about the place and sent that off to her.

The landlady’s daughter replied back saying she thinks I will be chosen, but I know it is the decision of her mother.

It’s a home owner’s market, the renter has the burden to prove to be an honorable choice.

I’ll know on Saturday, if I will be the choice.

 

Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow

I hope tomorrow, I’ll have a home. I have an appointment to look at a room.

Larry and Sue have been great hosts for me, but I’m yearning for a place to call my own.

Today, not wanting to look for another place, either in person or online, I opted instead to get my hair done, in the style of the 50s. I learned in Colorado that the 50s hairstyle is coming back.

I also wanted to get a manicure. So, off I went to San Juan Batista, but the place was closed, so down the road I went to Prunedale, to a shop that only does nails, not hair. So back up the road to Hollister, determined to find a hair salon to get my hair styled and a manicure.

I called a shop I could see on the street that looked closed, but a woman there said they were open and come on in. I had said over the phone that I wanted my hair shampooed and blown dry and a manicure.

So she patiently worked my hair up to a ‘do’ and I liked it. She spent a long time on it and when finished, I said, okay now, my nails.
“Oh, we don’t do nails here.”

Lots of misunderstanding, but I have the hairstyle and decided my nails look okay. I was just trying to do something productive before tomorrow.

I’m hoping my searching for a place is over for awhile. It’s  just a room, so I won’t be able to get my storage out, but I can take my time and sell some on EBay. But the purpose of a quiet room, is to sit most every day to work on the next book; the story of my one year journey.

Looking for a place is harder than traveling the world

My headline up there says it all!

Looking for a place and the turmoil it causes one, makes traveling the world easy.

What an education it is nowadays, to find an apartment.

Every time I find a nice place and make the appointment to look at it, I’m joined with several other people; all vying for the same empty space. Yesterday, I helped a young woman get her wheel chair out of her car, so she could complete with me for an apartment, I had hopes for. Then when we met the manager, we were joined by two other couples, and one other person. The place would be perfect for me, and I’m sure it would be for the lovely young woman in the wheel chair.

Then, I got excited to find an ad on Craigslist that looked too good to be true. A three bedroom house, owned by someone who wanted it taken good care of until he returned from a year long job in another state. I fell for it and went to look at the house. An agent inside informed me the ad was a hoax. Sad.

Then another place I had my eye on, and had an appointment, also ended with a big zero. I waited at the appointed hour, and no one showed up, so I called the agent and asked what happened. She told me that no one was scheduled that day. She didn’t inform me that the showing was for the next day. I called back and asked if the showing was for the following day. Yes, she said. You only asked if it was shown today. Duh, why couldn’t she have just mentioned that I had the wrong day. She had my name?

Then other places that I can afford were either already taken or substandard.

So I looked at Craigslist again late last night and found a room with it’s own private garden patio. It seems perfect for me and I’ve already spoken to the woman who lives there and she seems very nice, and seems to like me, as well.

So, we’ll see how it goes. I really want an apartment to myself, but if this works out, I’ll be happy.

Looking for a nest

I feel like a bird. I’ve gathered everything I can think of to make a nest for myself, but it doesn’t seem to hang well on the tree.

An apartment. That’s all I want. Reasonable. I pay my bills on time. I can put a months rent in advance. I can pay a deposit. I’ll clean the place out to perfection whenever I leave. I don’t have pets. I’m constantly on Craigslist.

When I find a perfect place for me, it’s already rented. I guess I need to fly faster, huh?

The on bedroom apartment must be on the Monterey side of 101 from Marina on!

 

The dancer

It was against the rules to photograph or record the gamelan music last night, so I don’t have a photo of gamelan or the dancers, but here’s my best description.

Gamelan played the haunting sounds for two numbers, and on the third, the Gambyong Paranom piece, four dancers smoothed onto the stage in small steps, They wore brown/gold sarongs with a swag of red material across the waist and hips. They were adorned with gold necklaces and head pieces of gold over their hair pulled back into a bun. The dancers performed  a traditional dance from Java, with fluidity, following the rhythms of the music. With hand and foot gestures they manipulated the long yellow scarf they all wore around their necks.

My daughter-in-law, Aleida was one of the dancers. She looked gorgeous.

Gamelan is the name that covers around 20 – 25 musical instruments, with gongs, a stringed instrument, a flute, and drums. It is music, long pieces, that put you in a mountainside, near a jungle, mesmerizing you into a dreamy, quiet place in your mind.

The UC Berkeley Gamelan Class, and the Lestari Indonesia Dance Company performed.

Trying to find a nest

It isn’t easy looking for an apartment, I’ve learned today.

There was one that had a railing that needed to be painted. I felt if I ran my hand over it, I’d get splinters. Another place had the water heater inside the closet, which left only half a closet.

One other place where I was told would be open, was closed so I couldn’t look into it.

There IS something perfect for me, but I need to keep looking for it.

Meanwhile, it’s a long drive from Half Moon Bay to Monterey to look.

 

Daughters-in-law

I’m blessed with two wonderful daughters-in-law. One is a cowgirl and the other is a dancer; both work with little children.

I took Aleida to the train station in Daly City, where she’ll catch a train to a practice session with musicians. Then she and her group of 4 will perform on Nov. 9th in San Francisco. I’ll be there.

Sue gets up every morning to feed two horses. On the mini ranch are cute chickens. I think they’re cute because they will allow you to pick them up. Sue also cooks fabulous, healthy meals. She’s a creative cook.

I’m currently back in Half Moon Bay with my son and his wife, Aleida, and last week I spent two days with my other son and Sue.

I know I’m a lucky person to have them in my life.

A good day

It’s been a good day because there were good things to consider that will have a long lasting effect on my life. I have some decisions to make and will do that tomorrow.

Meanwhile, I’ve been at my son, Larry’s home in Aromas and will go back up to Half Moon Bay tomorrow to vote. I’m registered to vote there, but don’t know the local issues. So I’ll concentrate on what the issues are for the state.

I remember the voting poll when it was in my home in the Barnum neighborhood of Denver. All day long, people walked into our front porch where the voting machines were set up, waiting for folks to exercise their right to vote.

 

 

 

All I can say about this is ?

This will tickle your funny bone, wherever that is:I left my keys somewhere to the apartment, so I traced my steps.
In and out of stores. “Oh, you poor thing. She lost her keys,” the lady shouted to the back of the store. She gave me a hug.
“What do they look like?” The lady in the back shouted.
“Well,” I said, a key with lots of color on it and two other keys.”
The hugging lady shouted, “they have lots of color on one key and there are two other keys.”
“Did they have anything that would show us they are yours?” The back lady shouted.
“Yes, there’s a piece with an L on it.”
The hugging lady shouted, “there’s a piece with a L on it.”
“No, no keys have been turned in here.” The lady in the back shouted.
I’m asking now, why did I have to describe something if nothing had been turned in?
Walking on down to another store, that by now, have all been closed, I saw them. They sit on a counter of a closed up store.
I’ll pick them up tomorrow.