May 1, 2103
Our Texas Send-Off
Do you remember the famous (and hair-raising) line from the
movie Amityville Horror, “Geeeet ooouuut. GET OOOOUUUT!”? Well, it seems this is the message we’re
getting as we prepare to leave the Lone Star State.
While the home we’re renting is far from old and haunted (it
was built maybe 15 years ago), it seems to be imploding like a house of cards.
The fact that much of it is made of compressed paper makes this metaphor all
too apt.
Our neighbors next door are actually moving to a new (or
newer) home for this very reason. “The house is already 11 years old and I’ve
already replaced two water heaters,” said my neighbor. “I don’t want to deal
with the upkeep with a home this old,” she said.
In the last week, our dishwasher broke, causing a major
flood, ruining much of the floor and baseboards. Then pool heater broke, followed by the downstairs air conditioner. As a result, the water outside is too cold and
the air inside is too hot. Rather ironic.
Some folks came by to see if the pool heater could be salvaged. “It was pretty darn old,” assessed the pool guy, "In 1998, it was the top-of-the-line model. Now, it's just too rusted out."
The landlord put in a new dishwasher a few months back, and
apparently this Kenmore model, while well-reviewed, has only a slim plastic
cord keeping the motor attached. Between the alternating heat and cold of the
washing process, these dishwashers seem to be discombobulating after three
months. When the motor flops off, a flash flood breaks loose. Why Sears hasn’t
recalled this model remains a mystery.
I was talking to my sister Wendy on the phone when I noticed
a pool of water coming from the base of the dishwasher. I quickly dried it off
with some towels, but the wood floor seemed to be swelling. By morning, it had
buckled like a church steeple. We discovered that the wood floors were not
really solid wood, but “engineered” wood and plyboard, glued to the foundation.
No nails whatsoever.
Holes were drilled into the baseboards (made not of wood but of compressed cardboard), and connected with massive green fans that make our
house sound like a helicopter landing pad. We’re not allowed to turn them off
for at least three days straight, including nights. I now understand how people
go completely bonkers from auditory overstimulation. It’s like white noise,
only blaring. These contraptions could suck water from a rock if they needed
to—they’re that powerful.
The silver lining in all this is that we’re just renting.
The Whole Hog
While we’ve driven past Corkscrew BBQ many times, we’ve
never actually patronized it until last weekend following Aidan’s first 7-on-7 (i.e.,
touch football) game. It’s not much more than a trailer connected to a metal
awning with some picnic tables scattered beneath, but it does draw the crowds.
Specialties include pulled pork, beef brisket, ribs, and combos like brisket
tacos and pulled pork piled into a massive baked potato. I took a photo of the
menu, which includes an entrée called the “Bob-bert,” which made me think of my
dad, Bob (a.k.a., Robert), who definitely enjoys a good barbecued brisket.
Noah didn’t want to even venture outside while we waited for
food, since being around so many meaty bits makes him queasy. He was happy that
a single vegetarian option was offered—an immense baked potato fattened up with
plenty of butter, cheese and the like. Not the healthiest option, but at least
it was unfettered by piles o’ pork. Aidan’s potato had the whole hog, and then
some. Izzie enjoyed the bounty of leftovers.
Grocery Store, Texas-Style
I haven’t taken photos of unusual grocery store findings in
awhile, but when I happened upon Smokin’ Hot Mama sauce, I thought it was due
time. As I made my way toward check-out, I passed a Texas-shaped hamburger
press and jalapeño stand, as well as rhinestone-encrusted water bottles,
scarves and hats. If you look hard enough, you can find just about anything
with rhinestones.
Coming Home
There are two places I call home—one is Cleveland, where I
grew up, and the other is San Francisco, where I lived (for the mostpart) since
my early 20s. While we’re looking forward to being with friends and relatives
once again, returning to the Bay Area is proving far more challenging than leaving it, at least financially speaking. The housing
market, always referred to as “surreal-estate,” is now zanier than ever, with
homes going 20-30% beyond already absurd asking prices. Seems we sold when it
was a buyers’ market and will try to buy when it’s a sellers’ market. Timing is
everything.
I’ve been pouring over Craigslist for potential rentals on a daily basis, only to encounter college flop pads for $4500/month, and even a house in the Marina area of San Francisco asking $45,000—yes, nearly $50,000 for just one month. Many typical rentals are now about $6000/month there or more. It’s hard to wrap my mind around this after living in Texas, where you can buy a large (albeit mass-constructed) home for $350,000.
Hopefully we’ll find something. David suggested living in my parents’ RV for awhile. I told Noah this and said, “Well, you’ll get to sleep at the table (that converts to a bed), while Aidan can sleep on the couch, or maybe the built-in rocking chair." Seems we’re definitely working backwards from our spacious abode on Queens Road. But at least we're heading home.
