Success

Well, we did it.

Last week Chuck and I moved into our first place. It was a success and a debacle in so many ways. Despite having enough stuff to furnish this entire apartment, the phsyical move wasn’t that bad. It was a lot of stuff but the dresser, couches and piano were the hardest and heaviest thing to move.

Somehow, I got out of moving the dresser and the couches. I’m assuming it’s because I’m out of shape.

Getting used couches from our friends saved us a whole buttload of money. Plus, it doesn't matter when the cats destroy them.

The apartment is coming together quite nicely.  The couches are in place as is my dining set and bedroom set. We had finally gotten rid of most of the garbage until I started opening up boxes of  cookware and now we’re back to messy. With a free weekend ahead of us, hopefully we can get everything where it needs to be.

Unlike some of my friends, Chuck and I had enough stuff to furnish this entire apartment. Between friends and family, we accumulated a good portion of everything we would need to get this place together. Right now, the only new thing we own is the bedroom set and that’s only because my mom wanted to keep the set I had at home.

Much of the kitchen could have previously been found in my Nana’s Glendale apartment. Her dining room table and chairs are now in my dining “room” and her dishes , cookware, glasses and flatware are in the cabinets and drawers. Her end tables and lamps now furnish my living room.

Also in the living room are the couches from my friend Tommy and Lisa who were going to put them on the curb about two years ago. They sat in my garage until now. Tommy’s cat tore them up pretty badly prior to getting declawed, but considering I have my own cat that likes to use the couch as his personal scratching post, I don’t feel too bad about it. For as old as they are, they sure are comfy.

Sabrina and Pete gave us a set of pots and pans that were left behind from some previous roommates. I thought they were gently used. Turned out the box was still closed. Randomly, I’ll find something that my parents decided they could do without and ended up here in Raleigh, like a couple of pasta bowls. The rest is ours from Chuck previous apartment or my days in college.

Our apartment, and this stuff inside, my not be new, sparkly and clean, but it’s ours.

Almost Official Residents

Last week we were finally approved for an apartment. We move in on Saturday and not a moment too soon. This hotel is getting expensive and becoming increasingly too small. There is no luxury of having someone clean up after you because the one time we let housekeeping through here, making the bed was all there was evidence of.

Our soon-to-be home.

The bathroom wasn’t cleaned and neither were the dishes. It’s questionable if they even vacuumed. Now, we’re adults and we have been keeping the room clean, including doing a load of dishes every day. We’re just annoyed that whoever was assigned to our room didn’t do their job.

We also signed up for a PO Box so we had a mailing address things could be sent to. For $22 for six months, it was worth having a secure location to send our packages. Not that we’re expecting anything too valuable to come through the mail, but I don’t trust having things locked in an office.

We’re getting to know Northwest Raleigh fairly well. There isn’t too much to know around here since everything is on or off of two  major roads, but it’s nice to have an idea of where things are. Eventually we’ll start exploring the other parts of town.

Things are starting to come together, but there’s still a lot that needs to happen before I can sleep soundly at night. Every time Chuck feels sick I go into panic mode and wish we never moved. He won’t be able to apply for insurance until he gets his hands on his social security card, which is back home.

He’s still unemployed (he’s been here two weeks so I’m not about to start riding him about it), but we have until the end of August before things start getting really tight. Hopefully, he’ll be able to find something by the end of the summer.

This move is costing us financially and emotionally. I just hope we made the right decision.

Holy Life Changes, Batman

I was just beginning to mentally process that I had quit my job and was taking another in a city and state 500 miles away when Chuck reached across a table at Trish’s Café in Babylon Village with a diamond ring.

I knew this moment was coming at some point. Hell, being the girl that I am every time Chuck and I did something together I was silently hoping for it. Realistically, I didn’t expect us to get engaged until after the move. It was too much for my brain to process.

I went from being 27 and feeling like a teenager to being 27 and feeling like an adult. It was a little overwhelming, but the happiness that I felt was beyond words.

Sorry, no actual engagement pictures. You'll have to deal with this one.

I knew that this was a step in our relationship that would have never come had we not decided to move down to Raleigh. You can’t get engaged and plan a wedding when you don’t have the funds necessary to move out of your parents’ house. Sure, plenty of couples live in their parents’ basement or attic apartments for a few years to save some money, but that’s not really an option for us.

Converting part of my house into an apartment would cost the equivalent of two years rent for an apartment in North Carolina and Chuck’s basement looks like it could be featured on an episode of Hoarders: Buried Alive. That’s not to mention the tax jump that would happen if our parents made these hypothetical apartments legal.

Moving wasn’t something we wanted to do, but something we had to do if we ever wanted to tie the knot. All the people that aren’t my parents or Chuck’s parents that know about our move believe it’s a great idea. Most of the older people I talk to tell me that after they retire they’re heading off the Island too.

It breaks my heart that I have to do this. Now, I have to plan a Long Island wedding from 500 miles away. Dress shopping, hall viewing and vendor meeting will all be done on rushed weekends before I hop on a flight back to Raleigh.

All this because Long Island is just too expensive.

Two Weeks Notice

It’s always awkward when you give your two weeks notice. It’s even more awkward when you go in with your boss who is also giving his two weeks notice.

I’m almost positive our boss had a slight stroke when we told him. Our departure makes 10 people in about a year to leave. After we leave, there will be three open positions, with one on the way with another reporter leaving to return to school.

My two weeks isn’t exactly so, as June 16 will be my last day at the Long Beach Herald. Two days later I will be driving down to Raleigh, N.C. where I will be working as an office manager at Four Seasons Sunrooms.

I worked at Four Seasons’ corporate office for a year during that awkward time between graduating from school and finding a job in my field. I didn’t love my job, but I had an amazing boss and amazing coworkers that made me happy. I got laid off, but remained in the good graces of my former colleagues.

The job fell in my lap.

I contacted my soon-to-be boss just to find out where the good areas of Raleigh were. Chuck and I were planning to move in August and I wanted to have an idea of where we should be looking for apartments. I jokingly told him that if they needed an assistant I could start right away. Three days later he was asking when could I start? Four days after that I was on the phone with his boss, talking salary ($2,000 less than what I’m making now, but the cost of living factor actually turns it into a raise). Two days after that I’m putting in my resignation.

While the job will be stressful, there isn’t much reason for me to work after six or on the weekends so it gives me plenty of time to freelance. With so many Heraldians now at Patch, a few said they would give me features, including my boss who is also heading to Patch.

Being an office manager isn’t my dream job and the gig will barely pay enough to pay the bills, but I can’t pass up an opportunity to work during a recession. Ultimately, I want to go back to school to teach kids how to read and write and continue being a journalist on my own time, at my own pace.

I think these days it takes a few more steps to get to where we’re going. Not too long ago, you went to college, got a degree and started a job in the field you paid to study. I’m just trying to find the balance of doing what I have to do and doing what I want.

Right now, I want to make a new life in a new place and if takes me a little longer to figure it out, I guess I’m okay with that.

Finding Our Humble Abode

The hardest part about deciding to move out of state is finding a place to hang your hat.

Sure, there’s that whole employment issue, but with the cost of living so low, a minimum wage job could pay the rent. Finding a place to rent is where the problem lies.

Chuck and I are still deciding where in North Carolina we want to move. Raleigh was at the top of our list until the school district imposed a hiring freeze. It would be the best place to find a minimum wage gig, but with no chances of even finding work as a substitute teacher, what’s the point?

The plus side of Raleigh is that I know people in the area who can tell us what areas are great and which are the ghetto. My friend Jess in Durham ended up in a nasty apartment complex and ended up calling the police on multiple occasions, three of those times was because her place was broken into.

We haven’t done much legwork for Winston-Salem, but with Chuck’s cousin living in the area and her husband being a local cop, finding a good place to live will be pretty easy. Jobs are an issue since the unemployment rate hovers around 10 percent, whereas in Raleigh and Asheville it’s a couple points lower.

Asheville was one of our favorite towns, but it’s also the one we spend the least amount of time in. We also don’t know anyone that lives in the area. While we plan to visit again in June for an extended weekend, there isn’t much we can go on when it comes to finding a safe place to call home.

Apartment listings on websites don’t exactly have an “Avoid places that will require me to have the cops on speed dial” option. Apartments may also look great on paper and then a quick search for reviews leads you to some disappointing information.

Take The Meadows for example. Sure it’s pretty and reasonably priced. A quick Google search leads me to this awesome review.

Now, most of the reviews on this site are a few years old and you can’t take everything you read on the internet as fact so where does that leave Chuck and me when we try to find a place to live?

I guess we’ll just have to wing it and hope for the best.

The Risk Takers

My former co-worker, Vicki, amazes me.

She left us last year to head down to New Orleans to bartend at a dive she used to work at in college. In the month or so she was there, she banked enough money to spend a month traveling Asia. Camera in hand, she took amazing photos and experienced amazing things. She did it again not too long ago, visiting other parts of Asia, India and the Middle East. She’s settled down and applying to grad school for photography.

My cousin’s friend, Vanessa, and her boyfriend moved to San Diego a few years ago. Itching to come back to Long Island they packed whatever they could carry in a backpack, hopped on their bicycles and are in the process of cycling cross country back to New York. Believe it or not, there’s an entire community of people that do this.

Another Vanessa I know is leaving dirty Jersey for the nicer climate of Florida. No real job prospects on the horizon, but she and her man have a date set and they’re heading south. She’s already begun selling her belongings.

My friend from college, Jenn, who has always been a free spirit, told me that she and her girlfriend just bought an SUV and plan on buying a pop-up camper. They are taking that SUV and pop-up on an extended road trip to California.

When I wondered, via Facebook, if I should pick up and move to Asheville to live in one of those mobile homes I saw for $50,000, Jenn was my biggest supporter (via Facebook. Savanna and Katie also encouraged the move via email) noting her intent to live in a camper attached to her car for an extended period of time.

Four beds, 3 baths and a fireplace on an acre of property for $50K? Not bad for "trailer" living.

I’ve always admired people who were able to leave everything behind to do something risky that made them happy. Raised by a financially conservative mother, my first question is, “How will they pay their bills?”

Ultimately, that is the question that keeps me from doing anything risky. Sure, packing my bags and moving to North Carolina would make me happy, but how will I pay my car insurance?

Or, my car payment?

Or, my student loans?

Or, my credit card bill?

Or, the rent?

People tell me that I’d figure it out. I see them make their lives work with less. I’m financially responsible enough to make sure the bills are paid, so I guess I would figure it out.

Bolstered by my friends’ courage, I’m slowly putting my fears aside and giving serious thought to banking as much money as I can, renting a truck and just figuring it out.

Even if I have to live in a trailer.

Two Years Later

Two years ago today, it was a Monday and I walked proudly into the Herald offices. It was my first day at my first real job in journalism. This was everything that I had worked so hard for. Almost two years after graduation I was finally stepping foot into my career.

Despite the ranting, raving, complaining and crying I do on a regular basis, my job has been good to me. I write at least 12 articles a month and contribute to many more that don’t include a byline. In two years, my writing has come a long way and I think I’m pretty damn good. My editor and copyeditor make me look pretty awesome so thanks are in order for them.

Not a fan of Justin Bieber, but it was pretty cool to interview the hottest teen idol in the world right now.

My job does provide me with a paycheck that does pay the bills and allows me to put a little away for a future away from Long Island. In today’s economy and in this industry, it is nice to feel some job security. Yesterday, though, was a hard day to see the bright side of this place.

It started with sitting in 45 minutes of traffic to move five miles. Sure, there was a massive accident, but it didn’t help my sanity as I inched along the Sunrise Highway service road. Two years of traffic is starting to take its toll on my mental stability. I considered pulling over just to have a good cry.

I had two stories to write, only one of which I was mildly interested in. But, after writing a story about an animal control officer getting arrested for animal cruelty, I had to force myself to get through my lame story on beach erosion. With 99 percent of my stories being on topics that I don’t have any interest in, it’s getting harder and harder to push myself to write a good story. I always do though, since my name and reputation are literally on the (by)line.

I found it extra hard to push through because earlier in the day my good friend from college informed me that she and her boyfriend are taking their savings and picking up and moving down to Florida. Without a job lined up, like Tommy and Gina they’re going down with a prayer and a dream. “Should we just do that?” I asked myself. “Should we just go?”

A tweet from my friend Lauren answered my thoughts. She sent me a link to this Wall Street Journal article: The Next Best Career Move: Actually Moving

Wow. Thanks, WSJ.

The rest of the day was spent pondering if Chuck and I should pack our bags and hightail it out of New York. The WSJ article confirmed my beliefs that we would be better off if we moved down south with our savings and a dream. Easier said than done when you have minimal savings and every other article you read is about North Carolina’s 11 percent unemployment rate.

The mountain town of Asheville is the next area to be bombarded with resumes from Chuck and me.

Another blow was reading about the hiring freeze in the Wake County School District. This was great news after spending an hour printing out cover letters to accompany the 12 resumes that Chuck was planning on sending to various schools in the district.

So, what do we do?

Stick to our original plan on having a loose deadline of January 2011 to move?

Or, push up our deadline to August, save as much money as we can and just go?

Or, give up and take my mom’s offer of renovating the upstairs living room into an apartment?

I think some serious conversations need to be had between Chuck and me. The game is changing and we might have to change our strategy.

The Final Straw

The title of this blog was suppose to be “On the Road Again” but considering yesterday’s events the topic has changed a bit.

Yesterday, I was in a pretty bad accident in Long Beach on my way home from covering an event. Everyone is okay, but both cars are most likely totaled. I won’t go into the details of the accident because it’s not really necessary and I definitely don’t need a lawsuit on my hands.

The accident came after an entire day of dodging bad drivers. There was the woman who cut me off to make an illegal right turn, the idiot from Jersey who used a highway on/off ramp as an acceleration lane to pass people on the highway and the douchbag Nassau Community College student who also sped up when he saw me changing lanes.

Famous last words to a couple of coworkers was, “I really feel that at some point before I leave this place, I will get into an accident.” I didn’t actually expect yesterday would be the day. I’ve been doing the commute for almost two years now, putting about 60,000 miles on my car so the chances I would have left NY unscathed were slim to none.

My fault, her fault, no matter. Yesterday’s accident was the final straw dealing with driving in NY.

I’m tired of being tailgated and watching people blow red lights. I’m tired of people speeding up when they see me changing lanes and not move out of the way for a fire truck on a call. I’m tired of people speeding down residential streets and honking when you don’t race off the line when a light turns green.

In March Chuck and I planned on heading down to North Carolina again for a job fair geared toward people who have degrees but lack a teaching certificate. We would only be there for two days, but we looked forward to a chance to speak with district administrators about our futures in North Carolina. There, Chuck could say, “I drove 12 hours to be in Raleigh for two days and to speak to you before driving 12 hours home. I am serious about making a move.”

With a natural desire to hire one of your own, it is very hard to be considered for jobs from another state. Especially a state that has been exporting North Carolina residents for years now. The fair was a chance to prove how serious we were about moving down.

Chuck said we are still heading to this fair next month, but I’d be lying if my current situation isn’t a blow to our plans and my confidence.

It does, however, enforce the goal to move as soon as we can to a place that is far away from the Long Island lifestyle.

No…well, some…regrets

I generally live my life with no regrets. I know that all the mistakes I’ve made and paths I’ve chosen helped me become the person I am today; A person that, inside, I’m generally pretty happy with. But, I am lying when I say I have no regrets, because I do.

My first regret is taking my high school figure for granted and not doing all that I could to stay as trim as I was (Ehh, maybe plus a few pounds, I was pretty frail). I was given a second chance when I was 10 pounds away from my goal weight after graduating Manhattanville. Instead of hitting the gym, I hit McDonalds and have been watching my waistband slowly increase since. Sounds pretty vain, but in the end, I’m unhappy with the way I look, I’m self-conscious and instead of having 10 extra pounds to lose I have….much more.

My next regret was only taking my mother’s financial advice half to heart. My mother used her powers of Italian Catholic guilt to make me feel bad about using my credit card without the means to pay the balance in full when the bill came due. Too bad for Capital One, since they didn’t make a dime of interest off me until two years ago.

That’s not to say that I didn’t spend my money. I did. I really couldn’t tell you what it was on either. I didn’t party in college so I didn’t really drink it away and I’m not much of a shopaholic so my closet wasn’t exactly overflowing. I made a few, and paid for, a few trips to and from Virginia when I was in a long distance relationship, but one year of flying SouthWest doesn’t account for the thousands of dollars I can’t account for.

Despite talk of saving money for a new car all through college, I never actually did and when my Escort died I had to borrow money from my parents for the down payment. I never really made that much, but I should have been able to put away a decent amount of my paycheck.

Sorry, I’m getting to my point.

Now I’m here at 27 years old, itching to head out of state, but my modest savings isn’t enough to make the trip without being employed. I ignored my mother all those times she talked about my IRA and how I could use it to buy a house one day and now that times are ripe to purchase a new home, I’m pretty short the required amount to actually use that investment.

Sure, hindsight is 20/20 and had I known I’d be in the this position 10 years ago I would have thought twice about making all those purchases I can’t remember. Maybe I needed to be irresponsible to learn the value of being responsible, but had I just been responsible in the first place, I’d be writing this blog from an apartment in North Carolina.

Learn By Doing

Cooking while living at home is probably one of the hardest thing to do.

Well, I could think of others, but on the off chance that my family actually does read this, I’ll keep those thoughts to myself.

…Don’t judge me, I’m 27 dammit…

Anyway. While Chuck lived in his own apartment we began cooking our own meals, but the lack of cooking space aside from the stove top made real experimentation difficult. Now that we both live at home, cooking space is a plenty. Problem now is too many cooks in the kitchen.

White pizza with bruschetta topping. It was pretty damn awesome.

While Chuck’s parents give us the space we need to make everything from pizza to tacos…okay, just pizza and tacos, my mother is a little more hands on, like it or not.

Enter my traditional Italian mother. The one that always makes sure you have something to eat, even if you aren’t hungry. Give in to her requests to prepare you something and you get a bowl of pasta, chicken cutlets with a side of vegetables. I’ve learned most of what I know about cooking just from watching my mother in the kitchen. She is always appreciative of help while she’s cooking, but try doing it on your own and you’ll end up sitting at the kitchen table while she does everything herself.

Example. I wanted to make some chicken soup with rice for lunch the next day. My mother was in the kitchen also preparing dinner for the following day (something that helped her always put a hot meal on the table after working 9-5). I asked her some questions and she gave me the answers.

“When the broth boils, throw in the rice and turn the stove off.” (Or something like that. I can’t remember exactly, but that leads me to the point of my story)

Our take on Taco Bell's Cheesy Gordita Crunch.

I turn on the stove and while I let the broth get hot I check out what my father is watching in the living room. When I feel that the broth must be boiling I walk over to the kitchen and there is the rice simmering in the pot.

Ugh. OK.

“In 20 minutes it should be ready and you can throw it in the fridge.”

So I leave to head up to my room, checking the time and taking a mental note to come back in 20 minutes. At the 18-minute mark my mother pops her head into my room and tells me she threw the soup in a container and it’s now in the fridge.

Ugh. OK.

Am I appreciative of my mother’s love and care. Damn skippy I am.

Have I learned anything? NO! I couldn’t even tell you how the conversation went. If I wanted to make the same bowl of soup tonight I would have to ask her again.

A similar problem ensued over the summer with the cooking of BBQ chicken. The incident lead me to scream “Learn by doing!!” at my mother while my friend Beka laughed. Needless to say, the chicken soup incident happened after the BBQ incident so obviously she never got the point.

A big part of getting my own place is the bring desire to stock my own fridge and cook my own food. I enjoy working beside Chuck in the kitchen and then feasting on the meal that we have concocted.

Once it finally happens, I’m sure that after a long day of work I’ll be wishing I had my mother to prepare a hot meal for me. But, that’s what take out is for isn’t it?