The skunks came back last night. Right in the middle of a discussion Martin and I were having about our grocery budget. Perfect timing. Only two again, and cuter than ever. Didn't see mama, but she might have been staying out of sight like a wise old mother skunk. Anyway, they reminded me that I haven't posted since the last time they visited.
I have more of the same to report, I am afraid. Mixed emotions about living in a new place. Peter has adjusted beautifully to pre-school and even requests to go back on his "off" days. One of the caregivers there found a cure for his runny nose. Homeopathic medicine. So much for UCSF. What a difference for him to be able to breathe clearly and me not having to carry Kleenex everywhere we go! It still runs occasionally, but Wow.
And I continue to meet new people, but nobody that I really Click with. The hardest part about leaving San Francisco was leaving my network of mommy friends and Peter's little buddies. I dread trying to replicate such a special situation. Better writers than I have compared looking for play dates to dating and the similarities are now painfully obvious to me. I met one mom who seemed Really Great, gave her my number, but...she never called. When I ran into her again (small town), it was a bit awkward and she made some lame excuse for not getting in touch. Then there is another mom whose husband (ok this is where it is different from dating) keeps suggesting that she and I go out for a glass of wine. I even got brave and made a sort of overture, letting her know that I would love to get together, but even though she is warm and always friendly (we see each other often), she hasn't asked me out. I'm trying not to let my ego get bruised here.
One of my new year's resolutions is to be brave and ask other moms out, but that's hard! Before I was married, I asked a guy out on a date exactly once in my life, when I was 20 years old, and while it went fairly well (he said yes), it took all my nerve and I never repeated it. And my ego is in a very fragile state right now.
Today I met a fantastic woman up at the river. I knew it from the moment I saw her and her little girl (who was born, coincidentally, 4 days before Peter, and had a VERY similar temperament). Best friends at first sight. We spent a lovely few hours together, chatting and herding our children. We had similar parenting styles, similar values, similar tastes in how to spend a summer vacation. But she is just here on vacation. She lives in Petaluma, of all places. (Petaluma was our SECOND choice after Nevada City.) It almost reduced me to tears on my way home. To finally meet someone that I knew I could be great friends with, just to have the possibility ripped away within minutes of meeting. Just not meant to be.
One of our best friends from San Francisco visited us this past weekend, and her visit brought into sharp focus both the reasons why we are here and what we are missing back in the city. The kids were ecstatic to see each other. We had a wonderful time just hanging out in the warm weather, walking around downtown and eating ice cream, dancing outside the bar where some live music was spilling out onto the sidewalk, and of course, splashing in the river and in the kiddie pool. She dreaded going back to 58-degree San Francisco on Monday morning. But she was going back to a network of warm, supportive, intelligent, fun women and their children who all get along even as they challenge each other. To day after day of the time passing quickly because the kids are playing and the moms are chatting, unlike the dog day afternoons we have been experiencing when I just want to take a nap and nothing will make Peter happy except taking all of the sugar out of the bag and spreading it all over the kitchen floor in the two minutes I spend by myself inthe bathroom.
Overall, I know we made the right choice. The lifestyle here cannot be beat. And it takes time for friendships to form. This is just a time of transition. At least I get to lean back against a spectacular, giant, white, granite boulder and gaze at sparkling turquoise water and pine trees while I feel sorry for myself. And I have plenty of time to mope during the 3 days a week that Peter is in pre-school, a luxury we could scarcely afford in San Francisco.
Luckily, in a few weeks, I will get to spend a whole week in the company of my favorite tribe -- my family. I am lucky enough to have a family that I really love spending time with. Unfortunately, since we are spread apart just as far as we can be (East Coast, West Coast, Midwest, the South, and the South of France) it happens much too rarely that we all get to be in the same place. I'm sure there will be bumps and bruises (both strong-willed and sensitive run in the family), but it will be a tonic for my soul to have us all together. And an adventure for our little family! This time, I'm going to be prepared for a bumpy flight, unlike our last trip to the Midwest.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Monday, July 12, 2010
Guest Post from Erika: On Motherhood
The skunks came by again last night as Martin and I were enjoying a late dinner on the front porch. They really are magnificent animals, despite their stinky reputation. Those big fluffy black and white tails are as impressive as any peacock when spread to full sail. I noticed that only two babies followed mama this time, instead of the three I met last week. Probably road kill. Or coyote food. Or any number of other things. This is nature, after all. According to the University of Michigan Museum of Zoology, "up to 90% of skunks die in their first winter," and skunks in the wild only live 2-3 years, as opposed to 15 in captivity. But it made me sad anyway. That poor mama is working as hard as she can to feed those babies and keep them safe, and she lost one.
She's a single mother, too. UMMZ again: "Males are typically polygamous and solitary. Males and females do not associate beyond the few days required for fertilization. ... Male skunks provide no parental care." So she nursed those little guys for a month or two, and was just getting them used to the Big Outside World, teaching them everything she knows all by herself, and she lost one.
Ok, so maybe I'm overreacting because I just dropped Peter off for his first day at his new pre-school. He cried and clung and made me feel just awful for abandoning him, but I left anyway. And now I'm dealing with a terrible case of guilt. In my head, I know I am not a bad mother for wanting him to socialize with other kids and wanting time to myself to engage in pursuits that are more intellectual than singing "Old MacDonald" repeatedly and changing poopy diapers. And the time alone does make me a better, more patient and balanced mother. I can focus more fully on him in the time we have together when I have some time to myself first. But there is always that nagging feeling that being Peter's mother is my Job and I am slacking by pawning it off on someone else for a period of time. It feels decadent and selfish.
The women who lived in this house before me and baked pies from scratch in a wood burning oven, washed the laundry by hand and hung each piece out to dry, and kept the whole dang thing clean week after week certainly did not have someone else watching their kids while they did all this. But they probably did have some extended family to help out, unless that family was all Back East still. At the very least, I'm sure neighbors helped each other out, and I'm sure the women sat down for brief spell together during the hottest part of the day (94 degrees yesterday!), drinking iced tea while the husbands were deep inside the mountain, looking for gold, and the kids were all napping. But they didn't have a choice. Day care hadn't been invented yet.
I'm embracing the modern housewife role today. After I finish watching a giant ant crawl down my (indoor) thermometer (72 degrees at 10am!), I'm folding laundry, running the dishwasher, sweeping the house (all 8 rooms), making Thai curry for dinner, and rolling the giant garbage can all the way down the driveway for tomorrow morning's pick-up (all by myself!). I'm also going to check in with my clients and hopefully get some (paid) writing done. And after that, I'm going to pick up my one precious child from a full day at pre-school and cover him with kisses before we go play in the yard and sing Old MacDonald together.
She's a single mother, too. UMMZ again: "Males are typically polygamous and solitary. Males and females do not associate beyond the few days required for fertilization. ... Male skunks provide no parental care." So she nursed those little guys for a month or two, and was just getting them used to the Big Outside World, teaching them everything she knows all by herself, and she lost one.
Ok, so maybe I'm overreacting because I just dropped Peter off for his first day at his new pre-school. He cried and clung and made me feel just awful for abandoning him, but I left anyway. And now I'm dealing with a terrible case of guilt. In my head, I know I am not a bad mother for wanting him to socialize with other kids and wanting time to myself to engage in pursuits that are more intellectual than singing "Old MacDonald" repeatedly and changing poopy diapers. And the time alone does make me a better, more patient and balanced mother. I can focus more fully on him in the time we have together when I have some time to myself first. But there is always that nagging feeling that being Peter's mother is my Job and I am slacking by pawning it off on someone else for a period of time. It feels decadent and selfish.
The women who lived in this house before me and baked pies from scratch in a wood burning oven, washed the laundry by hand and hung each piece out to dry, and kept the whole dang thing clean week after week certainly did not have someone else watching their kids while they did all this. But they probably did have some extended family to help out, unless that family was all Back East still. At the very least, I'm sure neighbors helped each other out, and I'm sure the women sat down for brief spell together during the hottest part of the day (94 degrees yesterday!), drinking iced tea while the husbands were deep inside the mountain, looking for gold, and the kids were all napping. But they didn't have a choice. Day care hadn't been invented yet.
I'm embracing the modern housewife role today. After I finish watching a giant ant crawl down my (indoor) thermometer (72 degrees at 10am!), I'm folding laundry, running the dishwasher, sweeping the house (all 8 rooms), making Thai curry for dinner, and rolling the giant garbage can all the way down the driveway for tomorrow morning's pick-up (all by myself!). I'm also going to check in with my clients and hopefully get some (paid) writing done. And after that, I'm going to pick up my one precious child from a full day at pre-school and cover him with kisses before we go play in the yard and sing Old MacDonald together.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Critters
Have I mentioned that there are a lot more, uh, CRITTERS in the country than in San Francisco? I'm not just talking about the Behe Moths (thanks, Andrew), spiders, ants, beetles, giant bees, and mosquitos, of which there are copious amounts. Today was all about the furry kind of critter.
First, as I was napping upstairs at lunch time, some tough neighbor kitty came calling. He was all of 7 lbs soaking wet, but the kid had a black leather collar with punk rock studs sticking out. I decided to wait in the shadows, let Erika check him out first. This cat had the nerve to sneak into the laundry room and PEE all over Erika's shoes and some clean laundry! Thinks he owns the place. I'll show him, once I get back in fighting shape. For now, it's up to Erika to shoo him away.
Then, after the sun went down, an entire family of SKUNKS tried to move into the space under our house! Luckily Erika had been warned by the neighbors about this very possibility just an hour earlier, and had firmly closed the skunk door and put up a little sign that said "Skunks Not Welcome Here". Well they walked right up to the front porch anyway (maybe they can't read) and fluffed their little tails up at Erika, who was standing in the doorway in amazement that they would get so close (2 feet away). Undeterred, they ran around to the side of the house, where Erika had left the door open. She got there just in time to shoo shoo shoo the cutest little skunk baby away from the laundry room. The three babies shrieked their most vicious skunk screams, and fluffed up their little skunk tails just as big as they would go, while Mom urged them to follow her around the back of the house to safety. Or at least that's where I think they ended up -- they disappeared after they rounded the corner. I guess we'll know in a few days if they are living under the house. I think I'll leave that removal project up to Erika as well, and concentrate on the moths...
First, as I was napping upstairs at lunch time, some tough neighbor kitty came calling. He was all of 7 lbs soaking wet, but the kid had a black leather collar with punk rock studs sticking out. I decided to wait in the shadows, let Erika check him out first. This cat had the nerve to sneak into the laundry room and PEE all over Erika's shoes and some clean laundry! Thinks he owns the place. I'll show him, once I get back in fighting shape. For now, it's up to Erika to shoo him away.
Then, after the sun went down, an entire family of SKUNKS tried to move into the space under our house! Luckily Erika had been warned by the neighbors about this very possibility just an hour earlier, and had firmly closed the skunk door and put up a little sign that said "Skunks Not Welcome Here". Well they walked right up to the front porch anyway (maybe they can't read) and fluffed their little tails up at Erika, who was standing in the doorway in amazement that they would get so close (2 feet away). Undeterred, they ran around to the side of the house, where Erika had left the door open. She got there just in time to shoo shoo shoo the cutest little skunk baby away from the laundry room. The three babies shrieked their most vicious skunk screams, and fluffed up their little skunk tails just as big as they would go, while Mom urged them to follow her around the back of the house to safety. Or at least that's where I think they ended up -- they disappeared after they rounded the corner. I guess we'll know in a few days if they are living under the house. I think I'll leave that removal project up to Erika as well, and concentrate on the moths...
Monday, July 5, 2010
Guest Post from Erika: A Day in the (Country) Life
Well we've been here a whole 5 days and since we decided not to unpack any boxes, we've had a lot of free time on our hands! Here are a few ways we have spent our time that never would have happened in San Francisco:
1) Trimming the tree in front of the mailbox. I finally caught the mail carrier on Saturday as he was driving past our house (again). He looks kind of like a blonde, muscular Alec Baldwin if you can picture that. My concern had been rising since we hadn't received *any* mail at all (not even an annoying supermarket flyer) since we moved in. He informed me that if I intended to receive any mail at this location, I needed to remove the tree that was growing over the mailbox. I gave him a blank look and he back-pedaled a little bit to allow for at least removing the branches that were blocking his vehicle. Apparently they don't actually get out of the truck to deliver mail in the country, they just sort of glide up to the box in their little mail trucks and throw the mail in. I told him I'd see what I could do, and then hunted Martin down to find the saw. Since I was still sulking about an argument about unpacking boxes, I couldn't deign to ask for his help, which meant it was up to me to clear the branches. And I did. I learned a few things in the process, too.
Number one, I need some of those ugly brown lace-up work boots. Chacos just don't cut it when you are doing battle with a prickly tree in the middle of a big bush on the side of a hill. Ditto for my cute shorts and tank top. Bring on the tough work pants with the monkey logo or whatever that critter is supposed to be. I have a few scratches to show for my woefully inadequate wardrobe.
Number two, it is kind of fun and addictive to cut branches off of a tree. I've been criticizing my friend Chris for years because he cuts down trees willy nilly on his property, just because they are "blocking his view" (of more trees). But now, I kind of see why he does it. I got a thrill out of removing branches! I didn't want to stop! And I call myself an environmentalist... However, I draw the line at:
2) Removing black widows from the mailbox. Yep, I had to call in Martin for this one. Luckily we were on speaking terms by the time I discovered this big old spider in our mailbox. I tried inviting her out nicely, but she had quite the set-up going on inside that poor old abandoned mailbox. I am still trying to get on the mail carrier's good side, and I figured getting bit by a black widow the first time he delivered mail to our house probably would not help, and so Martin gently and very carefully escorted her out and to a new home somewhere in the bushes near the mailbox. Good thing I was finished working on that tree.
You might think we have nothing better to do than to make our mailbox more attractive to passing letters. [Author's side note: Hint! hint! Now that Tech-free Day is over (at least for this year), my next project will be something along the lines of Slow Communication, doing for letter writing what Slow Food did for heritage pig breeds.] But that is not the case. There are many other joys of country life that we have been experiencing. I'll skip over washing the front porch (twice) and putting up our brand-new American flag (thanks Martin), to get straight to...
3) Getting down at the 4th of July party at the fairgrounds after a spectacular 4th of July parade! Peter really tore up the dance floor to the sounds of the Ophir Prison Band and the Chillbillies. The kid can dance! There were also corn dogs (we had to buy two), sales of which benefited Job's Daughters, and soft serve ice cream (of which we also had to buy two), sales of which benefited one of the local fire departments, and organic crepes with locally grown produce inside (yep, two), which apparently just benefited the place selling them. We stayed for the fireworks, which we could actually see (No Fog, San Franciscans!!) Did I mention the warm summer nights? You are all invited for next year.
The only slight culture shock I experienced was trading stories about our children with a woman who was no more than half my age, if that. And her daughter was at least twice Peter's age. This scenario is not atypical in this area. The mothers here are YOUNG! Women my age are mostly grandmothers by now. Makes me feel more than a little old.
At any rate, those are just a few examples of how we have been passing the time, now that all of our favorite playmates and play locations are 150 miles away. I've also started to learn how to cook in a cast-iron pan (see previous note about not unpacking any of our stuff like pots and pans), scheduled no fewer than six pre-school tours between now and Wednesday, and am finishing up some interviews for an article that is due Friday. You can read about that one in the Tech-free Day blog next week.
1) Trimming the tree in front of the mailbox. I finally caught the mail carrier on Saturday as he was driving past our house (again). He looks kind of like a blonde, muscular Alec Baldwin if you can picture that. My concern had been rising since we hadn't received *any* mail at all (not even an annoying supermarket flyer) since we moved in. He informed me that if I intended to receive any mail at this location, I needed to remove the tree that was growing over the mailbox. I gave him a blank look and he back-pedaled a little bit to allow for at least removing the branches that were blocking his vehicle. Apparently they don't actually get out of the truck to deliver mail in the country, they just sort of glide up to the box in their little mail trucks and throw the mail in. I told him I'd see what I could do, and then hunted Martin down to find the saw. Since I was still sulking about an argument about unpacking boxes, I couldn't deign to ask for his help, which meant it was up to me to clear the branches. And I did. I learned a few things in the process, too.
Number one, I need some of those ugly brown lace-up work boots. Chacos just don't cut it when you are doing battle with a prickly tree in the middle of a big bush on the side of a hill. Ditto for my cute shorts and tank top. Bring on the tough work pants with the monkey logo or whatever that critter is supposed to be. I have a few scratches to show for my woefully inadequate wardrobe.
Number two, it is kind of fun and addictive to cut branches off of a tree. I've been criticizing my friend Chris for years because he cuts down trees willy nilly on his property, just because they are "blocking his view" (of more trees). But now, I kind of see why he does it. I got a thrill out of removing branches! I didn't want to stop! And I call myself an environmentalist... However, I draw the line at:
2) Removing black widows from the mailbox. Yep, I had to call in Martin for this one. Luckily we were on speaking terms by the time I discovered this big old spider in our mailbox. I tried inviting her out nicely, but she had quite the set-up going on inside that poor old abandoned mailbox. I am still trying to get on the mail carrier's good side, and I figured getting bit by a black widow the first time he delivered mail to our house probably would not help, and so Martin gently and very carefully escorted her out and to a new home somewhere in the bushes near the mailbox. Good thing I was finished working on that tree.
You might think we have nothing better to do than to make our mailbox more attractive to passing letters. [Author's side note: Hint! hint! Now that Tech-free Day is over (at least for this year), my next project will be something along the lines of Slow Communication, doing for letter writing what Slow Food did for heritage pig breeds.] But that is not the case. There are many other joys of country life that we have been experiencing. I'll skip over washing the front porch (twice) and putting up our brand-new American flag (thanks Martin), to get straight to...
3) Getting down at the 4th of July party at the fairgrounds after a spectacular 4th of July parade! Peter really tore up the dance floor to the sounds of the Ophir Prison Band and the Chillbillies. The kid can dance! There were also corn dogs (we had to buy two), sales of which benefited Job's Daughters, and soft serve ice cream (of which we also had to buy two), sales of which benefited one of the local fire departments, and organic crepes with locally grown produce inside (yep, two), which apparently just benefited the place selling them. We stayed for the fireworks, which we could actually see (No Fog, San Franciscans!!) Did I mention the warm summer nights? You are all invited for next year.
The only slight culture shock I experienced was trading stories about our children with a woman who was no more than half my age, if that. And her daughter was at least twice Peter's age. This scenario is not atypical in this area. The mothers here are YOUNG! Women my age are mostly grandmothers by now. Makes me feel more than a little old.
At any rate, those are just a few examples of how we have been passing the time, now that all of our favorite playmates and play locations are 150 miles away. I've also started to learn how to cook in a cast-iron pan (see previous note about not unpacking any of our stuff like pots and pans), scheduled no fewer than six pre-school tours between now and Wednesday, and am finishing up some interviews for an article that is due Friday. You can read about that one in the Tech-free Day blog next week.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Arrived and Adjusting
Well, we've arrived at our new home in Nevada City. Everyone is slowly adjusting to the new house, the new schedule, the weather...
The move itself was uneventful for me -- I made it all the way here without a single accident in my new, super-sized cat carrier. I didn't even mind the 2-hour delay crossing the Bay Bridge. There was a little more drama for Martin and Erika. Something about a broken down moving truck, the apartment not being entirely packed when the trucks arrived, the Bay Bridge being shut down because of a bad accident that coincided with the let-out of a Giants game, Highway 49 being shut down due to construction, and things in general taking a little more time and attention than expected. Peter and Erika actually benefited from the whole delay because they ended up at buddy Mateus' house several hours later than expected, right around dinner time, and were greeted with homemade Mac and Cheese and an incredibly delicious homemade rhubarb pie. Score!!! Thanks, Beth. Beats In and Out Burger any day.
There are already a lot of positives for the Kosinas here in Nevada City -- people (friends, neighbors, strangers on the street) are extremely friendly and helpful. Guess that's what you get, living in a small town. The weather is just perfect, hovering in the mid-eighties during the day, but cooling off to the mid-fifties at night. And the parking...a dream. But Erika does already miss a few things about her life in San Francisco. Here's her top five list:
5) The microwave. Makes toddler dinner time SO much faster and easier. (Leftover Chinese food heated up in a cast iron pan? Challenging.)
4) The bath tub. Same as the microwave, but for bath time (without the cast iron pan).
3) Knowing where everything is in town (like where to get a phone charger to replace the one that went missing during the move).
2) Heck, knowing where everything is in the house! (Where IS that durned phone charger, anyway???)
But of course, the number one thing that Erika misses about San Francisco is...
1) Friends (duh). Specifically, someone to hang out with at 6pm on a Friday night when bed time is still 2 hours away and Peter has just taken advantage of his pants-free state and mom being on the phone with a potential day care center to poop in no fewer 4 different places in the living room and then throw his dinner across the kitchen, scattering pieces all the way into the mud room. sigh.
Me, I'm just trying to beat the heat by spending the bulk of the day under the bed and emerging when evening starts to cool things down to spread my length over the rug in front of the window. I miss my safe room -- the toddler has WAY too much access in this house, in my opinion. And I miss our one-level apartment. I'm going to start losing weight if I ever decide to venture up and down the stairs more than once or twice a day.
I'm going to go find Erika now, encourage her to refill that glass of rose (it IS Friday night, after all), and help her battle the Giant Moth in her office. As soon as she finds the camera battery charger, she promises to post pictures of the new place.
The move itself was uneventful for me -- I made it all the way here without a single accident in my new, super-sized cat carrier. I didn't even mind the 2-hour delay crossing the Bay Bridge. There was a little more drama for Martin and Erika. Something about a broken down moving truck, the apartment not being entirely packed when the trucks arrived, the Bay Bridge being shut down because of a bad accident that coincided with the let-out of a Giants game, Highway 49 being shut down due to construction, and things in general taking a little more time and attention than expected. Peter and Erika actually benefited from the whole delay because they ended up at buddy Mateus' house several hours later than expected, right around dinner time, and were greeted with homemade Mac and Cheese and an incredibly delicious homemade rhubarb pie. Score!!! Thanks, Beth. Beats In and Out Burger any day.
There are already a lot of positives for the Kosinas here in Nevada City -- people (friends, neighbors, strangers on the street) are extremely friendly and helpful. Guess that's what you get, living in a small town. The weather is just perfect, hovering in the mid-eighties during the day, but cooling off to the mid-fifties at night. And the parking...a dream. But Erika does already miss a few things about her life in San Francisco. Here's her top five list:
5) The microwave. Makes toddler dinner time SO much faster and easier. (Leftover Chinese food heated up in a cast iron pan? Challenging.)
4) The bath tub. Same as the microwave, but for bath time (without the cast iron pan).
3) Knowing where everything is in town (like where to get a phone charger to replace the one that went missing during the move).
2) Heck, knowing where everything is in the house! (Where IS that durned phone charger, anyway???)
But of course, the number one thing that Erika misses about San Francisco is...
1) Friends (duh). Specifically, someone to hang out with at 6pm on a Friday night when bed time is still 2 hours away and Peter has just taken advantage of his pants-free state and mom being on the phone with a potential day care center to poop in no fewer 4 different places in the living room and then throw his dinner across the kitchen, scattering pieces all the way into the mud room. sigh.
Me, I'm just trying to beat the heat by spending the bulk of the day under the bed and emerging when evening starts to cool things down to spread my length over the rug in front of the window. I miss my safe room -- the toddler has WAY too much access in this house, in my opinion. And I miss our one-level apartment. I'm going to start losing weight if I ever decide to venture up and down the stairs more than once or twice a day.
I'm going to go find Erika now, encourage her to refill that glass of rose (it IS Friday night, after all), and help her battle the Giant Moth in her office. As soon as she finds the camera battery charger, she promises to post pictures of the new place.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Guest Post from Erika: Why are we moving to Nevada City, anyway?
Yes, moving we are. In a week! Many of you seem puzzled by what appears to be an abrupt transition, and others of you still think we are leaving the state. What follows is intended to clear up more than a few of these misconceptions.
Q: Why, oh why, are you leaving San Francisco?
A: We never intended to STAY in San Francisco. We moved here when we left New York because the alternative was Sunnyvale, which was none too appealing. It sounded like fun, at the time, to live in San Francisco until we could agree on a rural location to buy a house and raise goats. But Martin was born and raised in a big city and has no desire to live in a big city ever again. He was never quite content in San Francisco. Too far from nature. Erika moved here kicking and screaming, visions of goats dancing in her head, but has come to like it rather extremely well.
Q: But Nevada City is so far from San Francisco (not true, it's only 2 and a half hours). Why Nevada City?
A: We looked in counties up and down this fair state. Well, mostly up. Marin, Sonoma, Mendocino, Butte, Sacramento, Nevada, and even San Luis Obispo. I might have even missed a few. Anywhere within commuting distance (by plane) of San Francisco. The only place that really felt right to both of us was Nevada County. It didn't hurt that we already knew a few really stellar folks there, and that Erika has been wanting to move there since high school, but got side-tracked by Silicon Valley, New York City, and a few other things along the way. The other kicker is that houses, with land, are approximately half the price of anything within 50 miles of San Francisco, without any land. That's quite a chunk of change, and in theory the savings will allow us to do lots of other fun things. Like travel to see all of you. And have a parent in the house when Peter gets home from school, be that pre-school or high school.
Q: Where *is* Nevada City anyway?
A: Nevada City is located 60 miles northeast of Sacramento and 28 miles north of Auburn. It's on the way to Tahoe.
Q: Wait, it's not in Nevada?
A: No. It is in California. Two and a half hours from San Francisco, people!!! Nevada City actually *pre-dates* the state of Nevada. The town of "Nevada" was incorporated on April 19, 1856. In 1864, when the state of Nevada joined the union, “City” was added to Nevada City's name to avoid confusion with the State. And the house we are moving into was built in 1887. Right when things were getting interesting. More on that later.
Q: So it's just some little podunk town in the middle of nowhere?
A: Nevada City has a population of 3,000 (as of the year 2000) but in 1850, there were 10,000 people living in "the most important mining town in the state". Grass Valley, which is less than 5 miles away, has a population of 10,922 (as of the 2006 census). Not so little!
Q: Oh, ok. Well what's so great about it?
A: Nevada City has a lot going for it. For you history buffs, the award-winning historic district is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. It is considered to be among the best-preserved towns of the West. Bored by history? How about art? There are theaters, movie theaters, art house movie theaters, art galleries, music venues, and a thriving population of hippies, like Gary Snyder. Ok, maybe he pre-dates the hippies. Plenty of very conservative Republicans too. Makes for an interesting dynamic. Love nature? The South Yuba River is a lovely, mystical spot that we plan to visit as often as possible all summer long. Plus there are quite a few small lakes in the county. Oh, and did I mention the kick-ass county fair in August? How about the fact that it's on the way to Tahoe ("Nevada" means "snow-covered" in Spanish)? And that it's two and a half hours from San Francisco? You get the point.
Hope this clears things up a bit. If you still have questions, please feel free to e-mail me. I will get back to you as soon as I...finish producing Tech-free Day on June 26, move to Nevada City on June 30, find day care for Peter, unpack all of our boxes, and finish my outstanding freelance writing commitments. Ha! No, really, I love to hear from you and will make every effort to respond in a reasonable amount of time. :-)
Q: Why, oh why, are you leaving San Francisco?
A: We never intended to STAY in San Francisco. We moved here when we left New York because the alternative was Sunnyvale, which was none too appealing. It sounded like fun, at the time, to live in San Francisco until we could agree on a rural location to buy a house and raise goats. But Martin was born and raised in a big city and has no desire to live in a big city ever again. He was never quite content in San Francisco. Too far from nature. Erika moved here kicking and screaming, visions of goats dancing in her head, but has come to like it rather extremely well.
Q: But Nevada City is so far from San Francisco (not true, it's only 2 and a half hours). Why Nevada City?
A: We looked in counties up and down this fair state. Well, mostly up. Marin, Sonoma, Mendocino, Butte, Sacramento, Nevada, and even San Luis Obispo. I might have even missed a few. Anywhere within commuting distance (by plane) of San Francisco. The only place that really felt right to both of us was Nevada County. It didn't hurt that we already knew a few really stellar folks there, and that Erika has been wanting to move there since high school, but got side-tracked by Silicon Valley, New York City, and a few other things along the way. The other kicker is that houses, with land, are approximately half the price of anything within 50 miles of San Francisco, without any land. That's quite a chunk of change, and in theory the savings will allow us to do lots of other fun things. Like travel to see all of you. And have a parent in the house when Peter gets home from school, be that pre-school or high school.
Q: Where *is* Nevada City anyway?
A: Nevada City is located 60 miles northeast of Sacramento and 28 miles north of Auburn. It's on the way to Tahoe.
Q: Wait, it's not in Nevada?
A: No. It is in California. Two and a half hours from San Francisco, people!!! Nevada City actually *pre-dates* the state of Nevada. The town of "Nevada" was incorporated on April 19, 1856. In 1864, when the state of Nevada joined the union, “City” was added to Nevada City's name to avoid confusion with the State. And the house we are moving into was built in 1887. Right when things were getting interesting. More on that later.
Q: So it's just some little podunk town in the middle of nowhere?
A: Nevada City has a population of 3,000 (as of the year 2000) but in 1850, there were 10,000 people living in "the most important mining town in the state". Grass Valley, which is less than 5 miles away, has a population of 10,922 (as of the 2006 census). Not so little!
Q: Oh, ok. Well what's so great about it?
A: Nevada City has a lot going for it. For you history buffs, the award-winning historic district is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. It is considered to be among the best-preserved towns of the West. Bored by history? How about art? There are theaters, movie theaters, art house movie theaters, art galleries, music venues, and a thriving population of hippies, like Gary Snyder. Ok, maybe he pre-dates the hippies. Plenty of very conservative Republicans too. Makes for an interesting dynamic. Love nature? The South Yuba River is a lovely, mystical spot that we plan to visit as often as possible all summer long. Plus there are quite a few small lakes in the county. Oh, and did I mention the kick-ass county fair in August? How about the fact that it's on the way to Tahoe ("Nevada" means "snow-covered" in Spanish)? And that it's two and a half hours from San Francisco? You get the point.
Hope this clears things up a bit. If you still have questions, please feel free to e-mail me. I will get back to you as soon as I...finish producing Tech-free Day on June 26, move to Nevada City on June 30, find day care for Peter, unpack all of our boxes, and finish my outstanding freelance writing commitments. Ha! No, really, I love to hear from you and will make every effort to respond in a reasonable amount of time. :-)
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Cupcakes and Hiking and Beer, oh my!
What, you say you LIKE the cute baby pictures? Ahem, toddler pictures? OK, ok. Here you go.
No words necessary here. That's his buddy Tai in the background.
And what the heck. We'll try uploading a movie. Peter LOVES the Big Book that Uncle Dave and Grandma Beth got him for his birthday...
In other news, we have had a few weekends without rain, and we went a fun trip recently -- a pilgrimage to Rossotti's (now officially the Alpine Inn) in Portola Valley, starting with a hike in the hills.
We're going to turn that kid into a hiker yet.
Sometimes it helps when mom pushes a little from behind.
But really, his favorite part is the beer at the end.
Wonder where he got that.
The burgers aren't bad either.
All in all, a nice family day.
No words necessary here. That's his buddy Tai in the background.
And what the heck. We'll try uploading a movie. Peter LOVES the Big Book that Uncle Dave and Grandma Beth got him for his birthday...
In other news, we have had a few weekends without rain, and we went a fun trip recently -- a pilgrimage to Rossotti's (now officially the Alpine Inn) in Portola Valley, starting with a hike in the hills.
We're going to turn that kid into a hiker yet.
Sometimes it helps when mom pushes a little from behind.
But really, his favorite part is the beer at the end.
Wonder where he got that.
The burgers aren't bad either.
All in all, a nice family day.
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