Tag Archives: New England

More whining

The Palisades conference center is probably a nice place most of the year. The same is true of the nearby Hilton. Unfortunately, it was February, and cold. Even in the building, it was somewhat cold–when we walked past a fireplace in the conference center on our way back from lunch, the Austin folks all immediately walked over to it and stood there trying to warm up. The rest of the team, from places like New York and Indiana, looked at us with mild amusement.

That said, the first thing I noticed on returning to Austin wasn’t the heat–it was the moisture. Northeastern winters are a constant battle against dry, cracking skin, sore eyes, dry throat, and so on. It now seems amazing to me that I lived in New England for so many years, putting up with sub-zero temperatures and dry air for months at a time. What was I thinking?

Food was pretty good. Because Palisades is a conference center rather than an office, it serves customer food rather than IBM canteen food. The coffee, however, was another matter. The pod-based coffee machine near the meeting room produced something that actually tasted worse than the coffee from the miniature coffee maker in my hotel room. You know things are bad when you go to Dunkin’ Donuts and think “Wow, this is great coffee!” And given that we were starting each day’s work at 8am, coffee was a critical requirement for me.

Evenings were better. One night we went to the TriBeCa Grill, co-owned by Robert DeNiro. It was good food. I’m not sure it was good enough to make up for trudging a mile through freezing winds, but I’m not really a food snob.

Visiting the World Trade Center site was odd. I hadn’t been there in 15 years, so the absence of the towers didn’t seem odd. Ground zero looked like any other urban construction zone.

The business part of the trip went well, and was far too (a) confidential (b) boring to non-IBMers to recount in more detail.

Astonishingly, nothing went wrong with the plane flights, which both left on time and arrived slightly early. Then again, this time I had carefully avoided American Airlines. Security asked to check my bag on the way back, I immediately and correctly guessed that they wanted to see my razor. I took it apart and demonstrated the lack of blade, the blades all being packed in my checked luggage.

Got back at around 23:00, completely exhausted. Managed to stay awake enough to drive home, crashed into bed. Still tired today.

So let me tell you about this house thing…

When we arrived in Austin at the end of October, we didn’t expect major problems finding a house. During our visit in April we had spent an afternoon with a real estate agent, and had seen a number of suitable houses.

Sure enough, the first day we went house hunting, sara walked into a place and immediately thought “This is it.” We went back when I had finished work, and I agreed.

It was in Bouldin Creek, part of South Austin, more specifically Travis Heights. It was a newly-built house, extremely energy efficient, with zoned HVAC, high-e windows, the works.

As far as style, the house wouldn’t have looked out of place in New England—constructed with fiber-cement siding to look like wood, with decks front and back.

We put in an offer in November, and it was accepted. We thought we’d be moved in by Christmas…

Being cautious, we arranged for a full independent inspection of the house. Many people don’t bother to get new houses inspected; many people are idiots. Mold is a big problem in Texas, as it is in England, because of the damp and mild climate. Our realtor recommended a local inspector who does a particularly thorough job. Sure enough, there were a number of interesting things about the house.

First off, the foundation was pier and beam. Not unusual, given that the house is in the South Austin hills, but usually the wooden joists of the house rest on metal plates, which spread the load to the concrete blocks of the piers. Plates are added and removed as appropriate to level out the house.

The contractors putting together this house had invented a shortcut. Instead of metal plates, they had hammered in some small wooden shims. As a result, the load was concentrated into a tiny area instead of being spread, and the concrete posts were starting to crack.

They had also not quite put in enough ventilation for the space under the house. In fact, it looked as if they had almost forgotten the whole house part in their excitement at building the foundation walls, as in one place they had forgotten to leave a gap for a beam and had just knocked out a hole with a sledgehammer after the fact, and then filled around the beam afterwards.

The decks were a problem too. They had been built with no gaps between the wooden slats. Seems superficially like a good idea, as you can’t drop stuff between the gaps and lose it. Unfortunately, it also means that water can’t drain from the deck, and gradually pools up. Then the wood starts to absorb the water, and the space under the deck becomes moist, a breeding ground for mold. Finally, the wood rots away, and you have to do major repair work.

My favorite cock-up was the bathroom venting. The way it’s supposed to work is the bathroom vent connects to a duct, which goes up into the attic and emerges via a vent near the top of the roof. That had been too much work for the contractors; they had run a duct across instead, to the soffit vents. Hence the moist air would immediately be sucked back up into the attic.

The good news was that the problems were fixable. We got an estimate from a builder our agent recommended, and put in a revised offer—we’d buy the house if the seller would pay our choice of builder to fix the problems. We wanted the work done by our choice of builder to ensure that The O’Reilly Men wouldn’t be hired to fix the problems they caused in the first place.

[Our builder has found a neat way to fix the decks, too. Rather than rip them off and rebuild them, the plan is to use an industrial covering material to put a single-piece waterproof surface on them. No holes for things to fall into, rain will just drain off, and the result should be more durable than a properly-constructed conventional deck. The downside is that it’s expensive, but it’s cheaper than major structural work, and the final result can be colored to match what the wooden deck looked like.]

So once again everything was agreed. We thought we’d be moving in in January.

Then came the next problem. It turned out that the house and its neighbor to the west had originally been part of one large lot. They shared a separate two-car garage, subdivided into two single garages. Unfortunately, when the builders divided up the original lot, they ran the property line across the corner of the garage.

Our neighbors-to-be had discovered this and weren’t happy about it. The city of Austin wasn’t happy about it either, and had refused to issue a certificate of occupancy for the houses. The neighbors-to-be got someone to draw up a revised plan which changed the property lines to skirt around the outside of the garage. The garage would be entirely on next door’s lot, and an easement agreement would be drawn up to give us perpetual usage of half of the garage for a nominal $10 fee to make the contract legally binding.

Unfortunately, the revised property lines needed to be approved by the city’s property zoning people at their next monthly meeting. In the mean time, our mortgage deal fell through, so we started that process again. Fortunately we’d elected to work via a mortgage agent, so he handled all the re-submitting of application forms and documents. We expected to be moving in by the end of February.

Unfortunately, there was a snag. When the city reviewed the redrawn lots, they rejected the changes because the diagram was missing some essential information. The whole thing had to be sent back to be re-drawn and then re-submitted for the next month’s review meeting.

That was done, and things looked like they were falling into place. We had sorted out the financing, we’d checked the easement agreement was OK, the price and terms were agreed, and the money was ready to go.

It was about then that we discovered the IRS had recategorized my UK flat as a speculative business investment, rather than our only real estate property. There was a rather spectacular tax bill due. Massachusetts wanted a big chunk of cash too. The good news was that we had the money to cover it by April’s deadline. The bad news was that it was the money we were planning to use for furniture and appliances…Oh well, c’est la vie.

The city approved the change to the property lines, and we still expected to move in some time in March. Then our new neighbor asked a lawyer to check over the easement agreement, and the lawyer went nuts. He put in clauses saying that nobody could ever park in front of the garage, even temporarily; that we couldn’t keep housepaint in the garage; and that I couldn’t repair my bike in there either. There was also stuff about not being allowed to play musical instruments in the garage, not that I cared about that; but for good measure, he added a clause saying that no such restrictions applied to next door.

My objection was pretty simple: the agreement said we would split the maintenance costs for the garage 50/50. If we were going to split the costs equally, we should have equal use of our respective halves of the garage. I shot off an e-mail last week. The good news was that everyone agreed the lawyer had been a touch overzealous, it was perfectly reasonable to store a couple of cans of paint in the garage, I could clean and repair my bike if I wanted to, and if people wanted to visit us and park in the driveway that was fine so long as the car was on wheels, rather than on bricks. This was written into a revised contract (yes, even the bit about cars on bricks not being allowed), and everything looked like it would happen some time next week.

On Friday I was out getting some photocopying and faxing done, arranging for the bank to wire the money to the escrow agent, when I got a call from our realtor.

It turned out that the bank who had offered us our mortgage deal was getting pissy. In the last few days, oil prices had hit the US economy, and interest rates had jumped up 0.75%. The bank said if we didn’t complete the transaction that day, our interest rate would be raised 0.5%. In fact, to get that concession our mortgage broker had had to scramble around and contact senior management at the bank and explain the reason for all the delays.

So I finished my faxing and collected sara, and we drove over to the land and title company immediately. We spent a couple of hours reading and signing a couple of dozen pieces of paper. Technically, we completed the transaction “pending funding”—instructions may have been sent to my bank in Boston, by fax and now by FedEx as well, but they won’t act on them until Monday. However, since the money is sitting in my account, cleared and ready to go, I have confidence that I can get my bank to deliver the funds Monday, so we went ahead and signed accordingly.

As for the repair work, that’s starting this weekend, hopefully. The builder says we can go ahead and start moving in. The seller is going to cut a couple of checks and give them to us, one will be given to the builder up front, we’ll hand him the second one when we’re satisfied with the work done. The reason for that arrangement? Well, we’re not the only ones hurting from the delays—the builder found himself sitting on two houses, unable to sell them for almost a year, and for cashflow reasons needed to rely on the proceeds from the sale to fund the repairs. Something of a leap of faith by us, but it’s not going to keep me awake at nights.

I’m the kind of person who reads documents before signing them. There was one exception: the “meat” of the agreement is a 25 page nightmare mandated by Texas state law. Since we didn’t really have any say in what that one said, I just signed it. I have mixed feelings about that—on the one hand, I wonder if a non-state-mandated document might have been readable. On the other hand, if it hadn’t been state mandated and had been (say) 20 pages, I would have had to read it.

The seller’s agent thanked us for our patience. Both realtors agreed that it had been the most protracted delay in closing they had seen in about 35 years of combined experience. Our neighbor-to-be arrived and signed the easement agreement. Everyone seemed relieved that it was finally over.

So it all comes down to this:

After four months of delays, we bought the house we wanted. It’s actually purchased, in a legal sense.

The original contractors, who cocked everything up? They were all fired.

Hopefully we’ll pick up keys to the house on Monday when the deal is funded; then we need to sort out getting our stuff out of storage, and work out who we can bribe to help us unload our worldly possessions.

Grrr (not vrrrroom)

No news from the car dealer, though they answered my call and haven’t forgotten me. I’m watching various web forums on the off chance I can find a Prius within a day’s travel. If not, well, hopefully Toyota will ship on time and the car will reach the dealer on time and I’ll be able to buy it just in time for us to leave for Austin.

One effect of Prius demand exceeding supply is that some local dealers are selling second hand cars for more than the MSRP of a brand new one. Though I hasten to add that they stand no chance of selling me a second hand car for more than the cost of a new one.

Nor, for that matter, am I prepared to buy from a scalper. eBay has quite a few of them—people who buy a Prius for MSRP from a reputable dealer, and then immediately turn around and try to sell it for a few thousand over MSRP. And there are people who’ll buy, which is the sad part.

Me, I’d rather drive across the country in a second hand Subaru wagon than put $3K of my money in a scalper’s pocket. But if you see Priuses being sold in New England for MSRP or under, please do let me know…

Crash course

I just finished my first driving lesson. Well, not strictly my first, but the last time I drove a car was 15 years ago, in England, and it had manual transmission. It seems like a lifetime ago now.

I’ve been in the US long enough that driving on the right wasn’t a problem. In fact, it seems natural. What didn’t seem quite so natural is that the sticks to control the indicators and lights are reversed—but the brake and accelerator aren’t.

As we pulled away for the first time, Somerville’s finest chose that precise moment to drive past our house. It was an omen. Twenty minutes later I was approaching one of those three lane New England junctions with all the roads at weird angles, when I heard sirens and saw that an EMS vehicle was approaching from behind. Naturally the woman in the right lane didn’t want to let me pull right, and pushed ahead into the space in front of her. Accelerating into the junction seemed like a bad move. I did my best to get over to the right as the instructor pushed the horn, and the ambulance got by once the guy in the left lane worked out what was going on.

I also learned that SUV drivers really are the massive assholes everyone says they are, and can’t be relied on to yield right of way at a four way stop even if you clearly got there first.

I give thanks to Charles Kettering, inventor of automatic transmission. I’m sure I’ll get used to only driving with one foot. Still, I can’t help wondering if teaching mathew to drive isn’t like teaching a squirrel to waterski—sure, you can do it, but some creatures aren’t suited to some forms of transport.

Austin thoughts

We spent a week in the city, staying with the gracious Gavin. Here are some ways in which Austin is a better place than Cambridge/Somerville:

  • People are friendly.

    Example: We were looking at some new houses, and suddenly found ourselves talking to one of the builders—a native Texan—about how he got into the trade after his time in the military, how they constructed the houses, why they did things the way they did, trade-offs of different kinds of construction, and so on. He not only told us how to get in touch with the sales agent, he offered to call her up on the office phone, right there and then, so we could talk to her. I could be wrong, but I suspect this kind of behavior is not typical of New England construction workers.

    If you’ve lived all your life in New England—or the southern part of the original one—you might not have experienced friendliness. In which case, you should try it, you might like it.

  • Drivers are polite. We did all the usual “not from around here” things—we made last minute direction changes, paused to think at green traffic lights, and so on. In spite of this, I don’t recall hearing a single car horn directed at us.

    On the other hand, the taxi driver who took us home from Logan paused for literally under a second after a light went green, and the masshole behind felt the need to lay on the horn.

  • Groceries are cheap. Food appears to cost around 60% of what it does in Cambridge. The online cost of living comparators had told me this, but I didn’t believe it until I actually saw it for myself. This is even true of fancy imported foreign goods, like the can of Irn Bru I bought.

  • Houses are cheap. We can afford one. In fact, with our projected budget we’ll have a wide choice. We won’t have to live miles from civilization either.

  • It’s not Generica. The first morning, we walked off in search of coffee. We’d gone several blocks when I suddenly got that Twilight Zone feeling… Sure enough, I checked, and we hadn’t passed a single chain store. No Starbucks, no GAP, no Borders. Just lots of locally owned independent stores.

    There’s a “Keep Austin Weird” campaign which encourages people to buy from local stores. What’s astonishing is that it appears to be working. Yes, you can find chains if you head out to the strip malls in suburbia, but the city itself fails to be the same as every other American city.

  • On a related note, there are lots of cool coffee shops. Sure, Davis Square has Diesel and the Someday, and there’s that new place in Union Square, but Austin has more funky and unique coffee houses than I could keep count of.

  • Cheap Tex-Mex.

  • There’s an amazing supermarket. I was surprised to find a local supermarket listed in the tourist guide. Then we went there, and I understood why. I had no idea there were that many varieties of olives. Poor sheltered fool that I am, I thought there were just black and green ones, and maybe a third kind called plum. But no, they have two entire salad bars of just olives.

  • Streets are labeled. Almost always at both ends, too. Whereas the whole street sign thing is a new-fangled invention which Boston folk view with great suspicion.

  • There are lizards everywhere. Little green ones. They scamper along the deck and try to look inconspicuous in bushes.

  • It rarely dips below freezing. sara thinks that’s freakish and wrong, but I think it’s a good thing and I’m the one writing this.

Now for the bad things:

  • Drivers are polite…but many are incompetent.

    We were warned, and yes it’s true—many Texans seem to feel that learning to operate a vehicle safely is one of those things they can put off for a later date.

  • It gets really hot in summer. Though there’s still some controversy over whether it’s even as bad as Minneapolis.

  • We’ll need a car. And I’ll have to learn to drive. Hopefully not like a Texan.

So on the whole, the benefits seem to far outweigh the negatives.

TMI

It’s peak hayfever season for me. That’s what I get for living in New England and being allergic to maple. I woke up with my nose blocked, and resorted to the neti pot. It’s like a watering can, except it’s designed to be fitted nasally. You fill it with salty water at body temperature, hold your head sideways, stick the spout in the upper nostril, and pour.

If you do it right, all the nasty crap up your nose gets rinsed out into the sink. If you do it wrong, and your head isn’t at quite the right angle, all the nasty crap from up your nose gets washed down your throat, along with a generous helping of salt water. For this reason, it’s a good idea to practice with a clean nose before trying it for real.

The worst part is seeing what was up there as it slurps out and into the bathroom sink. I’m still trying to get that image out of my mind.

New England weather

Well, it was 36 celcius in the shade at 18:00. Apparently we’ve gone straight from winter to summer and skipped spring; a week ago it was regularly sub-zero.

I got a really good deal on Corel Graphics Suite, via Big Blue. It’s buggy, but it’s OS X native, so occasional crashes aren’t a huge deal. It has full alpha channel support, transparency, and the preview engine of CorelDraw seems to use Quartz! Given that Adobe want $500 for an OS X version of PhotoShop, I think I’ll pass on that for now.

I can be nice to advertisers too

After an experience with a banner ad that just didn’t work (see rant a few days ago), I tracked down the company being advertised and sent them some mail alerting them to the problem.

They’ve replied, thanking me and offering me a free polo shirt with their logo on. Turns out they don’t even sell to New England yet, so I almost feel guilty accepting.