Christmas 2007 Newsletter

In December 2005 Dawn and I separated, and I was too depressed to write a newsletter. (Although oddly, I was still blogging about the B&B: https://speedwellbb.blogspot.com/2005/12/first-ad.html) We reconciled (sort of) a few months later and I moved to Pennsylvania in July 2006, but I knew at the time the relationship was dead and I just wanted to get the B&B open so I could move on. I had hoped the house in LA would sell and I'd have some money to start over somewhere else, but the property market had softened and my realtor was an idiot, so in October 2006 I ended up moving back to LA and started divorce proceedings. I didn't write a newsletter that year, either. In 2007, I did write this letter but I don't think I sent it to anyone. 

It's funny that in this increasing online world, a form letter in a pre-printed card is now considered a personal touch.  Just be grateful I didn't forward any chain letters.

I didn't send a holiday letter last year, and for good reason: I didn't have a photo of Alex the iguana.  That's because I didn't have Alex anymore.  I always seem to lose my pets in any separation.

Of course, this wasn't just a separation, it was a divorce.  That's right, the person who was never going to get married is now divorced—how ironic is that?  Everyone told me that marriage ruins a good relationship, but after living together for 12 years I thought it would be okay.  We weren't married three months before she wanted out.

Had I been smart, of course, I would have just let her go.  That's because at the time, she was spending $50,000 per month on the Pennsylvania remodel, and I would have saved myself a ton of money if I had just backed out.  Unfortunately, I had promised her mom that I wouldn't let anything happen to the property, and it was obvious that without me the property would be in foreclosure within a year.

Besides, my time in LA was over.  While I knew I wasn't going to be an innkeeper in Pennsylvania, I'd spent so much time thinking about moving on that I had to do something.  I'd been born and raised in LA, I'd lived in the same house for over 10 years, I'd been at the same job for 7 years.  But more than that, I'd shared it all with Dawn, and I didn't want the constant reminders.  If I had to start over, I was going to start completely over.

The hardest part was keeping all of this to myself for 6 months, because I knew people wouldn't understand, and I didn't want them to talk me out of it.  So I said goodbye to everyone, shipped everything to Pennsylvania, packed the iguana in the car, and drove cross-country.  (Iguanas can't fly.)  And I'll be honest, a part of me hoped that somehow, once I moved out there and we were living together again, things might work out.  I had no idea how out of control she had become.  I remember her at the airport when we first separated, sobbing uncontrollably, holding me, telling me how much she loved me.  Another passenger even commented that he wished he had someone who loved him as much. 18 months later, when I flew to Pennsylvania, I practically had to beg her to come to the airport to pick me up.

The irony is that we originally separated so she could manage the restoration.  Our original $200,000 budget had ballooned into $800,000, and I thought with her there we might be able to save some money.  Instead the final price tag was $1.3 million.  I could have left the contractor to his own devices while she continued working in LA and still saved money!  Of course I also hoped she'd be able to get it done faster, but when I moved out they were already three months late, they were still working on the main house and had barely started on the four outbuildings!  It was amazing how much was accomplished in the two weeks after I arrived leading up to the “open house.”

So I got the restoration finished and established the B&B, not an easy task but within four months it was already at 40% occupancy and pretty much self-sustaining.  In the meantime, however, the house in LA had not yet sold.  Had I put it on the market in February 2006, it probably would have sold right away, but then the market went soft and it just languished for six months.  I needed the remaining equity to move on—every other dime was in the restoration—so I had to return to LA.

That was a very depressing day.  When I said good-bye to LA, I meant it, I wasn't coming back. Now I returned, hat in hand, to face the shame of my friends who knew a year ago that I was just being used for the money.  (I knew it, too, but I preferred them thinking I was being taken advantage of, not that I was a willing participant.)  I returned with nothing but two suitcases of clothes.  I slept on an air bed for the next six months.  I bought a mini-fridge and a 12” TV.  Of course I ate out all the time, and I put on 35 pounds.  Occasionally I rented a car on the weekend to run errands, but otherwise I just stayed at home.  (I left my convertible in Pennsylvania, where it was sold for $1,500 less than blue book.  Somebody got a great deal.)

I also managed my own remodel, replacing the carpet, removing the popcorn ceilings, and replacing the tile in the kitchen and master bath. (This one stayed on time and on budget.)  They finished just before New Year's.  I also dropped the price and by the end of January, I had two offers, and it sold at the end of February.  However, the remodel and lower price had wiped out all remaining equity, so I was broke.  I mean, I had nothing.  So I did the craziest thing imaginable: I applied for a work permit in the UK, with the intention of moving to London.  However, they denied me – because I'd been self-employed they wanted an "original" tax return, and didn't understand there was no such thing in the US – so I ended up moving in with my mother in Northern California while I looked for a job in San Francisco.  Two weeks later I completely despaired—the psychological act of living with my mom at 37 was just too much for me.  Just about then an old friend offered me a job in LA, so for the third time I moved back to the city I couldn't leave.

The job was downtown so I got a loft apartment with a spectacular view, and can walk to work.  Of course I had to completely furnish it, from a sofa to a set of dishes.  (The funniest moment was when I bought a bed frame but not a mattress, so in the meantime I stuffed my air bed into the frame.)  This is also the terminus for the subway and bus routes in LA so I can get anywhere with public transportation, and don't need a car.  I haven't saved a dime, but I have paid down two of my credit cards, nearly erasing the last vestiges of my involvement in Pennsylvania.  I can apply again for a UK work permit with 9 months of paystubs, which will happen January 15, assuming I can stick it out that long.

Oh, there was one final insult from Pennsylvania.  The main impetus for the project—doing it now, turning it into a bed and breakfast, getting it listed on the national register of historic places—was to take advantage of the tax credits for historic rehabilitation, where I could write off $200,000 in federal taxes.  We'd worked with a CPA for two years in planning this, and he retired just weeks before it was time to file.  The new CPA prepared our returns and said that we could use the tax credits, but then we'd be subject to AMT (alternative minimum tax), which weren't eligible for the tax credits, and so we'd end up saving less than $1,000, and he would charge us that much just to prepare the forms!

So let's compare where I was a year ago vs today:

	2006	2007
Money	Owed over a million dollars	Owe $25,000
Possessions	Had to borrow a pan, a knife, a can opener, a plate, and a fork from my neighbor.	Have fully furnished my apartment
Weight	185 pounds	185 pounds (I've been working out 3-4 times a week for four months; I don't know what the problem is)
Job	None. Quit a job I loved that was close to home, paid well, and with good people, to move to Pennsylvania.	Employed, although only making about half what I was making before, and I hate my job.
Social status	Married and alone	Divorced and seeing someone
Plans	Apply for a UK work permit and move to London	Apply for a UK work permit and move to London
Location	Living in the suburbs with no car	Living downtown and taking public transportation
State of mind	Clinically depressed	Quite content

Christmas 2004 newsletter

This year's letter will be very short because nothing happened.  That's not to say we weren't busy, it's just that we didn't accomplish anything.  In fact, I tried to get out of this letter altogether and just include a few pictures, but Dawn didn't think they were very funny, so here are a few short stories:

Last year, I fell in love with the 'Atmos,' a mantel clock that is wound by temperature changes.  (Don't ask.)  I couldn't afford a new one, but used ones were plentiful on eBay, so I asked Dawn.  Being the smarter one, she decided that instead of saying no, she gave me a price ceiling that would ensure I would be out-bid every time.  In fact, I was so accustomed to losing that I once bid on two different clocks at the same time.  Needless to say, I won both.

It turned out okay because the first clock didn't actually work, so it spent the first six months in a repair shop.  The second clock adorned the mantel during that time, and in July I swapped clocks and re-sold one on eBay for exactly what I paid for it.  Had it not been for my big mouth, Dawn need never have known I screwed up.

Being yuppies (or whatever the current equivalent is), you can imagine most of our days are given over to indulgent pastimes of dubious merit.  Well, mine are at least.  Dawn stubbornly dedicates herself to self-improvement, first through school, now through piano.  And while playing scales for an hour a day, every day, for the last 18 months has been difficult on me, her progress has been remarkable.

Unfortunately, she has also learned the difference between an old upright (like we have) and a grand piano (like the one her instructor has) and found the grand more to her liking.  One piano tuner told her she just needed new strings – for $1,500 – so she keeps a coffee can on top of her piano that reads, "String fund."  She also recently decided on a Casio synthesizer to take with her to Pennsylvania, so I'm expecting a new coffee can to go up any day.

Speaking of Pennsylvania, we've made six trips there this year, and the only thing we managed to do was take two giant steps backwards.  Our goal was to start the project in October, fixing the roof first and then working on the inside during winter.  Our general contractor, who we selected last year based on several strong recommendations, had done absolutely nothing, and then when we were ready to start he told us the roofer was busy until next March.  Then he asked for a $50,000 deposit.  Needless to say, he was off the project, and we will be spending our Christmas interviewing other general contractors.

The house had sat vacant for the past twenty years without incident, so we weren't concerned about slipping the schedule – until this summer, when they had record rainfall, the roof failed, two rooms were covered in mold, and the furniture warped.  We spent one week moving what we could to a storage rental, and then had a restoration company take the furniture off-site.  (We couldn't be there when the furniture was moved, but the company sent us photos, and Dawn burst into tears when she saw the house being emptied.)  So now we just hope it can manage one more winter without us.

Although the rain caused problems in the house, there were no problems outside.  Unfortunately the county, working from a checklist and in a building with no windows, I presume, told us we needed to make significant alterations in case of heavy rain.  Specifically, they told us to expand the driveway to handle two-way traffic, which required moving a hill, which then triggered "storm water detention" requirements.  (Yes, if we get too much water, we’re supposed to store it.  Go figure.)  It was typical bureaucratic nonsense, but it was going to add $100,000 to the cost of the project, and at one point I blew up and told everyone the project was cancelled.  Except Dawn.  She heard it from someone else.  That was a Bad Thing.

But it turned into a Good Thing, because she took over the project and she talked to everybody and she even flew out there to attend a meeting with the township and got everything back on track.  Instead of a two-lane driveway, we now have a small pull-off, which will add about $2,000 to the cost of the project.  She is amazing.

Otherwise, the year was pretty mundane.  We spent Fourth of July and Thanksgiving with my brother, who had a new daughter in June in spite of my plea that Heslings shouldn't breed.  We had our annual Halloween pumpkin carving, we visited friends in San Francisco one weekend, every month we have a "bridge night" and we occasionally take in old movies at the local theaters (although not as often as before).  Not the scintillating high life you probably imagined, but we enjoy it just the same.

We did add some new toys to the arsenal this year: Dawn traded in her day planner for a Palm Pilot (which doubles as an MP3 player), and I finally got a 17" LCD monitor.  We got cell phones again – I even sprang for camera phones, but wouldn't pay the $5/month so we could send pictures to each other, which kind of defeats the purpose.  We got a new printer, a cordless phone, and an electric tea kettle.  Dawn pointed out that just before the holidays, I always start spending "quick money" – so called because it goes quickly.  I'm not sure if this is because it's the end of the year and I've already blown the budget so I no longer care, or because I'm buying gifts for other people and have some deep-seated selfishness issues, or it's just an annual cycle that happens to fall in November, just after my birthday.  Whatever.  All I know is that I bought Dawn a really cool gadget for Christmas that I can't wait to play with.

Finally, an update on the fake grass we installed in 2003: It turns out that the only time we ever spent in the yard was maintaining it.  Now, we never go outside.  However, when friends visit they tell us the yard still looks great.

Christmas 2003 newsletter

I can't find the electronic text for this, only a photocopy!

Christmas 2002 newsletter

Front:

Inside:

Every year, I try to write something to tie the year up, to see the big picture, to keep it all in perspective. And every year I fail. Our lives are not the intended actions of people on a mission, but the ramblings of two people having fun. Well, maybe one person having fun:

• In January, I bought passes to the Academy of Motion Pictures and Sciences (the “Oscar” people) screening of the 75 Best Picture winners. It didn’t occur to me that Dawn might not want to drive to Beverly Hills every Monday night for the next 75 weeks. (By the time you’ll read this, we should be up to 1958.) In October, the Warner Grand Theater re-opened and so we go to San Pedro every Friday night to watch old movies as well. Dawn doesn't understand how I can take her to the movies twice a week but she has to wait for new releases to come out on video.
• In February, I decided the stock market was nearing bottom so I invested some money we’d been holding in cash for the last two years. By March, it had lost 40% of its value. I also moved our retirement accounts into “socially responsible” funds – apparently, this means they just give the money away. So we are re-evaluating our retirement plans and thinking we may not make it for 2004.
• In March, Dawn bought a vegetarian cookbook. We’d been skirting the edges for some time, so I took this opportunity to declare we would be full vegetarians. Despite Dawn’s initial response – “you’ll have to rip meat from my cold, dead fingers” – she has actually been the prime instigator for cooking at home. However, we’ve just supplanted cheese for meat -- next year, we’ll try eating healthy vegetarian food.
• In April, I bought tickets to NASCAR. Dawn volunteered her opinion about spending four hours watching cars go in a circle, so I took a friend instead. We got to the stadium two hours early, but it took us three hours to find a parking space. I also discovered why front-row seats are the cheapest. It was so loud, I just hared it, and I told everyone I would never go back. Except Dawn; I told her she missed a great time.
• In May, I ignored Dawn’s desperate pleas to ship my uncle’s car to her mother and instead we drove cross-country to deliver it personally. In nine days we hit twelve states, covered 4,000 miles, and used 150 gallons of gas. We saw Salt Lake, Denver, St Louis, Kansas City, and Chicago, but only for about ten minutes each.
• In June, we decided to plant bushes along our driveway. The first hole hit cement – a 3’ strip of cement that ran the entire length of the driveway. I assured Dawn that I would remove it, but all of the quotes seemed quite high and I didn't do anything. In October, she rented a jackhammer and spent two days ripping it out. Once we factored in the cost of disposal, we saved about fifteen dollars.
• In July, Dawn announced she had lost ten pounds. I announced that between gym fees and personal trainers, that averaged out to $100 per pound. I, on the other hand, having been riding my bike to work for nearly two years, still haven’t lost a single pound, but have saved nearly $300 in gas. She told me where I could stick that $300.
• In August, I went on a two-week business trip to Toronto.Dawn wanted to come spend the weekend with me so I put her on a red-eye Friday night and an early flight Monday morning. Sorry to say, Ontario and Niagara Falls weren’t anything to write home about, with the notable exception that they aren’t vegetarian-averse: You can get a veggie dog from a street vendor, and we found a great vegetarian buffet restaurant. (Oddly, they didn’t serve salad.)
• In September, I decided I didn’t like our entertainment center and wanted a separate stereo cabinet, and so proceeded to cut down the entertainment center until I had a small stereo cabinet. (Think “mini-me.”) All of our electronic equipment was scattered around the living room for six weeks and when I was finished, we still didn’t have a home for the TV. (Fortunately, there was enough scrap left to build a small stand.)
• In October, Dawn and I celebrated eleven years together. Eleven years! Only my parents lived with me longer, and that’s because there are laws. We celebrated by buying a chair which, as of December, still hadn’t arrived. (Something about the longshoremen strike.) We also cleaned out the garage and I threw out Dawn’s school books -- all four boxes of them -- that we have been keeping for eleven years. I also threw out my old Atari computer, which had been mothballed for 15 years. The difference was that Dawn didn’t go to the trash can three times to stare at her school books.
• In November, after struggling for three years to maintain a planted fish tank, I finally got fed up. A reasonable person would have just thrown away the plants, but instead I bought a canopy, new lights, a carbon dioxide tank, and a new filter. Dawn watched the transformation—and the expense account—without saying a thing. When I was finished, and the tank was covered in a thick mat of algae, she announced she was going shopping.
• In December, Dawn said that after last year’s cruise she didn’t want to spend any money or go anywhere with my family, so I invited them to visit us. Apparently, that wasn’t what she meant. But her mom, my aunt and my uncle (who haven’t been on a plane in 40 years) are all flying out; my brother and his wife and two kids are driving down from Sacramento; and my mother and sister and her boyfriend will all be joining us for a vegetarian Christmas dinner. (Just kidding!)

If my antics offend you, don’t worry; Dawn’s revenge is coming: Next year we’re going to start meeting with contractors about restoring the “big house”—that shouldn’t cost more than our life’s savings—and get serious about moving to Pennsylvania. (I just learned the average temperature in Litiz is 28 degrees in January. Can’t wait.)

Christmas 2001 Newsletter

THE MANY MOODS OF ALEX
IRRITATED	EXCITED	SAD
SLEEPY	HUNGRY	CONTENT
CURIOUS	DAZED	HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

2001 started out with a black monolith in our back yard and--oh wait, never mind. It was actually a quiet year, for us at least. No end to the self-inflicted tribulations, of course, but either we're getting better at doing this stuff, or just not doing as much stuff.

My great-uncle, who passed away last year, had a '94 Buick with less than 5,000 miles. (He was 91-what do you expect?) Dawn's mom needed a new car so this was perfect except for one thing: the car was in Arizona and the mom was in Pennsylvania. The first step was to get the car out of Arizona, so in March we flew to Tucson and drove the car straight home via Four Corners. Now, any map will show you that Four Corners is well out of the way, and when Dawn finally saw a map she was pretty upset, especially since she had caught a cold and was feeling awful. The funniest part, though, was that we arrived at closing time, and so we almost drove fourteen hours out of our way to see nothing. Fortunately the man at the gate let us in and we drove fourteen hours out of our way to see a concrete block in the middle of the desert. Still, we got to see the petrified forest, the painted desert, Zion national monument, slept in a wig-wam motel on Route 66, and I have a photo of Dawn throwing up on the Four Corners monument. (On Monday, Dawn called her work to tell them she wasn't coming in because she was sick. She neglected to tell them she was in Utah.)

In June, Dawn's nephew visited from Ohio. It was the first time anybody had trusted us with their kid for more than a couple of hours. (Granted, he's 16 and a football player, but still.) We showed him what it was truly like to live in California: We put 1,000 miles on the convertible that week. We went to San Francisco and Sacramento, the Long Beach Aquarium and Dodger Stadium, and even took him to a Hitchcock film at one of the downtown movie palaces. The most excitement was when we went to the beach and, despite our warnings, he decided to go into the water. He didn't have his glasses on, of course, so when a dolphin passed about 10 feet from him, all he saw was a fin, and I think he set a new speed record getting back to land.

The day after he flew home, I was doing a little yardwork and decided to remove a limb from the walnut tree. That the limb cracked, the tree shook, and I fell off the ladder onto a brick path and fractured my collarbone shouldn't surprise anyone. That I was wearing only my bathrobe might. It certainly surprised the paramedics, the admitting nurse, and the ER doctor, who asked me, "Did you change before coming to the hospital?" When Dawn explained that I often do yardwork at two in the afternoon in nothing but my bathrobe, he nodded knowingly, but I'm sure I was the butt of a few jokes that week (pun intended).

In August, Dawn finally got a bite on all those resumes she'd been sending out (two, I think, but maybe it was three): A small firm just down the street was looking for a probate paralegal, and [remaining paragraph censored by Dawn, who will only say that she loves her new job and doesn't want me antagonizing her new co-workers.]

I started riding my bike to work, thanks in large part to a new asthma drug I was taking. I haven't lost any weight and I've almost been killed twice, but it's definitely worth it. Not to be outdone, Dawn joined a gym. She said it was for health reasons, but I think that with the new job, it's the first time in ten years she wasn't going to school at night or driving two hours to get home, and she just didn't know what to do with all that free time.

But the big news, of course, was the cruise. As I mentioned last year, my mother's side of the family hadn't gotten together since 1979 and it seemed high time for a family reunion. However, given my family's, shall we say, volatile nature, we wanted this to be somewhere where people could get away, so a small boat in the middle of the ocean seemed a natural choice. The logistics were an absolute nightmare: All cruises went from Miami in the winter and New York in the summer. My uncle in Atlanta wouldn't fly and it was too far to drive to either Miami or New York. However, in October, one of the cruise lines had a sailing out of Charleston, South Carolina. I flew to Atlanta and drove my aunt and uncle there; my brother and his family flew from San Francisco, and Dawn flew with my mother and sister from LA. Dawn's only condition, after she stopped saying "not in this lifetime," was that she didn't have to sit near my family (they all snore) so I booked her seat on the other side of the airplane. Of course, the airline - with one of those really consumer-friendly automation systems - found empty seats and so moved everyone together. Both ways.

Coincidentally, my cousin on my father's side was living in Charleston, so we spent two days and had a small family reunion with that side of the family, as well. She and her husband organized the cars, the meals, and the entertainment (okay, she was the entertainment). Everyone was still in high spirits when they dropped us off at the cruise terminal on Monday at 5:30pm.

Unfortunately, those spirits were long gone by the time we actually boarded the ship at midnight. This was post-9/11 so the port had increased security without increasing personnel or equipment, so they had to manually process 3,000 passengers, and all their luggage, with two x-ray machines.

The trip was, surprisingly, uneventful. Because of the cruise, we had to cancel our Halloween party for the first time in nine years, but Dawn and I still got to carve a pumpkin. (I thought it was a contest and I was trying hard to beat the eight-year olds carving with me, but it turned out that they just displayed all of them at the midnight buffet.) On Halloween we all wore our costumes to dinner - out of 3,000 people, we were the only ones in costume. It was supposed to be a Renaissance theme but, as my brother pointed out when he saw my outfit, there are a lot of interpretations of "Renaissance." (His exact words were, "What the hell is that, Italian Renaissance?")

After the cruise, I drove my aunt and uncle back to Atlanta and I had 12 hours before my flight to LA, so I decided to fix my uncle's computer. That we gave him his first computer a few years before was almost a joke - he was 72 and couldn't figure out a coffee maker. The first time he used the mouse, he picked it up and waved it in front of the monitor! I figured it was a lost cause until, one morning, I got an email from him! Then another. Then another. By noon I had to call and tell him to knock it off.

That was three years ago, and he was still running Windows 3.1 on a 486. Since it was now 2001, I figured I should at least upgrade him to Windows 95, so I took my mother's old computer, spent weeks making it idiot-proof, and shipped it to him. Needless to say, the postal service completely trashed it - I mean, "threw it off the truck, ran over it a couple of times, and then dragged it behind them for a couple of miles" trashed it. I had been up since 5am, driven the 6 hours to his place, was up all night fixing the computer, then drove two hours to the airport, and finally -- after 32 hours -- got some sleep on the plane. When I got home, I had an email from my uncle that read, "Next time, can I get a computer with only one previous owner?"

I told Dawn we'd do something with her family next year but she just said, "I'm not that stupid."

Finally, in November, we saw the Leonid meteor shower. If you'll recall, in 1999 we flew half-way across the world and took a cruise through the Canary Islands only to see…nothing. This year, the same pundits said not only was it going to be more spectacular, but prime viewing would be right in our own back yard. It was a Saturday night so we packed up the cooler, put on our warmest clothes, and drove up to the mountains. At midnight, we hadn't seen a thing, we were freezing cold, and there was talk (mostly from the passenger seat) of going home. Then, as if to start the show, a fireball streaked across the horizon. I put down the top on the convertible and we watched an amazing show of 30-40 meteors per minute for three hours, often seeing two or three simultaneously. It was the most spectacular display of celestial pyrotechnics I'd ever seen. (And likely will ever see - the next big show is slated for 2099.)

In the morning, after an hour and a half of sleep, we were driving home and I asked Dawn, "Want to go see the Doo Dah parade?" This is an annual parade in Pasadena that was designed to spoof the Rose Parade, and featured things like the BBQ Marching Grill (who push barbecues does the street), the kazoo marching band, the Bastard Sons of Lee Marvin, The Invisible Man Marching Drill Team, etc. Dawn agreed so we picked up a friend and headed to Pasadena. We finally got home at 4pm, went straight to bed, and didn't wake up until 7am the next morning.

Next Spring, we're driving the Buick to Pennsylvania and do the Great American Road Trip. Imagine spending six hours in the car every day -- it will be just like commuting in Los Angeles.