Climbing Back Into The Saddle
I doubt there is anything more disheartening than to see an accomplishment at which you have worked very hard be rendered a dull memory by subsequent events. Well, maybe it is a bit more disheartening if you could’ve preventend it, and you know you could’ve prevented it.
In January 2004, I joined Weight Watchers, along with Cristina (but, this particular tale is not hers). I enjoyed tremendous success, losing 65 pounds by July of 2004. I had even figured out a way to take Saturday off from the plan, after my weigh-in, and still lose weight. But, such success can sometimes breed a bit of arrogant casualness in one’s approach to such endeavors. I have to own up to that fact for myself.
In August, I began playing competitive poker in a bar league. I like beer. I like bar food. 1 + 1 = 2 . I started gaining weight, always telling myself that I’d eat before I went, only make healthy choices (lol) from the menu, and drink iced tea instead of beer. Uh huh. As the weight began to creep back upwards, I found that I started skipping meetings. By the end of the year, I simply wasn’t going anymore, and I definitely was not On Plan (OP) anymore.
A weight problem, particularly if it is coupled with an overeating problem – and I am definitely an overeater – is like a substance abuse problem in that it is necessary to stay on top of it every single day. Weight Watchers (WW) helps with this by providing guidance and coaching regarding proper eating habits. Compared to a lot of diet plans out there, WW is pretty inexpensive and verifiably successful – if you stay OP. Therein lies the rub. In order to lose weight and maintain it, it is necessary to change one’s lifestyle. Any weightloss program will help an individual lose weight in the short term; the issue becomes the longterm sustainability of it. And that, more than anything else is an adjustment of one’s brain. It does not matter what weight loss program one uses…if you don’t have your brain in gear, it won’t succeed in the longterm. No one can control that component but you, yourself. I know. I let mine veer off into a land of lazy, easy decisions to eat what is not healthy.
So, know that I’d gained back a significant chunk of my weight, I resolved to return to WW starting last Monday. I subscribe online, and I figured I’d start by weighing in on Monday, record it online, then return to actual meetings on Saturday (meetings work for me; they may not work for others). My weigh-in made me sad. I had gained back every single pound I’d lost, and I weight, once again, 272 pounds. But, I’ve done exactly what I resolved to do. I recorded it online, and I am going to go to a meeting on Saturday morning. I’ll attend down here until I get moved fully to Oregon; then, I’ll find a new meeting up there.
Onward and downard.
Summer of Change XVI
We verbally have accepted an offer on the house. Barring any unforeseen circumstances (and I keep knocking on wood for this), we should get all of the paperwork done today and officially be in escrow before the day is over. The price we got is only $5,000 short of the top-end of the range we set, so we’re pretty happy with that. Of course, we keep discovering these niggling little fees that eat away at the profit margin with which we will finish. One piece of advice, and this is so simple that I am amazed I didn’t do it, when you are interviewing a real estate agent, make then show you, on paper, the fees that will accompany the sale. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like we’re getting slammed, but it’s stupid little things for which we are responsible…especially as this market shifts from a sellers market to a buyers market.
I’ve also found it particularly difficult to be separated from Cristina and to try to discuss offers in an effective, non-combative way. Cristina and I are both intelligent, fairly assertive, sometimes stubborn folks. More often than not, we have to be negotiated off of our position rather than be talked into a position. In this case, I found myself in the unenviable position of having to talk Cristina into seeing these offers as legitimate responses that needed a fairly quick turnaround one way or another. I can think of better ways to spend a day. 
Being separated by 961 miles and having to do it over the phone only complicates matters. Thankfully, we worked through it with only mild bloodshed, and I will sign the contract at 11am this morning.
Let’s hope that escrow goes smoothly.
Summer of Change XV
As of yesterday, we had three offers on the table, which is a good thing. However, only one of them was a serious offer, and we countered. We are still waiting on the response to the counter.
When I called Cristina to tell her of the offer, I honestly thought she’d be thrilled. She was not. I am not prepared, yet, to discuss the gist of the conversation, but a lot of stuff came out in the wash. Though not a pleasant conversation, it was a profitable conversation. Receiving offers and making counter-offers makes things pretty real. When you’ve lived in a place as long as we have (Cristina – 26 years, me – 16 years), a lot of things have occurred in that place, and there are a lot emotions tied to it. Sometimes the importance and gravity of those bonds are not completely understood until there are brought to the surface by some catalyst. In this case, the catalyst was the serious offer that required our response.
Things are pretty cool now, though.
Our realtor’s office called this morning and let me know that the buyer’s agent has asked for an extension due to not getting the offer until this morning. While I don’t mind giving the extension, I find it humorous that she would ask for an extension when we didn’t receive the offer until yesterday although it was written on Tuesday, and it had an expiration of 8:00pm. Interesting.
I’ve realized that I will have to have the truck packed the night before escrow closes. In California, escrow generally closes around 8:00pm. So, that would mean I have to be out of the house before 8:00pm on the day that escrow closes. So, I am going to get hold of some of the burly guys I know, invite them all over on Thursday night, feed them pizza and beer and move all the furniture and stuff into the truck. Using a number of guys to get the job done, it’ll actually get done pretty quickly. Of course, I have to do my part and ensure everything is ready to go. Anyone ever tells you that moving is fun is either stupid, has never done it, or is a type of masochist, the form of which I simply don’t comprehend.
Summer of Change XIII
There is an offer on the table, now. Though at the low end our asking range, the money is not the real problem. They want the purchase to be contingent upon the sale of a house that is not yet in escrow. Not a good offer. However, our realtor wants to hold off on our response. Two agents are showing the place today to two second-timers. Second views are a pretty good sign, and we could end up with multiple offers by the end of the night or tomorrow, which is a good thing.
Copyright 2005 by Greg Hubbard
Summer of Change XIV – Cat Makes First Kill
Kudos to Beatrice who did her job this morning in Oregon by making her first kill of a mouse. Lest thrilled than I, Cristina had to dispose of said mouse and clean up the blood on the floor. She commented that it was a good thing we have a brick floor.
I don’t hate mice, btw. But, I don’t want them running rampant through my house, either.
Copyright 2005 by Greg Hubbard
Summer of Change XII
Move, Stage 2, accomplished.
Thursday, July 14, I picked up the Budget Rental Truck at about 7:30am, and I spent the remainder of the day loading up all of the stuff that Cristina had packed and stored in the garage. There was a lot of stuff, and, when you load one of these suckers, you have to consider balance of the load and all that type of thing. I helped work enough truck wrecks as a teen to know how important it is to make sure the load is loaded correctly. Apparently, I did it correctly because I only had one item move on me…a walking stick that I should’ve secured more soundly. Pretty good, I think.
I finished up around 8pm, and Cristina said she’d finish up the details so I could nap for a little while. Unfortunately, I was totally wound up, and I couldn’t relax enough to doze off…even after taking a shower. So, we took off around 12am Friday and headed up I-5 for Oregon.
Getting through Los Angeles at that time proved to be no great difficulty. The difficulty came when we hit the San Joaquin Valley. If it wasn’t for the mountains that are just visible to the left and right, you’d swear you were driving through the Texas Panhandle. The floor of the valley is about as flat as the Llano Estacado, and there is nothing but agriculture between the two mountain ranges that serve as boundaries for the valley. The valley takes up nearly the entire middle third of California, so it goes on for awhile.
Unlucky for me, I started getting sleepy…to the point of having to stop about once every 30 minutes to wake myself up. I finally sent Cristina, her sister, and the animals on down the road because I knew I’d have to stop regularly, and with the growing heat of the day, I didn’t want the animals put through all of that. Luckily, just south of Sacramento, I found a Starbucks and got two Iced Venti Americanos. For the unitiated, that’s 10 shots of espresso. That worked. I was fine, sleep-wise for the rest of the day.
However, and this is a big however, it gets really, really, really, really hot in the San Joaquin Valley during the month of July. The temperatures varied between 104 and 110. The truck I’d rented, proved to be a gutless piece of crap, but it did have air conditioning. ..which was a great thing until I got to Redding and headed north into the steep mountain passes through which I-5 goes as it skirts Mt. Shasta. Looming at a height in excess of 14,000 feet, Mt. Shasta is a magnificent sight to behold. Even in July, snow blankets the mountain in all but the driest of years (like last year). Shasta also marks the northern most end of the San Joaquin, and the name also applies to the lake one crosses, the forest through which one passes, as well as the passes across which one must trek to get to the other side. This a beautiful drive. I love going through there. Usually.
This time, the temperature was 109. The gutless GMC that Budget rented to me started overheating as I started climbing 6% and 7% inclines. I had no choice but to roll down all of the windows and blast the heater on full to keep the temperature within a manageable range. Getting through the mountain passes generally takes around two hours, one if you’re hauling butt…it took me about three…at 109 degrees…with the heater going full-blast. When I finally hit the plateau that precedes the rise into the Siskyous, I pulled into the first rest stop I could find, let the truck cool for a bit, rolled up all the windows, and turned on that air conditioning. By the time I hit Yreka, I was not a pleasant person with whom to commune…I was a tad cranky and a whole lot whiff.
We tend to make the first day of the trip to Cottage Grove, Oregon a long one – preferring to stop in Yreka, California for the night. Generally, we’ll get in there in the late afternoon, providing some decompression time before we take a well-earned night of sleep. Besides, Yreka is a pretty little town, home to two of our favorite restaurants and a funky metal sculptor. As one enters Yreka, a huge metal cow, it’s head and horns raised to the sky offering a mighty bay to the sun and moon, greets visitors about a mile or so before the first exit into the town. Formerly, when you got off of the freeway onto the main street, you’d pass by the artist studio, and there’d be this huge dragon made out of bolts and sheets of metal and bicycle wheels and all sort of metal objects. The magnificent dragon now guards the northern end of town…which is nice for folks on I-5, but I admit that I missed seeing it perched in its old spot on this trip.
There are two restaurants (which will both be reviewed in full later) in Yreka that demand our attendance when we stop there. A few years ago, when Cristina first began to stop in Yreka on her treks to her mother’s house, she discovered an amazing Mexican restaurant called Casa Ramos. Casa Ramos is part of a very small chain of regional stores, and they serve some of the best Mexican cuisine one might find anywhere in California. Not to mention their magaritas…not that we might be enticed to drink one or two. The place is HUGELY busy, so it’s important to be patient. The payoff is worth it.
For breakfast, it is VERY important to stop at the Black Bear Diner. There are twenty Black Bear Diners throughout the west, with one in Las Vegas and Bullhead City (across from Laughlin, NV, in Arizona). I cannot speak to the other 19, but if they are even half as good as the one in Yreka, they are worth a stop regardless the time of day. The menu is huge, and it is fixed locally and freshly, and they give out HUGE portions that make one wonder who actually eats the five items on the breakfast menu that are listed as being for HUNGRY folks. And…now pay close attention because I do NOT make this statement lightly…they serve the best chicken-fried steak I have EVER found outside the State of Texas.
Finally, on Friday, I showered and crashed. I wanted to watch the Friday night shows on SciFi, but I conked out within five minutes of the second one (SG:Atlantis) starting.
Saturday wasn’t too bad. It’s four hours or so (I took five) to Cottage Grove from Yreka, so it’s possible for us to be a bit more leisurely in the trek. I had to make the climb through the Siskyou mountains, but that only took a half-hour, and from there it was pretty smooth sailing. I went straight to the new house, opened the garage and began unloading. One of Cristina’s friends up there came over and brought her son. So, between Cristina and Fonda, me and Scott, we had that truck unloaded in about 1 1/2 hours. Nice. Also nice that Cristina went to the mailbox and found our copy of Harry Potter 6 waiting for us.
Sunday meant returning the rental truck to Eugene. I hate getting lost. I got lost. I hated it. I was frustrated and without a map. I was not a nice person. I apologize to all living creatures. We finally found the Budget office and dropped of the truck (I hated that piece of crap…did I mention that previously?). We then proceeded to get lost twice more as we searched for things that Cristina would need for her stay at The Place in Oregon. That’s what I’ve taken to calling it. We then went home, found that the dog had tried to dig through the door because we’d left her. After dealing with a couple of family disasters, via cell phone, 1000 miles from their place of occurrence, Cristina and I headed for Eugene’s airport.
I hated saying goodbye. I love my wife, and she is my best friend. So, it was tough leaving…knowing that we’d be a part for at least one month. On the other hand, the move has brought out some not so pleasant verbiage, and our patience with each other is a tad short. So, being separated for awhile is probably a good way to decompress some of that pent up frustration. Still, I miss her.
The flight was pretty uneventful, though the Seattle leg ended up being half-an-hour late getting out of there; so, I didn’t arrive in San Diego until 12:30am on Monday morning…keeping me up until about 1:30am before I finally got to bed. But, James was there to pick me up, and we had a good ride and visit back to the house. A house that’s pretty empty despite the furniture. Really empty.
Copyright 2005 by Greg Hubbard
The Mailman and The Dog
I have a dog. She is a shepherd mix. She barks.
The mailman comes to the closed door. Dog barks. Mailman goes away.
Dog barks, “Success.”
Mailman sees door is open. Passes by. Delivers mail the next day. Adds note. No mail if the door is open.
I think, “Fair enough.”
Cristina packs for moving. Door is left open. New Mailman drops by for a visit. Leaves mail in mailbox. Dog sees mailman. “What fun, thinks dog. Dog chases mailman. Dog barks. Mailman freaks. Mailman sprays dog.
I think, “Fair enough.”
Door closed for two days. No mail.
Hunt down mailman. Ask, “Where is mail?”
Mailman says, “No mail. Dog scared me. Call supervisor.”
I say, “You couldn’t bother to tell me, ‘No mail.’?”
Mailman says, “Not my job.”
I grow livid.
Cristina calls Post Office. She says, “We want mail.”
Post Office says, “Can’t deliver. You have dog.”
Cristina says, “Fine. I’ll pick it up.”
Post Office says, “No.”
Cristina say, “It’s my mail.”
Post Office says, “Tough shit.”
Cristina says, “How do I get my mail?”
Post Office says, “Talk to supervisor. Sign form.”
Cristina says, “Let me talk to supervisor.”
Post Office says, “No.”
Cristina says, “Why not?”
Post Office says, “Supervisor not here.”
Cristina says, “Have him call me.”
Post Office says, “Sure.”
Supervisor not call.
Cristina calls Post Office.
Cristina says, “May I please speak with Supervisor?”
Post Office says, “No.”
Cristina says, “Why not?”
Post Office says, “Supervisor not here.”
Cristina says, “I need mail.”
Post Office says, “Fine. Come get it.”
Cristina goes to Post Office. Cristina signs form. Cristina receives mail.
Cristina says, “Thank you. Dog moves Thursday. No problem.”
Post Office says, “Tough shit.”
Cristina says, “Huh?”
Post Office says, “Mail still on hold.”
Cristina says, “I signed form.”
Post Office says, “Must have surprise inspection.”
Cristina says, “What?”
Post Office says, “If dog not there, you get mail.”
Cristina thinks, “Fuckwads.”
Cristina goes home.
Cristina and Greg wait for mail.
Copyright 2005 by Greg Hubbard
Firefly
There’s almost always an outry when a TV show is cancelled. Even the crappiest piece of tripe crossing airwaves finds a few viewers. But, when a truly quality show is cancelled, the hardcore cult following rises to the challenge…sometimes with success…sometimes without. Unfortunately for us, the supporters of Joss Whedon’s space-western, Firefly failed in their efforts to save this witty, urbane and solid piece of television.
When the show was on the air, I felt – even in my own house – as if I was the only person in the nation watching this show. I was wrong, and I knew, as I plunked down the $50 for the complete Firefly on DVD that a lot of other folks were doing so, too. What a treat its been to watch excellent actors play out excellent parts in excellent scripts. Even the weakest of the stories rise above the majority of the pablum that broadcasts these days.
In case you’re not up on the lore of Whedon’s future, let me give you a brief rundown. Back in the old days…oops…Forward in the future days (500 years or so), the Chinese and the Americans decide to merge themselves, both on Earth and on the farflung worlds to which they’ve staked claim, from the last two remaining superpowers into a single entity. Not everyone is happy about this, and a civil war develops between those who support unification and those who oppose it.
Captain Malcolm Reynolds (Nathan Fillion), our main character, most definitely has issues with the Alliance, and desiring a life as far from the center of the Alliance universe, buys a Firefly class spaceship that he promptly names Serenity. (I’d tell you why it’s called Serenity, but it’s one of those little trivia gems that’s kind of fun to discover as you watch the show.) Mal and his fellow Browncoat, Zoe (Gina Torres), take command of Serenity as Captain and First Officer, interviewing and hiring a mechanic, Kaylee (Jewel Staite) – a fresh-faced farmgirl who isn’t very innocent – and a pilot named Wash (Alan Tudyk), whose disarming and off-kilter sense of humor soon wins the heart, and hand in marriage, of Zoe. And, held at gunpoint during a robbery, Mal manages to negotiate the hire of one of the robbers, escaping with his life and plunder in tact, along with a piece of muscle called Jayne (Adam Baldwin). Inara Serra (Morena Baccarin) rounds out the initial crew, contracted loosely with Serenity as a sort of ambassador to some very wealthy men and women who seek her out as a “companion.”
In the first episode, Serenity could use a little operating cash, so they take on some passengers, most important of which are Shepherd Meria Book (Ron Glass), fresh out of the monastery, and brother and sister team Dr. Simon Tam (Sean Maher) and River Tam (Summer Glau). Not much time passes before it becomes obvious that there’s a whole lot more to the good shepherd, not to mention the sister and brother. Shepherd Book seems to know a whole lot about guns and killing, and the good doctor and sister reveal themselves to be fugitives, of the utmost importance, from The Alliance.
Firefly is well worth the price of the DVD set. The extras are nothing special, but it’s all about the stories anyway. One of the key reasons to own the set is to see the episodes in the intended order…not in the network dictated sequence ordered by Fox.
The universe created in the television show will continue to live in the upcoming feature film Serenity, due out September 30th.
On a scale of 1-10, Firefly gets a solid 9.
Copyright 2005 by Greg Hubbard
Summer of Change XI
It’s official.
The transfer of ownership for the house in Oregon has recorded, and escrow has closed. We now own a house in two different states…with two VERY different ways of calculating property taxes.
Copyright 2005 by Greg Hubbard
Summer of Change X
The day is near.
The house goes on the market next Thursday, the 14th of July.
The realtors come on Monday the 11th to take photos.
Cristina and I (and her sister) drive a rental truck full of our stuff to Cottage Grove on Friday, leaving at about 12 am.
I am coming back. Cristina, Cea (dog), and Beatrice (cat) will be staying.
All the big stuff is done. Now, we’re doing the detail work, and there sure is a lot of it. Molding. Outlet covers. Switch covers. Sealant for fixtures. Reseat toilets. That’s just my stuff. Cristina has a whole list of her own.
We flew up to Cottage Grove this past Monday (the 4th). We spent that day with Cristina’s parents and enjoyed some downtime. On Tuesday, we went out to the property and did our walkthrough. I walked the property line with Fred, the guy who is selling the house. Seven acres is a pretty good sized plot of land…not huge, but big enough to give you a good workout. In fact, by the time we reached the uppermost corner of the property on the side or our mountain, I was mildly concerned about the possibility of having a heart attack. But, I made it up there, and to each of the other three corners of our new property.
We flew back that night, and I think both of us are pretty excited about getting up there.
There are moments, though, moments where something causes the ol’ throat to close in a bit. That’s especially true for Cristina who is leaving a place she’s known as home since 1960. I’ve been in and out of here since 1981, fulltime since 1988, so I have some great memories in place, myself. The fact that she’s leaving behind James (our son) doesn’t make it any easier. Plus all the rest of our family (Donald, Joyce, Cristina’s sister)…makes it difficult to know we’ll be separated, going about our own lives, knowing only what we can glimpse. Not to mention our rich cache of friends. We have some wonderful, wonderful friends. Needless to say, it can get a little tought emotionally.
But, the adventure of life is in taking chances. The best thing I can say here is that we honestly have looked before leaping. I expect a postitive adventure rather than a negative one. So, here’s to the quiet life.
Copyright 2005 by Greg Hubbard
