Yesterday I took the dogs outside and stood staring at a shrub while the dogs sniffed the grass at my feet.

How could I have missed it before? It was as big as a tree and covered in large, lush leaves and plush round, creamy flowers. Gorgeous.

I stepped closer to examine the flowers, already imagining it sitting in a glass of water on our dining table. Glancing around at the nearby sidewalks and up to the open windows of the apartment building, I wondered if it would be wrong to take a blossom. I live here, I thought. If I can’t take one, who can? I looked at the abundance of blossoms on the plant. No one would even notice.

I wouldn’t feel guilty for taking one. (Ok, maybe a little guilty.) But I didn’t want to get caught. So I left them alone.

That night after dinner, Matt walked out the door with the dogs and a pair of scissors in his pocket. I had told him of the plant and the flowers. He returned minutes later with a bloom sprouting from his coat pocket.

What I find interesting about these flowers is that they are so full and flush with petals for having grown on such a large plant.I wish I was better at identifying plants. I still am not sure exactly what these flowers are called, but the closest thing my Internet research pulled up was Japanese Camellia.

Does anyone have any idea what it is?

One of the questions was “Who wears the pants in the relationship?” While I’m sure the question was designed to stir up some good-humored controversy, Matt’s and my response was “We share the pants.”

And it’s true. We consult one another whenever possible. We try to be on the same page. But while we chuckled at the image of us sharing pants, we had no idea that some real-life foreshadowing was going on.

I mentioned before that in the whirlwind of the day, Matt and I did not completely have our belongings prepared for after the wedding. We headed off to the hotel without much thought as to what we would need. I didn’t think of it until we got to the hotel, but I didn’t have a hanger or garment bag for my dress, and no bags to put my dress’s undergarments in, either. I didn’t think too much of this, just hung my dress as well as I could from he hotel’s hangers, and stuffed my garments in my suitcase. Matt did the same with his tux, and we figured we’d just have to carry them out like that the next morning. At least our event was over and it didn’t matter how they looked.

But the next morning I realized I had forgotten something even more important. I began to get dressed in my ordinary clothes and realized, standing there in my underwear, that I had forgotten my pants. Uh oh.

The morning of the wedding, I had put on a clean pair of pants, planning on packing them up after I put on my dress, so I could wear them the next day. Well, in the hustle and bustle, my clothes never made it into my suitcase.

Visions of checking out of the hotel in my underwear flashed through my head and I began to panic. I told Matt to call my dad and have him bring me my pants. When my dad picked up and Matt explained the scenario, I could hear my dad’s laughter through the phone.

“Please bring me my pants!” I pleaded urgently into the phone.

We had just twenty minutes to check out, and if he was going to bring my pants, he needed to do it now.

My dad proposed that I just wear Matt’s pants to check out and then I could change when I got to their house. I was not thrilled with this idea–man pants aren’t flattering or very comfortable. But Matt surrendered his pants for me to try on.

What do you know, they fit. Not great. They are definitely man pants, and I certainly didn’t feel very attractive, but I could wear them home.

So we shared the pants. I wore Matt’s pants, and he wore his tux pants. We quickly checked out of the hotel and made it home, where I slipped on my own blue jeans and breathed a sigh of relief. My own pants have never felt so good.

Me in Matt's pants, still gripping my wedding dress.

Part of the weekend was spent putting together some of the final details for the wedding, including helping decorate the church. We’re using a lot of their Christmas decorations in addition to our own decorations. They were kind and cooperative enough to allow us to have some input and didn’t make us feel like we were imposing at all.

After decorating the church, Matt and I made a dash to IKEA and Target to get some necessary furniture for when I move in. After a long, stressful process of trying to put together furniture that was packaged with some wrong parts, I now have a desk for my computer (with extra space for Matt to draw, of course), and an etagere in the bathroom to store all my girly stuff.

I also spent some time organizing the place so that there is room for my belongings. Never underestimate how much space you can save with good organization!

I can’t wait to move in after the wedding and settle into our new home. I’m excited about living in Seattle with my husband, and I’m looking forward to the days to come.

How could you see them and not smile? Between this and the monster print we hung over the weekend, I think our place’s style is turning out to be quite playful.

See more fun illustrations from Berkley Illustration.

]]> http://www.mrandmrswonderful.com/2009/11/portraiture/feed/ 0 http://www.mrandmrswonderful.com/2009/10/settling-into-seattle/ http://www.mrandmrswonderful.com/2009/10/settling-into-seattle/#comments Thu, 01 Oct 2009 22:49:01 +0000 MrsWonderful http://www.amberlinedesign.com/mrandmrswonderful/?p=72 Continue reading →]]> I spent about five hours washing dishes by hand and getting my hands so dry that they resembled tree bark before it dawned on me that this is why rubber gloves were invented. Oh, wait. I thought that was why DISHWASHERS were invented. But our new apartment doesn’t have one. Instead of getting angry, I’m just going to assume that God wants me to learn a lesson in discipline. Thanks, God.

No, really. I am thankful for the new place and all of its quirkiness. Ok, maybe I’m not so thankful that the toilet tank wobbles precariously, or that I hold my breath every time I flush the toilet because the flush is so weak it looks like it might clog from a single sheet of toilet paper. But besides that…

The place is great. I do kind of love that you can tell it was built by the Army Corps of Engineers. (The cabinets are metal and have tons of hooks and hangers and slots to adjust the shelves. ) The hardwood floors are gorgeous. The windows are large and let in a lot of light in the evening. The blinds actually close when you turn the wand. (You had to “rake” them to close them at Matt’s studio.) And perhaps best of all: the location. OH MY GOODNESS. I think we hit the jackpot.

For me, one of the most dismaying things about moving to Seattle was the lack of grass and space around the buildings. Sure, there’s a park here and there, but mostly everything seems so scrunched up that you can hardly breathe. Our apartments were the first ones we came across where there was actually grass all around. Not a half mile away. Not even down the block. All the way around! And get this: there is a PARK ACROSS THE STREET. Including a GARDEN. I might faint from happiness.

I truly can’t imagine a better location for Matt and I to start out.  We are  itching to start decorating the apartment, which seems so empty with only the furniture from Matt’s studio. We definitely need to go to IKEA soon to get some essentials. A couch and a dresser are at the top of the list. We’ll also need to get another bookshelf to house all of my books. And a coffee table would be great, since we plan on having guests over as much as we can.

In only two months it will be time for me to settle into Seattle. Here’s to a new life…

The first thing Matt told me about the place was all of the grass surrounding the buildings. GRASS! Can you believe it? Grass surrounding an apartment building in Seattle! A building that accepts dogs! It’s an oasis in the desert for dog owners.

The office was closed by the time Matt made it there, so he made an appointment for the next weekend.  We went up on Friday to view the place.

Did I mention that there was grass? Because there was plenty of it. The apartments actually are actually five three-story brick buildings. There is a generous amount of space for grass and walkways between the buildings, and the plentiful trees and shrubbery add to the feeling of privacy. It was the sort of place I could see myself walking the dogs around.

They had a first-floor unit available and we took a look. We were pleased to see the hardwood floors and big, bright windows as soon as we walked into the unit. The kitchen had enough room for us both to move around, and just the right amount of cupboard space. No dishwasher, but a nice deep sink to wash dishes in. The bedroom fit a full-size bed comfortably and had enough closet space for the both of us. The bathroom wasn’t very large, but it was a lot more reasonable than the pink tiled one in the last unit we visited. Overall, this was the best unit we had seen, especially for the price.

We decided to go ahead and turn in our applications and put a deposit down. Since then, however, things have not exactly gone smoothly.

Matt was quite shocked to receive a call a few hours later that said he had gotten a negative review from his landlord. We were both exceedingly puzzled, because this was impossible. We had taken a lot of care to talk in-person with his landlord about our plans, and he was completely understanding. He has always been extremely friendly  and talkative with us, and often quick chats with him stretch out into long, meandering conversations.

Matt explained his confusion to the person on the phone, who was the apartment manager, not RSS. He suggested Matt call his landlord to get it cleared up. Matt immediately called his landlord and explained that they claimed he had given a negative review, which somewhat puzzled his landlord as well. His landlord said that the woman who called caught him off-guard because she didn’t even introduce herself or explain why she was calling, she just asked what he knew about Matt. He told her that Matt’s lease was up in January, but that he would be moving out in October, and I guess that’s all RSS took the time to hear and interpreted it as a negative review. They didn’t take the time to learn more about the situation. Matt relayed this information to the property manager at the new apartments and he said he would have RSS give Matt’s landlord another call.

It took over a week to get a response from RSS. They were off on Labor Day and couldn’t get a hold of Matt’s landlord because he works elsewhere during the day. (You would think they would have people working nights for this kind of situation.) Finally, they got that all sorted out, but we weren’t approved yet.

THEN they decided to try to verify Matt’s employment. (Really?! They don’t do that first?) He gave them a handful of phone numbers for all of his bosses and HR, but apparently they only want to talk to HR, so they tried to get in touch with someone in HR who was unavailable due to orientations.

Hopefully today they’ll be able to get in contact with someone and this will be over!

I won’t be moving in until after the wedding in December, and Matt’s current lease isn’t up until January, but we decided to start looking sooner for various reasons. One of them being the weather. Moving is hassle enough without having to dodge raindrops and dash  in and out of buildings while carrying heavy boxes and furniture. Another reason is that Matt is done with the commute. DONE. Perhaps the bus commute wouldn’t be so bad if his hours were a bit shorter and more predictable, but he never knows when he will get off of work, and lately he has been staying late. The last thing he needs at the end of a long day is to wait in the dark at a bus stop to ride a stinky, crowded bus for an hour or more.

The best solution for us is to move straight into the heart of the city, where Matt can be close enough to work to have some commuting options. Also, working closer to home alleviates the worry that late work nights will leave him stranded in Seattle overnight. He likes his job, but he would rather not have to convert his desk into a sleeping alcove and use his shoe as a pillow.

Though we want to be relatively close to Matt’s work, we also want to be in a good neighborhood, so we concentrated on Upper Queen Anne and Ballard. We’ve been scouring Craigslist for rentals available in these locations. A couple weeks ago, I found a posting for a one-bedroom upstairs unit of a house in Queen Anne. The pictures were small, but the place looked cute, like it might have some character. Matt sent an e-mail to the landlord and set up an appointment to view the apartment.

You know those dogs that look the same coming and going? This house was like that. It had an entry that looked more like a back door. I knew immediately that Matt was not impressed and was already starting to back away, but I was determined to give the house a fair shot, seeing as we put in all the effort to drive up there and find the place.

Matt called up the landlord, whose name we cannot pronounce, and let him know we were there. He came jogging around the side of the home with wet splotches on his pants, which I hoped were from some home improvement project it appeared he had been working on at the other side of the house. Matt and I both got a creepy vibe from the guy right away.

He didn’t help our opinion of him by proceeding to lead us up the stairs and knock on the current resident’s door, who was in the process of cleaning the apartment and moving out. We had the appointment for half a week, and he was just notifying the tenant as we stood at the door? How courteous.

As we entered the apar–er, disaster area, the current tenant expressed that the place is “really is nice when it’s all clean!” Matt and I were greeted with two cats trying to escape the apartment as we entered (a sign?) and scattered wood shavings on the floor that had somehow escaped from the nearby guinea pig cage. (Really, how do shavings from one guinea pig get ALL OVER THE FLOOR? And why do you have cats AND a rodent? Wait, perhaps this explains the shavings…) The tenant’s sister had come to help her move, and I stepped over her broom on my way to the kitchen.

The kitchen was walled off and impossibly narrow. I walked to the end of the kitchen, opened the dingy, filmy cupboards, to find a hodge podge collection of food that clearly indicated  no cooking was ever done in this kitchen. I turned around and faced Matt, and we both raised our eyebrows so high they hit the ceiling. Which wasn’t difficult, seeing as the roof was slanted in the kitchen, making it seem even more like Willy Wanka’s shrinking room…minus the delicious sweets at the end. (But there was a half-empty bag of stale marshmallows, if you were tempted.)

At this point, we had seen all we needed to see, but out of courtesy, we couldn’t flee the building and run down the street. We continued to the bathroom.

If there was a contest for the pinkest, smallest bathroom in the world, this bathroom would be an award-winner. Pink tile on the floor and walls. Pink sink. Pink toilet. Pink shower. Oh, and maximum occupancy of 1. Cruise ships have bigger bathrooms than this. The Comet sprinkled on everything was a nice touch, though.

When we emerged from the bathroom, the landlord waved to the “bedroom,” which we didn’t even bother taking a look at because, honestly, it was a CLOSET. Matt and I were offended that he even had the nerve to call it a bedroom to our faces. Heck, call it a “sleeping nook” if you want to, but you think you’re going to delude us into thinking that that cranny barely wide enough to fit a mattress is an actual room? No, sir.

We politely followed whats-his-name around as he showed us the rest of the house, and it didn’t get any better. Everything was sketchy. When the landlord asked us to honestly tell him what we thought, the look on Matt’s face was priceless. I knew he was thinking, “Dude, this place is a [dump],” and tried not to laugh (too much) as he tried to come up with a polite answer. I jumped in and said I didn’t think that the amount of stairs the place had would be good for my dogs (honest answer), and withheld the rest.

We left the place in a minor state of shock. We’ve GOT to find something better than that.

We took a stroll up and down Queen Anne Ave calling every apartment we came across, but no luck. Plenty of one-bedroom units available, but none of them took dogs. Is it possible to find a decent (real) one-bedroom dog-friendly apartment in Seattle? We will find out…