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Pop Smokes Juice
Aug. 16th, 2004 07:10 pmMy subject line comes from a sign on an Oberlin convenience store, which apparently sells soda, cigarettes, and juice.
We are here. We've been here for a few days, but what with the unpacking and the exhaustion and the driving half an hour to do our shopping for shower curtains and counter units, I haven't had much energy for updates. We're starting to settle in now, happily.
The new place is the first floor of a lovely Victorian home on South Professor Street. The streets are quiet and tree-lined, slow enough that the energetic hoodlum kids who live upstairs can skateboard in the street. A block in one direction is downtown Oberlin and the campus; a block in the other is (I'm told) a Quaker meeting, which may mean I'll have to start attending again. We have a mailbox on the corner, a climbing tree in our yard, and enough foot traffic going past to be diverting without being distracting.
Great things about our new house:
All this for about 2/3 the rent on our shabby Ann Arbor apartment.
The town itself is small—very small—and I explored its length and breadth in about an hour on foot today. Details later.
( Pictures now. )
We are here. We've been here for a few days, but what with the unpacking and the exhaustion and the driving half an hour to do our shopping for shower curtains and counter units, I haven't had much energy for updates. We're starting to settle in now, happily.
The new place is the first floor of a lovely Victorian home on South Professor Street. The streets are quiet and tree-lined, slow enough that the energetic hoodlum kids who live upstairs can skateboard in the street. A block in one direction is downtown Oberlin and the campus; a block in the other is (I'm told) a Quaker meeting, which may mean I'll have to start attending again. We have a mailbox on the corner, a climbing tree in our yard, and enough foot traffic going past to be diverting without being distracting.
Great things about our new house:
- Our landlord is named Larry Funk. Oh yes.
- The house has a spire—a spire!—rising from the square pseudo-tower in the northwest corner.
- The basement is dark and spooky and full of queer little rooms, including one that's been tantalizingly sealed off, just visible through a grimy window. This crumbling mystery room contains several old lamps, and the floor seems to be of cobblestone.
- We have a wood-paneled den, full of cabinets, that looks like a time warp to the 70s, where we have installed K.'s record player and my fuzzy bean bag chair. (I am trying to convince K. to buy fiberoptic lights and lava lamps.) The aforementioned tower creates a lovely nook in one corner, which I've claimed for my computer desk, and where I am flanked by windows: one looking onto South Professor, the other onto Vine.
- An odd California-shaped hall connects our bedrooms. Kendra's room has a vestibule.
- We have two (2) porches, a normal one in front and a wee little one in back, both ideal for sittin' and pickin' (if one has a guitar, which one does). Once the screen door closes behind you on the back porch, you can't get back in, because it has no handle.
All this for about 2/3 the rent on our shabby Ann Arbor apartment.
The town itself is small—very small—and I explored its length and breadth in about an hour on foot today. Details later.
( Pictures now. )
