Wherein I win a battle (but maybe not the war) with a landlord

Well, you DO live in the college area…

This was told to me during a “conversation” I had with my neighbor’s landlord yesterday; apparently living near a college is justification for letting his tenants live in near squalor. The only thing missing is some sort of animal feces.

I don’t understand this justification. The college area isn’t a license for being an intolerable neighbor; this is the college area, not the feral kids’ area.

When we were quite young, my husband purchased the house we live in today. Admittedly, we had no business buying a house but the banks were giving away loans like oxygen and my husband thought it would be a great investment opportunity since the business he owns deals in property.

And then life happened.

Thankfully, life means that Jerry’s business has continued to grow in such a way that our single-family home is not something we want to take on as a rental through his business, especially if the rental market is going to bring the kind of inconsiderate, self-absorbed sods like we’ve lived next to for the past year. The personal financial risk of having this house remain vacant for even a month would be a burden I am uninterested in taking.

So, until we can sell the house and be rid of any ties to it, we remain living in the college area. The same house I’ve lived in since I was twenty years old.

I’ve been a college kid in this house.  I know exactly what being a college kid in the college area means. This house has seen things that make me grateful the walls cannot talk. There are hazy memories I only partially remember embedded here.  

This is also the house where Jerry told me he loved me for the first time. This is the house that Jerry and I changed from some college kids’ party house to a home. This is the first house in which our non-biological daughter has felt like she is wanted and belongs.

We’ve been loud, crazy, and probably even downright obnoxious in this house once upon a time. I’ll even admit that at one point our backyard housed a variety of toys including an inflatable waterslide and a trampoline, a combination that, when mixed with alcohol, can only make me thankful no one lost a limb here.

But the things that never happened in this house, and never would have happened in this house when we were at our craziest, are the things that have been allowed to happen next door.

The people next door have continually parked in front of my driveway, blocking the entire path with our cars on it. Repeated door-knocking and queries as to whether or not the car parked illegally belonged to them or a friend of theirs were ignored. Then, one of them called me a bitch and tried to confront my husband when I had his car towed so I could leave. My own house.

Our neighbors had a Christmas tree rotting in their front yard for upwards of 8 months before they chucked it into their backyard despite the fact that my city has curb side tree recycling until February!

They once had a crab boil in their front yard. Nothing wrong with that. Except they left the carcasses in the front yard for weeks.

Our neighbors never, I mean never, take the trashcans to the curb. This has been the biggest hassle. Their cans are full so they toss the newest refuse all over, near-ish the trashcans, which are visible from the street. At one point, my husband was taking out their trashcans for them in an attempt to alleviate the garbage pile. We even loaned them our spare trashcan for over a month. They never actually took the can to the curb so it was just another piled high with debris.

Eventually, this pile began spilling over onto my yard. I should be clear: I’m not complaining about a stray red cup or a beer bottle here and there. This is weeks worth of 6 guys’ waste, on top of weeks worth of 6 guys’ waste. I wish I could turn that into a funny joke, but I’m just too angry to think of one. When they started dumping their junk onto the grass on my property and I went over there to get rid of it and stuck my hand in a pile of soggy In-and-Out fries, I’d had enough.

I called their landlord for the first time at this point, a tiny man in designer shoes with an ego bigger than Kim Kardashian’s. Jerry and I made attempts to deal directly with the tenants for all previous issues; I had previously never contacted him to complain about the Christmas tree, the crabs, the driveway blocking, or any of this other nonsense because I thought college kids would be mature enough to be neighbors in a way that was, I dunno, reflecting of being admitted to a competitive institution for higher-level education. 

Silly me.

So, having washed the rancid ketchup from my hands, I called this guy—supposedly a professional brokers associate with a reputable, national real estate company and president of a very small, just starting management company.

His flippant response was my complaint was, "Well, you DO live in the College Area.”

Yes. I do. And I have since I was a college kid. And I refuse to accept that living in this area means it is now acceptable, apparently even expected, to treat a property and your neighbors’ properties with a blatant disregard for anyone but yourself.

Some things I do expect and even tolerate as part of the package deal that is living near college-kids: loud, terrible music on a Thursday night because you don’t have class on Friday; groups of girls that can’t walk in their heels tramping along to the next house-party when the guys at the previous one get “creepy”; hollers from a guy streaking down the street after the Lakers win a basketball championship; cheers of excited disbelief that you made that EPIC beer pong shot for the 14th time; really anything that involves good-natured, even if semi-inconvenient for me, college experiences.

All I ask of my neighbors is that they don’t park in front of my driveway and don’t leave crap all over the property.

That’s it. I don’t even care that you have illegal substances growing on your roof. Just don’t trash the place and don’t trap me on my own property.

So, Mr. wanna-be property manager ended up being no match for me. After a—let’s just say quite heated—conversation in which I listed the laws he was breaking by allowing this to continue and the recourse you can take against a nuisance neighbor (suing for damages up to $7500! Sounds fun but I’m absolutely not interested in getting money), as well as some inappropriate language, that little man in his expensive shoes and Ed Hardy T-shirt came over and picked up all the trash himself and loaded it into a truck to haul away. This includes every last stray French fry and ketchup packet.

The good news is I found out these losers are moving soon! Here’s to hoping the newest batch of renters next door know basic parking laws and can take a trash can out here and there. 

I'll be spending a lot of time at Crate and Barrel this summer...

Last week, I received a sixth invitation for a wedding taking place within the next two and a half months. Some people might find that annoying. Or expensive. I do not.

You see, I LOVE weddings. Well, I love attending weddings. I’m not so crazy that I watch wedding reality tv shows, I don't want to have another wedding, and I don’t think I had any bridezilla freak outs in the 6 month engagement I had. 

But I will absolutely cry during your vows. And probably your first dance.

If we’re being really honest, I’ll probably get teary during your toasts.

Oh, and I love cake! But I won’t cry over it.

And I get to wear a fancy dress that I can move around in. Wedding gowns are hard to freak dance in, just sayin’.

Since my own wedding three years ago, only one other couple I know has gotten married (Go Sean and Morgan!). When I realized that this summer is the summer that every 20-somethings have where nearly every couple they know gets married, I was stoked. Six parties with our friends with food provided and dancing? I’m so in!

And it also during this time that I am beyond relieved that I am also married, but not for reasons you might expect.

I just really loathe the bouquet toss.

I don’t know why, but I do. I never wanted to catch it when I was unmarried and I don’t understand women who go nuts over trying to catch it. I’m also not about to rip someone’s dress off trying to claw my way to a bunch of flowers, however pretty, in some symbolic “we are next!” kind of gesture.

And what man needs the pressure of his girlfriend pronouncing to several dozen, possibly hundreds of  people what amounts to, “I’m just waiting for you to ask, buddy!”?

At Jerry’s aunt’s wedding, I tried to “go to the restroom” during the toss, that’s how much I dislike potentially being the center of unwanted attention. I was quickly busted by the family, though, and shooed over to the mix of single ladies vying for the flowers.

I shyly stood next to my cousin’s fiancée, Ashleigh, trying to stay in the back and out of range from flying flora.

Wait, I said to Ashleigh, You’re engaged! You shouldn’t be out here! This is cheating!

(I like rules!)

At that same moment, Jerry’s aunt launched the bouquet straight at Ashleigh, who then chest bumped it off of her…

…right into my unsuspecting hands.

A set up! The whole thing had been planned and apparently Jerry and I were the only ones who didn’t know. The pictures of me holding this bouquet are awesome. My face is one of mortification and How in the hell did this happen?!

I’ll never forget looking right at Jerry with I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to! all over my face. He was ghost white and shocked.

But, for as much bashing as I’ve given the bouquet toss, we were the next couple to get married in the family.

And I also threw it at my own wedding. Because I’m a hypocrite! 

While I’m really looking forward to the nuptials of J&S, A&K, M&S, S&J, J&C, and A&C, I’m also glad that I don’t have to find ways to weasel out of trying to catch the bouquet.

Although…I might have to arrange it so the bouquet “mysteriously bounces” off me right into J.Bell’s hands!  Look out, Ian! 

The irony is that while I type this, I'm making a cheesecake.

I love cooking; all of it; I love making dinners, side dishes, desserts, breakfast...you name it. Somewhere along the line though, I've gotten a reputation for being excellent at baking. While this is nice (a compliment is a compliment, people!), I sometimes feel slighted as a cook because my other cooking adventures don't get any press. I realize this is entirely my fault, I never post pictures of the prime rib I make, or the farmers' market concoctions I've put together, or the entire Thanksgiving meal I make, etc. I only take pictures of things I've baked because, well, they are the most photogenic. Vegetables aren't that impressive in pictures. Maybe they would be if I had a sweet, fancy camera but I've only got my sub-par blackberry camera for food shots. I also know that when I give people things I've made, 95% of the time it is something I've baked because that's the easiest to transport or the most traditional. A batch of birthday salad might be disappointing and only a select portion of my friends would enjoy a meat present over something sweet.

So, I've decided to share my favorite homemade salad dressing (of the moment) and salad with whoever might read this blog. I was given the original recipe by a friend of a friend but I've adapted it because I found the original too oily. I've included the original and my version below:

Original Nameless Vinaigrette:
2 large shallots, sliced thin
1 tsp honey
1 Tbsp dijon mustard
Salt and pepper to taste
Juice of one lemon
1/4 cup WHITE balsamic vinegar
3/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

Adapted Nameless Vinaigrette:
2 large shallots, sliced thin
1 tsp honey
1 Tbsp + 1 tsp Dijon, smooth variety
Salt and pepper to taste
pinch garlic powder
juice of one lemon
1/4 cup white balsamic vinegar
1/3 + 1 Tbsp extra virgin olive oil.

Keep ingredients at room temp., combine all ingredients in a small bowl, whisk together right before tossing with a salad.

You can always add more olive oil if you find it needs more balance; I originally started with 1/2 a cup and still found it to be too oily. A little more than 1/3 had rendered the best results for me!

Salad:

One bag baby organic Spinach
Sweet basil leaves, de-stemmed (as many as you like, I use a whole cup)
3 Tablespoons capers, rinsed.
1 cup good Feta in brine, broken into chunks
1-2 cups baby artichokes defrosted and sauteed
 (original recipe calls for fresh peas, which I love in this salad, but my family does not...)
handful of cherry tomatoes for color.

Gratitude Part II:

Littlefoot: The strength and love I’ve seen you put into everything around you is incredible.  You might not remember it, but you were the first person not involved in hiring me at CHS that I spoke to on the first day of school. You saw me in VONS and said that you heard I would be awesome. I think you made that up but I also think you knew I needed to hear something nice because I probably looked like a middle-schooler lost on a college campus.  That’s just who you are; you just know what people need at exactly the right moment. I can’t wait for you to return to work so I can torture you with pictures of birds flying near people and cows with their tongues out.  

Scott: Thank you for being the brother that reminds me how to laugh when life sucks the most. You are unabashedly funny, outgoing, and just so damn goofy that people can’t help but love you. I miss you even when life gets crazy and we don’t see or speak to each other for long stretches of time. I’m so glad that we are close siblings and even happier that we are friends.

Oogie: If Scott and I are mirror images of each other in humor, you and I are replicas of each other in our serious sides. Thank you for being the one I know I can call whenever I need and also for being the one who will call me out when I need it (which, you know, is pretty much never…ha!). I am so proud to be your sister and can’t wait for the perpetual three weeks to pass so you’ll finally come to San Diego!

Amanda: Soon, you’ll be A-JO! Transitioning from crazy college days to adulthood has been easier (and a lot more fun!) with you by my side. I feel like we were destined to be best friends; the college class, living right down the street from each other, being 21 at the same time; something made it so that we wouldn’t lose touch. I am proud to stand at your side as you get married and I am so glad that Kevin is the groom because he is a quality man with character and you deserve nothing less.  I love you!

Mike W: With the exception of one other person, you are my oldest male friend. And to think we drove each crazy in freshmen English! What I first hated about you are now my favorite things about you: your outspoken opinions, your refusal to compromise your values, and especially your love of filthy words. I guess it is a good thing that your wife is such a good match for you; I was still really hoping you’d buy me Hawaii for my 30^th birthday.

Jess: I am in awe of your confidence (that you so rightly have!). You are physically and emotionally one of the strongest and most beautiful women I know, you’re passionate about the things you love, and really an incredible person all around.  You’ve made those around you better people just by being an example…you are inspiring in so many ways, I hope you know.

Kiley: At first I didn’t know how you managed to live with all those boys; it is hard enough for me to live with just one! I’ve had some of the best times in recent memory with you, thank you for being so much fun! You are, in my mind, a perfect woman: independent, beautiful, tough when you need to be and soft-spoken and sensitive when the time is right. I’d crawl up a mountain and sit down in a cactus again in a heartbeat for you! 

Gratitude Part I:

One of the things I struggle with is articulating how I feel to others when those feelings are ones of love, gratitude, and friendship. It isn’t that I don’t have these feelings; I just choke, typically cry, and can’t get the words out the right way. I usually feel like the meaning I had hoped for is then lost.  So, I typically write these emotions to give to people so I can express what I really mean instead of fumbling over the words and feeling like an idiot. For our wedding, Jerry and I decided to have non-traditional vows and –at my suggestion- to also write our own personal tributes to one another. Jerry wrote a beautiful testament to us and his hands shook just a little as he read it. I had everything I wanted to say ready to go but when my turn to read came I got two sentences in and then blanked. Nothing. It was all right there in my mind, but I couldn’t get the words out. I also later stumbled over the actual recital of the vows because my nerves were all over the place. I still feel like I cheated Jerry a little in that regard; some day I’ll give him the tribute he deserves.      

Recently, I have been feeling remiss in telling people the good things I love about them and how much I appreciate who they are or what they’ve done. I’d like to let these people know in case I can’t seem to get it right face-to-face. Below, in no particular order and with some identified and some anonymous, are people for whom I am grateful and glad to know.

JM: Maybe it is because I’m writing and I seek to emulate your style, but you came to mind first. You are everything I admire about women all in one: strong, warm, open, intelligent, and still incredibly humble. Thank you for teaching me, whether you know it or not, how to own who I am and not apologize for my feelings.  You’ve seen me cry from a whole spectrum of emotions and yet, you always know exactly what to say. Knowing you has made me more comfortable with who I am and has motivated me to take (reasonable!) risks both professionally and personally. I don’t know how you do it all, but you do it all with a grace that I can only hope to one day reach.

Mike O: When I first met Jerry, you were deployed and it was several months before I was finally able to meet the best friend Jerry talked about with such admiration.  In the seven years I’ve known you, I’ve come to understand why Jerry loves you like a brother and how much I love you, too. Between the three of us, I know the words aren’t always there to say what we mean, but I am incredibly grateful for the friendship you’ve given me and for the friend you are to Jerry.

Class of 2011: In my brief tenure teaching, I’ve become attached to each class for different reasons. At your graduation, I looked around at all of you and was so proud of all of you (even the ones we pulled kicking, screaming, and possibly punching through English 12). Your speakers made a few references to your class’s lack of spirit or even lack of unity as a group and as I listened, I reflected on the impressions so many of you left with me.  Your class contains some of the nicest, most caring, and free-thinking individuals I’ve ever had the pleasure of teaching. Perhaps this has been interpreted as lack of cohesion as a class but, after I finished laughing hysterically at your flash mob, it occurred to me how awesome it has been that your class has so many different types of individuals who embrace each other even if you don’t always mesh. Never lose that sense of exceptionality; the world needs more people who aren’t afraid to be different.

To everyone who called, sent messages, flowers, and didn’t become offended when I couldn’t bring myself to respond or answer just then: Thank you for all the love and energy sent our way when we lost our baby. I appreciate it more than I can put into words.  Knowing I had people I could turn to when I was ready to crawl out of my grief meant everything. To D, the woman who thanked me for being open about my personal experiences with infertility and loss, thank you for validating my journey and sharing yours with me. 

There are more coming soon!