Here's our old townhouse, in Tustin, just off Harvard Avenue and Irvine Center Drive. The location allowed our boys to attend Irvine Unified. Our unit is (was) the second from right, with the brick front wall. The architecture gained accolades at the time. The Tustin Field development was in the news for building some of the first New York-style brownstones in Southern California:
Moving day was a week ago Friday. I've been too tired to write anything about this until now. This was the biggest move my family's ever made. If you notice the right side of the garage at the picture here, I'd just finished loading a pile of "Junk-to-the-Dump." Two Latino men loaded everything up, for $225. And that included bookcases, old computers, and my wife's old step-climber. And there was some old furniture and lighting, and a bunch of old toys and clothing. The guys loaded it up in about 45 minutes. They worked very efficiently. The truck driver spoke to his partner in Spanish. When I paid the $225 I gave them an extra $20 for "cervezas." They liked that. The gentleman thanked me, calling me "amigo," and said "God bless you." They were great guys. That's my youngest son sorting through some toys at the last minute. The pile on the left has a few family mementos so we couldn't pitch everything right then:
Walking back up to the second level, that's my Mom working in the kitchen. I've taken pictures of the kitchen area before so folks might remember the kitchen table and couch, a sectional over by the windows.
We hired "Starving Students" for the move. They charge a base fee and then by the hour. My wife hired three men so the move would go quickly. They team arrived about 8:30am. It was two Latino men and a young white guy, tall, probably in his early 20s. First thing he says to my wife is that he doesn't feel well. He asks for some Tylenol. I get him some and then he goes back out to the truck because he's too sick to work. This was a Friday morning, so who knows? The guys was probably hungover after heading out to the sports bar the night before. The movers call for another man to come work with the team. About an hour later a young black guy named Michael comes. He's really friendly and energetic. But he whined and complained, especially when they moved the deluxe queen-sized bed into the new apartment. The bed has a shelving unit built-in at the base (two large shelves, his and hers, at each side). The bed must weigh a ton. So when we tell Michael that it goes upstairs at the new place, he let's out a big moan, "Ohhh, whhaaahhhaaa!!!" I couldn't believe it. If you hire on as a mover you move stuff. That's your job. My wife said she smelled marijuana on him, and he complained about how thirsty he was, so maybe he had cottonmouth. It was in the 90s last week so it was hot, but the other two fellas, both Latino, complained not a bit. The Latino men, from immigrant stock and bilingual, worked way harder than the American men, one white, one black.
Okay, still upstairs at the townhouse, here's the master bath area:
Here's the second bedroom at the third floor. We first used it as a second office, but then put twin beds in there so my boys could sleep closer to us:
My dad's painting at the top of the stairs, oil on canvas, and a baby picture, ages 6 months and 5 years:
Now here's the stairways, from the third floor down to the second, and then the second down to the first floor. That's a lot of work chugging up and down moving all that furniture, and the two Latino gentlemen just keep moving on:
Here's the storage:
We had a couple of more loads to do. I was so tired after everything, I think I went to bed about 8:00pm all this last week, on worknights. I'm rested now and getting ready to finish unpacking. I'll post pics of the new place when we get it all set up. Until then, here's the view from the kitchen window, out to the parking lot looking South:
It's beautiful. There's a pool down the walk, and for the first time in over 10 years we're using a laundry room to clean our clothes. Reminds me of the old days, when I was in graduate school, and that's okay. It's good to be out from under that toxic mortgage.