And the hits keep on coming

We are at the point where things are starting to come at us pretty quickly. Cindy, to her credit has been so organized, and not unlike Durga; one of the Indian goddess’s with 8 arms, she has been keeping each of her eight hands busy, nonstop dealing with documents, tickets, and family matriarch-ing. Our container company has been balking at delivering the container down the driveway for fear that they won’t be able to turn around at the bottom. So Saturday one of their drivers stopped by and concurred that he wouldn’t be backing down our driveway anytime soon. He would leave the container off to the side of the road at the head of our driveway. I guess I’ll leave my truck at the bottom of the driveway so I can use it to ferry our belongings from the house and up the driveway to the container. Then I received another call from them stating that I will be responsible for attaining the required street use permit. At this point I’m thinking that we’ll just park the 20 foot container off to the side of the road, and partially down our driveway. There shouldn’t be a problem as our street is a narrow road, and cars naturally slow down when they approach each other, so drivers are cautious as they drive, so a container off to the side won’t impede traffic. But just to add another process to this process I call the Sheriff’s department, get referred to Dept. of Public Works. Then after exhausting their index and talking to a few departments, I manage to get a hold of the correct person. Brief answer, if the container’s on wheels it doesn’t need a permit.
Then there is the protracted equity loan from our bank, FDIC insured. We had initially started with two lenders, then chose one, then let them go and went with the first. Then we had the most bizarre experience with a few appraisers, to the point that we honestly felt like Zillow .com was their deciding value factor. Now as we are three weeks away from stepping on the plane, the loan company is asking Cindy for a letter of employment from her employer. We leave in three days to go to Boulder, Colorado to get a Drivers license, by trading in our California license, with a leasing agreement for an “apartment”. The reason for that is a license from Colorado is one of the half dozen or so states that have a reciprocal agreement with France regarding driving license. The other option is to take a very expensive and time consuming driving course in French, then take their test in French, and finish the two year process that includes a round white sticker with the letter A in the back window of my car. The cost of Cindy and I doing this process would be thousands of euros, plus we get the added bonus of seeing Cindy’s cousin and his wife and two sons.
The day before we were to head to Boulder Co., to try to get Colorado licenses, we still have not heard back from our bank (we never did make the trip, as we had to baby sit the loan process). Cindy is crying on a daily basis, because at this point we could be in real dire straits if this loan is not approved. We would have quit our jobs, still owe mortgage on two homes, not have income, and have already let everyone in kingdom come know of our nitwitted life plans. We have a container showing up in a week, have plans to have family help load it up, and our flight is two weeks after that. So that leaves us waiting on the bank to say either, sorry not today in which case we will have to scramble and adapt, or the bank approves it and we continue forward scared silly. A week later we discover that my employer has incorrectly filed the last two years worth of W2’s for the entire company. The loan company needs Verification of Earnings statement filled out, and even thought we are seven weeks into the 30 day process, it must be received. The last two days spent on the phone with the IRS, have been educational, so the plan is for me to go to the local Social Security Association and get a letter from them. This letter would state that the amount filed on my tax return would be the same as the amount that my employer’s w2 declares. I go to the social security office and take my ticket, after a half an hour I am summoned. I sit down and present my tax returns and a copy of my W2’s. I explain that I am currently refinancing my house and getting, or trying to get, an equity loan. My employer did not file the W2’s correctly and nowhere does it indicate what my earnings were for 2008, and 2009. She understands instantly, and takes my copy of the W2 and my tax returns looks at me and inputs it into her computer. She asks me if there is anything else she could help me with, and I look at her amazed at how easy this is.
“If it wouldn’t be an imposition could you write a letter stating that the 2009 earnings match the 2009 W2?”
“Of course, that would be no problem.” I leave walking two feet off the ground, letter in hand and proceed to my truck parked in the basement parking level. As I leave the concrete bunker I call my loan person.
“I got the letter stating that my 2009 earnings were as submitted on my tax returns.” I tell her, so proud of my ability to work with the system.
“Wait a minute; you didn’t get the 2008 as well? She replies.
“Ah, um..no, that was input into their system as well as the 2009, but the 2009 wouldn’t be showing on their records until a few days.” I start to turn my truck around knowing full well what that means to me.
“I really think we’ll need that letter as well if we want to submit your file to the underwriter.”
I enter the building and take the elevator up to the third floor, walk into the waiting area, take a number, and sit down. I am envisioning a couple hours of wait time, but after ten minutes from the window beside where I was helped a lady summons me by name to come over to her window and I dutifully sit down and tell her what has happened. She asks for my W2’s and my tax returns, and the letter her associate typed, and proceeds to type me the corresponding letter to the 2008 tax year.
I leave after making a point of thanking them and telling how much they have helped me and my family.
Well , from there it went downhill, the bank called and they want it reworded by Social Security to state that my employer filed the w2’s, and that they could certify the submittal. So the next day I return and go to a new window, another really helpful lady reviews my request and says unfortunately she cannot reword the letter. I get home and that night while reviewing the progress of the re-finance with our account supervisor I am asked to set up an online account with the California franchise tax board. So after getting online discover that my state taxes were also misfiled for the 2009 year. So I call her and describe how yet again my employer has misfiled my state taxes. You have to know at this point that I have filed and paid taxes for the last thirty years. It is unnerving that my taxes to date are paid and spotless.
I will admit that evening at home while Cindy and I were discussing our plight, there was a little red wine and a couple cigarettes smoked. (We were outside in the cold dark Topanga evening air.)
I presume that there is a lesson here, in my mind there are a thousand lessons here, but we have trusted in our dream and await the outcome.

First two trips to france

France July 2007

We were invited to join my wife’s father and step mother for a week in the Dordogne in the summer of 2007. Since the flight time was to be essentially a day to get there and a day to get back, it seemed as though we should capitalize on the trip by sandwiching a week on either end of the Dordogne stay. It would rationalize the two days lost to travel and present an opportunity to see Paris, The Normandy beaches, and alone time. Plus we had the added bonus of our 10 year old daughter with us. Tres romantique-ooh la-la.
The itinerary we settled on was to arrive Chas. De Gaulle -Paris Stay a night at a hotel as our flight arrived at 10:30 pm then head down to the Dordogne stay a week then head south to Spain just across the border of France at Hondarribia, stay a couple days then head to Normandy for a couple days then to Paris for a few days.
Well the trip couldn’t have been more incredible, the food, the architecture, European charm and we really enjoyed the people. Paris ,the city of lights, we arrived at night, flew over the city and looked way down at the million diamonds lit from within. We were picked up by a Mercedes limo through a business connection of my wife’s. Once we were whisked away from the airport and heading into the city though, I was totally taken aback, it’s as though we were driving through a Long Beach industrial area and into Hoboken in New Jersey. When we did hit the real Paris. it was old world and in its best gown. The buildings had no apologies needed, they knew they were the headliners, sure the warm up band was gritty and techno but the symphony that is Paris was all it was booked to be and more.
We had a nightmare of a flight, a horror of an initiation at Heathrow, and being the last passengers not allowed on our flight while watching incensed, others a few feet away having access to the same flight. So we had to get a connecting flight to Paris. We arrived at the Hotel Champs du Mars, and from our room on the third floor we could see the top of the Eiffel tower. We slowly forgot about our passage to Paris and tried to get some sleep. Upon waking and showering off 24 hours of dreary travel odor we made our way to the subterranean continental breakfast cave. No French lessons, a couple months of French cd’s and we could try to order the basics. Reading French with a slight Maine accent might have been a test for a real Parisian, however I think the young ladies might have been from French Guiana. So we pointed to the menus and mouthed the words-Coffee-baguette-bure. I want to make it clear we are not the typical bad American tourists, we don’t presume that everyone in France should speak English, we’re not loud and bovine like milling about with cameras at the ready, we attempt to speak French when we are at markets and buying goat or gruyere cheeses. Since this trip we’ve had a year and a half of French tutored lessons. But initially I must say I was under armed in vocabulary.





France July 2008

So we arrived at LAX 3 hours early, and we wait 2 hours in line due to some whistledick declaring he had a bomb. After 6 lines, 2 pit stops and a security check we arrive at gate 120C flight 451 on the first leg of the LAX to Frankfurt. (The fact that we were on flight Fahrenheit 451 never did sit well with me until we landed) We had 10 relaxing frightful minutes to board. My wife and daughter managed 6-7 hours of crappy sleep, while I managed 10 hours and 40 minutes of non-crappy sleep, awake the whole time and able to enjoy The other Boleyn girl, not the girl herself but the movie. Arrival Frankfurt.
We fast marched the 1.5 kilometers to the transfer gate and then wait 2 hours. The flight to Nice was nice and short , we caught the local bus to Antibes for the sum of 1 Euro each. Priceless, well 1 Euro each, but you know what I mean. From the e Bus station we hiked to the Apartment that we were loaned.
Flight 13 hours, bus trip 35 minutes, sleep priceless.
Our French teacher had made the ever so polite gesture of offering us the use of her apartment in the Medieval part of Old Antibes. We jumped , tripping over each other exclaiming “ We wouldn’t even think of … ah…maybe just a week!” So our plan was to use Antibes as our base of operations for three weeks. This place was incredible, perched on the ramparts of old Antibes, around the corner from the ancient archway that leads to the old town center. A small garden facing the Mediterranean ocean that was 50 meters away. The beach was a frightfully long 60 meters away, quell dommage! The daily market was 1 minute away by foot, well feet literally, don’t imagine me hopping on one foot. Morning in Antibes, I wake and put the water in the coffee pot then coffee in the
Basket above the water with the tube which percolates the water into the coffee basket and voila Café, kinda earthy in a gritty way, but a hot cuppa of Joe none the less. While this was heating I would walk down the street and buy 2 different kinds of baguettes, half of one I would eat on the way back to the apartment.

The Marche Provencal is the local produce / farmers market in Antibes. The market is one street north of the Mediterranean beach. There is a side street on the southern side of the market and the formal entrance is on the east side. You can enter anywhere into the market as the sides are all open, the north side has a sidewalk with shops and restaurants facing the market. As you approach the market from the medieval archway into Antibes, there is a statue, a bust actually of a man an admiral I believe. The market structure is a monitor style built of steel and glass with metal roofing, kind of like a horse stall structure but more deco in feel. There are three rows of tables, the outer row on each side
serves as a counter with the artisan behind waiting on the shoppers, the center isle being overflow of goods. The produce is what is in season and fresh, really fresh. There are cheeses galore every size, shape, and texture.
From Antibes it’s a short train ride to one of the most beautiful beach towns on the planet. Villefrance-sur-mer is on a crescent beach 10 minutes northeast of Nice. After departing the train you can see the beach from the platform, the walk to the beach is a small hike but once there the environment harkens back to what it must have been like in the 40’s and 50’s .