Posts Tagged ‘ space ’

LA Move–House Dilemma

Wednesday, September 28th, 2011

My Bathroom I'll Miss

I have never been a suburbs person. Especially a house/neighborhood that is newly constructed, sans trees and character. But now I find myself in a bit of a predicament with this LA move.

When Fia was 2 months old, we moved to LA for a few months. The house we rented on the Internet looked lovely but in reality was a terrible set up, especially with a baby. I was miserable. I couldn’t wait to get back to Brooklyn. So this time Phil is out there looking in person so we don’t make the same mistake. Especially because this time we’ll be out there longer–probably a couple years.

We need to rent a fully furnished house as we are leaving most of our things here in storage and subletting out our apartment. But in renting, we have some very specific criteria. I want it furnished to our taste. I would like to be in walking distance of something. I don’t want dangerous edges and crazy spiral steps/staircase like we have now.  And I want SPACE. Coming from a NY city pad, I’m allowed to be greedy with square footage.

Last week, after much debate, we had a friend check out a house. She gave it a thumbs up, but warned “It’s Ethan Allen-generic.” I decided there are worse problems to have and thus began to embrace the new me. I decided I’ll live like most of the country does, driving instead of  lugging a stroller and toddler down the subway steps. I won’t get a minivan yet, but I’m ready to live in a newly constructed house, devoid of character. And I’ll be happy about it, dammit.

As my Brooklyn friend Courtney said, “When you have a baby, character is the least of your worries. I wanted character and I have a 3rd floor walk up with no dishwasher or laundry. But I have antique crown molding. Give me a freshly painted white box to live in already!”

She makes a good point. And this house is at least in an old neighborhood, so there are trees. Plus, it’s a 3-minute walk to Griffith Park, which is one of the largest municipal parks in the country. Take that, Central Park.

So now I’m excited about changing my tune. I told Phil, “We’ll bring ourselves. And our art. That will give it more personality.” Plus, with a transsexual cat, Wayne Sanchez, how can you not have character?

Here’s the dilemma:

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Moving to LA–The Fun Part!

Monday, September 26th, 2011

We'll Have The Beach! And Warm Weather!

So big news on our end: We’re moving to LA. In a few weeks. I’ve known for a while but just haven’t wanted to deal. It’s not that I’m not excited about it. The idea of a HOUSE, a YARD, even maybe a POOL makes me giddy (though nothing is yet in place, which is nerve-wracking). But leaving my beloved Brooklyn is going to be tough. We decided to make the move for several reasons, with Little Leroy (working title) solidifying the deal.

When I got pregnant and found out my due date was the end of January, we groaned. Good god, not another winter cooped up in a Brooklyn apartment with a newborn. Not to mention our pad is a landmine. It’s a loft with 28-foot ceilings, which means upstairs Fia could climb over the ledge and drop at least 20 feet. Even with all the baby-proofing, it’s just not set up for a toddler, much less two of them.

Phil is always flying back and forth to LA with his career as a screenwriter. It drives us both crazy. For example, here is our latest scenario: he flew to LA today, takes a redeye home on Friday, then next Monday he flies back, has a 10:00 a.m. meeting on Tuesday and comes home that night.  It’s getting a tad absurd.

Our phone rings regularly at 10 pm, usually bringing some sort of drama. The 3-hour time change is a relaxation killer.

He works from home. In the open loft, we have completely blurred the boundaries between his working hours and playing hours. I walk in the door and Fia beelines to him, even if he’s on the phone (his office is in her eye line. Impossible to prevent). I dash after her as fast as I can, but once she sees him it’s all over. She is very attached to her Daddy and if he doesn’t come out and hold her/play with her, a crying fit ensues. Doesn’t make for a great business call. Then I get the glare. I in turn get pissy, and so it goes.

I actually think living in LA in a spacious house, with a separate office for him and a time zone that matches the industry he’s in is going to really simplify our lives. But here’s where I get sad… click here to continue reading.

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