2007-07-26

ritaxis: (Default)
2007-07-26 09:35 am
Entry tags:

I have met the enemy, and the thing that is not quite the enemy

Mark Primack is the architect for the development around the corner. He is also, intermittently, a politician. I didn't vote for Mark Primack in the elections where he ran. His platform was "smart growth" but his definition of smart growth doesn't completely overlap with mine. Anyway, I had other guys I wanted to vote for.

But I have to say he was the only one speaking my language last night. He had answers for all of my questions except "how much will the inclusionary units cost?" -- which he couldn't answer, it turns out, and he and the developer explained how that goes. I thought they could have given me a ballpark estimate, and I think the reason they didn't is that the prices for inclusionary homes in Santa Cruz are too high and it would be embarrassing to them when they were tfrying to make me happy. Inclusionary means homes that must be sold for a certain price, below the median, set by comparing various economic factors which change all the time, The City keeps a chart, where you look up the kind of home and the size of the family and various other factors and then they tell you the maximum the inclusionary units have to go for. The rule is that fifteen percent of the housing in the city has to be inclusionary. Developers can get out of it by paying in-lieu fees. This developer has a requirement of two one-bedroom or one of the three-bedroom places, and hasn't decided which. After discussing floor plans and parking requirements with the architect and developer, I suggested two of the one-bedroom places be inclusionary as it woyuld go farther towards the goal of keeping working-class families in the city (there are these studies and nooks without doors built into the design which honestly could be fixed up as bedrooms for children). It looked like the developer was interested in what I said about that, anyway.

The neighbors who were upset at the idea that people might be getting in and out of their cars at night and making too much noise or might be renters and not keep their house as nice as they want them to were mollified by Mark's attention to architectural detail and the developer's personal interest in the place, and also the fact that everything was condominiums and therefore not rentals except the developer might keep a handful and rent them out himself. (which he may have said to mollify me, who knows). But the lady who called in from out of town and was so upset at the notion of rentals which might result in turnover

lived in one of her houses for a grand total of three years and now they are

fucking vacation rentals.

She is the enemy. She sits there in Thousand Oaks renting out perfectly fine family housing for four times the going rate for rent (most likely, that's the usual formula) wittering on about the quality of the neighborhood. She has removed two largeish, but modestly built houses, walking distance from everything a family needs -- preschools and schools right through graduation, parks, libraries, even a medical clinic! -- City Hall! the County Building! (The County government is the second largest employer last I knew, behind the University). For that matter, the University is walking distance in a pinch, or if you want to get a lot of exercise.

I caught Mark's eye as I gasped in outrage when she said in her smug little voice that she couldn't afford the mortgage so she moved to Thousand Oaks and mortgaged the places again to rent them out and she's "trying to get back!" He was the only one who understood what I was angry about.

One of the "homeowner" types was so dim I could just cry whenever he went muling (as in mule, not as in mewl, though I suppose he could have been doing both) about speedfuckingbumps and renters.

And this is why I say without irony that when yuppies move into your neighborhood they endanger it. Their values are completely selfish and distorted, they can't share, and everything they say about how their house is their home is delicately balanced on the point of whether they can be richer living there or contributing to the housing crisis. 

Did I mention that none of the other people had lived in their houses over six years?  And I've lived in mione for twenty-nine years and ten months?  That I actually did raise my children here?  That the nice fellow and I have always worked here -- I've worked the farthest away and that was Watsonville?



ritaxis: (Default)
2007-07-26 10:09 am
Entry tags:

forethought

The nice fellow turned off the water to work on the loud noise the pipes make when the toilet is flushed (I don't say "hammering" because it doesn't fit the description the do it yourself people use for that syndrome). But he didn't manage to fix the problem and the water stayed off.

What water had he laid by?

Well, there was a bucket of used bath water I had set aside to flush the toilet with because if you flush with the bucket there is no noise. There were two half-liters of water in the drinking pitchers. And there are about four gallons of water set aside in plastic containers with a drop of bleach, for disasters (we should have much more).

Emma and Keith (who is going to law school in two weeks! I get my couch back!) went to the corner store and brought back four gallons of bottled water.

Real-time blogging: I just told MC there is no water for baths or laundry. He's been here kind of too much, but I have to give him a little slack as he is actively pursuing jobs that might in aggregate end him up with enough money to get a room somewhere and get him out of my bathtub for good.

My current theory about the lightheadedness is that it will go away when I get my new glasses which ought to be here Real Soon Now. The eye guy said that he wanted to put a prism on one lens because the muscle imbalance between my eyes has increased markedly. I have noticed some eye strain, but I only realized that's what it was when the eye guy talked about it.

The Healthnet haelth coach lady looked up the alcohol phenomenon and it looks like, yes, mere fumes from wine can interact with the gabapentin to cause the effects I have noticed. I think I have to make other plans for the plum tree, then, because when I make wine, I am exposed to alcohol fumes in a much greater concentration than I experienced on Saturday at the wine bar. Oh, didn't I tell that story? Saturday was the quarterly Passport Day for the Santa Cruz wine region. Wineries open up to the public and have tastings of things they don't usually do. The nice fellow loves this, and goes every time, and usually brings home something nice from River Run, which has become our very most favorite winery of all. Saturday I was kind of wrecked and didn't go on the primary run, but I did walk with him over to Beauregard on the wharf. I didn't drink any wine, because of the one-sip incident a few months ago, but I did smell it, and a couple of them I put my tongue to the surface of. Nevertheless, when we left the place, I felt drunk and I swayed when I walked and I knocked a wine glass off a table.

Oh well, it's an imperfect life.

I've got half an hour to finish my quota for the day.