first night

So tonight is to be our first night at the farm, we have been staying at a rental house (gite) for the last two weeks. We have heat at the farmhouse and running water, there is also a kitchen set up, and a fully functioning bathroom, although cold. We are awaiting a couple things prior to my demoing the kitchen and remodeling it completely, same with the bath. So we are in a minor holding pattern, but it has given us the chance to meet with a couple subcontractors, an electrician and a roofing sub. Both these trades will be required before we sink too much work into the place. I figure once the place is watertight and all the holes that need to be made have been made, we can then start in a forward fashion. Reminds me of “Tropic Thunder” where the newscaster is pointing out that they have been filming for two weeks but are now five months behind. Presently I am waiting for three different appointments scheduled for today, the first is the man from Orange, the French telephone Company, and we don’t have an internet signal inside our farmhouse, the second is a delivery from a department store with our mattress, thirdly is the subcontractor for the roof. It is not unlike playing a demented version of mystery date, but in the country French, which as it turns out is not even remotely the French language we’ve been learning. I’m guessing that the one we will see today is the roofing subcontractor, as he doesn’t have any of our money yet. I am starting to feel like Chevy Chase in “Funny farm” as while I’m waiting to start the tranquility is driving me batty, the farm to it’s credit is starting to reveal itself to us as we tidy up and clean the yard. I was trimming a bush around a doorway into one of the barns and decided to open the shutters to the window adjacent to the door, then walked inside this small room and tore down a rotted bedcover from over the window and was delighted to discover with the fading light of the day an incredible view. I got Caleigh to photograph it and we went back to the farmhouse. The photograph at the head of this post is that window. So slowly as the farm starts to accept us and we it, we are discovering that this might not be a bad partnership to either party involved. The window reaffirms that though we are temporarily on the earth we can see the light that was cast on the cornerstone of a window two hundred years ago in the present day.

jetlag hangover to the rhythm of "love hangover"

With the container packed and picked up we proceed to get the house in order and ready to be vacated. I finish out Monday through Wednesday at work and start finalizing the garage close out. The garage has always been my Achilles tendon, as I do hoard construction materials. On Thursday Cindy and I attack the last of the house clearing, we sort the remaining items into three piles, that which we will keep in the garage until the house sells and we ship it separately, that which will be up for sale in a garage sale then donated if not sold, and that to be thrown out. Throughout the day Thursday we make quite a dent in the house, on Friday we continue finishing the clearing of the house, then we take a quick trip to Orange County to Cindy’s mom’s house to drop off our bed set for her brother to store. We stay the night, and then we return the following day. Cindy and I manage to finish the house clearing and cleaning, lock up the place and bid goodbye to the house that has been our home for the last ten years. We leave Topanga, reflecting on our time there as we wend our way down the canyon to the Pacific and head south to Cindy’s mom’s house. Gary and Susan have a feast awaiting us; fresh Catalina lobster, they were huge and I wouldn’t have wanted to be the one fighting them to get them out of the trap. We then drove to her dad’s home and shared the traditional Christmas eve with his family. The next morning we awoke and greeted Christmas with Susan’s traditional breakfast casserole. I’m not generally a breakfast person, but I always have two rather indulgent servings of this casserole. We share Christmas afternoon with Susan and Gary’s family, and prepare for the followings days flight.
We depart Los Angeles on Dec 26th, the 3:05 afternoon flight to Paris, and we left the two cars with Cindy’s folks. We loaded the three animals into their cages and checked in, then took the animals outside for an hour on the L.A.X. concrete walkway. When it was time for us to get to the gate we walked the dogs to their cages and carried in Ziggy our cat already in his carrier. Caleigh and Cindy both slept thru the flight, I as usual stayed awake to ensure that the plane didn’t fall from the sky.
The flight goes smoothly, if you can refer to a 10 and a half hour flight as smooth. We arrive at Paris CDG and disembark, walk the two miles to our particular luggage turnstile and await our luggage, Cindy notices a sign saying oversized and pick up baggage and meanders over to investigate. When she returns ten minutes later, it is decided that I will await there for our pets. Cindy and Caleigh will gather our luggage and meet me at the pet pick up area. So I wander over to the special unloading space, all the time fearing that our cat will be delivered imploded and frozen due to a faulty pressurization system in their cargo hold. I reach the area and spy one of our carriers. “Fuck” I murmur its Holly’s carrier, just my luck that she would be the only survivor. Holly is my wife’s dog. Both our dogs were abandoned dogs, Skye, Caleigh’s dog; is incredible, Holly not so much. But the sight is funny, here’s Holly in her cage seeing me and dancing in place inside her carrier, her tail wagging faster than a humming birds wing, the fact that the cage is not hovering is incredible. As I get there and pet the little Corgi-wannabe, I see Ziggy’s cage come out of the luggage conveyor, so I pick his cage up gingerly, looking inside I see him hunched in the back of his container, ears flattened back against his head with a glare that was daring me to stick my hand in side and comfort him, knowing full well I would be retracting a shredded hand. Finally Skye’s cage is delivered, Skye’s inside looking as if to say, “Hey that was fun, can I do it again”? I load the three pets on a luggage carrier and we make our way to the Car rental area. After my 20 minutes in line, and while Cindy is walking the circus, I approach the counter. Long story short, they didn’t have our car, so they upgraded us from a goofy Citroen Picasso to a VW Passat wagon. We load up the car with everything except the two dog carriers; there is no way that those were fitting into the car. So I walk them a couple hundred feet over to one of the rental kiosks and offer them to one of the men on duty, he shrugs and nods. Well we get settled in the car and drive off, as we pass the guy with the two dog carriers I notice that three other guys are milling around the soon to be auctioned off gifts.
We make it about five hours south of Paris, with Cindy and I taking turns driving, when thankfully everyone agrees it would be best to pull over and stay at a hotel for the night, and after our second stop we find a place that will accept our animals as guests. After ferrying all creatures great and not so great into our adjoining rooms. Cindy and Caleigh stay in one room, with the dogs, and I stay in the other with the cat, who leaves me within the hour to join the cool room. Some hints are clearer than others.
“Hank, get up…….Hank we gotta go.” It’s my Cindy waking me up from a bizarre nightmare, to continue to the new farm and our new life together. I guess with all the stress we have been putting ourselves through, it manifested itself in a vivid dream that I remembered clearly, ever so clearly. I won’t go into the parts that were really disturbing, like when the doctor wished he had examined me six months age so that he could have told me I only had six months to live. I’ve always thought of my inner psyche as a slightly warped roulette wheel, but realized that it was now complete and that the missing item that had been making it wobble was present. The slight case of OCD, and minor sprinkling of dyslexia, and need for sarcastic input was balanced with the addition of nocturnal hypochondria manifestations. But it was a nice nightmare to awaken from, and so I got up and went to the bathroom and started brushing my teeth. I thought it would be a neat chapter for the blog, and how to structure it.
I finally feel as though I am emerging from the cloudy mists of jet lag, my senses are clearing, my thoughts are more succinct and I am finally seeing light, either that or I’m driving on the wrong side of the road again. It is Thursday, we left last Sunday Los Angeles time, and today we start again on our farmhouse. Cindy and I had flown over for a week last September, and had completed a week of clearing and cleaning once the property was finally ours. I am looking forward to acid washing the remaining 95% of the Kitchen floor, kind of gives me a blank canvas from which to work, well a blank threadbare, rotted framed canvas, but a blank one just the same, but worse.
Yesterday, Cindy and I along with Caleigh and her friend Skye drove the rented VW Passat wagon to Bergerac; you know the city where Cyrano DeBergerac wasn’t really from. We went to the mall, to look at prices of different appliances, and stopped by Orange, one of Frances telecom companies. We were going there to compare prices for plans for Telephone, Internet and T.V. but as we waded into all the information we set up an account, it would have been a nightmare but we had our own 14 year old fluent French speaking friend of Caleigh’s there. I am well aware of child labor laws, but no one was looking and it would have wound up costing 400 euro’s a month for a plan we would have signed up for, we left with a 50 euro a month plan for House phone, 3 cell phones, T.V. and internet / Wi-Fi. (This is pronounced Wee-Fee over here.)

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.

three weeks out

Well as of today, it’s three weeks until we depart for Los Angeles International Airport, with luggage, carryons, and three animal carriers. In two weeks from today, we will have a 20 foot container dropped off on our driveway with two days to load it. Today Cindy is picking up our renewed year long Visa’s, and we’re getting really close to critical point on a lot of fronts. We have a portion of our items inventoried and packed for the container, another third is in the garage awaiting being photographed and packed, and then the remainder is in the house breeding in cabinets. I fully expect to be surprised by the amount of unaccounted for items. I’m really not worried though, as when the container is filling up we will weed out the least needed items, we already have pruned our belongings to essentials.
We have revised and re-revised our plan for months on end, from renovating for the Gites, to renovating the house to have a couple rooms to let as a bed and breakfast, then doing the renovations for the Gites the following year. The budget has been an interesting cornucopia of numbers throughout this process, ebbing and flowing as the plan evolves and the housing market continues its freefall. We have fine tuned our financial exposure to the point where Cindy and I can talk on the phone and quote the different item costs on the three page spread sheet from memory. I think I am at the point where my biggest focus is on what has to be done prior to the container showing up, the animals have their required shots and implanted microchips, we have loads of packing material in part thanks to our new neighbors that just arrived from the Ivory Coast. I am still working for the same company that I was employed by when we left for France for four months last year; it’s hard to stay focused when my heart is elsewhere, but they have been so good to me that I maintain a high level of quality.
We still have our cars to sell, find good renters for the house in Topanga, celebrate Caleigh’s fourteenth birthday, slog through Christmas, ho, ho, ho. And to top it off the equity loan is slowly finalizing itself, we still have the little battles like the value of our house via the appraiser, where he got his values from was a complete fiasco, and the comps were from another community, so that affected the loan amount. The required amount we need for this little endeavor will require the loan supervisor to relook at the comps we submitted, and hopefully jog the amount upward a little. But anything worth having is worth fighting for, we have our sights focused on the life we want and I think we will get there with a lot of effort and a little luck.
Cindy just called and told me that when we applied for the year long Visa renewal and the original visa extension permit, they approved the Visa extension permit. That is quite a bit of good news, as we can hopefully then apply for the Carte de sejour (yearlong resident visa)have the local Marie (mayor) stamp it to renew it annually, which is much easier than going to the Prefectionaire and resubmitting reams of documents, that all have to be less than 3 months old. Ever try getting an original copy from Maine of a birth certificate then have it sent to France, sure it was surprisingly easy from California, but I can’t even imagine the process from overseas.
As I said it will take a lot of effort and a little bit of luck, just like life.

reality isn’t the world you imagine it to be.

When I was young growing up in Maine, we would visit our grandfather at his cabin on a lake in the summer. Before we arrived, we would imagine motoring about in his shiny aluminum boat, or sailing in his sleek fiberglass Sunfish sail boat, and camping out on the lawn overnight. The week would consist of summer weather, starlit nights, and cool breezes. We would talk about having a fishing contest, swimming to the float platform 50 yards off shore…life was limitless and food never tasted so good ,ah ‘youth.
Most of those memories still hold true in the back of my mind, but if I think back real hard, I remember a different reality, one of mosquitoes and no-seeum’s, a smelly old sears and roebuck metal boat with two inches of bilge water, and splintery oars as the motor invariably would not be working, and the sailboat was useless on a lake with no breezes but plenty of leeches. I felt like Humphrey Bogart playing Katherine Hepburn’s future betrothed pulling the African Queen through leech infested waters, except the water in Maine is a constant 52 degrees, warm enough for leeches to breed like… well horny leeches I guess, and cold enough where a guy wanted indoor plumbing, if you get my drift.
If any of you have visions of Cindy, Caleigh, and I living a lifestyle of walking about fields of grapevines, or sipping Rose’ in the comfort of a shade structure overlooking the garden and orchard, or traveling all about the environs of France stopping at roadside café’s, well that reality is three to four years off. The reality of it is more likely going to be planting and pruning vines into the wee hours of the night, with blistered hands and a certain young lady griping about not having bunches of fun. And we will also have to replant the garden, dig and plant trees and build a shade structure long before we will enjoy any shade from the arbor. And as for driving about stopping at these to die for café’s, we won’t have the budget for the café’s or even the frivolous gas money to waste, nope we’ll be not to unlike George and Lenny walking about our constant renovation projects.
It starts with Cindy asking.
“Tell me again about the plan, living the life of riley and having people coming in droves to rent our holiday lets.”
To which Caleigh will add.
“And rabbits Dad, and how I can have one for my very own, and I can hug em and squeeze em, and keep em all my live long days?”
To which my reply will most likely be.
“With our budget darling, I invited your rabbit to dinner last night, and he was delicious”
We have been doing a constant re-planning of our departure to France, and getting our seed money together. The process has taught us that no matter what we learn of the process, you have to relearn it anew and differently each step of the way. We have applied to two different lenders and chosen one, only to restart the process again, as there were limitations to the policies that weren’t discussed with us. We had attained a yearlong Visa, and then applied for and was accepted for a Cart De sejour, a yearlong residency card. However the visa ran out Nov. 1st, and it cancelled the residency card due to not having the local Marie (Mayor) sign it prior to us leaving last time we were there. So we now have to reapply for a second yearlong visa, and then apply for the residency card. There should not be much problem getting these documents, but had we known what was required back then, we would not have to go three steps back. But then the real reality of it strikes home, the help in so many different ways from family and friends, documents are e-mailed from continent to continent, time zone to time zone. I can’t even start to list off all the phone calls made on our behalf, to neighbors asking if they wouldn’t mind watching the farm and our mail until we returned, those same neighbors are even turning off the water to the house, because we aren’t going to be back until after Christmas, and don’t want an ice rink in our living room, complete with burst pipes. Sure we have had to go back and forth on so many things, but reality isn’t the world you imagine it to be.

That's a brilliant idea, Stanley!

After being back in Los Angeles for a couple weeks and reviewing how powerless we are with the housing market, and our perceived desirability of our house, another idea has arisen from the ashes. We could refinance our house and get an equity loan, rent our house and start the required work needed on the French farmhouse. Cindy could stay in L.A. temporarily for a month, and complete her obligation at her work. This would allow Caleigh and I to go to France with the two dogs, allow Caleigh to get into her school, and I could get the house running. This mainly consists of updating the Kitchen and bath, adding a bath upstairs, and getting the house into the 21st century, phone, satellite, and wifi. The broader idea is that we could tap into our equity and keep the house in our name, then re list it in a couple years, when the market would be hopefully more desirable. There are so many variables in the entire plan that we have tried to adapt without placing ourselves squarely in the field of fire for the financially inept planners. Not unlike tap dancing in the middle of a chapter 13 minefield. It reminds me of that hysterical scene in the old “Black Adder” British TV show, when Black Adder (Rowan Atkinson) has been ordered to lead a charge against the numerically superior German line in World War I . “I would rather stand on top of a 10 foot step ladder in no man’s land at midnight, and have a lantern strapped to my head, while I lit a dozen cigarettes, and sang God Save the Queen.”
Our thinking is that while we are working on the modernization of the French farmhouse, we would be adding substantial equity to it, while our house in Topanga rides out the drastic decline that has been the housing market. If we rented our house in L.A., it would generate the mortgage, and property taxes, basically placing it in financial hibernation. Well that’s our two year plan, don’t try this at home. The main reason I’m writing this is to illustrate the many tangents that are followed in order to follow ones dream, as we chronicle this process I wanted to include the highs and lows and a good look at what transpires and changes in all facets of our journey. There are so many different things that we have to consider on a daily basis that the casual onlooker might not realize that these are decisions we have to make. Some decisions are easy and some hard, and the possibility that one decision could financially ruin us. But Cindy and I agree with that old line I keep throwing out, “There are no luggage racks, on a hearse.”

Is time on your side?

After signing the required documents with the Notaire in Duras, Cindy and I followed the seller to the property where he gave us a quick tour. The word I remembered the most from our guide was the word “canalization”, while walking in a certain moist area of the pasture near the small pond he would point his finger and trace an imaginary line from one area to another and look at me and say canalization. Then while walking to the front of the main house he would mention the kitchen and shower and again point off to the low area of the property and say canalization. I understood him to imply that there was a gray water system that was not described in the septic report. Canalization, I now know from looking it up means, “Pipes; main pipe; pipe work, ground level pipe work, and so on.”
When Cindy and I were in the early stages of planning, some would argue that we were at the early stages of madness, I put together a spreadsheet and schedule for what I thought was the full scope of required work. This scope of work luckily included an entire mechanical system for the guest quarters, including the purchase of a used small excavator or “mini pelle” as they call it if France. As we were walking with the seller, there was a point where it all seemed so gigantic in scope, but after a few days cleaning the farmhouse, I was able to walk the site and rethink the scope, and must say that I still feel it is possible. That belief could be the results of the bacterial infection, from cleaning centuries of spider feces, to my nervous system and the added result of good French wine, but the longest journey starts with the first step…..right off the cliff.
I think the biggest obstacle is going to be the roof and treatment of the “poutrage” or girder work, framework of beams. Firstly the waterproofing of the entire roof structure, and then the aesthetic treatment of the interior beams from the standpoint of how it looks when you are in the unit and everything is finished. I know things will work themselves out, but this is the kind of sequencing and coordinating area that takes so many trades into account. If you start down a path in construction without a game plan, things will work out, but costing twice the time and money as a well planned project should require. I know my first project for the income aspect of the property, will be the foundation strengthening and coordinating all the conduits and sleeves required to be laid out prior to pouring a slab for the finished flooring to be installed on. That will be the most difficult planning to do, a real Rubik’s cube, but also the most rewarding as well. I really look forward to trenching for all the mechanical system requirements, then installing the conduits and pipes before finally covering everything with concrete and starting the forward part of construction. The initial demolition and trenching can’t be started until there is a complete agreement as to the final design of the three separate units. This will be amusing to look back and read this right before the concrete pour, thinking what an imbecile, “I looked forward to this, my kid hates me, and my wife ran off with a mime and didn’t say a word.”
It is at this stage where none of the accessory perks or fun items even sink into my head, the vines, farming the land, or even swimming in the planned pool. No at this stage I’m completely focused on the early stages of construction, and how I can’t wait to start. Cindy unfortunately is mired in the here and now, is our house going to sell, will Caleigh be able to start her school in time in France, how are we going to manage getting our property tax up in time , and sometimes even if this is meant to be. I am operating from the vantage point of ignorance, thinking that this is meant to be and things will work out, which isn’t really fair when Cindy wakes up at 5:00 am with constant doubt swimming through her head, and getting ready to start her day. In a few months we should have a better feeling as to where we are, but that’s true of life. Perspective is a gift of life, the longer you live the more perspective you have.