It was empty trash/clothes wash day and I spent the morning hours on those chores.
Got a call from Matt*, the agent, about the insurance on my house: Company wants proof I had the solar panels installed professionally. Why, no, why should I pay somebody? I climbed up there and put them on myself.
Thought I had the contract from All Season Solar--or MJR Clean Energy Ventures**--I'm not even sure which outfit did it or how they're connected, but couldn't find it. Called and they'll call me back; I'll ask them to send some kind of proof to Matt.
Got a welcome call from my friend, who's still settling in, of course. I hope I can get to see her before too long. E-mailed back and forth to niece Carolyn, and we'll get together sometime soon. Got some nice messages from Susan, my former neighbor and dear little Bernice, fellow P & P member. It's nice to read that they miss me--a great bunch.
Got a call-back from and apartment owner, saying I could see the place at 12:50. Went over and ugh, ugh, never-never-never. Not only was it in a unattractive neighborhood, facing some kind of huge warehouse in the front, but it was old, shabby, and small. I was stunned at the kitchen: dark, very cheap-looking wooden cabinets and, incredibly, no dishwasher, microwave OR refrigerator. Thanks, bur no thanks.
Impulsively bought spare ribs, which I intend to simmer in the crock pot today. Finished the Jackie O. book and got Mr. S from the library, a sizzling tell-all about Frankie by his valet (I'm a sucker for this kind of thing). On the other end of the cultural spectrum, I'm listening to a CD by Bill Bryson about how little we really know about Shakespeare and how scholars through centuries have been obsessed with the slightest minutiae about his life. Bryson is a favorite of mine; he wrote some very funny stuff about traveling through the U.S. in which he characterized various states. (I remember he casually noted that Delaware doesn't exist.) He also wrote a riveting account of hiking the Appalachian Trail, bringing in a lot of history, harrowing accounts of accidents, but also triumphant tales of success on the trail. As I recall, he's American, but lived in the U.K. for many years. Anyway, it's a terrific book.
* Coincidentally, his last name is "Bonaventura," the original name of where I now live.
** When I put this in my bill pay section of my bank account, I accidentally wrote "Ventura," instead of "Ventures." Looks like nobody noticed or cares--as long as the bills are paid.
Wednesday, September 30, 2015
Time Warner and Tom Hanks
Time Warner guy came, as promised, at about 10:10. He was here for almost an hour, but I still don't know whether it was my fault, somehow (I was raised Catholic, I automatically think that way) or theirs. I don't care, though, as I wrote down the formula for turning the thing on--oh, yes, you have to press this, then that, and get the right sequence.
I asked him to hook up the DVD, but he said I didn't have the right wires--they include little pointed things. After he left, I took the DVD back to ask for my five bucks back, but the very nice young man at the Goodwill said all I need are the wires and they had them for a buck. He also showed me which ones went where, even getting a marker to label them.
Stopped on my way back at Ralston Courtyard Apartments and was shown a one-bedroom. Boy, oh, boy, is this a nice complex; in fact, it's my new favorite, beating out even Ventura del sol. No bow-wows, of course, very convenient, and with beautiful plantings. It's only five years old AND has a washer and dryer. They had only the smaller one bed to show, but I liked even that. Of course, I still don't know if I'm going to be moving early or not, and if so, when, so looking at all these places doesn't mean a lot. I had a nice chat with the rep--Candy Somebody--who had moved here from Arizona and was very homesick. She gave me her whole bio--almost 50, divorced, four kids, etc.--but far from being impatient, I enjoyed hearing it.
Finished up my application for Cal State U. and sent it off via e-mail and attachments, along with my resume and the blurb from Stockton State. Got a message back, thanking me and saying their winter schedule is filled--I assumed that--but they'd consider me for spring. Okay, too.
I lay down for an hour or so in the afternoon; not sure if I actually napped, but I rested, anyway.
Got a return call from the woman from BCNN for whom I had left a message regarding a poetry group. I might be interested in poetry discussion featuring real poets, but this turned out to be people writing and reciting poetry. I know it's outrageous of me to write it, but I find the vast majority of amateur poetry boring in the extreme. I don't want to sit around and pretend I think it's soulful and meaningful, so I gently declined.
Got an e-mail from the widow group with whom I'll lunch on Monday and I'm definitely looking forward to that. Took a drive about 5:30, as I often do; did at home, too. I start feeling lonely around the dinner hour and this helps a lot.
Now that I actually know how to operate the damn thing, I watched television last night. Came across one of my favorite movies, which I'm convinced never got the recognition it deserved: Catch Me If You Can. Tom Hanks is just the best of the best and Leo is no slouch, either. I think this was overshadowed by subsequent movies--DiCaprio playing Howard Hughes?--but it was such a treat.
I asked him to hook up the DVD, but he said I didn't have the right wires--they include little pointed things. After he left, I took the DVD back to ask for my five bucks back, but the very nice young man at the Goodwill said all I need are the wires and they had them for a buck. He also showed me which ones went where, even getting a marker to label them.
Stopped on my way back at Ralston Courtyard Apartments and was shown a one-bedroom. Boy, oh, boy, is this a nice complex; in fact, it's my new favorite, beating out even Ventura del sol. No bow-wows, of course, very convenient, and with beautiful plantings. It's only five years old AND has a washer and dryer. They had only the smaller one bed to show, but I liked even that. Of course, I still don't know if I'm going to be moving early or not, and if so, when, so looking at all these places doesn't mean a lot. I had a nice chat with the rep--Candy Somebody--who had moved here from Arizona and was very homesick. She gave me her whole bio--almost 50, divorced, four kids, etc.--but far from being impatient, I enjoyed hearing it.
Finished up my application for Cal State U. and sent it off via e-mail and attachments, along with my resume and the blurb from Stockton State. Got a message back, thanking me and saying their winter schedule is filled--I assumed that--but they'd consider me for spring. Okay, too.
I lay down for an hour or so in the afternoon; not sure if I actually napped, but I rested, anyway.
Got a return call from the woman from BCNN for whom I had left a message regarding a poetry group. I might be interested in poetry discussion featuring real poets, but this turned out to be people writing and reciting poetry. I know it's outrageous of me to write it, but I find the vast majority of amateur poetry boring in the extreme. I don't want to sit around and pretend I think it's soulful and meaningful, so I gently declined.
Got an e-mail from the widow group with whom I'll lunch on Monday and I'm definitely looking forward to that. Took a drive about 5:30, as I often do; did at home, too. I start feeling lonely around the dinner hour and this helps a lot.
Now that I actually know how to operate the damn thing, I watched television last night. Came across one of my favorite movies, which I'm convinced never got the recognition it deserved: Catch Me If You Can. Tom Hanks is just the best of the best and Leo is no slouch, either. I think this was overshadowed by subsequent movies--DiCaprio playing Howard Hughes?--but it was such a treat.
Tuesday, September 29, 2015
Various
Called Donna at CSU Channel Islands just to 1. ascertain there is a stipend for teaching a course and 2. to see if I can send in my proposal via a method other than filling out the proposal application and resume, then e-mailing it in. Decided to scan and send as attachments. I hauled out my materials from my "Acting for Everyone" class at Stockton, then pared them down, modified, and otherwise shaped them for the new venture. As this point, of course, I don't know if it'll fly, but I'm pretty confident. The choice of sessions it four or eight; since I had designed a six-session course for the first one, I didn't think four would be enough, so designated eight. Applicants also have to briefly describe each session and, boy, this took hours. I may have overwritten it, and might cut it a bit before I submit it today.
Before I started this monumental project, I scrubbed and cut up my trove of new potatoes, putting skin and all in the slow cooker, along with onions and spices. Had a big bowl for lunch with just butter and salt and boy, it was good.
Called Betty and caught her walking to the Margate Post Office to mail off something or other that has to do with her recent accident. We had a good chat, but I felt sorry she has to go through this. She also has to take some documents over to the county courthouse(?) off-shore and will have to ask a friend to take her.
Later in the afternoon, I put the CSU project aside and drove to the library in town. (Boy, was it hot in there.) I've been reading Jacqueline Onassis: The Literary Years, about her editorship at several publishing houses in Manhattan, and came across mention of a book she edited called Dancing On My Grave. This was by a very famous ballerina who was active in the nineteen-eighties, and whose rather odd first name was "Gelsey." Looked it up by title, but it wasn't listed and was annoyed with myself that I had forgotten the last name. I mentioned it at the desk and was amazed that the woman there promptly said, "the last name is Kirkland." She smiled at my astonished look and said she was a devotee of ballet, so was familiar. Since it wasn't in the system, I requested that it be borrowed and I'll be called when it comes in.
On the way home, I stopped at Kohl's--want to find a pocketbook that will keep my keys and cell phone handy, especially as I have a 30 percent off coupon. Saw a few, but didn't buy; I may go back today and get one.
Made for dinner a dish my dear departed sister, Gene, had told me about: combine a pound of cooked, hot elbow macaroni with a can of peas and a six ounce can of tuna packed in oil, adding salt and pepper to taste. I think a lot of people wouldn't like this, but I do and make it every five years or so.
Sat down a 8:00 to watch television--what program? I don't know, I just flip around and see if there's anything interesting. However, I couldn't get it to show anything, interesting or not. It kept telling me there was no channel access and other incomprehensible stuff. I finally called Time Warner--this at close to nine o'clock--and was told to press this, press that, but still the no access kept showing. Rep said somebody would come today between 10 and 11, so okay, fine. Aside from the fact that I'm paying for the damn thing, I don't care that much, but it was kind of fun to see it the two times I did--much clearer than You Tube.
Insomnia again. I actually got up and revised some of the CSU stuff. A mistake; now it's close to nine am and I'm groggy. Guess I'll have to look into trying to remedy this.
Before I started this monumental project, I scrubbed and cut up my trove of new potatoes, putting skin and all in the slow cooker, along with onions and spices. Had a big bowl for lunch with just butter and salt and boy, it was good.
Called Betty and caught her walking to the Margate Post Office to mail off something or other that has to do with her recent accident. We had a good chat, but I felt sorry she has to go through this. She also has to take some documents over to the county courthouse(?) off-shore and will have to ask a friend to take her.
Later in the afternoon, I put the CSU project aside and drove to the library in town. (Boy, was it hot in there.) I've been reading Jacqueline Onassis: The Literary Years, about her editorship at several publishing houses in Manhattan, and came across mention of a book she edited called Dancing On My Grave. This was by a very famous ballerina who was active in the nineteen-eighties, and whose rather odd first name was "Gelsey." Looked it up by title, but it wasn't listed and was annoyed with myself that I had forgotten the last name. I mentioned it at the desk and was amazed that the woman there promptly said, "the last name is Kirkland." She smiled at my astonished look and said she was a devotee of ballet, so was familiar. Since it wasn't in the system, I requested that it be borrowed and I'll be called when it comes in.
On the way home, I stopped at Kohl's--want to find a pocketbook that will keep my keys and cell phone handy, especially as I have a 30 percent off coupon. Saw a few, but didn't buy; I may go back today and get one.
Made for dinner a dish my dear departed sister, Gene, had told me about: combine a pound of cooked, hot elbow macaroni with a can of peas and a six ounce can of tuna packed in oil, adding salt and pepper to taste. I think a lot of people wouldn't like this, but I do and make it every five years or so.
Sat down a 8:00 to watch television--what program? I don't know, I just flip around and see if there's anything interesting. However, I couldn't get it to show anything, interesting or not. It kept telling me there was no channel access and other incomprehensible stuff. I finally called Time Warner--this at close to nine o'clock--and was told to press this, press that, but still the no access kept showing. Rep said somebody would come today between 10 and 11, so okay, fine. Aside from the fact that I'm paying for the damn thing, I don't care that much, but it was kind of fun to see it the two times I did--much clearer than You Tube.
Insomnia again. I actually got up and revised some of the CSU stuff. A mistake; now it's close to nine am and I'm groggy. Guess I'll have to look into trying to remedy this.
Monday, September 28, 2015
"Nora"
As I mentioned, I slept late yesterday; didn't even have breakfast until almost 10:00. After that, I just did a few chores, then lazed around with the Sunday crossword puzzle. After lunch, showered, washed my hair, dressed, and yes, put make-up on. Left for the play--Nora--much too early and got there the same.
However, I was able to chat with "Carol," the snack lady and stage manager, before the play. She's an upstate New Yorker, but has lived in Santa Paula for many years. She doesn't act herself, but is one of the necessary aides and helpers for which all companies are grateful.
Nora is an adaptation by the film maker, Ingmar Bergman, of Ibsen's A Doll's House, both artists Norwegian, of course. I'm not familiar with the original play, but I know from Hedda that Ibsen can be pretty talky, so I bet this is an improvement. Funny, I remember the dispute we actors and other had over whether to cut long, long, somewhat turgid Hedda at all. Along with several others, I was in favor, reasoning that a translation can't possibly be done with word-for-word exactitude, anyway. We were voted down, however, and our presentation went on into the night.
The actors were so good. There were two females and three males, all really excellent. The only downside of the afternoon was the fact that there were exactly twelve people in the audience and four of them were connected to the company. Ouch, that's really demoralizing, as I well know, but the cast gave it their all, anyway. I was in the middle of the third row and had an excellent, unobstructed view of the stage. Annoyingly, three old ladies behind me chuckled and laughed inappropriately at certain lines; this isn't a comedy, dammit, and having had this happen to me once, I wanted to turn around and glare at them. Didn't, though.
However, I was able to chat with "Carol," the snack lady and stage manager, before the play. She's an upstate New Yorker, but has lived in Santa Paula for many years. She doesn't act herself, but is one of the necessary aides and helpers for which all companies are grateful.
Nora is an adaptation by the film maker, Ingmar Bergman, of Ibsen's A Doll's House, both artists Norwegian, of course. I'm not familiar with the original play, but I know from Hedda that Ibsen can be pretty talky, so I bet this is an improvement. Funny, I remember the dispute we actors and other had over whether to cut long, long, somewhat turgid Hedda at all. Along with several others, I was in favor, reasoning that a translation can't possibly be done with word-for-word exactitude, anyway. We were voted down, however, and our presentation went on into the night.
The actors were so good. There were two females and three males, all really excellent. The only downside of the afternoon was the fact that there were exactly twelve people in the audience and four of them were connected to the company. Ouch, that's really demoralizing, as I well know, but the cast gave it their all, anyway. I was in the middle of the third row and had an excellent, unobstructed view of the stage. Annoyingly, three old ladies behind me chuckled and laughed inappropriately at certain lines; this isn't a comedy, dammit, and having had this happen to me once, I wanted to turn around and glare at them. Didn't, though.
Sunday, September 27, 2015
Sleepless and Sisters-In-Law
Ugh, it's almost nine and I just got up. I've been having problems sleeping for quite a while--darn, I hope I can shake this. Woke at 3 am and was so unsleepy, I got up and went onto the computer for a time. For me, that's usually a mistake because it makes me more alert. Not sure when I finally dropped off, but I don't like this insomnia and haven't suffered from it for this long before.
As for Saturday, it was a this and that one. Got into the CSU Channel Islands site, printed out the proposal application, and started that. I was pleased to realize their "OTTI" program is pretty clearly identical to the FELS one at Stockton: various non-credit courses aimed at people over 50. Happy day, but I want to call that "Donna" and find out what the stipend is. I assume it isn't a volunteer thing; if it happens to be, I'm outta there.
Brother Larry called and I enjoyed our chat until he told me his Helen has developed memory problems. Helen never drove much, except to well-known and close areas, but now she has gotten lost going to them. It won't be a problem for her to give up driving; more problematic is the fact that she has to ask several times what Larry just told her. It's ironic: Therese, married to Jim, my oldest brother is in her late eighties and seems to have no such problem, yet Helen and Marybeth, both considerably younger, do. Well, I hope--not sure what to hope at this point...
Went to WinCo for groceries and a few other places. Took a dry run to the home where the "Living in the Moment" group will meet, but I think I was given the wrong directions by the woman I spoke to from BCNN. It's 'way down near the beach and the area was mobbed; I almost ran into a whole group of people on bikes. Anyway, didn't find it, but later, I looked up the hostesses' name in White Pages and got the address. I'll try finding it again on a non-weekend day.
Took a drive to Oxnard--sort of accidentally, but it was no problem. Stopped at a few places, but I didn't really need anything, so just looked.
Called El when I got home and we chatted. Greg is off today and they'll do something; she and I will hang out next weekend.
At 2:30 today, I'm going to the matinee at Santa Paula Theatre, which I'm anticipating with pleasure. I even plan to wear makeup, how about that?
As for Saturday, it was a this and that one. Got into the CSU Channel Islands site, printed out the proposal application, and started that. I was pleased to realize their "OTTI" program is pretty clearly identical to the FELS one at Stockton: various non-credit courses aimed at people over 50. Happy day, but I want to call that "Donna" and find out what the stipend is. I assume it isn't a volunteer thing; if it happens to be, I'm outta there.
Brother Larry called and I enjoyed our chat until he told me his Helen has developed memory problems. Helen never drove much, except to well-known and close areas, but now she has gotten lost going to them. It won't be a problem for her to give up driving; more problematic is the fact that she has to ask several times what Larry just told her. It's ironic: Therese, married to Jim, my oldest brother is in her late eighties and seems to have no such problem, yet Helen and Marybeth, both considerably younger, do. Well, I hope--not sure what to hope at this point...
Went to WinCo for groceries and a few other places. Took a dry run to the home where the "Living in the Moment" group will meet, but I think I was given the wrong directions by the woman I spoke to from BCNN. It's 'way down near the beach and the area was mobbed; I almost ran into a whole group of people on bikes. Anyway, didn't find it, but later, I looked up the hostesses' name in White Pages and got the address. I'll try finding it again on a non-weekend day.
Took a drive to Oxnard--sort of accidentally, but it was no problem. Stopped at a few places, but I didn't really need anything, so just looked.
Called El when I got home and we chatted. Greg is off today and they'll do something; she and I will hang out next weekend.
At 2:30 today, I'm going to the matinee at Santa Paula Theatre, which I'm anticipating with pleasure. I even plan to wear makeup, how about that?
Friday, September 25, 2015
Cleaning the Bathroom and CSU
A varied and interesting day. Cleaned my bathroom and the kitchen--well, that's not interesting, but the fact that those two chores took less than an hour is a marvel to me. Finally called a woman from Beach Cities Newcomers and Neighbors and asked to sit on on her group. This is "Living in the Moment," which may or not be one of those cockamamie "soulful" gatherings--spiritual without the religion and rambling talk without the intelligence. The leader was cordial enough and invited me to come when they meet on the first Monday in October; I'll check it out.
On the Meetup page, I queried Vera, the young woman with the widow/er group, and asked if any--uh, "mature" adults were members. She replied that at least half were over sixty. Maybe sounds good and I'll join in their next lunch meeting at a restaurant on Main Street. To top it off, I called CSU* Channel Islands to ask how I can propose teaching a course there. "Donna," a very pleasant and friendly woman advised me to go into the web site and see the steps to submitting a proposal for teaching. I did so and was pleased to see this is for an outreach program similar to FELS at Stockton, that is, for older people. I'll submit my "Acting for Everyone" information and hope to start with the January session.
On a roll, I decided to take a dry run to the Santa Paula Theater Center because I intend to go to their Sunday matinee, Nora. This is an adaptation by Ingmar Bergman of Ibsen's "A Doll's House," and since I performed in his Hedda Gabbler not long ago, I want to see it. I also know that this group does one-act shows and I'll try to want to interest them in staging one or more of mine. Took the Freeway--I'm getting brave!--the twenty minutes or so to Santa Paula and found the place. I'm looking forward to going tomorrow.
I pulled over when my cell rang; in was Betty returning my call and we talked for a time. She's feeling very low, what with the accident and the fact that she'll no longer has a car. Hope her friends pull through for her.
Stopped at my favorite thrift store and bought a large square basket to put rolled-up towels in for the guest bath. Before I headed home, I drove down Main Street and easily found the restaurant--Yolanda's--where the widowed group meets. I'm looking forward to that outing.
On my way home, I took Telegraph Road, kind of a twin of, and parallel to, Telephone. I happened to see a high-rise building called Ventura Townehomes and decided to stop in to ask if I could see a model apartment. After I got out of the car and approached, I heard music. A young woman was singing, backed by a trio--piano, trumpet, and bass--and the large, sunny lobby, doors thrown open, was filled with older people, They were seated here and there informally, many with walkers or canes. This was clearly an assisted living facility and I was about to leave when I noticed a table with a wine and cheese spread on it. I sat down. An employee came over and asked if I'd like some wine. Well...okay, sure. So I sat there for 45 minutes or so, listening to the old-time songs and drinking my Chardonnay.
Something in me wanted to stay forever and be taken care of, but I resisted and left when the entertainers took a break. But it was such an enjoyable interlude. I think it points up how, if you're open to what comes along, and you like it, and want to be part of it, there's no reason to think you won't be welcome. I was an interloper, but it was obvious nobody had a problem with that.
If I had wanted to, I probably could have wangled dinner.
*California State University
On the Meetup page, I queried Vera, the young woman with the widow/er group, and asked if any--uh, "mature" adults were members. She replied that at least half were over sixty. Maybe sounds good and I'll join in their next lunch meeting at a restaurant on Main Street. To top it off, I called CSU* Channel Islands to ask how I can propose teaching a course there. "Donna," a very pleasant and friendly woman advised me to go into the web site and see the steps to submitting a proposal for teaching. I did so and was pleased to see this is for an outreach program similar to FELS at Stockton, that is, for older people. I'll submit my "Acting for Everyone" information and hope to start with the January session.
On a roll, I decided to take a dry run to the Santa Paula Theater Center because I intend to go to their Sunday matinee, Nora. This is an adaptation by Ingmar Bergman of Ibsen's "A Doll's House," and since I performed in his Hedda Gabbler not long ago, I want to see it. I also know that this group does one-act shows and I'll try to want to interest them in staging one or more of mine. Took the Freeway--I'm getting brave!--the twenty minutes or so to Santa Paula and found the place. I'm looking forward to going tomorrow.
I pulled over when my cell rang; in was Betty returning my call and we talked for a time. She's feeling very low, what with the accident and the fact that she'll no longer has a car. Hope her friends pull through for her.
Stopped at my favorite thrift store and bought a large square basket to put rolled-up towels in for the guest bath. Before I headed home, I drove down Main Street and easily found the restaurant--Yolanda's--where the widowed group meets. I'm looking forward to that outing.
On my way home, I took Telegraph Road, kind of a twin of, and parallel to, Telephone. I happened to see a high-rise building called Ventura Townehomes and decided to stop in to ask if I could see a model apartment. After I got out of the car and approached, I heard music. A young woman was singing, backed by a trio--piano, trumpet, and bass--and the large, sunny lobby, doors thrown open, was filled with older people, They were seated here and there informally, many with walkers or canes. This was clearly an assisted living facility and I was about to leave when I noticed a table with a wine and cheese spread on it. I sat down. An employee came over and asked if I'd like some wine. Well...okay, sure. So I sat there for 45 minutes or so, listening to the old-time songs and drinking my Chardonnay.
Something in me wanted to stay forever and be taken care of, but I resisted and left when the entertainers took a break. But it was such an enjoyable interlude. I think it points up how, if you're open to what comes along, and you like it, and want to be part of it, there's no reason to think you won't be welcome. I was an interloper, but it was obvious nobody had a problem with that.
If I had wanted to, I probably could have wangled dinner.
*California State University
Apartments and the Granny House
Nine 'til noon I spent dealing with office stuff--just reading, filing, discarding, and so on. Wrote a note to my dear nephew, Wes, the only attorney in our far flung-family, and sent him old legal documents I had had in the archives. After lunch, went off to the P.O. to mail it and swung around on Telegraph Road to revisit Ventura del sol.
Here a very nice woman--Patti--greeted me and I asked to see a one-bedroom (all the two-bedrooms are upstairs and down and that's out for me). She showed me one recently renovated that going to be occupied next week. (Incidentally, the one- and two-bedrooms are situated on opposite sides of a center grass area.)
I would kill for the place. Although having only one bedroom and one bath, it's laid out nicely and has less of a "chopped up" look than my present apartment. For instance, my bedroom has only one wall free of either doors or windows. In addition, almost an entire wall is filled with a sliding glass door. Since there's one in the living room, too, do I really need that? At Vds, the bedroom window is a nice large side, but it's a window, not a door, and I could easily fit my desk or bureau under it.
Kitchen is good--galley type, of course--with the usual. A negative is the electric stove, but I can live with that.
Speaking of electricity, that's the only appliance for which Vds charges tenants; Colony Parc charges for water and sewer, in addition to a small monthly charge for--get this--the "service provider" that prepares the monthly statements. These charges came to $54.31 last month--that's in addition, of course, to the stated rent. Talk about highway robbery!
Went over to take a look at Armada Apartments, also. However, it's across a busy highway from the mall and I didn't think the neighborhood looked very nice, either. Scratch them, I guess. I had seen a "granny house"--odious expression--advertised and called the number provided, although the rent seemed suspiciously low.
No wonder: A man answered and when I asked where the house was located, he said it was between Ventura and Santa Paula. I know that's farm land and asked if it was out in the country. Yes, it's on a ranch, he said, and you would take the Freeway to the so-and-so exit, drive out to whatsit street, turn left at wherever, then "call me and I'll come out in my car and guide you the rest of the way."
WHAT?! Now you can be sure the basis for a horror story grew hair and teeth in my mind as I thanked him and said it was probably not for me. I can see it now: Ellen to Greg: "Gee, I wonder where Mom is. I've been calling her on both phones and there's no answer." Greg: "Let's ask the manager to let us into her apartment." They find a clipping for the granny house and call the number. Man says, "Why no, your mother was supposed to meet me, but never got here...heh, heh, heh...."
Here a very nice woman--Patti--greeted me and I asked to see a one-bedroom (all the two-bedrooms are upstairs and down and that's out for me). She showed me one recently renovated that going to be occupied next week. (Incidentally, the one- and two-bedrooms are situated on opposite sides of a center grass area.)
I would kill for the place. Although having only one bedroom and one bath, it's laid out nicely and has less of a "chopped up" look than my present apartment. For instance, my bedroom has only one wall free of either doors or windows. In addition, almost an entire wall is filled with a sliding glass door. Since there's one in the living room, too, do I really need that? At Vds, the bedroom window is a nice large side, but it's a window, not a door, and I could easily fit my desk or bureau under it.
Kitchen is good--galley type, of course--with the usual. A negative is the electric stove, but I can live with that.
Speaking of electricity, that's the only appliance for which Vds charges tenants; Colony Parc charges for water and sewer, in addition to a small monthly charge for--get this--the "service provider" that prepares the monthly statements. These charges came to $54.31 last month--that's in addition, of course, to the stated rent. Talk about highway robbery!
Went over to take a look at Armada Apartments, also. However, it's across a busy highway from the mall and I didn't think the neighborhood looked very nice, either. Scratch them, I guess. I had seen a "granny house"--odious expression--advertised and called the number provided, although the rent seemed suspiciously low.
No wonder: A man answered and when I asked where the house was located, he said it was between Ventura and Santa Paula. I know that's farm land and asked if it was out in the country. Yes, it's on a ranch, he said, and you would take the Freeway to the so-and-so exit, drive out to whatsit street, turn left at wherever, then "call me and I'll come out in my car and guide you the rest of the way."
WHAT?! Now you can be sure the basis for a horror story grew hair and teeth in my mind as I thanked him and said it was probably not for me. I can see it now: Ellen to Greg: "Gee, I wonder where Mom is. I've been calling her on both phones and there's no answer." Greg: "Let's ask the manager to let us into her apartment." They find a clipping for the granny house and call the number. Man says, "Why no, your mother was supposed to meet me, but never got here...heh, heh, heh...."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)