I am home and had a wonderful time but first, let's picture my entrance into the Golden State. How about arriving with - get ready - a walker, a cane, a raised toilet seat and a box of fiber cereal. Really? Could I be more geriatric?
In reality I did not arrive carrying the raised toilet seat but sent it, via Amazon, to the first home where I stayed. My beloved cousin Pattie experienced the embarrassment of greeting the UPS man who handed her a carton with RAISED TOILET SEAT stamped all over it. Given that she is so much younger than I am, she was brave; I thought it pretty hysterical.
The good news is that both flights (to and from Oregon) were simple thanks to the kindness of Alaska Airlines folks who wheeled me from the curb to the gate and then back to the curb on my arrival. It couldn't have been easier.
My first week in the San Francisco Bay Area flew by then off to the Monterey Peninsula to sell my house.
All went really well. My house looked beautiful. The new hardwood floors are gorgeous. Everything sparkled. Robin's minimal staging was perfect. Each morning I found time to read while sitting in the kitchen nook or out on the deck. And, somewhat surprising to me, there were no tears. It has been three years since I lived in the house and there were enough subtle differences that parting was a bit easier than I thought it would be. Standing in its emptiness, with all the walls painted white, made it not quite the house I had left. It will always be the best-house-of-my-life but the important memories are safely stored in my heart.
And, as always, amusing things happened. The first was the discovery that Robin had found the original screwdriver that held the garage door closed when I bought the house in 2002. I thought it was so funny at the time. A screwdriver? Filling the clasp that held the garage door closed? Really? I used it while I lived there (why change a tradition?) but the tenants apparently found something more appropriate. Bless Robin. She found it in the garage and replaced it. I smiled when I saw it and left it, with a note, for the new owners.
Then I walked around to the tiny side yard and had varied emotional reactions. My heart leapt when I saw the porcelain angel and old bathroom window I had hung on the fence - I had forgotten about both and was pleased that the tenants hadn't removed or damaged them. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the baby rose bush climbing up the side of the house.
Oh that bush was a major pain in the butt. I am responsible - I planted it. I wanted a rose and roses don't do well in Pacific Grove - summers are too foggy. The man at the nursery suggested a good ol' Cecile Bruner rose, given its hardiness. Well he was right - I couldn't kill that plant if I tried. It was under the fumigation tent and still managed to survive.
While I lived there I didn't often go in the side yard - there was nothing there of significance - but when I occasionally wandered in I was often amazed at how high the rose bush had grown. Sometimes tendrils grew through the casement of an upstairs bedroom window and on up to the roof. I would sigh, drag the hedge clippers upstairs, lean out the tiny bedroom window and start slashing. My arms got tangled in the thorns as I chopped my way through the mess and tossed clippings down to the ground below. I was only able to trim down about two feet from the window.
Back down on the ground I would use my long tree trimmer tool to pull down the branches to clip them to a height of maybe 7 feet - and it seemed like only a month or so later, the whole process had to be repeated. I grew to loathe that rose bush except when it bloomed. I will not miss it. I wondered if I should drag out the tools that were still in the garage and trim it back a bit for the new owners? No, I decided, let them get used to it.
Ah memories. Now new ones will be created when the Martins move in. Without a doubt it WAS the best house of my life. I hope it is for them and I thank Robin for all that she did to help me sell it.
I stayed four nights with Robin and Greg - across-the-street neighbors at our intersecting street corners - and then 3 nights with Sharon and Warren, kitty-corner from my house. Robin gave me a lovely gift - a copy of her photo of the area immediately inside my front door. She put the photo through an app that makes it look like a painting. I carried it with me for the rest of my trip - it sat on each succeeding bedside table and now sits next to my bed here in Portland. I love it.
The days flew by. Sharon and another friend drove me down to Big Sur for breakfast at Deetjen's - those of you who have been there know how special and how very Big Sur it is. And who can resist French toast stuffed with raspberry cream? Under the redwoods? Certainly not me.
Lee and Michelle drove down from Oakland to pick me up on Lee's 35th birthday and the day was his. Guess where he wanted to go for breakfast? Deetjen's. I did not utter a word in protest. Who would turn town raspberry-stuffed French toast a second time? Off we went for the hour drive back down the coast to Big Sur. Again, simply lovely.
On the way back Lee suggested we drive the Old Coast Road. Yes, those who have been there know how rugged it can be. There was one section where it WAS a bit scary but Michelle drove it all with panache. What a girl! Here was one mild part:
In reality I did not arrive carrying the raised toilet seat but sent it, via Amazon, to the first home where I stayed. My beloved cousin Pattie experienced the embarrassment of greeting the UPS man who handed her a carton with RAISED TOILET SEAT stamped all over it. Given that she is so much younger than I am, she was brave; I thought it pretty hysterical.
The good news is that both flights (to and from Oregon) were simple thanks to the kindness of Alaska Airlines folks who wheeled me from the curb to the gate and then back to the curb on my arrival. It couldn't have been easier.
My first week in the San Francisco Bay Area flew by then off to the Monterey Peninsula to sell my house.
All went really well. My house looked beautiful. The new hardwood floors are gorgeous. Everything sparkled. Robin's minimal staging was perfect. Each morning I found time to read while sitting in the kitchen nook or out on the deck. And, somewhat surprising to me, there were no tears. It has been three years since I lived in the house and there were enough subtle differences that parting was a bit easier than I thought it would be. Standing in its emptiness, with all the walls painted white, made it not quite the house I had left. It will always be the best-house-of-my-life but the important memories are safely stored in my heart.
And, as always, amusing things happened. The first was the discovery that Robin had found the original screwdriver that held the garage door closed when I bought the house in 2002. I thought it was so funny at the time. A screwdriver? Filling the clasp that held the garage door closed? Really? I used it while I lived there (why change a tradition?) but the tenants apparently found something more appropriate. Bless Robin. She found it in the garage and replaced it. I smiled when I saw it and left it, with a note, for the new owners.
Then I walked around to the tiny side yard and had varied emotional reactions. My heart leapt when I saw the porcelain angel and old bathroom window I had hung on the fence - I had forgotten about both and was pleased that the tenants hadn't removed or damaged them. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the baby rose bush climbing up the side of the house.
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| Of course, this is my crappy photography. I failed to include the section of the fence with the angel and window but you can see the rose bush leaning over from the wall of the house. |
While I lived there I didn't often go in the side yard - there was nothing there of significance - but when I occasionally wandered in I was often amazed at how high the rose bush had grown. Sometimes tendrils grew through the casement of an upstairs bedroom window and on up to the roof. I would sigh, drag the hedge clippers upstairs, lean out the tiny bedroom window and start slashing. My arms got tangled in the thorns as I chopped my way through the mess and tossed clippings down to the ground below. I was only able to trim down about two feet from the window.
Back down on the ground I would use my long tree trimmer tool to pull down the branches to clip them to a height of maybe 7 feet - and it seemed like only a month or so later, the whole process had to be repeated. I grew to loathe that rose bush except when it bloomed. I will not miss it. I wondered if I should drag out the tools that were still in the garage and trim it back a bit for the new owners? No, I decided, let them get used to it.
Ah memories. Now new ones will be created when the Martins move in. Without a doubt it WAS the best house of my life. I hope it is for them and I thank Robin for all that she did to help me sell it.
I stayed four nights with Robin and Greg - across-the-street neighbors at our intersecting street corners - and then 3 nights with Sharon and Warren, kitty-corner from my house. Robin gave me a lovely gift - a copy of her photo of the area immediately inside my front door. She put the photo through an app that makes it look like a painting. I carried it with me for the rest of my trip - it sat on each succeeding bedside table and now sits next to my bed here in Portland. I love it.
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| This is on my bedside table at Sharon's house |
The days flew by. Sharon and another friend drove me down to Big Sur for breakfast at Deetjen's - those of you who have been there know how special and how very Big Sur it is. And who can resist French toast stuffed with raspberry cream? Under the redwoods? Certainly not me.
Lee and Michelle drove down from Oakland to pick me up on Lee's 35th birthday and the day was his. Guess where he wanted to go for breakfast? Deetjen's. I did not utter a word in protest. Who would turn town raspberry-stuffed French toast a second time? Off we went for the hour drive back down the coast to Big Sur. Again, simply lovely.
On the way back Lee suggested we drive the Old Coast Road. Yes, those who have been there know how rugged it can be. There was one section where it WAS a bit scary but Michelle drove it all with panache. What a girl! Here was one mild part:
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| I think it's about 15 miles, all dirt, through open areas like this (see the fog slipping in?), into redwood forests, steep hairpin turns - it took us about an hour. You end up at the Bixby bridge. Not for the faint of heart. Eventually we made it back to Oakland where we had a great dinner and I spent the night with Michelle's moms. A lovely day in all ways.
And then back home.
I am no longer a home-owner and that is okay. Thankfully, I am happy where I am. Much love to the few friends I saw and apologies to the many I did not. I just wasn't quite strong enough but, look out, I warn you, next time I will be at your front doors.
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