And thus it begins...

I have finally settled on tomorrow's ensemble. We all know the debate between the utilikilt with measuring-tape suspenders versus the Sheila Moon jacket and knickers was fierce.

The argument centered around balancing my hard-ass managerial side with the more playful tropical-business-casual ethic that is appropriate to Santa Barbara. All the while staying true to my rock-and-roll roots.

I can't even believe I just typed that. Nonetheless, the Sheila Moon jacket will make an appearance tomorrow because it's chilly here in the mornings (and indeed, was all day today) and I am attending an event after work that calls for both a warm outer layer and a reflective stripe.

Add to the jacket a business-like wrinkle-resistant button down, brown trousers, and my new green and black Vans with white sidewalls and I think I have struck the appropriate aging-skatepunk / wannabe YA librarian vibe. Not that I was ever a skatepunk or actually tried to ever be a YA librarian.

Wardrobe aside, it's been a pleasant few days of unpacking. The apartment is in order, and I think everything is set for a few months alone while L finishes school and we await the results of the funding application for China. What lies ahead is anyone's guess.

Those of you following along on Twitter and FB know it was a pleasant last day: a bike ride, some snacks, reading on the beach. What I failed to mention was that the forecast today was for rain.



If only all my rainy days look like this.

Onward

But will it really be upward? It's too soon to tell, as I haven't even started the new venture yet. I suppose only time will tell, and judging by the local vibe, nobody's in a hurry to figure anything out.

But I get ahead of myself. I arrived in SB a couple hours late on Friday evening, which made it too late to get the keys to my apartment. So it was off to the mid-centure modern motor lodge for me. After checking in I wandered a bit and had a beer at the tavern that L suspected will be my closest. Super friendly old folks, though not much of a beer selection. And I was told the bartender gives excellent haircuts in his spare time. Dinner at the hotel restaurant, the Crocodile, was fair. The service was, uhm, leisurely. But I did end the evening with a scotch by the pool.

Saturday morning I shuttled my bags over to The Fran. One trip with a big backpack, one with a roll-y bag, and then I returned to the hotel on my bicycle for my daypack. Breakfast was a perfectly average Benedict at Steve's Patio (I'm afraid the hollandaise was bottled), but it was serviceable.

The Pod worked out. There was a little bit of shifting, but nothing actually moved or fell over. I set myself the goal of moving everything in one day. As I moved back-and-forth, it got a little warm so I scaled back my plans. It's the California way, right? So I attempted to get all my furniture inside so that I could move it around trying to figure out the best arrangement. I am glad I left the bookshelves empty that first night because I did wind up moving a few things around.

I spent the afternoon biking to the boardwalk, getting my public library card, and acclimating to the neighborhood. As I tweeted (@jonjab), the local grocery's bike rack sucked. I asked the manager how often people complain and he said 'daily.' Again: not in much of a hurry. The local Chinese food is better that Steve's Patio, and the folks very friendly. The sign says Sichuan and Mandarin, but upon inspecting the buffet I told the folks at the front desk '没看到四川菜。' The sister said 'Oh, I can give you a menu,' and the brother said '我觉得他说了汉语。' (or something to that effect--I think he may have used the 是...的 construction, but I'm not sure how to get the adjectives in there). Mama looked up surprised, and sister giggled. I've got new best friends. They gave me the Chinese-only menu and were gracious enough to steer me away from the tripe.

Unfortunately, the Mexican waiter didn't speak Chinese. Maybe me could have wrestled some up if I had actually gotten the menudo.

Sunday, because of my furniture moving head start, was a short moving day. All of the boxes were inside by 1pm, so I set off to the mall (@jonjab: "I've never seen a dead fancy mall. La Cumbre Plaza -- You are so sad with your 30% empty storefronts. And all I need us a stinking Brita."), stopped in the park to listen to a birthday party's mariachis, and made yet another trip to the Ralph's--this time on foot with a stop at Trader Joe's.

So far I feel like I've been spending my time spending money, but I've also been reveling in the time off. Without gardening, the days are long and varied and filled with little trips to here and there. Today it was a test ride to campus (46 minutes en route), lunch out, and a quest for the bike shop. On my way BACK from UCSB, my brakes started making a terrifying screeching sound. Wheelhouse is closed on Mondays, so I threw myself on the mercy of the ex-Paul's mechanic at Velo Pro. He rode it out, said he didn't hear anything (it took me a good three beats to get the joke) and then said 'yeah man, that sounds awful.' I reiterated that I'd be happy to go to Wheelhouse in the morning as they regularly deal with drum breaks and internal hubs, he scratched his chin, said he's go look in his Trek book, hesitated, and then said conspiratorially and in a hush 'you know, maybe you should go to them.' We agreed that it's best to go someplace where they do this work daily and I pointed at a mountain bike 'yeah man--you do those all day everyday, I'm sure you can figure it out but I'm good going to the place that deals with this kind of bike everyday.'

So now I'm squeaky and at risk of having to be a bus rider for my first day of work. Or maybe I can get a loaner. Regardless, tomorrow I have a date with the cable guy, the bike shop, and need to sharpen my pencils and mentally steel myself for returning to the land of the employed. I will attempt to get photos / maps / route profiles posted once I get this out.

It's all good man.

I'll leave you, loyal readers, with this: the doctor's office down the block from the Trader Joe's, right next door to the smoking supply store, was open late on Sunday afternoon, had a two-way mirror in the waiting room, and the practice was named homophonorifically "Dr. Referral." Just sayin'.