Welcome

Well, here we are. To be honest, I'd have preferred a less portentous title, but just "Transitions," or "Changes" were already taken. "Days of Transition" looks like it should be read aloud by James Earl Jones. That's not the tone I'm trying to set but it's what was left me. I'm late to this blogging thing.

Here's what I hope I can do: 1. Share some good music from my pretty big (and always growing) collection of just about every kind of music imaginable. 2. Show you some of the things we really like to eat around here and how to make them--and I promise it'll all be simple; some recipes will even involve opening a can or two. 3. Share my observations on life in general without getting all political and angry, with the aim of inspiring you to share back and dialogue. 4. Finally, I want to tell you the story of what other half Steve and I are Up To these days. I'll start that now:

In a nutshell, we're getting ready to move. It's going to be a long process, not really complete until Steve retires in November, 2009. And that's assuming everything goes as we hope. We have big plans, all of which could be dashed by various imponderables. A roller-coaster ride may be in store, and that's what I hope will keep your interest.

Since 2004, we have owned a quarter-acre parcel of waterfront land in Delaware. (The picture at the top of the page is a sunset taken from our dock.) We bought the land originally as a tax write-off after we paid off the house we're in now, in Arlington, Virginia. The land came with a derelict, 1967-model trailer that at some point in its past had been graced with a stick-built addition, creating a new living room and bedroom. When we first saw the place it was like walking into a time capsule. It had been abandoned for several years, and whoever last stayed there disappeared, leaving every belonging behind. It was junk-filled and beyond filthy. In the process of cleaning it up we fell in love with it, and over the years the idea planted itself: when the time comes, demolish the trailer and build a house we can move to when Steve retires and we no longer need to be in the DC area.

Like most middle class Americans, our wealth is in our house. Arlington County (trivia: the smallest county in the United States) is the closest-in DC bedroom community in Virginia. It's filled with graceful older homes on the one hand and is quickly urbanizing on the other. We paid $89.5K for this place in 1981. It is a 2-bedroom colonial very solidly built in 1938. Over the years we have completely re-created the place, adding so many updates and bells and whistles that it is no longer recognizable as the house we originally bought. For your curiosity, here are before and after shots:

This house bought the Delaware land. The plan is to sell it and with the proceeds pay off the land loan AND build a house and end up mortgage-free.

You can see where I'm going with this. Among the many things that can go wrong for us is the...um..real estate market. There was a time, maybe just a year ago, we could be assured of getting at least $600K for this place, and that would have left us comfortable. Now, who knows? We have another year for real estate to get itself right again, so there is always hope. Arlington has been hit by the current market sickness, but not nearly as hard as other parts of the country, indeed, not even as hard as other parts of Northern Virginia.

And here's what else can go wrong. Steve works for a tiny company chartered by the state of California. By some miracle a few years ago it landed the contract to hire and train all of those Transportation Security Administration baggage screeners who make traveling the pleasant experience that it is today. It is a gargantuan project that this mom and pop operation in Sacramento basically doesn't know how to manage, and they have decided they no longer want to be prime on the contract, but sub to another company. The current contract ends in June. If the new company that Steve's employer has hitched its wagon to gets the new contract, Steve may still have a job, depending on what this new, prime company wants to do with him. If that new company doesn't get the contract, all bets are off. Steve needs less than two years to be fully vested. If he can stay where he is for just that short time, we will be golden. If he loses the job, we're up a creek.

I told you it would be interesting. I think the story is worth telling, but I promise we won't be all house, house, house here. When important things happen, or we make some kind of progress one way or another, I'll fill you in. But we'll also have lots more to do.