House & home – Page 3 – a little cameo

The day after camping

April 11, 2011

Today began that tedious chore of unpacking, washing and storing after a camping trip.

We had to unpack our bags and put away food and other items and then we had to wash our clothes that smelled strongly of the scent Eau de Campfire. I think this is better left for the day after. Arriving home after a camping trip, all you want to do is have a shower and get some sleep in a comfy bed. I certainly ticked all those boxes before even thinking about the tidy up.

And I have to admit, I also fired up the computer and my phone before my post camp shower. It’s nice being disconnected while out in the middle of nowhere, but then it feels great to come home and be reconnected. Is that sad?

Who owns the leaky pen

April 6, 2011

Inkblots — Interpreting this requires a couch potato

Our landlord is coming to take back his couch tomorrow, which is a crying shame because we love it. It is comfy and the red embossed fabric is beautiful and really makes the light colours in the apartment pop.

Luckily I decided to plump the pillows today and take a seat in it for one of the last times which brought to my attention

a blue ink stain on the middle of one of the seat cushions. This is not a good thing. J brought out the fabric stain remover and after reading the instructions I started blotting with some paper towel.

I blotted, and I blotted, and I blotted. I sprayed the paper towel again and continued blotting until the paper towel looked something like those Rorschach inkblots. My patience wore thin and the stain still seemed to refuse to budge.

Now I just have to turn the cushions over and hope he doesn’t notice.

Tool time

March 27, 2011

Bed being uncovered — After ripping off the interfacing the damage was exposed and I got to work ripping staples out.

All the cards fell into place this weekend for me to fix my broken box spring.

I spent Saturday stripping the upholstery off the frame staple by staple. As I had not yet purchased a tool set, I managed to do the job with my Leatherman (which by the way, has never been used as much as it has here where it is truly indispensable) and a pair of nail scissors. It did take a really long time though and my patience wore somewhat thin.

By the end of the day I’d removed the interface, the fabric cover and the big piece of cardboard sitting on top of the slats and exposed the frame in all its shoddy Made in USA glory.

Skeleton of a bed — After removing the fabric and cardboard. I still can't believe they tried to gaffer tape it up.

Cue to Sunday where prior to going to Home Depot for the timber I’d measured up and to buy myself a tool kit and drill I met up with My Friend Who Puts the A in LA to go to the Hollywood Farmers Market. I mentioned my planned outing and discovered that he has a drill which he gladly loaned me after I said I’d buy the drill bits he didn’t have. So that saved me a few bucks.

I always enjoy going to Home Depot (a Bunnings equivalent) in Westlake, between Echo Park and Downtown. The staff are friendly and helpful, and there are so many conversations going on in Spanish around me. Today no fewer than three people helped me out and I had at least four others ask if I needed some help. Maybe it was because I wore my damsel-in-distress-I-don’t-know-what-I’m-doing look. I find it is always helpful when doing traditionally male things, even if I really do know what I’m doing.

I picked up the drill and driving bits for A, bought a probably dodgy $10 tool set, some screws and had five pieces of pine cut to length. I had initially been concerned that the timber wouldn’t fit in Esmeralda, but they did easy peasy as unlike my Daewoo in Australia, she has fold down seats.

Drill time — Putting the drill to work on the slats

Back home I pulled the frame out into the lounge area and tried to rip off the broken slats. They were nailed down harder than they looked (with an odd little nail that had a thread on the end) so in the end I just broke off the splintered pieces. The centre rail was broken and had a piece missing, so I screwed a new piece of pine to the side of it and up against the chock blocks and then put the four new slats into the frame.

Finished piece — Finished and atop the frame! DIY success.

I decided against putting the fabric cover back on because it was one of the manky items that had been painted, and also it was just more work! Dad always says I do a rough job of things (on the DIY front), and whilst it probably rings true on this occasion the end result is all that matters, and tonight I will sleep in an elevated position for the first time in ages.

Let it be known

March 22, 2011

Flowers in the entry — Today's floral arrangement

That I love flowers.

I love giving flowers. I love getting flowers. I love to have flowers around me.

I was feeling a little lonely today so when I saw some white Geraldton Wax in the supermarket today, I had to get some. It is such a strong connector with home. It makes me think about the big bushes Mum has out the back that she would regularly prune for us to take to the Farmers Market and takes me back to my childhood home.

My paternal grandmother is accomplished in the art of floral arrangement. She always trims and arranges flowers in such a fluid and patient way that it always seems far easier than it really is. My mother was convinced into going to floral art classes after some people saw her arrangements of native flowers at our Farmers Market stand. She excels at the zany side of floral art and they all make a bold statement. I still have many more years to improve my skills, and maybe that’s an idea for a class I can take here.

In the meantime, I have flowers around me that remind me of home, make the place beautiful and cause my heart to sing.

Esmeralda’s first tow

March 10, 2011

Sigh.

I knew there was a reason I signed up to America’s equivalent to the RACV, the AAA. It’s not an alcoholics anonymous for automobiles, but more a towing service. And a tow Esmeralda did need after she almost overheated on the way to the cinema at Alhambra (about 11 miles away) to see No Strings Attached.

It wasn’t until I was less than a mile from my destination that I noticed the oil pressure light coming on when I was idling at traffic lights. It then mysteriously disappeared when I accelerated to a travelling speed. Given that Esmeralda had an oil change on Friday last week, there should be nothing wrong with that department.

I then finally noticed that the temperature gauge needle was in the red zone. The red dead zone. So, in a little bit of a worry, I got to my destination and parked in a well-lit place. As soon as I opened my door I saw bad signs. Steam was coming out from underneath the bonnet and snaking over the windscreen. The whole bonnet felt hot to the touch, and I wasn’t game enough to pop the bonnet lest I get steam burns all over me. So I left her in the parking lot to cool down while I watched a movie.

On my way back to the car, I asked some guys where the nearest gas station was (I have to speak their lingo because they have no idea what a servo is). I learnt that you don’t ask three geeks on bicycles where a gas station is. They spent about 3 minutes talking and debating amongst themselves before finally giving me some directions. I chose to ignore their suggestion and went with the Points of Interest feature on my GPS instead and drove half a mile to a 76 gas station.

As Esmeralda was still feeling a bit of a temperature, I popped the bonnet at the servo and checked the coolant levels. It looked empty. So I bought a 1.5L bottle of water which didn’t even touch the thirsty sides of her coolant container. Disturbingly, water started to flow out from under the engine and across the apron of the service station. I commented to some guys in front of me that it wasn’t a good sign.

Holding out on the tow because I know I have a 7 mile free tow and I was at least 11 miles from home, I went back and bought an even bigger bottle of water, something like a 3L bottle. Esmeralda guzzled that too, and then I peered underneath to see a waterfall gushing out. The first thing that entered my brain was “uh oh”.

So I drove her to a parking space and dialed the number for AAA and requested a tow. Each extra mile over 7 miles was going to cost $10 (even steeper than a U-Haul mile fee), but the good news was that I would be able to ride with the tow-truck driver.

Within 15 minutes Hayden the tow driver had come to the rescue and he started prepping Esmeralda for the tow. Once her front boots were on the lift, she then had chains wrapped around her front axles, ratchet straps tied around her front wheels and two brake lights magnetised to her boot lid. She was ready to roll on the freeway.

I chatted to Hayden about how I had actually considered calling my dad to ask him for Mechanics Advice 101 via the phone, but that I already knew his response would be “You are on the other side of the world, I can’t help you from here, I’m sorry.” And then he’d probably follow that up with something like “You have to learn how to fend for yourself.” Even though I wouldn’t have expected any diagnostics via mobile phone, this daddy’s-little-girl would have just been seeking some sympathy and reassurance from a man whose opinion she values highly.

LA is very tow-happy. They don’t send out someone to see if they can fix it, like the RACV did for me when the Mighty Meteor busted a hose on the Hume Freeway once, they just send a tow-truck. I asked Hayden if he spends his whole 7pm to 7am shifts towing cars, but he says that around 11pm it usually slows down and that he might only get a couple more calls for the night. I also found out that it is polite to tip your tow-driver, it’s not expected, but is an appreciated gesture.

So Hayden got Esmeralda and I home. She’s parked out the back now and fingers crossed she gets to the mechanic without doing any more damage and is easily repairable. Please, oh please, let it just be a burst hose.

Nice and neighbourly

February 22, 2011

Tonight we got home after a day of roaming Los Angeles on various projects – pick up business cards, look for a car for Cameo, look for a TV and other assorted errands – to find a piece of white paper tucked under the door.

We instantly thought it was from our landlord, but were nicely surprised to see a handwritten note from our new neighbour across the way.

To put a little context around it, the morning after sleeping in our apartment for the first time, we had the carpets steam cleaned. It was a noisy process which started at 8am and finished at 11am. As a little sweetener, and also as a little introduction, I wrote notes to all the other residents of our building and went with mini Cherry Ripes in hand to offer our apology and explanation.

Only one resident was at home and answered my door knock, which happened to be from the only apartment we hadn’t yet met. For everyone else I figured out a way of attaching the note and Cherry Ripe to their door.

It was so lovely to receive a note back with our new neighbour giving us his number to call if we had any questions about the area and what to do. It is a nice way to start apartment living in LA.

The hill wasn’t the death of me

February 18, 2011

The gentle side of the hill looking up towards our apartment building

I braced myself for my first walk today. I decided to start off small and walk down the more gentle slope to acclimatise and test my legs on the incline.

It was fine, so I explored out on a cross street that topped the ridge of the hill and then finally attempted the big, steep, heart-attack inducing side of the hill down to the dog park.

On my way down, I started to re-think my desire to buy a bike. The hill was so steep that I had to continually put the brakes on, lest my feet started running free. I came to the conclusion that there would be no way I could ride a bike down the hill, let alone up it, and that pushing it would be far to bothersome. The only wheels I get in LA will be of the four variety with a strong engine in the front to power up the hill.

Incidentally, our street is at 32% gradient, and in the group of the steepest streets in LA. So if the hill doesn’t give me a heart attack, the pastrami sandwiches certainly will.

: The 32% gradient of our street

An awkward evening

February 15, 2011

Today was move-in day to our new apartment.

The excitement of the day was quickly dashed when we landed in a filthy dirty apartment where it was clear that even the floors hadn’t been swept. We had half expected this to happen given the state it was in two evenings earlier, but it was still mighty disappointing.

Adding to our frustration, Alicia, the professional cleaner we had asked to come and do a comprehensive clean with her team said our apartment should be immaculate when we move in and was telling us about our rights. She also said it would cost $600 to clean. This amount seemed a little exorbitant, but there was five odd years of grime and dust caked all over the place.

: Dusty fans

The fans hadn’t been dusted in forever and the carpets hadn’t even been vacuumed properly. Shelves had dust piled up on them and the bathroom doors hadn’t been swept behind. Not to mention a really bizarre patch of hairs stuck to the wall above the bathroom door. And let’s not mention the balconies (yes, plural, we have two tiny balconies with fantastic views), alth0ugh I do want to mention the pair of spy binoculars left out on the loft balcony. That was kinda creepy.

: The loft needs a wipe

We called our landlord, who turned up somewhat unexpectedly not long after. He asked us to point out what needed doing and then said he didn’t like the start we’d gotten off to and was offering us the option to back out of the lease. Which is not what we wanted. We just wanted to have a clean start, I mean we were prepared to do some cleaning of things to our own standards, but just not a whole apartment.

I felt sick. I don’t like confrontation and I didn’t want us to be getting off onto a bad start. Our landlord said he would see if someone would come and do the bits and pieces we’d discussed that day. So we moved a few things and then decided we would at least clean our wardrobes out so we could unpack. This made the sick feeling go away.

Lower balcony — None of this was ours...

The landlord called to say someone would be coming around to clean at 7pm. We joked that it would be him rocking up, and we needn’t have, because that’s exactly what happened. He came in, alone, wearing rubber gloves and singing along to his iPod saying “I’m going to put Alicia out of business” with a little showbiz kind of turn.

It was one of the most awkward 2.5 hours of my life. We sat around on our computers throwing meaningful looks at each other, while he got down on his hands and knees to give the skirting boards a wipe. We emailed each other in order to communicate. I felt a combination of annoyance, pity and violation.

Eventually he left, saying he’d be back in 2 days to clean up the balconies. Some things on our list had been done, but others like cleaning out the kitchen and bathroom cupboards and mopping the floors didn’t even get touched. So after he left, Gin and I got busy in the bathrooms and kitchen, using up half a 1L bottle of 4-in-1 cleaner in the process.

Tomorrow morning we have steam cleaners coming in, at our request and expense, to clean the carpets properly. Gin had thrown all the curtains in the wash earlier in the afternoon too as a way to rid the place of a stale cigarette smell. I think after tomorrow, things will be a whole lot nicer, more homely and definitely cleaner. So here’s cheers to a truckload of cleaning products and a bit of elbow grease. Happy housewarming.

PS Other than the general lack of cleanliness, our apartment is Amazing. With a capital A. And we Love it. With a capital L.

A Silver Lake sojourn

February 7, 2011

Today we met our new apartment in the trendy suburb Silver Lake.

I almost had a heart attack when I saw the hill that our place is perched on top of. Virtually either side of the apartment block are steep drops. I’m talking a San Francisco style hill that is so steep I seriously doubt my ability to ride a bike down it without careering into a car and catapulting over the fence of the dog park at the bottom of the street. On the plus side, we are going to have the best looking legs and butts ever.

The owner of the apartment is still in the process of moving out, so despite the clutter, mess and dirty carpets, we liked what we saw. The kitchen tiles had been pulled up and will be replaced, and the loft space was fabulous, if a bit hot from the direct sunshine, although that can be fixed with the air con on. The best thing though was the big window like the arch window on Playschool. It has amazing views out across LA.

After writing a check (or as we would call it a cheque) where I almost thought I’d written it incorrectly because I’ve never had my own personal cheques to write, we handed over our security deposit (known in Australia as a bond). Then we set off to explore our new area.

The reservoir has a running track around it that looks good. I guess we’ll be working up to that knowing that the climb home will sap the last ounces of our energy.

Then we found the Red Lion Pub. It is apparently one of the best bars in LA and it looks like a typical pub from back home, except that it’s themed German style. They even had a beer garden and free chilli. I think it’s going to become our local.

Next up we moved to Malo, a groovy bar restaurant that has $1 tacos on a Monday night and is located in the Sunset Junction area. We gorged on all sorts of different tacos and the girls had sangria that came served out of big glass canisters that sat on the bar. After a tasteless soda, lime and bitters, I ordered a lemonade thinking a Sprite would come out. I was rapt when it was real lemonade and I think that’s going to become my US equivalent of lemon, lime and bitters.

The feeling of discovery and wonder is so amazing. I love marvelling at things and constantly going ‘wow’. I hope I never forget this feeling because it makes you so alive and so appreciative to be where you are.

No house for us

January 27, 2011

Today started off with a big dose of disappointment as we found out that the house we fell in love with and applied for won’t be vacant until May. I guess you have to expect that from an online relationship with LA, what you see isn’t always what you get.

So we’re back on the house hunt, albeit with a smaller field of candidates now. There seem to be fewer listings on Westside Rentals for the area we’re looking in now than there were a week ago. However, I am optimistic that we’ll get a place that will suit us far better.

My experience at finding rental properties is fairly limited. After living at college, my friends and I were successful in getting the first house we applied for, a massive 4 bedroom house with low maintenance yards in a cute little cul-de-sac. Since I moved out of that place seven years ago, I haven’t had to fill in any lease papers or hunt for rentals, so the excitement, wishing, hoping and luck to get a place is all quite novel.

In my initial searches on Westside Rentals (the place to look if you want to live in LA) I was totally unrealistic. I had a great time pretending I was leading an Entourage-esque life and looked at big mansions with pools, cool gardens and servant’s entrances. I think I even imagined having my own Turtle to drive me around so it didn’t need to be close to anything.

When I finally, and reluctantly, did the maths I realised that I could only afford to live in one of those places for a couple of months before my savings disappeared and sent me back to Australia. That’s what Hollywood does to you, it gets you dreaming of how life will be “someday when” and makes you believe you already have a million dollars in the bank.

Now I have a firm list of criteria, a strict budget and far more realistic expectations. I mean, I currently live in a little shack infested with creepy crawlies, a chimney that leaks water onto my stove when it rains and an outdoor dunny. Give me a bedroom with a window, a kitchen bench and a toilet down the hall and I’ll be happy.