The drawback of watching too many design shows on HGTV or DIY is that they make you feel wholly inadequate. (Okay, I know there are multiple drawbacks to watching too many design shows. And yes, me watching a design show in my still-marginally unpacked home is very much like me watching the Food Network while eating Kraft Mac and Cheese.) Last night we watched a “Flip That House” where a man in Atlanta bought a run-down, cat infested, hellhole and wholly gutted it and renovated it and sold it in 14 days for a $40K profit. I went to bed thinking “I still can’t walk down my hallway because of all the boxes.” Sure, it’s TV, but it’s reality TV. Ha.

Six shot dead in New Orleans this weekend. I took a day off from reading the news after that one. It’s just too much. Of course, last week, we had our own brush with murder on the national news. In the end, though, it turned out to be so… Midwestern.

Last weekend, the corridor just north of here in Indiana (note: the closest town in Indiana is closer to me than the next closest town in Kentucky) was “terrorized” by a “sniper.” Three cars shot at on the highway, one unfortunate man from New Albany murdered. Not to minimize it—it is a horror, after all—but it turned out to be some disgruntled teen, universally praised by his neighbors in his tiny Indiana town for being the kind of kid who would help you shovel your walk in the winter, going postal after a disagreement during a hunting trip. His older relatives demanded that he help gut (or whatever hunters do) the deer; he refused; they berated him for not doing his share of the dirty work; he took his rifle and went to an overpass and shot at cars to “let off steam.”

Can’t dignify that by calling him a “sniper.” Despite protests to the contrary, he’s just a bad kid. And now he’s a murderer.

Doesn’t make the news any less horrible. It just makes it less terrifying, to some extent.

Ma’s visit was great. Did too much shopping and not enough sight-seeing. Ma gave us a gigantic new four-poster bed as a housewarming gift. It’s a monster, but it’s beautiful and comfortable. Big improvement over my hand-me-down bed and my 10+ year old mattress.

We’ve been slacking a bit on the housework in favor of doing more stuff about town. Went to a music festival this weekend. My New Orleans snobbery definitely shone through. The Forecastle Festival is supposed to be one of the biggest events in Louisville, but at least in my opinion this town has a lot to learn about throwing a music fest. Even the weeniest ones in New Orleans, the little neighborhood doo-dahs, is an Event.

If I had to put my finger on what was wrong with the Forecastle Festival it would be the lack of diversity. Two days of 12 hours of music, but all the same kinds of bands. Alt-rock, emo, punk, moody melancholy stuff. So the lack of diversity in music invited a lack of diversity in crowd. I felt straight-laced and mainstream in comparison. But the Fest also features 100 or so artists and dozens of activist groups. With the lack of diversity the activist groups were preaching to the choir and the artists weren’t making terribly many sales. What a missed opportunity, in my opinion. Open up another stage, feature some more universally appealing music, offer more food (one food booth!!), and bring the artists an audience that can afford their work and bring the activists an audience that needs to hear their message.

That’s just my opinion.

We’re walking distance to a comedy club and seeing that one of Jason’s clients owns a comedy club in NYC, it seemed natural to check it out. The headliner was a Columbia grad (much younger than me), Steve Hofsteader, but the show was really stolen by the second act—Stuart Huff. It was a good night, and for $10 more fun than a movie (not that I’ve seen a movie in, like, six months!).

Went to Cherokee Park, the grande dame of the Louisville (“City of Parks”) parks system. Designed by Olmstead, the park is more of a forest with paved paths. Gorgeous, hilly, a bit too hilly in this scorching heat! But it’s less than a mile from us, and in cooler weather will be a fantastic place to hike and picnic and just spend a day.

Otherwise, just your average checking out restaurants and bars and coffee shops. Dabbling with house stuff. I’m determined to get it fully functioning and straightened up by the time school starts. And that’s in TWO WEEKS!

Two weeks. Where has the time gone?

Two posts

Monday
I started an entry on Saturday night that I didn’t finish. So first you’ll see the truncated narrative for Saturday and then you’ll get the mini update for today. To your left is a mural in my neighborhood. Note the fleur de lis in the upper left corner. The fleur de lis is the symbol for both the city of Louisville (named after Louis XIV of France... still not sure why) and New Orleans (Louisiana, France... )

Saturday
It was another beautiful day in the neighborhood.

There are times I wonder if I am so silly happy with this place because the last seven or eight months in New Orleans were so darned hard. It’s quite possible that my elation with life in Louisville is simply a post-traumatic euphoria. I say that, but tonight we had dinner with a couple who moved to Louisville three months ago from South Florida, and they’re just as enthusiastic as we are. Of course, they, too, lived through four hurricanes—albeit milder ones—in the two years they were there. Still and all, Brett and Beth were all giggles and bubbles over this place too.

Strange but nice evening. This year at WRW (Jason’s 10-day writing workshop in Erlanger) the guest literary agent, Peter, told Jas that one of his best friends had just moved to Louisville and that we should look him up when we moved. Jas did and Brett invited us to dinner tonight along with another couple whom he’d never met—other friends of friends. It was like a big, weird blind triple date. But you know, it took me a long damned time to be invited to dinner at someone’s house in NOLA. Here, two weeks. Pretty nifty.

A few days ago, Jas and I were listening to the radio and we discovered that this weekend was the last weekend of this racing season at Churchill Downs, so yesterday we took the day off from home duty and headed out to the track. What a fantastic day! I’ve probably been to the Fairgrounds in NOLA a half dozen times or so— and I have to admit that I missed the corned beef sandwiches—but there’s really no comparison. Churchill (who bought the Fairgrounds a couple years ago) is majestic. It just feels important and historic. Jason joked about the fact that when the track reopens in the fall, he’ll be there every day, and unlike at the Fairgrounds, that “threat” seemed credible here.

We got there around 2pm for a 230p start and cased the joint. It’s HUGE. It was a stinking hot day, but there’s ample shade. And for $2 general admission, man, you can’t beat that with a stick. On Fridays they have a “happy hour” from 4-7pm with $1.50 beers and hot dogs. If you don’t bet a penny, you’re looking at a whole day that’s cheaper than a movie and popcorn. Of course, if you DO bet… well…

I was exceedingly proud of myself. We stayed for 10 races and I bet every single one from $2-$10. I stuck $20 in the self-wagering machines when I got there, and when I cashed out after race 10, I had $22.40. I was never up much—at one point I had $39.60, almost double my money. One of the races I bet, I bet $2 win-place-show on a midlevel longshot and won $26. When I went, I told myself that I was willing to lose $40, so coming out $2.40 ahead was a boon.

Around race 9, the sky turned a sudden black—it was 630p or so… speaking of which, I am astonished by how late it stays light here… we don’t have full dark until almost 10pm. So after race 10, we decided to call it a day, and we’d no sooner run to our car than the sky opened up and there was thunder and lightening and flooding. The ten minute drive took us twice as long and by the time we got home the phones were out and the satellite was out and the thunder was a constant rumble. Midwestern summer storms, a new weather condition to get used to. The storms lasted until almost 10pm and when I woke up this morning I saw that a massive tree limb had been felled by lightning a block away and had blocked the northbound lane of Baxter Street. I yard sale hopped today and saw three other similarly blocked streets.

Monday
Ran out of gas with that entry. Sorry for that. Ma arrived today for a five day visit, and while Jas’s family visited the weekend we moved it, it was so nice to have our first true visitor. Jas’s family saw the very rough outline of the house; Ma’s seeing a more decorated, more actualized abode.

This weekend we spent $80 at Lowe’s buying plants. End of season sale, we got a steal. I was tickled pink that in Louisville we’re able to grow both Crepe Myrtles (a ubiquitous tree in New Orleans) and lilacs (one of my favorite plants—there were a ton around when I was a kid in New England). The yard is Jas’s pet project. Sometimes I wish he was as invested in the inside of the house as he is the outside of the house. He’s always out there mowing (bought a rotary mower at a yard sale), watering, and digging.

Check out my pictures of Churchill Downs here.

I don't know where the time has gone. Tomorrow, we will have been here two weeks and it hardly seems possible. For the most part, it's been a really fantastic two weeks. The house is starting to come together, although the nickles and dimes are really adding up. I'm still surprised at how much space we have, even though two of our three storage areas are unusable. The garage leaks like a sieve from the roof and the basement floor also leaks (or seeps or what have you). The tiny shed is only slightly damp, so we've stashed airtight storage boxes there.

Every day is some small progress. Yesterday was a particularly bright sunshiny day for me as I managed to finally get Igor, my car, "legal." Igor's had issues for months and months. On Monday, he got new tires and a new headlight. Tuesday, he got a new sideview mirror (he was sideswiped twice over the course of a couple of years parked on the narrow streets of NOLA-- during the last few months in NOLA his mirror was held on with packing tape). And yesterday, I went down to the County Clerk's office and registered him. It was beautiful, stark contrast to getting things done in New Orleans. I was in and out in twenty minutes. My paperwork was a little "off" and the clerk just shrugged and fudged it. I gush only because in the last week that I lived in NOLA, I spent a total of 8 hours in various New Orleans offices trying to update Igor's registration only to finally give up because I had too much moving stuff to do.

Financial hardships aside (I might mention that Igor's facelift and paperwork were to the tune of $600+), I'm pleased as punch to be here. The people remain wonderful-- even just casual conversations with bank tellers can turn into 20 minute discussions of why they're sure I'll be happy in Louisville. I guess that's something that's neat and novel about Louisville; I've yet to meet a Louisvillager who doesn't like living here. Even pre-Katrina, it seemed as though 50% of NOLA's residents counted New Orleans-bashing as one of their favorite hobbies. I always gravitated to the people who loved New Orleans as much as I did, but the negative nancies were everywhere.

And the city is just so gosh darn pretty. Today I took a field trip across town to the Habitat for Humanity Restore (if you've been reading the blog for a while, you'll remember that I volunteered at a Restore when I was in exile in Punta Gorda in October). And driving home through the winding, tree-lined, hilly streets listening to the excellent public radio station, I was just blissed out. (Part of the bliss was finally being able to drive my car again, too). We had two days of rain, but today was sunnny and hot-- but not stinking hot. In fact, last week, we went three days without using the AC.

Shoot. My battery is almost dead. Just as well, I think I'll draw myself a nice bath and then head to bed. Long story short-- still thrilled with the move.

The Humble Abode

I took these photos during my home inspection last month. I was wary of posting them before I closed on the house for fear of jinxing my housebuying mojo. But I figger, we've lived in the house a week-- it hasn't burned down or been repossessed, so it's time to share.

Believe me, I'd love to show the "after" photos, but there isn't a single room that's ready for her close-up. The front porch looks amazing and is the closest to "done," but we're still using portable camp chairs for furniture. The bathroom is done-ish, but the curtains don't match the shower curtain.

Every day there are hours to be spent on hold trying to get things turned on and switched over. And every day there are nickles and dimes to be spent on things that we didn't know that we'd need. But you know, there are few things as satisfying as sitting on your own couch in your own home and watching a Red Sox game on your own tv. Go Sox!

Mi Casa Es Su Casa

(written July 3)

I keep staring at this blank Word document (never type directly into Blogger—you’re bound to lose it) wondering how to begin.

Sin of omission: I will spare the blog all the harrowing details of the financial and other bullcrap issues involved with closing on the house. Just in case you’re wondering, yes, anything that can go wrong at a closing most likely will. Even if you’ve done everything right. Even if the seller is only a mid-level jerk, not an ass with the key to the executive washroom of jerk-dom. Suffice to say that I drew my only two bank accounts to a zero balance in order to pay for the house, and maybe bounced a check in the process. My two real estate agents have vowed to boycott my lender and the Better Business Bureau may get involved. Thank goodness it’s a holiday week and I don’t have to think about all this until Wednesday.

But she’s mine. On June 30, I became a homeowner. And around midnight that night, I sat on my front porch and watched the fireflies dart around my front yard and cried.

Fireflies. In my yard. At dusk, my front lawn is like a blinking phosphorescent sea. Joy.

I have been floored by the unexpected joys of Louisville. I thought I’d be happy here. Happy or maybe just okay. But in the past three days I’ve been a-twitter with love for this place. It may wear off, it may wane, but right now it’s bliss.

The first unexpected joy has been my neighbors. Within hours of arriving, we’d already been visited by three neighbors. We didn’t unpack til the 1st of July, and that day we had more visitors. One with a stack of take-out menus. One with an offer to help us unload. And our next door neighbor came by late in the afternoon with a case of Bud Light, a 12-pack of Mountain Dew, a large pizza, a cooler, a bag of ice, and a bag of Fritos. (I was in the bathroom when she came by, but when I found out, I commenced to sobbing again). They’re old and young, singles and families. The three houses to our right are occupied by the same family—sort of. A daughter, her parents, and the third house belongs to the daughter’s soon-to-be-ex-husband. Right now I’d say we’ve met 80% of the people in a five house radius. Never in my life have I met such friendly people—both in my neighborhood and just around town.

The next unexpected joy has been just how much there is to do within walking distance. On the night that I closed on the house, we were too pooped to unload the UHaul, so we walked the neighborhood and bar-hopped. Within a 10 block walk north or south on the main road by us, I think it would be safe to say that we have more than 75 restaurants, coffee shops, and bars. If you add the other two big roads near us, that number is well over 100. Within six blocks of my house, we have three coffee shops, an independent movie theater, around 15 restaurants, a grocery store, two drug stores, several boutiques, an ice cream store, a gas station, a post office, and several banks. And I think, if you push another block, we have a public library as well.

The expected joy, I suppose, is how deeply significant it feels to become a homeowner. I have to constantly remind myself of this fact as I am unpacking.

It’s been 95 every day here since we moved. Hell on the unpacking. We went through five bottles of Gatorade the day we unpacked the truck. We’re down to just the stuff in the cars, but again today we’ll have to wait til dusk to get it done. (Dusk—I’ll never get used to this—comes around 915pm. It’s not dark here until after 10pm. Reminds me a bit of Ireland, except in Ireland it didn’t get dark until after 11pm during the summer.)

I’ll post more pictures of the house as soon as I have internet at home. Hopefully within the next few days. Time to go home and resume the settling in.