gabeanderson.com: life: relocating

Cross Country: Day 9

Our cross-country drive began one month ago today. How time flies. The trip took us a total of nine days, including the short jaunts on Day 1 from San Francisco to Roseville and on Day 9 from Kinderhook to Saratoga Springs. That leaves seven days of intense driving, with an average of 548 miles driven each of those days. The longest stretch we drove was on Day 5 from Alanreed, Texas to Little Rock, Arkansas (736 miles).

Of course, that distance doesn't seem like much compared to the 1,085 miles Jen and I once drove in a single day from Cheyenne, Wyoming to Sacramento, California (summer 1999 during my second East-West cross-country drive of that summer), or the 869 miles that my bro and I once drove in one day in a 24-foot moving truck from Sacramento to Tucson, Arizona.

Our 2003 cross-country trip spanned 3,899 miles from San Francisco to Saratoga Springs. We used 162.487 gallons of gas, which cost $279.87. We paid an average of $1.71 per gallon of gas, whose octanes ranged from 91 to 94. We got an average of 24.50 miles per gallon, with a station-to-station low of 16.94 and a high of 29.27.

For more details and daily mileage numbers from our trip, refer to the Anderson Cross-Country Trip 2003: Mileage/Gas Data spreadsheet. Yes, I love tracking and analyzing data like these. But you've probably figured that out by now.

Even though we've long since concluded our cross-country trip, I wanted to wrap things up with a Day 9 post. Day 9 is not only the 62 miles we drove from Kinderhook to our new home in Saratoga Springs, it is the next phase in the journey of our lives.

New License

Yesterday Jen and I stopped in at our local DMV to apply for New York driver licenses. Part of the deal with getting a New York license (if you want to skip the behind-the-wheel and written tests) is that you have to surrender your out-of-state license. So for the first time since I was 16, I am without a California driver license. Even while at college in New York, I kept my California license.

It may seem silly, but there was something pretty emotional about this letting go for me. A Californian all my life, it's going to be odd having a New York license in my wallet.

Despite this emotional letting go, I was shocked and pleasantly amazed by how easy the process of getting the new license was. First of all, you can just walk into the local DMV with the paperwork (as opposed to making an appointment weeks in advance and waiting in line for an hour once you get there, as one must do in California); the wait wasn't more than ten minutes. Once at the counter, it was incredibly easy to process all the paperwork, take the eye test (which I actually passed without my glasses), and have a new photo taken. Jen and I were both in and out in less than half an hour.

I wasn't able to register my car yet since the lienholder is my bank in California. They've first got to fax a copy of my title to the DMV before I can get NY registration. This is just as well since my California registration is good through May, so I might as well get my money's worth.

Last night my mother-in-law came over for dinner. Jen made her delicious eggplant parm. After dinner, Jen and I did some work on the 100 Faces production and watched the maddening State of the Union address.

Bugabootoo

You know you live in the Northeast when you own big snow boots. Tonight Jen and I became Northeasterners. Saratogians, in particular. It's been snowing here lately and, as Californians, our sneakers couldn't take trudging through the fresh banks of snow or through the slushy sidewalks much longer. What a difference. My feet are now warm when we walk the dogs and I don't feel the moisture seeping into my California cotton socks (a big no-no, according to the staunchly serious man who advised us on boots at Dick's sporting goods).

Last night we finally saw Lord of the Rings: Return of the King after dinner at Friendly's with super-friendly service. As expected, I really enjoyed the final installment of the Tolkien trilogy. I didn't want to leave the theater when the credits began to roll after three hours, but it's hard enough to get Jen to sit through a standard-length movie. I knew Jen was getting more and more restless with each loud sigh throughout the final hour of the film. But I'll give her some credit, given the multiple natural points at which the movie could've ended.

It's hard getting used to life in such a quiet place. It's not like the big city at all. I was tempted earlier to let Happy off leash while walking down our street since there's nary a car in sight. This peaceful lifestyle is already having a pleasantly surprising effect on the dogs: They've been so calm and relaxed the past couple days since we moved in. And I do love the snow. It's so pretty lining the streets and trees.

Our place is still pretty much empty (furniture doesn't arrive until the 10th), so we're continuing to settle into our echoey apartment. The air mattress wasn't great the first night, but it's growing on me.

Last but far from least, a big congratulations is in order to Jane and Sarah on their engagement. I'm really happy for you both.

Saratoga Lease

After driving for eight continuous days, it felt strange yesterday not to wake up, pack up the room and the dogs, and hit the road. Rather, we slept in, had breakfast, and chilled out. I also took a break from blogging. The dogs continued to get to know Daisy May the husky.

We celebrated the New Year last night with Tracy and her family. We drank wine, ate heartily, played games, and toasted 2004 as the bubbly flowed. It occurred to me sometime during the night that Jen and I were celebrating our sixth consecutive New Year together. How time flies when you’re having fun. Life is good but no doubt short.

Today was the big day in Saratoga Springs. We drove north around lunchtime to meet with our landlord and sign the lease. It was Jen’s first time seeing the apartment, and her first time back to Saratoga in about ten years. It was an exciting, nervous feeling driving into town, knowing we would soon call it home. We spent some time circling the new apartment as a dog sniffs out a new territory. It always takes some time to get to know a place before it feels like home. We set up a new coffee table (made by my mother-in-law in the 1960s), unpacked our books, and bought some cleaning supplies and a new bed for Stella Brie. We enjoyed lunch at the local coffee bar, Uncommon Grounds, all the while taking in our new environs. We visited picturesque Saratoga Lake, frozen in the winter for activities like ice skating, hockey, and ice fishing, and a summer destination for sports like boating, swimming, and my personal favorite, jet skiing.

In more anti-moving company sentiment, it occurred to me today that by urging me to send our books via media mail (which we did) to supposedly “save money” since, he claimed, it would be less to ship “heavy things like books” via Post Office instead of moving company, the estimator from All Points Moving Systems/North American actually tricked us, making more room on the moving truck and, in effect, more money for the moving company. Though hard to believe, our stuff weighed in at quite a bit more than estimated, so it wouldn’t have mattered if we had included the books since there was a not-to-exceed price. In reality, it ended up costing us $100 extra out of pocket to ship the books U.S. mail. The estimator has not heard the last from me, nor has the company. An angry letter will follow.

Please boycott North American Van Lines and, in particular, All Points Moving Systems in Vallejo, California.

California friends: We miss you already.

East Coast friends: We’re looking forward to hanging out with you.

Happy New Year 2004!

Cross Country: Day 8

Kinderhook, N.Y. – We made it. Not all the way to our new home in Saratoga Springs just yet, but we’re essentially there. We’re at Jen’s parents’ house in upstate New York, about an hour and change south of Saratoga. We rolled into town around 10pm Eastern Time tonight. It’s certainly surreal: Being here on a more permanent basis than we usually are. We’re no strangers to this town or this house, but our presence here is different this time. Different because this region of the country is now our home. It hasn’t quite sunk in for either Jen or me, I think, but certain physical clues solidify the situation and make it somehow more real. There’s the fact that we drove into town, rather than flying here, and my car sits in the driveway outside my in-laws’ house; and then there’s the fact that our dogs are here. In Kinderhook. That’s probably the strangest part. They even met Daisy May (one at a time). And no blood was shed. A few growls and flared hackles.

There’s no flight to catch back to California this time. Until the first vacation, anyway.

Today was another long day, though not too bad. We set no alarm in Pittsburgh at our final La Quinta stay across America. We woke up around 10am and made plans to meet Johnny as we passed through Buffalo.

So we hit the road and left Pennsylvania behind, cruised briefly through a corner of West Virginia, and north into New York. Around 4pm we arrived in Buffalo and had a great time hanging out with Johnny at an early supper. We made arrangements for him to visit us as soon as we’re settled in Saratoga Springs. It’s a good feeling to have so many great friends on this side of the country, too. I’ve reflected on that quite a bit lately: That we’re fortunate enough to have such wonderful, close friends on both coasts. I feel very lucky.

The drive time passed quickly for the most part today, listening to most of the audio book we started yesterday (or day before?), The Life of Pi. The story started out to be really good but has taken a turn for the worse and is just plain bad at the point where we stopped listening tonight (we had had enough). It’s a tale of a castaway Indian boy who, following a shipwreck, is stranded at sea on a lifeboat with a tiger and other animals from his father’s zoo. It was not the best pick in audio book to listen to while driving across the country with two dogs since the story is essentially about a long, hellish journey without end in the company of wild beasts. Apparently there’s some kind of twist at the end, though, according to Johnny, so we’ll have to make it through the painful final two CDs (of nine total). It’s a pretty stressful story, not quite as light-hearted as the previous audio book we heard (Big Bad Wolf).

A couple hours before we were due to arrive in Albany, the dogs must’ve gotten the sense that we were close to our destination. Happy decided he’d had enough of riding in close quarters in the way back of the Scoob with his sister for eight straight days. The space is cozy for them, but not much bigger than their overall dog-volume. So I really couldn’t blame Happy when he decided to climb over the rear headrests and into the backseat stacked to the ceiling with luggage and other belongings we didn’t want to send with the movers. It was hilarious seeing him wiggle his little Border Collie body over the seat and weave this way and that to find a comfortable perch among our suitcases. It made for perfect rearview mirror entertainment and provided Jen and me with a fit of much-needed laughing.

And then we arrived. It was over just as suddenly as it had begun. Eight days on the road. The journey is nearly over, but the real one is about to begin. A new town and a new year await. A future of infinite possibilities is on the horizon.

Tomorrow we’ll take a New Year’s Eve breather here in Kinderhook before heading up to Saratoga Springs on Thursday to bring our trip to an official close, sign our lease, and begin to settle in as we wait for our stuff to arrive.

Cross Country: Day 7

Pittsburgh, Penn. -- This is it: Our final night on the road. Seven days behind the wheel, traveling across this vast country we call America. What strikes me about this country every time I cross it -- be it by air (dozens of times) or by car (now thrice) -- is how much of nothing there is. So much brown (this time of year) and so many fields. This is a good thing -- to know that not everything is developed (yet). What also strikes me is how similar most places are, with only slight noticeable differences. The people are different, of course, in look, behavior, accents, attitude, political beliefs, but while on the road, we only interact with a small number of folks.

One small difference I’ve noticed between most places we’ve passed through and those in California is the coffee. The coffee is bad, of course, but so, too, are the cups -- for the environment. Outside California, all coffee cups are styrofoam; in the Golden State, they’re paper. This is a debatable point: Landfill vs. trees. I think I would fall on the anti-landfill side, though. I love trees and want to conserve them as much as possible, but we can always plant more. Styrofoam does not biodegrade and ends up in a landfill. There is a finite amount of land on this earth. Once we use it up, it is gone.

Here on the eastern side of the finite American land, we spent some time tonight with my grandparents near Pittsburgh. The timing also worked out well such that my uncle Bruce was in town, too. We all had dinner together at my grandparents’ house. It was the first time I’d been to the house in which my Mom grew up, so it was an important visit for a number of reasons. We had a really good time and I’m happy to soon be living just one state away from family, despite moving away from my home state of California. I’m looking forward to spending more time with them.

Bored with the usual routine in our hotel room earlier tonight -- check in, walk the dogs, bring in the stuff from the car, set up Happy’s cage, start writing in blog, watch CNN, etc. -- we decided to live on the edge. We walked across the street to the Holiday Inn and hung out in the lounge. We had a couple rounds of drinks, played cards, and listened in amusement to the rowdy U.S. Army soldiers at the next table, discussing things such as their time in Iraq, their body weight, and how drunk they were. It was a fun night and a good way to break the travel routine.

Tomorrow we head into our new home state of New York. First stop: A visit with Johnny in Buffalo. Then we’ll cruise east across New York to Kinderhook.

Cross Country: Day 6

Lexington, Kentucky -- We crossed over the Eastern Time Zone some time around 9:30pm Central Time tonight. We had gone through the rest of Arkansas after leaving Little Rock this morning, crossed the Mississippi, and drove all the way through Tennessee. Today was the longest day yet, settling into Kentucky, which, according to the guy at the front desk of our hotel here, isn’t technically the south by Civil War definitions.

Graceland in Memphis, Tennessee wasn’t what Jen or I had expected. We had envisioned grandeur, excess -- the kind of extravagance typically associated with the rich and famous. But by rock star standards, Elvis Presley seemed to live a fairly modest life, at least at home in Memphis. The first thing that was striking about Graceland is its locale: The part of town is pretty dilapidated and there’s not much around besides some gas stations, car dealerships, and boarded-up restaurants. Then, out of nowhere, are the white gates leading up to the Presley estate. You don’t park on that side of the road, though. That’s the weird and annoying part.

After parking in the lot across the street and walking past half a dozen different gift shops, we bought our tickets and got in line to board the shuttle that would take us all the way across the street and up the slight hill of a driveway. It was laughable. Only in America. It was clearly about crowd control, but incredibly frustrating that we could’ve thrown Happy Dingo the length of the street between us and the mansion, but they wouldn’t allow us to walk.

The self-guided audio tour of the mansion was about half an hour to an hour. Upstairs in the mansion is closed off to tourists because it was Elvis’ private area, so it’s out of respect for the family that they don’t bring tourists there. (Though they don’t go into detail about it on the tour, apparently Elvis also died upstairs at home, so that may be part of it, too.) The tour does include the main floor and basement of the mansion, including the famous Jungle Room, which has an indoor waterfall at one end. I really liked the basement TV room with mirrored walls and ceilings.

The remainder of the tour walked through the trophy rooms, the racquetball house, the stables, and the rest of the grounds, ending with a visit to the grave of Elvis, his parents, and his grandmother by the pool. It was pretty surreal. I’m sure it’s even more surreal for those Elvis die-hards who believe Elvis is still alive.

Coming the southern route across the country certainly adds a lot to the trip -- about an extra thousand miles and two days, in fact. We’ve driven 2,826 miles since San Francisco, 580 of those since leaving Little Rock this morning.

Tomorrow we head north to visit my grandparents before cruising into New York for our eighth and final day of the journey.

Cross Country: Day 5

Little Rock, Ark. -- Aside from the Waffle House, a southern breakfast treat open twenty-four hours per day, and upside-down armadillo road kill, today was pretty uneventful as we drove across the southern plains of Texas’ Panhandle, Oklahoma, and into Arkansas.

We started the day in Amarillo, deciding not to fight the pre-9am breakfast crowd at our hotel. The breakfast options were slim, with half-hour waits at Denny’s and the Cracker Barrel.

Then we stumbled upon the magical yellow letters of the Waffle House, like an oasis in the Texan desert. Neither Jen nor I had previously been to an actual Waffle House, but I’d seen them throughout the southwest before (in places like Tucson) and had been curious. Jen had only heard of the establishment as the stuff of legend. It was meant to be. In we strolled to the House adjacent to a truck stop, as the magical beacon usual is. Despite the signage on the door about Waffle Houses nationwide providing healthy no smoking environments for their customers, we could only smile in amusement as we looked around to see actual cowboys with half-smoked cigarettes dangling clumsily from their mouths.

After a few expected stares from regulars that labeled us as the obvious out-of-towners, we scooted into a booth across from the jukebox, which cranked out sounds of county music (what else?). The servers do not circulate around the small restaurant, but stay behind the counter, connected to all the booths, to tend to the rows of waffle irons, steak, hash browns, and eggs. We ordered coffee and OJ after being addressed by our waitress with the requisite Texan greeting, “How are ya’ll this morning?” I ordered the pecan waffle and hash browns with cheese. All for a whopping four bucks. And it was perfect. Just the traveling breakfast I had been craving, much better than fighting the hotel crowd. Jen was excited about her fried eggs with side of grits. After having a bite of grits, I realized that grits are basically just cream of wheat.

Despite our not being all that impressed by our brief stay in Texas, it seems that the Waffle House was the ideal experience for our inaugural trip to the Lone Star State.

Not much later we passed the armadillo on the side of the freeway, bringing our drive through Texas to a fitting close, but not before a stop on Route 66 at the Alanreed gas station, which also served as the Alanreed Post Office, Alanreed grocery store, Alanreed community center, Alanreed bar, and the Alanreed Jail. Then we whisked non-dramatically into Oklahoma.

Oklahoma was brown and overcast. The only noteworthy item there was a postcard at one of the rest stops of an actual photo of three hanged men and the date 1906. On the back was an explanation that the men had been suspected of trespassing on someone’s ranch. The card was not intended to be humorous, so we quickly returned to the car and left the OK state behind.

Here in Little Rock our hotel looks much like the others, Flagstaff excepted. We’re back in our room after dinner at the Olive Garden, thanks to a generous gift card from Jessie. I’m a sucker for accents, so I really enjoyed eavesdropping on the Arkansan drawls of the two women at the table behind us. People are quite pleasant and kind here.

Tomorrow will be a big day, as we head into Tennessee for a stop at Graceland, then on to somewhere in Kentucky for the night. Just when it seems like the trip has begun, we have only three days of the journey to go.

Cross Country: Day 4

Amarillo, Texas -- We woke up this morning in beautiful Flagstaff to a dusting of snow. I love that: Opening the curtains, looking out, and seeing snow-covered ground. I’ll never forget the very first time at Vassar my freshman year when I had that same experience. It’s one that will never grow old for me, and one of the things about which I’m very excited to be moving to upstate New York.

This morning’s snow was the first for the dogs. Happy got to charge around the trees adjacent to our hotel. The crisp morning was only the beginning of a long and fun-filled day.

We left Flagstaff around 10am and headed east on I-40. Our first stop was in the Petrified National Forest, exemplary of much of the Southwest: Red rolling hills, vast and detailed canyons, and a natural light unique to this part of the country. The Painted Desert at the northern end of the Petrified Forest was especially picturesque with its red rock and snow-capped top (though we chose to take it in mentally rather than stop for a photo). The petrified wood was pretty cool, too. We also drove past some faux teepees, including Route 66’s Wigwam Motel, at which you can actually sleep in your own teepee.

After Arizona it was on to New Mexico, whose landscape is quite breathtaking. We drove through Albuquerque, along with towns with catchy names like Gallup and Tucumcari. Then we crossed the Texas border -- into enemy territory, I joked (in a political sense, of course, for two liberal, now former San Franciscans).

Another highlight from today's trip was our "reading" the audio book The Big Bad Wolf (thanks, Liz!) by James Patterson, who also wrote Kiss the Girl and Along Came a Spider (both good movies, I thought). It's a great murder mystery and an excellent way to pass the time on a long trip. We're about halfway done with the eight-hour reading, my first time listening to an audio book.

So here we are in Amarillo about 12 hours after leaving Flagstaff. We’re now in the Central Time Zone with just one more zone to cross.

The stars at night are big and bright…

In other news, I was annoyed (and shocked) to find out this morning that our stuff with the moving company (A) weighed in at a thousand pounds higher than the estimated weight (suspect considering we got rid of a lot of stuff after the estimate), and (B) has still not left the facility in Vallejo, three days into the seven to fourteen day delivery estimate. As for the cost, there is a not-to-exceed price that we’ll end up paying, but I was hoping we’d be able to pay less than that. As for the delivery date, it’s just frustrating to think that it may be later than we were originally told our stuff would arrive. So far, I’m not impressed with North American Van Lines and its local agent All Points Moving Systems in Vallejo. I’ve left a voicemail with the guy who gave me the estimate to find out what’s up.

Cross Country: Day 3

Flagstaff, Ariz. -- I love to drive. Driving is especially fun because my car is fast. What makes my fast car even more fun to drive is when I have the chance to drive it across the Mojave Desert. Such was the case for the first time today when I was able to set a new personal speed record: 130 miles per hour. It barely felt like we were driving faster than sixty. I was tempted to push it even faster (and could have, given that I had enough road and accelerator left to do so), but considering I had previously taken my WRX to 120, I figured that a ten-mile-per-hour record improvement would suffice for now. There’s still a whole lot of country left before our adventure is over.

We drove 508 miles today from Bakersfield to Flagstaff in about seven hours (including stops), a full hour less than estimated by our road atlas. Of course, driving anywhere between 80 and 130 miles per hour all the way through the desert will have that effect.

Today was the first long leg of our trip, but it really didn’t seem that way. Jen and I both really enjoyed our Christmas celebration across the desert and into the highland of Flagstaff, which is truly a beautiful place.

I’ve been to Flagstaff once before and recall having really enjoyed it here. It reminds me a lot of Tahoe: High elevation, tall pine trees, and that clean, fresh mountain air. I immediately felt good and relaxed upon arriving at our destination.

We celebrated Christmas tonight with dinner at a Chinese buffet restaurant, ala A Christmas Story, the greatest holiday movie ever. We also found ourselves outside the Galaxy Diner (closed today, unfortunately), which hosts a Hot Rod show every Friday night (see photo). The picture is primarily for James. Anyone who knows him or was with us in Vegas will no doubt know why.

Tomorrow we will head to somewhere in Texas for Day Four of the trip.

Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!

(If you’re reading this and keeping up on our cross-country adventure, please drop us a line, as we have so far been able to check email nightly. We would love to hear from you.)

Cross Country: Day 2

Bakersfield, Calif. – We’re fewer than five hours from Sacramento and already Day Two of our journey is complete. I like that we’re easing into the trip, driving just an hour-and-a-half the first day, not much more today. We ramp it up tomorrow, though, as we dive into the first eight-hour leg of the journey as we head to the snowiest place in the desert: Flagstaff, Arizona.

After leaving Roseville around noon today, we met up with my Mom and bro at the Hyatt in downtown Sacramento for a Christmas Eve lunch. Despite overpriced food and a rude waiter, we had a good time on our final leaving-town get together. We’ll be on the road for Christmas Day, so it felt really good to have a little family interaction. Then it was time for the open, traffic-filled road.

Things went swimmingly most of the way to Bakersfield until: White flash. Thud. Bump. The sound of crushing a living creature at 85 miles per hour is never pleasant. About thirty miles outside our destination, a little white rabbit sprinted out from the center divider to its final resting place under my front left tire. We felt terrible, but know there was nothing that could’ve been done. It was raining hard and a swerve into another car would’ve been far worse. I didn’t even see the little bugger until it was too late anyway. I’m sure he’s much happier now in a field of infinite carrots.

After checking into our hotel here in lovely Bakersfield and walking the dogs, we drove around looking for dinner and stumbled across one of my old childhood favorites from Sacramento: Marie Calendar’s. Not quite the same as most of the independently-owned restaurants we’re used to frequenting in San Francisco, but among chains, I think it ranks pretty high.

Merry Christmas Eve!

Cross Country: Day 1

Roseville, Calif. -- With only four hours of sleep before the movers arrived this morning, Jen and I have successfully completed day one of our cross-country journey, albeit it was only San Francisco to Roseville (outside Sacramento).

Twenty-four hours ago, things seemed bleak. Stuff was still amok. Boxes were still untaped. And the movers were due at nine. Packing is the most exhausting part of moving. But somehow, everything was looking better this morning. Once it was all packed up and organized neatly inside brown cardboard, all our crap seemed contained. Three movers were in and out in less than two hours, our inspection was shortly thereafter, and we were on the road to Sacramento.

Our first stop was to pay our respects at Odd Fellows Cemetery, where the remains of Nana and Alan rest. It was an important stop that I’d been wanting to do for quite some time, especially before moving East. I shed some tears and it was somehow calming.

After some onion rings to die for at Willy’s on Broadway, we headed south to meet up with James for some drinks and emotional “see ya laters.” Goodbyes: Who needs ‘em? We shed some more tears when James presented us with a guardian for our trip: The St. Christopher pendant he wears around his neck.

The first tears I shed were those when my Dad came by Monday night. It’s meant so much to live near him for nearly five years. It hadn’t really sunk in until that night that yes, we were leaving San Francisco.

And here we are, not geographically far from our now-former home in San Francisco, at Aunt Liz’s in Roseville, where we had dinner, good conversation, great laughs.

We’ve embarked on a tremendous journey the energy for which we would simply not have without the love and encouragement of all our family and friends.

“You guys are brave to be doing this,” said James.

Moving Day

The clock just struck midnight, which means that it is officially moving day. We're still awake packing, of course, but are in the home stretch. I realize I've been saying that for days, though. The past week has been a blur of social activities, great fun, and tons of packing. Why is it that we've been planning this move for so long and didn't have time to finish packing with a day or so to rest? I suppose that's human nature: Procrastination.

Some guy should be here any minute to buy our last remaining piece of furniture for sale.

Hallelujah

Jen and I just endured nearly 24 hours without power. Nearly 150,000 people were without power last night, including us. Under normal circumstances, we enjoy the occasional power outage. It's a nice break from modern technology. But when you're in the midst of packing for a cross-country move in two days and your apartment doesn't get much natural light in the first place, it really, really sucks. Things were looking pretty dark for a while.

The power came back on about ten minutes ago and we're feeling more recharged than ever now. We must. Only a day and a half of packing time to go. We really take power for granted in this country.

We had a great brunch at Tiff and Miguel's this morning (though we had to bust before actually eating), then we head to Tim and Elizabeth's for dinner tonight.

Tomorrow: Finish packing no matter what. Oh, and get the alignment done on my car since I had my new Continental ContiExtremeContact tires installed yesterday (at 25,918 miles).

Saratoga Trip

1860. It's not our new address; it's the year the historic building that we'll soon call home was built.

Saratoga Springs, the city in the country, is famous for health, history, and horses. I went to the place that Jen and I will soon call home last week for the first time; it more than lived up to its reputation. I left San Francisco Wednesday and flew back Saturday, a day earlier than I had planned, so that I might avoid the snow storm that hit the Northeast Sunday.

The city exceeded my expectations. It's full of character and is incredibly charming. I was blown away by the architecture: All the shops, restaurants, bars that line Broadway, the main strip of downtown; the mansions up and down Union Ave; the meticulous preservation of buildings like the post office. There's so much packed into a geographically small area that it's no surprise why everyone with whom I spoke raved about Saratoga Springs as being the best place to live. Of course, there's the famous Saratoga Track that brings thousands from around the world every summer. The New York City Ballet performs in Saratoga every summer. The Saratoga Performing Arts Center (SPAC) is in town, as is a place called Saratoga Arts, which regularly shows old movies. The town is filled with health spas, a plethora of pubs and even a wine bar.

As if the built-in attractions of Saratoga aren't enough, there's always something going on in town. The Chamber of Commerce maintains a monthly events calendar, too. That there is a community calendar is very much in line with the tremendous sense of community I experienced during my quick three days there. Everyone is so nice. It was easy striking up conversations with everyone I ran into. It's such a walkable city with but a single main strip that one can't help but run into folks in passing.

With a population of fewer than 30,000, Saratoga Springs is no San Francisco, by any measure, but I'm certainly feeling ready for something a bit calmer that manages to offer many of the arts and cultural events found here in the big city in the west. Not only that, but it's only a few hours to New York City, Boston, or Montreal. It's closer to New York and Vermont skiing than San Francisco is to Lake Tahoe. And, of course, we'll be close to Jen's whole side of the family, along with many of our friends from college who are on the East Coast. I feel really good about this move, and even came home with a new apartment lined up for us (a big step in the process to have an address on the other end).

I looked at upwards of half a dozen apartments from downtown to the outskirts of Saratoga (Northumberland). It was refreshing to see so many affordable places, especially when compared with a city like San Francisco. It quickly became evident that, second to finding a place that would allow two dogs, proximity to Broadway was the number one factor. Having spent the past year in an urban center with so many resources at our fingertips, Jen and I can't imagine having to drive for anything and everything. With that in mind, I had the search narrowed down to two places by Friday evening. Though I wasn't as excited in person about this place as I was when I first found it online, we had almost made up our minds to go with it when I decided to take one last look in The Saratogian classifieds Saturday morning before my afternoon flight. There it was: The ad for the place about which I had previously called but had not yet been able to get a hold of anyone. I decided to give it one more try.

After speaking with he would become our new landlord, I immediately knew there was something special about this place and that I had to race up to Saratoga one more time before returning home to San Francisco. So I did. And am I ever glad about it. It was serendipitous: This place is perfect for us and exactly the kind of apartment I've always imagined our living in. It's closer to Broadway than any of the other places I'd seen (an easy walk) and in the city's desirable historic district. It's an old brick, beautifully maintained building. Our apartment is a huge one bedroom occupying the ground floor with a private porch and entrance around the side. I knew the second I saw the building -- and even more so once setting foot inside the gorgeous B&B-like lobby -- that this would be the place for us. Inside the apartment, that feeling was confirmed. I wrote a check on the spot for the deposit.

For the first time, I understood what I've heard from many homeowners: That as soon as you find the right place, you'll know. Albeit we're still renting, but it's an energizing, all-consuming feeling that recharged my enthusiasm about and confidence in this move. Living in a comfortable place with so much character (and in a perfect location) makes such a difference. Everything about the place just feels right. First item on my list after we move in: Get the owner to fix the fireplace. We have a functioning fireplace here in San Francisco, where it's not nearly as cold as in upstate New York, so that's one feature I'll miss if we can't get them to fix it.

Saratoga exploratory trip behind, the final stretch now begins. We leave a week from tomorrow. It's hard to believe. The next week will go by so quickly that my head is already spinning trying to plan everything we have to do, not to mention selling some furniture and packing up the entire apartment -- the little things. I had a feeling this week would sneak up on us, and it certainly has. December always goes by in a hurry and this year it's even more accelerated.

I'm really glad I took the time to visit Saratoga last week. Making a cross-country move is hard enough, especially having never been there before a few days ago. It made all the difference. I came back energized and ready for this exciting change in mine and Jen's lives (and the dogs'). Of course, the next journey, before landing in Saratoga, is the 3,000-mile drive there.

(Photo on right: Houses on the west side of town that reminded me of San Francisco's Painted Ladies. The funny thing is that the west side of Broadway is the "up and coming" part of town -- and even it is super nice...certainly the place to invest in real estate.)

21 Inches

The Saratogian: "SARATOGA SPRINGS -- As the area digs out of the weekend's snow and begins the work week, Saratoga Springs Public Works Commissioner Tom McTygue lifted the city's 12-hour snow emergency at noon Sunday and said the roads were fine."

Here in sunny California, it's hard to imagine that in a matter of weeks Jen and I will be in the heart of our new city, where 21 inches of snow fell over the weekend. Good thing I love the snow and have an all-wheel drive car.

Some people call me crazy, but I'm actually looking forward to this. I love snow and think it's exciting. And yes, I'm even looking forward to shoveling it. Living in San Francisco is almost too easy in that sense. The hardest we have to work to combat the weather here is by opening an umbrella. I welcome a good challenge like nearly two feet of snow.

Let the Packing Begin

Last night marked the official start of our packing up for our cross-country move. It was exciting and helped to make it all seem a bit more real. We started by boxing up all our books, which we plan to ship to my in-laws' house since we've been informed by two separate moving companies that that's a good way to save on the moving expense. The US Postal Service's media mail rate is cheaper than the per-pound rate we'd pay the movers for the same service.

We also cleared off and listed on craigslist the first piece of furniture we'll be selling, our blue corner shelf.

Just under six weeks and counting until departure...

Saratoga Springs

During the past few weeks or so since Jen and I have decided to move to Saratoga Springs, NY, we've been met with one of two reactions (appreciated disappointment from friends and family aside): "That's great!" or "Huh? That's random." A very telling fact is that we've so far heard nothing negative about the place. So without further ado, I present to you an explanation of why we've chosen to live in this seemingly random place, known as the city in the country and home to more bars per capita than anywhere else in the country (our drinking buddies cheer and begin to see the allure).

The obvious reasons aside (close to Jen's entire family and her oldest friends), the essence of Saratoga Springs is best captured in this 2002 article from the New York Times: JOURNEYS; 36 Hours | Saratoga, N.Y.

"SARATOGA: It's a name that evokes privilege and leisure, spas and cures, gambling and bars and, of course, horses, especially during the August thoroughbred season. But there's more to this town than high living and horseflesh. The Saratoga Performing Arts Center, the summer home to the Philadelphia Orchestra and the New York City Ballet, offers a schedule of cultural events that rivals that of any big city. The Saratoga National Historical Park, site of the first major American defeat of the British and one of the 15 most decisive battles of all time, is nearby. Just north is the Adirondack wilderness; directly south is the capital city of Albany. Saratoga, the summer destination of many of the most famous names in American history, is a small town with a big vision."

Though admittedly I haven't yet been to Saratoga Springs, I trust Jen's judgment along with everything I've read and have heard from others who live or have visited there.

Hell, how could I go wrong moving to a place that's all about "privilege and leisure?"

National Moving Company

Jen and I learned this week that the couple who looked at our apartment last weekend has signed a new lease starting January 1. (Our lease was set to end January 31.) What this means is that we get to move to Saratoga Springs at the end of December. This is both exciting and nerve-racking, since we now have a date and the big planning begins.

First step: Find a good, national moving company. Our in-town favorite (Delancey Street) isn't scheduling any moves until after the first of the year, so it's time to solicit suggestions. Have you had a good experience with a national moving company? I'd love to hear your recommendations.

Also on the big planning front are those little things on the other end known as jobs and housing. Any leads on those fronts would be greatly appreciated, too, if you happen to know of any hot leads in Upstate New York or Saratoga regions.

Big Move

Jen and I are relocating to the East Coast. This is something we had been talking about doing prior to my being laid off. After learning on October 1 that I was losing my job, we began to seriously consider the idea. The decision was not easy. We love San Francisco. Leaving this city will be very hard. But we believe that it is the right thing to do at this point in our lives.

Last Sunday (October 12) we admitted to ourselves that we had made the decision to leave, but just hadn't come to grips with it yet. After we came to that realization, it felt better. At that point, we were deciding between Burlington, VT and Saratoga Springs, NY as potential destinations. Just this past Saturday we made the decision to move to Saratoga Springs. The job market is much better there and it is closer to friends and family, so we'll have a stronger support network that will help with the big transition.

We spent most of Saturday discussing details of the move and how to make it happen. The major elements are finding someone to take over our lease here, a new apartment in Saratoga, and, of course, jobs. Jen, demonstrating her impressive planning skills, has already worked out the route we'll take (dog-friendly hotels and all), how long it will take us, and how much the trip will cost.

We're very excited about the move, but leaving this magical city and all our friends will be anything but easy.