Update (short version)

I have written a long version to this update which I will share with you when this is all over, unless it just seems unnecessary and very old news by then.

In short I will say that neither reason nor the law have been enough to promote compromise, and Jeff is taking very good care of me, and has removed the situation from my hands almost entirely.

Last week I was inspired to create a quote:

Hope and optimism are the things that keep you looking past the present darkness

It is the sort of saying Jeff's maternal grandmother Amalie would have appreciated. She wrote a book of uplifting daily passages that I hope to finish reading sometime. It seems to run in the family, for he is never short of encouragement. Negativity is anathema to his way of life, and he follows a strong internal code of honor which is rarely seen in this day and age. It really puts me in mind of the knights of old, that is how strongly he is motivated to do the Right Thing.

I cannot get over how his capacious mind never stops creating, thinking, and considering things from every angle. Because not only does he stand on that reservoir of peace I mentioned last time, he also seems to create time with sheer willpower. He never says, "I can't". He almost always manages it, usually succeeds at whatever he puts his mind to, and never makes excuses on the rare occasions he doesn't accomplish something.

He is a Visionary I think, and when he envisions the future, I can see it too.

And then he goes and says, "But you know everything, Livvy." (When I said "I don't know" the other day to a question about the Atlantic Ocean. We were at Rehoboth Beach, Delaware, and I was pretty knocked out by sea air at the time, but I think now I feel an answer formulating somewhere in the back of my brain...)

I am also thankful for my job and my supportive colleagues (those who need to know); the environment of sanity that it provides; an escape from the tension of my situation at home.

Life Happens

Hi everyone,

Sorry it's been so long since I wrote here. Believe me, I wanted to, but many things are going on and .... well, I have just realized that I am probably undergoing a major life transition now.

First, I have learned a hard lesson: Current company excepted, I will from now on try to limit my dealings with New Yorkers.

My landlady finally went on the long-awaited rampage, a little earlier than I'd expected. I have never seen such wild eyes in my life.

Jeff turned out to be my knight in shining armor, surprise surprise - although he is sorry that his efforts to protect me from her by - calmly and quietly, as is his way - citing actual DC tenancy laws are what precipitated the drama and we would have been totally justified in calling the police on her.

He is representing me, and her daughter is representing her. He's drawing up a new agreement to end my lease.

He seems to "stand upon a reservoir of peace" (this is the image in my head), and uses words of wisdom, and a tone of reassurance. Within a couple of minutes he had turned her daughter's vicious approach over the phone into a reasonable legal discussion tinged with just the right amount of humanity.

I will move in with him around the end of July - he offered twice in two days, and I can stay for as long as I like, even forever. He wants to make a home, and is intensively looking to buy a place.

He has told me with utmost sincerity that he is here for me; it is a miracle that he found me; he only wanted to protect me and cannot see why anyone would be mean to me; he cares for me unconditionally and limitlessly; that Fate and Destiny have only good and bright things in store for me, and for him, and he can't wait.

And the way he looks at me...I haven't seen that since my father used to look at my mother...just the thought of it takes my breath away.

Spring Stroll

We are taking a small break from the museum overload I've instigated.  If you were just getting into it, though, the next in the series will be the Museum of Natural History.

Yesterday before this cool front blew in, it was overcast, slightly humid, and warm (about 63F/17C).  The birds were singing everywhere, tiny buds had made a show on the branches, and a couple of sheltered trees were already sporting nascent blossoms.

So because I'd stayed in all day I thought I'd go for a walk before the weather changed, run a couple of tiny errands, and explore some side streets off the Avenue.  I am still falling in love with this area.

Seriously, can houses get any cuter than this??

DC 1.0 + 2.0

On Monday night we had lots of snow and woke up to a white world of powdery stuff. It was like walking in sugar at first.

The view from my bedroom window:




It snowed heavily all morning, so I stayed in. Classes were cancelled and roads were continually salted. By lunchtime it lightened up a lot, so I ventured out to buy my SmarTrip card:



Time to say goodbye to my London Underground Oyster card. I don't want the proximity chip in it to interfere with the new one.

In the next two weeks I will have to finish off the balance on my NY MTA Metrocards. No more swiping at turnstiles, though it was convenient not to take the card out in order to exit as you do in London and DC. However, it was inconvenient to have to get a new card every time I needed a refill because the machine couldn't read it, even though it's supposed to last a year.

And hello to my new Metro SmarTrip card. I will soon be back to touching in and out on an electronic pad! I don't know why NYC hasn't done this sooner. Right now they are testing a similar system combining a debit, credit, and metro card in one like Barclays is attempting in London, but it's rare and I bet with budget and service cuts, change of any kind is not going to be a priority.

One thing though. Why can't they be of simple design like the Oyster? It was instituted not long after I moved to London in 2002. Before that, they were using paper tickets like NY's plastic ones. And before the plastic ones, NYC was using old fashioned coin tokens.

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As the snow continued, I walked the 7 or 8 blocks north of the house to the National Cathedral.


My old dilemma: which ONE to show you, so here are three:








The National Cathedral is where an Inaugural prayer service has been held for every president since 1912. It took nearly 100 years to plan and nearly another 100 build.

George Washington commissioned a plan for a national cathedral from Pierre L'Enfant in 1791.

Congress granted a charter in 1893.

The first stone, which comes from Bethlehem, was laid in 1907 in the presence of President Roosevelt, the Bishop of London, and 10,000 spectators.

Queen Elizabeth II and President Gerald Ford attended the dedication of the nave and the west Rose window in 1976.

George H.W. Bush was on hand to oversee the placement of the last stone in 1990.









One of many side chapels


Fan vaults always captivate my eye



A cross from the rubble at the Pentagon on 9/11, presented to the Cathedral by the US Army Chief of Chaplains



One Rose window



Going down into the Crypt.

Obviously, being a newer church, there are no tombs in the Crypt, so much of it can be used for chapels and who knows what else? I nearly got lost down there, and partly spooked, because I was alone amidst all this Gothic architecture. And it has been a long time since I heard such profound silence...



The Bethlehem Chapel, where the first services were held


Two entrances to the Chapel of Joseph of Arimathea



The Altar of the Chapel of Joseph of Arimathea



A gate in the crypt, probably from the 1950s



The wee little Good Shepherd Chapel



A retro space age stained glass window



Closer look - cool huh?



And back out into the snow, which became a sharp sleet as I walked home, which overnight turned into freezing rain, ugh...

I wanted to stay for Evensong, but it was only going to be Evenprayer and only a few hardy souls turned up. School had been cancelled so there was no choir. Oh! I just remembered I was going to go this evening, but actually I have also just remembered that school was cancelled again, which caused President Obama, a hardened Chicago resident, to chide the gentle Washingtonians for their inability to handle a bit of weather.

I don't know how long I spent inside, but time disappeared and I doubt I have ever stayed so long touring round a church. I spent the last half hour there chatting with a docent. She is originally British, but married a local and has been living here for 45 years. She urged me to come visit often when I move down.

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Washington 2.0

Today was very icy, but my potential landlady was determined to make good on her promise to come pick me up. We had chatted a couple of times a day since my arrival and were just waiting for some better weather.

She has been holding the room for me, and I would be a fool not to take it. It's even bigger in life than it looked in the pictures. My ensuite bathroom is the size of my bedroom in Brooklyn. The bedroom is even bigger than my old bedroom in St John's Wood. (Do any of you remember?)

Let's just say that I will be paying the same for this as I am my current cubbyhole, and that for space like this, even in Brooklyn, I would have to pay double. What's more, the lovely furniture is staying, the carpet is new, and I have that wall of closets and four whole window seats I mentioned last week.

Check it out:


I think I would have to pay at least $2000 for a room like this in Manhattan.



Here's the kitchen and the exterior. My windows face the cherry trees in the courtyard - I can't wait till the blossoms in spring!!!

I spent the afternoon with new landlady and her granddaughter. She drove me around town, pointing out buildings, parks, neighborhoods, shops, and restaurants, on the way back to my guesthouse.

The sky was clearing, and I wanted to go for a walk round the neighborhood before sunset, but when I nearly slid down the icy hill on my butt and heard the clumps of snow falling off the trees, I thought, "I don't really need to be out in this. I could go inside and do my UK tax return..."

Stay tuned Thursday, for that is when the sun comes out and the sightseeing begins!

DC 0.5

On the way to the Capital.

The day started gloriously sunny, as usual, but soon thickened into an English greyness, which is unusual in these parts.

I woke up with a painful lower back for no obvious reason, so I called a taxi to come take me to Penn Station, rather than fighting with stairs and anyway, my suitcase was too heavy for me even at 100%.

The train was quiet, comfortable, peaceful, clean, and felt very safe. The other passengers refrained from talking on the phone, some slept, some stared out the window, did work, read, or listened to their iPods. It almost felt as though I had the car to myself.

There is something retro about the design of the diesel cars, and very similar to American Airlines - both shiny metal tubes with red, white, and blue stripes down the middle. In fact, it did feel like a plane more than a train because there was no clackety clack, it just flew along the track. The interior was very airline-like too, though the seats were the softest I've ever sat in, anywhere. Three and a half hours sitting and I forgot I even had a bum, they were that comfy.

We passed through about 4 states, stopped at two airports, and made stops along the way in New Jersey; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; Wilmington, Delaware; Baltimore, Maryland; and finally Washington, D.C.

This is what I saw:


The Chesapeake Bay off the Maryland coast.
An abandoned power station near Philadelphia.
Every station we stopped at had a sign that pointed to Boston one way and Washington the other, well I wonder which way I was going?


First I did the crossword in the Amtrak Arrive magazine, then I read it. Gordon Ramsay was being interviewed, and I never knew he was actually nice to people in real life. Then I flipped through the railway version of the Sky Mall magazine. There are things in those magazines you never knew you needed and you go through all the phases of wanting them, envisioning them in the house you will have one day, talking yourself out of it, and then forgetting about them all until the next time you travel and pick up the evil magazine in the back of the seat.

The parts of Philly and Baltimore I saw from the train look like Harlem or the Bronx did 20 years ago: abandoned lots, burnt out boarded up rowhouses, and so on, but this is only following on the boarded up factories and steel plants. They both seem to have more graffiti than NYC. The graffiti cops, having done their job up in Noo Yawk, need to move down there now. You can see the new attempts at revitalization, like many cities nowadays. You know, riverside warehouse condos, etc.

The odd thing about Baltimore is that, even though it is in Maryland,
which is part of the South, it feels like a northern town. And indeed
it did seem as though it is on the border. Maybe this is why these
states (Md, Va, DC) are known as the mid-Atlantic states, because of
the dichotomy between North and South here.

The further south we went, industry began to fall away and it felt less gritty. In Maryland there were extensive swathes of fields, just fields, winding roads along winding rivers, belts of trees, some white picket fence villages, two cows, scattered homesteads, docks on water, and boats. When you live in a city you forget that it is still possible to leave a tract of land unused...

Finally we pulled into Union Station and I got on the Metro to Dupont Circle where my hostess CC picked me up and dropped me off at the house before heading back to work. It was very nice of her to do that.

I am staying in Glover Park, near Georgetown, in one of the cutest houses I have ever stepped foot in. It looks small from the front, but it goes on forever at the back, where the front two levels expands into four because it's built into a hill.

I met the dog Carlye (a thinker with a tail of iron), and the cats Carrot (a silent socializer) and Melly (a talkative recluse).
Carrots looooves me. He purred and slept all over my sweaters all afternoon, then he moved on to my laptop sleeve, followed by my scarf. I had to shove him off so I could put it on to go out later, but at least it was all warmed up for me :)




So as I said, the place is so cute, I can't not show you!

It's very Arts & Crafts, built in the 1920s, much like our old house in London in many ways, even down to the leaded windows and glass doorknobs. But there is a lot more warm wood here. I was pleased to note that the doors are original, as is much of the cabinetry outside the kitchen, and even the floors, which do not creak one bit. Also, there are so many rooms and nooks and crannies - larges spaces mixed with small. But no space too small. I have my own floor in what would normally be the basement although there is a balcony.


This is a proper old marble washstand with modern plumbing.



My bedroom with the bathroom attached. Spot the cat?



The hearth and...spot the cat?



The bed surrounded by stained glass.



The guest living room adjoining the bedroom. To the right are stairs up to the main level (kitchen, dining room, parlor).




A screened balcony off the guest living room. To the left, a laundry room as well as stairs to the sub-basement which again is not really a basement because it too overlooks the neighborhood.




Looking inside from the balcony. It's like an outdoor room.


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I picked a good week to visit. The region is bracing for its first (very late) snowstorm of the season on Tuesday. Yes, a full inch (2.54 cm) of snow - bringing the city nearly to a halt. NY has had much more than this and just keeps going. But they're all excited down here about their inch of snow.

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In the evening, I followed my nose to the Whole Foods we'd passed in the car on the way to the house. The people look normal down here so far and less "inbred" than generational city dwellers tend to do. Probably because they're all from somewhere else, other cities, other coasts, and small towns all across America. In this area especially, the streets seem lined with dollhouses and dollhouse street lamps. There is also a kind of Southern-cum-English (but not London) feel to it.

More tomorrow. Stay tuned.

Summer High

You know what I like about New York? People talk to each other.

If you look nice, someone is guaranteed to say, "You look nice."

If you air a question in the subway, more than one person will answer immediately - of any race, any age, any gender.

For instance, on the way home from seeing an apartment, we got on the wrong line and looking at the map I said to my cousin, "I don't see 86th street on this one." The guy sitting nearby overheard and said, "You need to get out right here and change to the 5 - right here!" And we jumped out before the doors closed.

Then, on the 5, after a minute I let out a sigh - more from entering the cool carriage from the hot platform than anything - and another guy nearby heard me, indicated to the half seat next to him and said, "Come sit here, there's space" and he squished over and I sat. Later on, the train braked really hard, a few people nearly toppled, and he shot out his arm in front of me thinking I was going to fall off the seat, and I laughed and said, "I'm ok, I'm ok."

Next stop, a couple of mothers got on with their toddlers in strollers. The kids were eating crackers and the mothers were quaffing chilled water. Pretty soon, as she leaned over the top of the stroller the mother wondered out loud if her son had finished his snack, and someone with a better view commented helpfully, "Sure, he's finished it. Maybe he needs a bit of water, his face is red..." So the mother gave him his sucky cup as if taking a suggestion from a stranger was the most natural thing.

Did I ever tell you that the only person who ever spoke to me in 6 years on the Tube was a jazz musician from New York?

The other day, an older lady and I were nearly shopping together at Macy's:
"Have you seen this? It's pretty."
"Oh look at this, it's in your size. Try it on."

Just one comment and you might enjoy a pleasant exchange and a laugh with a friendly random person as many times as you care to venture.

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A teaser of the clothing I've been acquiring:


Ann Taylor Loft (didn't buy this outfit, though I did get a couple of summer suits for upcoming interviews)



Jones New York Signature - look no sleeves - and white!

Next blog I will try to show you the others.


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We're having a summer heatwave here which started on Saturday but might end tomorrow. It's wiping out my cousin but my energy levels are still way up there. We went out today and he couldn't believe how active I was, until he remembered my Texas factor.

I guess 15 years in the Lone Star State is enough to harden anyone to heat, but I thought that 6 years in the London greyness would have reset my system.

The other good thing about the heat, the activity, the sun, and the food, is I am going back down a size and shaping back up, a process that started almost as soon as I got here, so promptly I was quite shocked - but I do feel much healthier and less bloated.

My cousin (Ryan) is a gym buff and has no problem pointing out what bits he thinks I need to sculpt! Bring it on.

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Good news on progress:

Went to surrender my TX drivers license, but got a bit emotional at having to part with it because for the past few years it has been like a friend. I'd take it out and look at that Lone Star flag and I'd remember good times.

Anyway, I can't get a NY license yet because they require my Texas records (all clean) so when that comes through later this week I can go back and get it done.

Then Ryan took me to open an account, the service was friendly and happy and everything's free, so I walked out smiling.

All of this was accomplished before 1pm.

As the temps were over 100 today, when we got back home it was 97 and we didn't venture out for the rest of the day. Stayed in basking in the A/C. He's lucky, his job is supervisory so he only has to lay out the plans early in the morning, and then his team takes over and he is free to go.

Oh, nearly forgot to mention, I found a place already!
It's in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn, a residential enclave by the Verrazano Narrows Bridge, full of neater than usual brownstone rowhouses, sweet cottagey houses on cute streets as well as wide avenues lined with pretty little churches and quirky mansions built in the early 20th century as summer escapes for wealthy Manhattanites. The community areas feel villagey and the neighbors are helpful and friendly. Amenities are right on my doorstep or round the corner - subway, express bus, laundry service, pharmacy, groceries, banks, tennis, gym. A park overlooking the bay is a couple minutes' walk away too with bike trails.

The apartment is on the top floor of a quaint little house. It's small but spacious enough for two petite girls, with many original details. It's simple yet feminine, homey and peaceful.

As soon as I mentioned I'd read a listing there he jumped right on the idea and said it was a good area - being like the big brother I never had, and also having discerning tastes, Ryan doesn't want to leave me anywhere he doesn't approve of - anywhere with an iffy walk to the subway, a smell in the elevator, a badly lit hallway, whatever. The minute we drove into Bay Ridge it felt right. I said, "I want to be here", and I was praying my potential roommate would pick me. We clicked very quickly as we share not only many interests but many feelings about things. So I'll be moving in before the end of the month. Also, we both studied art history...

Only 10 days and things are falling into place. Next up: getting a job.

(And Ryan is the best cousin in the world.)

My Cave

Behold, my little space at the top of the tower:


Stairs, kitchenette area, sitting/eating area, Aston Martin on TV



Ceiling and skylight, sleeping area, dressing area and bathroom, sunrise at the top.

It's ok, but my posture certainly isn't improving!

Arrrrggghhhhh [Addendum]

OK, it started yesterday, this nonsense...

But first the background. The kitchen for tenants' use is in a room the size of a large boiler closet. I can probably touch the walls from the centre of the room. And we thought the one in the Harrow flat was small but that was probably just the size of my walk-in closet in our first apartment in Dallas. My mother and I continually bounce off each other in there, it's so annoying, so she's fine just getting on alone down there. Thankfully there is a window with an ineffective little bathroom fan above it (!)

The water in the kitchen runs hot for about 30 seconds maximum, then painfully icy for about a minute, and so the cycle goes. In my bathroom it's hot for about 15 seconds and then NEVER gets hot again, so I have perfected the 15 second facewash, and now brush my teeth in the shower at night. This is apparently the problem with any combi-boiler.

The toilet, being a loft addition, uses a pump system. For ages I didn't trust flushing paper down the toilet, and feel insulted that the landlord thought I'd also flush feminine products down too...seriously...and when I am showering the system empties about once every minute.

Yesterday, feeling better, I helped my mother do some cooking to stock the fridge for the week. We were sauteeing onions first thing, and the smoke alarm went off. I fanned it frantically with a foil pan and it stopped, started and stopped.

In the evening, though, it was a lazy oven dinner of chips and chicken wings. My mother overbrowned but didn't burn the chips, and put the wings in the oven in their store packaging (silver plastic bowl, which she thought was foil) so the alarm went off again and the plastic melted. Landlord and I came rushing up/down the stairs at the same time.

He emphasised, pointlessly, that the (open) window must be open when cooking and that the (flimsy) fan must be on too. I told him that they were on when we were simply frying onions earlier and the same thing happened. Then he (thankfully) disappeared, hopefully getting the point.

I threw the wings away because I wasn't about to poison Mum or myself with carcinogens, and popped in some frozen Thai cakes.

After dinner I was washing the dishes, water running so cold my hands hurt, then putting the dishes away I kept knocking my elbow on the saucepan handle on the counter, and the kettle on the other side, and saying bad words.

Not only that but the only thing I have seen for the past week were the walls of my erstwhile cute loft, which I had wanted to bond with, but not in this way.

Tonight my mother decided to shower in my bathroom because the Korean girl next door to her left a lot of dirt in their shower, and Mum doesn't want to clean up after her again. Did I ever tell you how many times she burnt our favourite new saucepan and has now had to pay for a replacement?

Anyway, Mum turns on the shower and the water starts filling the shower floor. I flush the toilet to see if that will activate the pump, but the toilet bowl just fills too. Just when Mum doesn't really want to use the shower downstairs, and just when I really really need to wash my hair. I fiddle around a bit, then realise that the switch near the floor outside the bathroom is switched off. I haven't looked at it in weeks, but there is a box near it, and I did vacuum the floor this morning.

So...that's my rant. Wonder if any more fun lurks around the corner for next week?

Following: a rather shameful addendum, but it's true and I am sharing it with you.
[It occurred to me yesterday with a shock that I once lived in my family's own 4-bedroom house, with more money than we could spend. I was naive enough to think that this would always exist, no matter where in the world I lived - Mum and Dad and "home" represent security, no matter how old you are. Three years in a houseshare in a million-pound house in one of London's premier neighbourhoods was a step down from that because once upon a time I didn't know what a houseshare was...but even that was nothing compared to my current frustration. This has to end!

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Sweet! Vanessa just called from Houston and we talked for an hour and I have just smiled and laughed more than the last month altogether! :)

House Hunter

I went to see house number two from the previous post - the cute cream stucco one. It is not a houseshare.

Most large houses in London have been split into flats but you may not see that from the outside. Sometimes there is an addition with an entrance to a part of it, like that on house 2. Sometimes instead of one large original door, there are two doors, one to the ground floor flat, and the second has stairs to the first floor. And most houses now have had the basements and lofts converted into flats too. London houses have always had steps down to the lower ground floor (basement) entrance from the days when that's where the kitchen and scullery were, and where grocery deliveries were made - tradesman's entrance I guess. When a LGF flat is called a "garden flat" it means the tenants in the basement have sole use of the back garden.

In addition, in grander neighbourhoods, there are mews conversions. Mews are the old stables and workshops from the days when wealthy families living in the houses fronting the street owned a horse and carriage and kept household staff. Mews are cobbled alley ways behind the residential streets. I find them much cuter and desirable than the overly high-ceilinged homes they once served. Mews houses feel more cottagey, or they are sometimes completely refurbished into great contemporary open spaces. You still need to put down a million to own one, though.

So, who wants to hear about the cute house on Byron Hill Road (cute name eh?)

When I walked in I said "wow". The entrance is tiled with slate, and off to the left is a cloakroom (half bathroom). To the right is a pair of steps - one going up, and one going down. Here's the worst bit. The part that goes down is partly subterranean, a half basement, and there is damp in the wall. The estate agents are waiting for money to come through from the landlord to have it "cured" and repaired, and it will be a big job as they will need to tear out the downstairs bathroom too. (Funny enough, the landlord is moving to Houston, but lived in that house for 10 years.) So the second bedroom is downstairs and a very good sized one for an English house. The bathroom is ok and has a mixer tap.

Taking the second steps up you enter the wow space. The ceilings are so high you couldn't reach with a ladder. There's a lounge with two couches, dining area with table and six chairs, and open kitchen. Big American fridge. Very big living areas for over here, and hence the practical side of me says it will be difficult to heat in our bone-chilling winters, which are colder on the hills, mind you. All the warmth will rise to the heavenly ceiling and we will pay for it.

Off the lounge area there is a spacious master bedroom with double bed. What amazed me was the opposite wall covered with doors of all shapes and sizes, behind which are shelves and closets for storage, and then one narrow door at the end houses a ladder to reach it all! Another wow.

Were it not for the damp and the high ceilings, I would take it. Also, the long walk to the station. Yesterday, my mother said she will start driving over here and get a car, and drop me off...Oh my. I said we'd cross that bridge when we get to it. She hasn't driven here in nearly 20 years, but fortunately, Harrow on the Hill is not as manic or relentless as the rest of London. Some streets up there don't see a car in motion for 5 minutes at a time, maybe even more!

Tomorrow I am going back to Platinum House to see some larger apartments. I was comforted by the fact that water, gas and heating are included (and use of all those great facilities) in rental price except for electricity, phone, and council tax. Hopefully the slight hike in price of the places I am seeing will mean the kitchen comes out of the closet into an open plan, and gets us more floor space for the boxes we have...

I'll keep you "post"ed.

:P