Of houses and homes, Part II

When we purchased our San Simeon house, I vaguely remembered the often-cited statistic regarding homeowners moving on the average every 5-7 years and owning 12 homes over their lifetimes. It just seemed difficult to absorb and even a little far-fetched to me, considering my natural propensity toward inertia and new excitement over our first residence, but it has proved true in my case, as statistics don't lie, only people use it to mislead sometimes. After moving into our second home (the Pieper Lane house), I thought we were destined to stay put at least until our kids flew the nest, just as I believed when I got married that marriage was forever, only to find out that "Life is what happens to you when you're busy making other plans."

Becoming a renter again at middle age, this time with 4 kids in tow, proved to be a trying experience. We put most of our possessions in storage and crammed ourselves into one master bedroom at our old standby – the San Simeon house, after getting hammered with rent hikes every few months at the apartment complex where we were temporarily staying.  I waited out my time until I had the means and focus to buy again. My main impetus this time was to give each of my children his/her own bedroom while it still mattered to them, to make up for that stretch of time when their lives were upended because of adult decisions for which they’d been in no way responsible.  I began looking off and on during the summer of 2008, and by fall had felt comfortable enough to make an offer on a house located in the city of Irvine with a curious street name, “Honey Locust.”  Unfortunately, it wasn't meant to be, as I ended up changing my mind, which didn't happen very often, and later found out with regret and a bit of guilt that the property I’d backed out on eventually went into foreclosure. We had just opened escrow when I got a call from my cousin urging me to take a look at a new community near the Tustin hangar that she was considering. When I made my first visit there a few days later, my cousin had already signed a contract to purchase her home thanks to a sweet buyer incentive that involved the builder shelling out an ungodly amount of money on points to lower the interest rate in order to make their homes more affordable for a quick sale.  Another cousin already resided in the neighborhood, so it looked like our family was going to have good company. After a quick tour of the recommended models, I became convinced I was capable of making one-minute real estate decisions and promptly canceled my pending transaction. By Thanksgiving 2008, the kids and I had successfully settled into our new home, which I now call the Columbus Square house, but not without encountering a few unexpected speed bumps along the way.

If I knew then what I know now about the homebuying process in a new climate of credit tightening, I would prep my finances carefully for a look-back period of 2-3 months before  getting preapproved for a loan or submitting an offer. But I didn't, so I went on merrily charging our monthly expenses on numerous credit cards with liberal limits in order to maximize my cash backs, knowing I would pay off my entire balances each month as I always have.  I also had diamond credit, which I thought would count for something, and a stable, good-paying job, so it just didn’t occur to me any lenders would have to worry about my ability to faithfully make mortgage payments. Imagine my shock when Lennar’s in-house lender demanded that I pay off my car loan in full as a required condition for approving my mortgage, as they were uncomfortable with my revolving debt ratio which hovered on the high end even though I technically had the perfect borrower's profile. Being caught off guard with all my disposable assets tied up in the down payment, I was forced to cash out one of my life insurance policies to accomplish this and seal the deal at the 11^th hour.

The Columbus Square house became my interior design project for a whole year as I happily pondered my purchases to fill its rooms with the things I loved. I promised my kids I would allow them to furnish their own space with minimal interference as long as they stayed within budget. Because we all had wildly different aesthetics and wish lists, things didn't come together as seamlessly as I'd hoped, but it was a good experience for us as we each learned a thing or two along the way.

For months and months after we moved into our new home, I still couldn’t believe how well things had eventually worked out for me even at this late juncture in my life.  It was good to regain a bit of the feeling that all is right with the world again, and part of it was due to my being able to make a house a home for me and my kids.

Dad in front of my home, June 2011

Of houses and homes, Part I

My sister Midol was visiting from Seattle last week and we traipsed around looking at model homes in my neighborhood, as she was starting to think about buying for herself after happily renting for years. I myself am in escrow for a small rental property elsewhere, a short sale that I hoped would be relatively quick and painless as far as short sales go, but the Vietnamese have a saying, “Từ môi tới miệng hãy còn xa” (literally, “it’s a long way from your lips to your mouth”), meaning nothing’s for certain until the transaction wraps up.

It seemed I’ve had to jump through more hoops this time just to buy an itty bitty distressed condo than a beautiful million-dollar home back in the days… I guess that speaks to the downward shift in both my personal economics and the general economy as a whole. Anyhow, God knows why I’d want to be a slumlord after my curious landlord trauma a few years back. When I spoke to the loan specialist at Chase about preapproving me for an investment property, he noted that their bank required 25% down in addition to previous qualifying landlord experience… that meant proof of renting income that actually appeared on one’s tax returns for 2 years or more. An errant thought crossed my mind I didn’t dare utter… “I don’t want to brag, but after my encounters with tenants-from-hell, might I be so immodest as to say I’m overqualified!” For the record, and keeping my fingers crossed, I currently have dream tenants at my marital home that I want to keep and they apparently want to stay long-term, but before this couple came along, my aspiration of being a small-time real estate investor had definitely soured on me.

When my ex and I bought our starter house in Tustin on the heels of our relocation from Skid Row, L.A. to grow our family, we had zero experience with the home buying process. I barely knew what rates and points were, or what an interest lock signified. Thanks to an unsolicited offer from a lender that specialized in doctors’ loans (who was eager to provide easy mortgages to potentially high-income professionals already burdened with huge educational debts), we successfully sleepwalked through escrow to end up with a 3-year new house of modest dimensions. I forgot to mention we also borrowed the entire downpayment from my parents (we later switched to borrowing from my in-laws for our next home purchase… that just showed how good we were at saving for long-term goals). At any rate, I went from being pregnant with my first child to becoming a harried mom of four in record time, and the San Simeon home, as I fondly referred to our first house, became a fort that witnessed the kids’ regular roughhousing with their numerous friends and cousins. Our children were ardent homewreckers – not of the romantic type, but literally destroyers of properties... or rather, we allowed them to. By the time we felt ready to move up, the San Simeon house was already in terrible shape, which explained why it was sold to my sister Terra in as-is condition. She still owns it to this day.

It was the start of children and the suburban lifestyle for me and my days basically revolved around the kids, as it should be at that point in time. We didn’t have a lot in terms of money, but we weren’t exactly struggling, and I felt ridiculously happy and fully occupied as a stay-at-home mom. Life was simple, and our family was more than content to be the Vietnamese Tustin hillbillies. The San Simeon home had cathedral ceilings (a novelty to us at the time), which was perfect over the towering resin playhouse we bought for the kids; an adequate backyard, which we used primarily to house the stray cat I brought with us from L.A., and an upstairs master bedroom that made me curse every time I carried my kids up for a nap because it absorbed all the afternoon heat. Living there for 6 years taught me to not ever consider buying a house facing west again, or one that had two stories and only one thermostat.

The housing bubble had just begun its inflationary period when we outgrew our starter home and got in line to purchase our next house, which I often referred to as the Pieper Lane home. Those were the days of easy money, when model homes were selling like hot cakes and in order to buy any real estate at all you had to compete against investors ready to pay entire sums in cash. By some miracle, we, the most underprivileged buyers out of the bunch, landed the prime spot on John Laing Homes' waiting list to purchase a beautiful and spacious new home, with many back-up offers behind us. We were determined not to waste our chance and quickly sprang up with money we didn’t have to secure our position (which explained why we had to borrow the entire downpayment from the other set of parents this time). Thank God for Vietnamese parents who would gladly live in a hut if it meant their children could afford a (relative) castle! As our house was being built from scratch on a pristine lot, we were afforded the luxury of selecting our interior upgrades this time around as opposed to inheriting old aesthetics from the seller. Unfortunately, that required even more money we didn’t have! However, by then we had developed a vague concept of what home equity credit lines were for. And so the saga of our Pieper Ln. home began with a cast of unwitting homeowners, unscrupulous contractors, and an unhappy homeowner association. Just pure chaos in general… and a lot of moolah down the drain.

Still, we were ecstatic to have a pool all to ourselves in the backyard, which entranced the kids for a mere month, then promptly turned into a maintenance issue instead of an asset. I vowed to never own a home with a pool again if I could help it. I'd learned that lesson well, but should have extrapolated to exclude all water features in general. Now I know not to build anything as frivolous as a fountain in landscaping my future residence(s).

The Pieper Ln home's floor plan allows us a choice of either a loft or a true bedroom upstairs and we opted for the former. Visiting our homesite a few weeks before closing, we discovered that our builder had messed up and was in the process of putting the finishing touches on the bedroom that wasn’t ordered. When their mistake was pointed out, they brought us in for a meeting and tried to persuade us to take the house as is, maintaining that we actually stood to gain because it had cost them $8K more to build a bedroom than a loft. My ex insisted he wouldn’t want it any other way. I could tell the sales reps. were fuming. A few days later, their in-house lender informed us we weren't qualified to purchase the home, despite having been preapproved for it before, with no changes in our financial circumstances up to that point.

It was terribly suspect and I knew the builder just wanted to get rid of us as they were confident they could sell the house to any of their back-up buyers, but there wasn’t enough time for us to put up a legal fight. We had only days to save our loan or fall out of escrow. In desperation, my ex handed me a business card from a Chinese businesswoman referred to him by someone at work, supposedly a high-ranking Chase mortgage banker with whom we’ve never had any personal or business dealings. She immediately overnighted us a thick packet of mortgage forms which I dutifully completed in longhand and returned to her with the necessary supporting documents in convenient prepaid, pre-labeled Express Mail envelopes. We didn’t own a fax machine at the time, and I would not be familiar with emails until many years later, so my communications with Sanny consisted of frantic phone calls and our FedEx’ing back and forth over several days. She secured a speedy approval for us just in time and our builder had no recourse but to knock down walls and rebuild our loft where it was supposed to be. The main lesson I learned from this hairy transaction was to avoid in-house lenders for our future home purchases, or at least get preapproved by another mortgage company concurrently in case of a last-minute about-face. Another lesson learned was opposed to the conventional wisdom of selecting a landscape contractor based on direct client referrals. I had made the mistake of choosing mine for the Pieper Ln. home on the strength of his business presence in our neighborhood alone. Problem was, a client referral meant nothing if the job was still in progress. I should’ve known not to trust until I've seen a completed project. When my contractor bailed out on us, many of my neighbors got stuck with half-finished front and backyards besides me. We looked at each other and exclaimed in identical confusion, “I thought I was safe with him because YOU decided to give him your business, too!”

Midol & me seeing model homes together

Checking out the backyard

Dad and me on the balcony of "our" condo

Look!  Dad found a heart on the willow tree

Gisele the Little Consumer

My sister Terra recently sent me an email with a link to a family album featuring our darling niece, Gisele:

"Gisele đi Walmart với ông nội, cô Ý, và ba. Đi đâu thấy có cái gì đẹp là Gisele bỏ trong bao hoặc cái sô Halloween, đầy nhóc, phải nhờ cô Ý cầm dùm. Doca bắt Gisele bỏ lại tất cả chỉ cho mua một thứ mà thôi. Cũng may là nó không khóc nhè. Doca còn cho nó biết là trẻ em gia đình nghèo không có đồ chơi. Nó có vẻ hiểu. Trên đường về nhà, Gisele tuyên bố một câu xanh dờn là Walmart has everything we want."

English translation:

Gisele went to Walmart with her dad, Auntie Terra, and Grandpa.  As she wandered through the store, she stuffed everything that caught her fancy in her shopping bag and Halloween bucket.  She quickly filled them to the brim and Auntie Terra had to help carry her stuff.  Gisele's dad made her put everything back except one item.  Thank goodness she didn't whine or cry.  Her dad explained there were kids who didn't have any toys to play with.  Gisele seemed to understand.  On the way home, she declared with absolute conviction:  "Walmart has everything we want!"

 

Gisele seemed dazed after all that shopping

Back to the bat cave

Hello, Mama!

So I have been thinking, and I've saved up some money over a period of time to send you guys a little surprise. It's supposed to arrive tomorrow (my receipt pretty much assured that it would) – just in time for Ki's birthday – so be on the lookout for an ice-cold bucket of surprisey-goodness in the face! I did some research and invested some time (and moolah – but don't worry, I've saved up) into this little gift of mine, so make sure everyone enjoys it while they can because – be warned – it doesn't last long! Apparently it will only last the weekend or maybe a teeny-tiny bit longer, so, yes, enjoy the weekend! And meanwhile poor Bi will be sitting and reading and doing homework for a long time. :( But it is fine with me because just the thought of the surprise will be worth it! Haha, I can't wait until it arrives. Muhahahaha!!!

Love

Andrea

I had expected a cooler of perishable treats (maybe cheesecake or Omaha steaks or something along that line) from Andrea to come by FedEx for her sister's birthday, as her email was apparently hinting.  Audrey's already got plans to celebrate with her friends in L.A. the weekend prior to her birthday and with the family at her favorite steak house, Ruth's Chris, on the actual day (Monday).  After a one-month vegan stint, she was more than ready to turn back into a full-fledged carnivore beginning with her birthday feast.  Her kind-and-gentle partner, Lauren, was likewise anticipatory.  "I can't wait to eat meat again!"  she exclaimed while sniffing forbidden dishes on our stovetop.  When my two at-home daughters announced they were committed to be aspiring vegetarians for a whole month, I said that was OK with me, but I wasn't going to pamper them by planning two different menus everyday, so they had better be prepared to forage for themselves mostly.  Audrey stuck to her resolve through the entire period, but Lauren had broken down once or twice and sampled my cooking knowingly.  She would ask me what's for dinner, and when I answered, "Why should it matter because you were going to eat vegeterian anyway?" she'd retort, "You could make rotini and I'd pick away the meat and just eat the pasta!"  She'd also forbidden me to prepare my signature roast during her sabbatical from meat as she would feel way too tempted.

On Saturday night the kids trotted off to their dad's and I fell asleep while waiting for our laundry to run through the wash.  Audrey returned bright and early in the morning to wake me up to ferry her and her friends to the Irvine train station for their planned day trip to L.A.  My two younger kids came through the door later around 11, and following behind them wordlessly with a smug smile was Andrea, back from Berkeley for the weekend without me realizing until that moment.  I almost had a heart attack.

She had spent the night with her siblings at their dad's after managing to surprise everyone by showing up unannounced near midnight.  She'd cooked up this elaborate ruse, tricking even her cousin by calling for a pick-up at the train station pretending it was Audrey who was stranded there with a rapidly out-of-charge cell phone and needed a ride home.  When Vivian came for the rescue, she was flabbergasted to see Andrea stepping out on the train platform instead of her older sister.

They arrived home near midnight and it was full house at her dad's as Audrey's friends were also doing a sleepover there following their  day trip.  After the initial buzz quieted down, Andrea went upstairs to see Kiet and found him soundly sleeping in his bed.  She poked him; he opened his eyes and said, "Whatever!" then fell right back to sleep.

I was aghast that Andrea had taken the train.  We'd talked about her upcoming visits for the holidays several times and I was always insistent that she fly.  Audrey later told me Andrea had set two personal challenges for herself to complete before her Nov. 7th birthday... one was taking the train home to visit and the other, guess this... was painting her nails for the first time!  We were all snickering a little because the second challenge had seemed so trivial compared to the first, but then Andrea was always a tomboy never remotely interested in the conventional girl's beauty routines and milestones.

It had taken her an entire day of travel to get home, and she looked tired and disheveled, but after a quick shower Andrea had the natural glow of someone happy with her life and where she's going.  There was no trace of the dreaded Freshman fifteen on her small frame.  She told me she'd flubbed her itinerary quite a bit because of an unfortunate incident involving her roommate, who had offered to see her off.  Andrea had originally discouraged the girl from coming along because she'd already mapped out her 1-hour early morning walk to the train station and didn't want her roommate to go through the trouble of walking back to the dorm by herself afterwards.  But the latter suggested that they take the bus together as she was more familiar with bus routes near campus.  Andrea, who had never taken public transportation before, reluctantly agreed.  The morning of her trip, she woke up to a note by her roommate saying she's sorry she couldn't make it.  By that time, it was too late to walk and Andrea had no choice but to figure out the bus schedule by herself.  She managed to get to the right stop on time, but two buses heartlessly went past her one after the other.  Feeling dejected, she walked back to the dorm to map out her travel routes and times over again before setting out on foot to the train station.  This time she'd missed her train by a hair but was allowed to exchange tickets for a later train.  Her subsequent travel involved several transfers... train to bus and vice versa.... with stops along cities she'd never been to, before she finally reached the Irvine train station in the dead of night.

Andrea had only one day with us before heading back to Berkeley Monday morning.  We visited her grandparents, took Lauren to her lyrical dance class and watched her practice for a little while, went to an open house together (I was looking to be a slumlord), then it was almost dinnertime.  Andrea hid out in her old bat cave, which has become Kiet's, for a couple hours before reuniting with Audrey, back from L.A. for dinner with their dad.  It was like old times with all four kids in the house again, except it was over too soon.

Andrea with me and Grandpa the summer before she left for college

Estates and Manors, Part II

Since I never learned to drive the freeway, my sister Terra had to sacrifice one of her flex days to take me apartment hunting in L.A.  The drive there was uneventful, but as we got closer to our destinations, I suddenly realized my already short roster of apartment leads was getting shorter by the minute as soon as I got a glimpse of the first few run-down neighborhoods with tremendously sad-looking exteriors.  Maybe I’m being a little mean, but it certainly seemed ironic that any rental property with the word “Manor” or “Villa” in its name was guaranteed to end up looking nothing like its namesake suggestion. I probably should've already known since the word “estate” was similarly degraded in my own corner of Orange County, where it used to confuse me greatly to acknowledge Tustin Ranch Estates as an enclave of to-die-for luxury homes in contrast to numerous mobile home parks with names that also ended loftily in "Estate!"

Having Terra accompany me as my designated driver turned out to be an eminently wise decision, as I could have never negotiated the streets of LA and look for a property’s address at the same time without causing an accident.  We set out early and by 10:30 had arrived at our first scheduled stop, a dark and foreboding neighborhood consisting exclusively of rental complexes. After gingerly getting out of our car to confirm the unit's street address, we wandered around the fenced building for several minutes trying to locate an elusive entrance that would lead us to the leasing office. Unsuccessful, we called the number listed for the complex and discovered that its property management was being done off premise – a definite red flag given that almost every single L.A. apartment review I’d seen had enumerated complaints regarding unresponsive staff, and every apartment ad had made a point of touting their on-site management (if they had it) as a big positive.  Looking back through the years I’ve lived in safe, boring ol’ Orange County, I realized I’ve never appreciated straightforward, dependable Tustin and Irvine more than now.

We passed by several transient neighborhoods and witnessed what seemed to be an alarming rate of tenant turnover.  In the middle of the day, there was a horde of people carting off their meager belongings across the street into an apartment building that from the outside looked like it couldn't have offered much of an improvement over their old housing.  It’s difficult for me to believe these tenants would actually experience any difference in rents or amenities by moving out.  Or were they being evicted?!

I was mulling this depressing question and feeling rather downhearted when my sister noted we had gotten down to a single remaining name on our list.  And it was sort of ridiculous because we had just visited Tuscani Villas, but were now heading toward Tuscany Apartments.  Since the former turned out to be no villa (trust me!), I was hoping against hope that the website info. for Tuscany Apts approximately conformed to some truth-in-advertising basic standards.  Actually, I had to remind myself that beggars can’t be choosers in order to overcome my initial reluctance to even check out the place after a question posed by the receptionist over the phone the day before took me entirely by surprise:  “Are you looking to rent a one-bedroom, or a bed within a room?”

That last phrase conjured up images of sardine-like bunks stacked closely one on top of another.  The reality was, fortunately, much more palatable.  Tuscany Apts. offered posh apartment-style student housing, with the only drawback being you had to share a bedroom with another person (of the same sex) to keep down costs.  But unlike cramped dorm rooms, these bedrooms are reasonably-sized, each having its own attached bath with double sinks.  I learned that the complex was only 6 years new (a rarity in L.A.), and used to house USC students exclusively, but since new management took over not too long ago, they had opened it up to the general population.

It was a pleasant surprise to know Audrey could enjoy truly luxurious living accommodations by learning to be content with dormitory-style sleeping quarters.  If she were a high-earning professional insisting on privacy, she could opt to pay twice the quoted basic rent to get a bedroom all to herself.  But in order to keep her rent affordable (under $900), Audrey could pare down to a still very livable bipod or tripod arrangement in a Las Vegas-style luxury suite with either 3 or 5 other tenants, each pair having their own bedroom tucked away in a separate wing and everyone sharing spacious and inviting common living spaces (dining room, kitchen & living room) located in the middle of the suite.

As part of our tour, we were taken up to the building's roof deck which looked like an al fresco laptop station where students lounged around on cushy patio furniture.  The media room on the first floor was similarly plush and could be reserved as a clubhouse for college parties and get-togethers. I inquired about the percentage of USC students living in the building and the apartment manager said they weren’t allowed to disclose it due to fair-housing laws, but during our half hour there I was able to observe people coming in and out the elevators and the vast majority did look to be college students leaving and returning from class (the USC campus is directly across the street).  I figured a working professional would find it difficult to tolerate this kind of shared-living arrangement, especially if they had families, which was why all the studios, single bedrooms, and 2-bedroom apartments in the building were taken up, leaving exactly one vacancy in a bipod suite and a few more in the tripods.  But for Audrey’s purpose, it was as good as it gets.  She brightened especially at the prospect of socializing with people her own age after work, but looked a little disappointed while surveying the model suite's bedroom and realizing she wouldn’t be able to have half as much closet space and vanity surface as what she currently enjoyed at home.  A clotheshorse dilemma!  My sister Terra suggested that instead of taking her entire wardrobe to L.A., Audrey could come home to visit on the weekends and bring a week’s worth of outfits with her each time on her trips back.

For me, the moral of the day was, "An Apartment is always an apartment, but a Villa is sometimes not a villa."  Ditto for Estates and Manors!

Audrey checking out Tuscany's sundeck

Relaxing in rooftop gazebo

Estates and Manors, Part I

A few weeks ago, I showed Audrey a 24-hour-new Redfin listing and asked her whether she thought she'd be happy in the featured cute little condo. Audrey smiled and said, very reasonably, "Do I really need it, Mom?" "Nah," I conceded, "but there's never been a better time to buy than now and it would be a good step toward saving for your future. If I gave you the down payment, you could actually afford the monthly mortgage on your own salary." She had obliged me by viewing all the pretty photos and afterwards said that she would think about it, but presently she was happy at home and not in a hurry to move out. As it turned out, Audrey wouldn't be able to qualify to buy any real estate anyhow, as I was informed by the BoA loan specialist that her job was too new and her credit likewise incipient. But it still amazed me that my eldest daughter didn't jump at the chance to escape from my hovering as I'd erroneously assumed.

We had a few follow-up discussions about her lodging options after I came to realize  that even though Audrey never complained about her long train commutes, she wouldn’t have any sort of a life if she continued her pattern of 12-hour workdays.  Every morning she hurried out the door at 7:20 to catch the train, and didn’t come back to the Tustin station until 7:30 in the evening.  In addition, her train fares totaled almost $400 a month (and I didn’t even count the tickets that went unused because Audrey was in the habit of losing her wallet every few weeks), so it seemed almost cheaper just to bite the bullet and have her relocate to L.A.

One thing I quickly realized during my apartment search for Audrey was that good ol' Orange County had spoiled us for far too long. After getting used to planned neighborhoods and their manicured surroundings, I was shell-shocked to be reminded of what renters had to choose from in careworn urban cities like Los Angeles.

It made me feel positively ancient reminiscing about the time I lived in L.A. after moving south from Seattle on the heels of my June '89 wedding. How did I ever manage to survive 3 whole years in the City of Angels? Must have been youthful and blissful ignorance! I remember waiting anxiously for my then-husband to pick me up from work to go into hiding when the Rodney King riots were lighting up the streets of L.A. I remember having to repeatedly replace our windshield and car windows every time transients smashed them in looking for change. I remember the countless parking tickets we incurred just doing normal grocery shopping because the store's parking lot was always full and we ended up having to park on the streets. I remember plunking down $900 for our first month’s rent and an equal amount for security deposit on a one-bedroom unfurnished apartment twenty some years ago in the heart of downtown L.A. (Skid Row).  How could I expect things to be better now?

It came as no surprise that a good L.A. apartment would be hard to come by, and finding one that's also reasonably-priced practically an impossible feat. Still, I was hopeful that an initial search online would point me in the approximate direction and besides, what other alternative did I have?  Leaving this task to Audrey was pretty much leaving it to chance.

After reading numerous apartment reviews in which the mentions of crickety stairs, inoperable elevators, broken air conditioners, and assorted vermins popped up with alarming frequency, I decided to include the apartment building's age among my search filters, and to eliminate from consideration any structure that existed before the 1950’s. Unfortunately, I soon discovered every other newer complex was designated as affordable housing that admitted tenants based on lower-income qualifications. Even though Audrey’s starting salary was paltry compared to those of graduates from almost every field except maybe the liberal arts, it was enough to effectively disqualify her for affordable housing status. And almost every eligible building remaining had an elderly admission criterion.  So that left me choosing between dilapidated structures in questionable neighborhoods or nicer, modern facilities with prohibitive rents for my able-bodied daughter.

Having perused apartment reviews for a week or so, I became addicted to my reads-of-the-day.  Some were positively comical. A sample:

* After visiting this place and dealing with on-site staff a handful of times... i get the picture. This place is nothing but a joke. Some of the things the on-site staff say to you make you wonder if they are pulling an april's fool joke on you cuz it's just so ridiculous, but nope, it's real. Wow, a living standing joke of an apartment. Stay the hell away please.

* The staff is not only incompetent, they are extremely rude. The ceiling leaks! If it's raining outside, it is definitely raining IN your apartment as well... Their excuse? "We can't help the rain."

* Problems I have had in the nine months I have lived here:

- The evicted resident in the apartment below me was allowed (with the management's knowledge and permission) to sneak back into her apartment. She was upset about being evicted. She soaked her mattress in gasoline and set it on fire. My apartment was smoke damaged (about $1,500 worth) and the building claimed no responsibility. It took them over a month to repair my door, which had been kicked down by the firemen, and they repaired it with sub-par materials. It also took one month and threats of legal action to force them to clean my carpets and walls, all the while I'm breathing in the toxic smoke fumes from the gasoline-mattress-carpet-asbestos-ceiling fire.

- The parking garage is not secure. Three cars, including mine, were burglarized, and my stereo was stolen. The building claims no responsibility, even though it's supposed to be locked, patrolled, and camera-observed. The garage door stands open constantly, and these guys disabled the cameras, so they had obviously been here before while nobody was paying attention. Damage to my vehicle, and amount to replace the stereo: total $1,200. Building, again, says, "That sucks, but it's not our problem."

- The apartment above us had been improperly renovated, and the drain on the water filter just drained into the wall. Luckily we had no expensive electronics sitting on the counter when the disgusting brown water came crashing down. Building still has not repaired the ceiling, despite repeated requests (that was 6 months ago).

- The entire building is cockroach-infested. Not little ones, mind you... the ones the size of house cats. Their version of an exterminator is the maintenance guy with a spray bottle full of soap, or something. We still have to have traps and replace them every month, even though we keep the kitchen free of open food.

- They are re-plumbing the building, and turn the water off between 9 and 5 every weekday. It says in our rental contract that utilities will be connected at ALL times during the residency. They are in violation of our rental agreement, but claim they don't have to follow the rental agreement in this instance. WHAT?!

I could continue, but you get the picture. Tell all your friends. I am probably going to file a claim in small claims court, and will also file a complaint with the Better Business Bureau. Do not, for your own sake and for the sake of your loved ones, ever consider living here. Ever.

John L.
Los Angeles, CA
8/26/2011

Very noisy. Living in the Towers is like living in a factory -- the constant drone of the ancient, cheap, worn out air conditioners. Most tower apartments do not have air conditioners, so you will want to open your windows. But you can't because of the noise from your neighbors' window air conditioners. And the noise goes straight through the windows if you close them. The noise is stressful, shortens your life, and causes disease.

Duchess T.
Hancock Park, CA
3/6/2011

I've lived here almost 10 years and still live here and think it's not as HORRIBLE as people may say it is.

PARKING: I pay $100 a month for a small space in a gated parking lot, but the gate is always open an my spot is being used by maintenance guys and rude people who think it's ok to guest park in reserved spaces. I would cancel this, but then I run the risk of parking 5 blocks away (not very safe at night.)

SECURITY: Looks good, but REALLY? Anyone can park in here (and it's free for those of you who want to walk over to the GROVE). I think it's the only free parking around... they never check ID.

ELEVATORS: CONSTANTLY breaking down. When I say, breaking down - it doesn't stop at specified floors, it jerks, it feels like the Tower of Terrors ride at Disneyland, AND sometimes, you are in it and it just won't open. I guess it's good for me cuz I am now forced to climb 12 flights of stairs regularly and have lost a bit of weight. I just feel really bad for my 80 year-old neighbors who end up being stranded in the lobby for hours not being able to get home.) I think the worst in the 6 years was the elevators out for a week at a time. It's a hassle when you are trying to do laundries..

Oh yeah LAUNDRY ROOM: there's really no rules set. There's usually one or two machines broken (or really dirty), and although there are about 10 washers, usually there are one or two people who hog all the machines preventing most of us to do it on a first try. They also raise the prices of the wash during peak hours (I wanna say there's almost a 50-cent difference per wash between peak and non-peak hours.)

HOT WATER: It's been better, but for some reason, the hot water runs out at about 10 am and then again at about 10 pm. It turns out that some maintenance guy has to turn the water heater back on manually at the building and I guess he forgets to do it... I think they fired the guy because I haven't had that problem in a little while.

SMOKING: When I moved in, I was told that this is a non-smoking complex... non-smoking my A**! I smell cigarette smoke in the staircases, the lobby, and through neighbors' windows. I have asthma and this is really an issue. I had to buy about 5 air filter things and have them in every room. It's especially bad in the bathroom because somehow smokers think it's more polite to smoke out of the bathroom window and all of the ashes fly into our bathroom (and subsequently into the master bedroom.)

Other than that, it's a great place to live!

Still, by the grace of God I found Audrey a suitable apartment.  That's the topic of my next blog.  Here you can see us checking out my find.

Audrey gingerly entering Tuscany Apartments

me following

Ordering Pizza Rustica afterwards in the retail shop downstairs

How I Forgot My Daughter's Graduation

Senior Awards and Reflections

June 8, 2011

The seniors in their caps and gowns were starting to stream in and take their seats in the center of Beckman High's gymnasium when I settled on a corner of the nearest available bench high up in the crowded stands and heard someone call out my name. Audrey's friend, Jennifer, was sliding in next to me.  "Hi, Jen! Why're you here?" I blurted out cheerily.  It took me a moment to think straight after Jen shot me an odd look and mumbled accusingly, "Remember David, my brother?"

I was so embarrassed I became temporarily mute. Of course, David! David was Jen's younger brother about to graduate in the same class with Andrea, my second daughter, just as Jen was in the same graduating class with Audrey, my eldest. Only a couple of weeks ago I had congratulated Jen on David's college acceptance at both Duke and Cornell after Jen shared the good news with us when she hung out with Audrey at our home! How could I have forgotten? For sure I'd come across to Jen not as scatterbrained, but unbelievably insincere and self-centered.

I had nothing to say in my defense except the truth... that I'd just had an extraordinary harebrain moment. I was too humiliated to further reveal that since I hit the big 5-0, this has become the norm rather than an aberration. My memory's shot to pieces and I make my children snicker almost daily by calling each of them repeatedly by another child's name. I've also had to make a lot of U-turns lately as I would leave my neighborhood in the morning and head in one direction or another without being fully aware of where I was supposed to end up.

From the way Jen reacted, I knew the truth didn't come off nearly convincing, so I lamely added, "You'll understand when you get to my age." By now Jen looked rather disgusted, and I didn't blame her, for I could understand how her lively teenager self wouldn't want to be likened to someone absentminded and ancient like me. I debated whether it would make Jen feel better if I admitted I'd forgotten even my own daughter's graduation just weeks before, let alone David's, but decided to withhold that bit of information to avoid further embarrassing myself.

IVC Commencement Exercise

May 20, 2011

I've asked Andrea the same question for a month and never got a firm answer whether we should plan to attend her commencement exercise at Irvine Valley College or not. It didn't seem a big deal to her, and with our family celebrating 3 graduations this summer in addition to squeezing in many end-of-the-year activities for the kids, I myself was on the fence about pushing the issue. So when in her typical understated manner, Andrea informed me a day before the ceremony that we needed to stop by IVC's bookstore after school to purchase her cap & gown, I figured we'd be going after all.

My parents had insisted they wanted to join us even though they knew they'd be repeating practically the same experience very soon (Andrea had participated in a pilot early college program and finished her associate degree from IVC just weeks before she was set to graduate from Beckman High).  I promised I would drop by their apartment to carpool with them later in the day after my last-minute run to the mall to get an appropriate dress for Andrea to wear under her gown.  She's a tomboy who had maybe 2 or 3 dresses in her closet, which she avoided like the plague. Luckily, not only did I manage to pick up the cutest textured satin sheath in a perfect shade between blush pink and lavender for 40% off the clearance price at Ann Taylor (the problem was how to convince Andrea to wear it!), but I also squared away three other errands in record time: buying Lauren's dance dress for a family event planned for next week, my own outfit for the same party, and a bag of See's dark chocolate-covered almonds as a surprise treat for Andrea. I felt incredibly efficient and was awash in a bubbly, smug, self-congratulatory mood driving home. It might seem a small thing that I was ahead of schedule for a short stretch on this particular day, but I was so used to chasing my tail every single day that even a tiny, occasional victory against the clock would empower me with a false sense of invincibility. It wasn't until I was halfway home that it dawned on me I wasn't running early... I was in fact more than half an hour late, because Andrea, like all the other seniors, needed to be dropped off at their graduation venue 1 1/2 hours before the ceremony's starting time!

I started racing the rest of the way with that familiar awful feeling in the pit of my stomach every time I suddenly discovered I was behind... AGAIN! What kind of mother forgot their own daughter's graduation? Aarghh!!!

As I turned the corner into our neighborhood, I realized with tremendous relief I'd also forgotten the most welcomed news… that Audrey had earned her driver's license just a few weeks earlier and could step in as emergency chauffer for her siblings! Apparently she had.  As I burst through the front door to find Audrey calmly working on her finals project, she looked up at me beaming and proudly nodded when I breathlessly asked if Andrea got to IVC on time. Hallelujah!

Andrea walking across the field to receive her high school diploma

With her dad after the commencement exercise

June 15, 2011

The Odd Couple

Newcastle the bulldog lives in Anaheim Hills with his partner Stella. Theirs was a love story born out of tragedy. Newcastle and Guinness (both bulldogs named for the famous brown ale and dry stout from the UK) grew up together rather peacefully until they got into a vicious fight, with Guinness being the original aggressor. In trying to protect the dogs from each other, their owner suffered injuries that landed him in the hospital. Guinness was subsequently put down and Newcastle was lonesome for a time until Stella became part of the family. She was in the prime of her life and Newcastle heading toward the end of his, but she didn’t mind his age, weight problem, or constant slobbering. If he needed to be crated, she would jump into the cage first as if to warm it up for him. Here they are shown cuddling on the sofa. Notice Stella’s gentle proprietary gesture...  her paws above his.

It is said that human motives are rarely undiluted, and in witnessing an Odd Couple’s PDA, one often wonders how they ended up with each other and whether their relationship would last. You’ve got to be a heartless skeptic to say anything of the sort about this affectionate pair!

Don't we all wish the same companionship for ourselves?

Stella and Newcastle

My Life Capsule

May 22, 2011

Got the idea from another blog, but I made up brand-new queries for this self-interview. It would be interesting to go through this exercise again in a few years and compare answers to see how my life has changed. I think of it as my personality profile/life inventory. Make it yours by providing your own answers to share.

Distill your thoughts into single-word replies. It’s harder than you think.

1. Where are you in life? Middle.

2. Your status? Unattached.

3. Your long-term goal? Amorphous.

4. Your fear? Aging.

5. Your parents? Supportive.

6. Your children? Loving.

7. Your guilty pleasure? Chocolate.

8. Your weakness? Discipline.

9. Your newest accomplishment? Writing.

10. Favorite room in the house? Family.

11. Where you ended up last night? Lac Cam.

(No, I did not cheat! Lac Cam is the name of a piano bar in Little Saigon, so should count as one word instead of two).

12. Time you went to bed? 2:30am.

13. What you strive for? Security.

14. What you lack? Time.

15. Your pet peeve? Nosiness.

16. Last dinner you made? Rotini.

17. What you're working on? Blog.

18. Bath or shower? Shower.

19. Thongs or granny panties/Briefs or boxers? Neither.

20. Your latest tech device? Kindle

21. Your life pace? Overwhelming.

22. Your obsession? None.

23. Your favorite fragrance? Beautiful.

24. Your mode of transportation? Minivan.

25. Something you can do without? Heels.

26. Self-care item you can't go without? Lip balm.

27. Bad habit you gave up? Shopping.

28. New value you've learned? Thrift.

29. Your latest celebration? Birthday.

30. Your latest disappointment? Myself.

She looks like me once upon a time...

(Lauren on the swing, May 2011) 

The Day of Judgment

May 21, 2011

My uncle Minh asked each member in our extended family's Yahoo! Group to give our thoughts on the Judgment Day brouhaha and share what we'd be doing today in anticipation.  Answers included, among others, "Going to tennis court" and, "Do what you'd do with your family. This evening, my mom, my sister & her 2 kids, I & my 3's, we'll go see a funny Vietnamese movie, "Battle of the Brides", so if the End comes @ 6pm, we'd be together forever and laughing all the way to Eternity."  Mine is as follows:

Hi Uncle Minh!

I'm assuming you meant what I would do if I knew today were my last day on Earth... the "judgment" bit is too farfetched for a heathen mind like mine to contemplate. :)

Being a practical person, the first thought that crossed my mind was, "I've got to update my will and estate planning instructions." This task is long overdue!

Second would be to tell my children I love them and let them know how happy & grateful I am that the way my life's turned out had allowed me to spend most of my waking moments with them.

Third is to impart the lessons I'd gathered from the commencement addresses given at Andrea's Irvine Valley College graduation exercise yesterday, loosely excerpted below:

From IVC's guest speaker, a noted author and journalist:

"Talent is only one of the factors that contribute to success. The more important factor is determination. The difference between the person you aspire to be at age 17 and the person you resign yourself to being at middle age is only 10 hours a week. Do what you need to keep the machinery of life running... work a regular job to take care of your family and all the rest... but don't stop there. Find an extra 10 hours a week to devote to your passion with sustained effort and a clear focus. That will make the difference between your becoming a published author and someone who constantly gripes about being unfulfilled in his day job, but feels powerless to get out of his rut."

From the graduating class' salutatorian, who was diagnosed with Asperger's syndrome and Crohn's disease at a young age, and who attended a school for the learning disabled through middle and high school, but has overcome his intellectual and physical limitations to excel in community college, resulting in his gaining acceptance at Berkeley in the fall:

"It is entirely ironic that I'm actually standing here today delivering your commencement address. I grew up a socially awkward child with a speech impediment and a fear of speaking so severe I had to literally rely on my mom to be my mouthpiece all through my childhood. As such, I came to Irvine Valley College mainly to learn to communicate, but ended up finding my own voice! Each of you also has a voice... whether it's your own special ability, or your willingness to provide the support that allows someone close to you to shine with his talent. Find that voice, believe in it, and contribute to the world in your unique way!"

*****

Since I know the world won't end anytime soon, I'm going out to dinner with our family to celebrate my dad's birthday. :)

Have a lovely day!

Tifo

 Andrea and me after the festivities