This past Monday, I spent my lunch break at Goodwill and ended up with a pair of Ann Taylor Petite pants for work. Inspired by my find, I came back home and went online to Ann Taylor’s website. Even with their current offer of 40% off an item, their $90+ pants was still a stretch for me, especially after having found one in pretty much brand-new condition at Goodwill for $13. Still on the lookout, I went on craigslist and did a search for Ann Taylor.

My jaw fell open when a listing came up for Ann Taylor Petite pants in MY EXACT SIZE for NINE FREAKING DOLLARS. Don’t let my muscular legs fool you; I still wear quite a small size - one that you’d rarely find on the sale racks or on craigslist. (Speaking of sizes, what is the petite 00 size all about? As if skinnier girls needed to feel any better about themselves…) Anyway, this ad was perfect. Khakis in my size - EXACTLY what I was looking for.

Today, I met up with the girl, Pat, who was selling the pants. She recently quit her job to be a stay-at-home mom, so she was trying to clean out her closet. We met up at the Pick-Quick in Fife, home to the “Closest Burger to In-N-Out in the Seattle Area” and yumsilicious strawberry shakes. She opened up the back of her black Tahoe SUV and had pairs of pants hanging from hooks in her trunk, and we laughed about how shady that must look to other people. And if that wasn’t shady enough, I grabbed a few pairs and went into my backseat to try them on. (For once, I was grateful for tinted windows.)

Dangit, thick thighs and muffin top - I managed to zip up and button the pants, but they weren’t comfortable enough to sit in all day. Dejected (and sweaty from changing in the backseat on a sunny day), I returned the pants to her. Matt and our friend (and fellow capoeirista) Mel had come with me, so I went to the table that Mel was holding for us and moaned about not being able to fit into the pants. “Dang capoeira legs,” Mel said, as we gave the girl and her skinny legs the evil eye. (Just kidding. She was super nice, so we only jokingly gave her the evil eye as we dug into our fries, milkshake, and burgers.)

Now I have a confession to make. When Pat and I started e-mailing back and forth about the pants, I had a really hard time picturing someone named Pat being small enough to fit into these pants. When I saw her in person, reality did not fit the image I had created in my head. When I confessed this to Matt, he asked what my image of a person named Pat was. I sheepishly told him that I pictured Pat from Saturday Night Live. You ’80s kids know who I’m talking about…Pat, the androgynous, slightly overweight character who kept us laughing and guessing each week if Pat was a guy or a girl. It’s not like I haven’t met other Pats besides this one, but for some reason, I couldn’t shake the SNL Pat every time Pat’s e-mail appeared in my inbox. Talk about being influenced by TV…

While looking online for a quote for a work project, I ran into this quote that I’ve always loved:

It is the harder because you will always find those who think they know what is your duty better than you know it. It is easy in the world to live after the world’s opinion; it is easy in solitude to live after our own; but the great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude. (Ralph Waldo Emerson)

To ring in the new year, I got a haircut (which is actually an authentic Chinese new year tradition, although I made my appointment long before realizing the significance of the date), enjoyed one of the best pastries ever at Bakery Nouveau with Keba, and had a relaxing (somewhat traditional) new year’s eve dinner of fish, bean curd and mushrooms, Japanese rice dish, and neen go at Sherry’s. What a way to spend a Saturday, unlike Matt who unfortunately worked for about 12 hours. :(

Happy Chinese new year everyone!

Check out this Knitty page and scroll about halfway down to the “Potter Craft” section…

Whoo-hoo!

Today was a good day. The sky was blue, the sun was out, and people were out in t-shirts. I went to a morning capoeira class while Matt swam at the pool across the street, and we met back up around 11. On our way back to the car, we found something that changed our whole day.

We saw our dream home. I just found the listing online and was able to see interior shots, but until then, Matt and I determined it was our dream house simply by peeking through windows and wandering around outside the house. I’m a sucker for large porches, Craftsman style, and detailed windows - and this one had it all. For Matt, the decorated two-car garage had him drooling.

The house had it all. During the summer months, the Queen Anne Farmers Market is held in the parking lot RIGHT next to the house. On the other side of the parking lot is the community center where I take capoeira. Across from the center is the community pool. One street over is Queen Anne Avenue which has a ton of cute shops and restaurants. The house seriously had it all.

We left a voicemail message for the realtor, but in the meantime, we had lunch and then decided to walk around the neighborhood. As we walked, we talked more seriously about moving. Every time we’re in walking neighborhoods, we really enjoy it. We’re the type of people who like to take walks, be outside, and look at other homes and gardens. (I just realized that makes us sound like an old couple…) We also like being within walking distance to shops and restaurants. When we lived in the Central District, we weren’t super close to a lot of things, but what we were close to (Ezell’s and a few Ethiopian restaurants), we took advantage of and walked to a few times. We even walked to downtown a few times, although I wouldn’t necessarily say downtown is “within walking distance” from our old place.

I don’t need or want an obscenely large house, and have always favored smaller, cozier places. But we’re also the type of people who want to get our money’s worth when we buy something. So that usually means being more willing to live further away from walking neighborhoods so that we could get more house for our money. Everyone knows that when you buy a house near shops and restaurants, you’re essentially paying for location. It’s hard for us to justify doing so because we’re not paying for something that is “ours.” Yet, we’re always still longing for a neighborhood where we could walk out and grab a bite within 10 minutes.

So would we really be up for downsizing and being even more mindful of our spendings so that we could live somewhere that we truly enjoyed? What should we be ready to sacrifice? And, more importantly, what are we WILLING to sacrifice?

There are many pluses about the Queen Anne area: My capoeira class would be within walking distance, and Matt could also play basketball at the community center or swim at the pool. We could easily hop on Highway 99 to get to work or other parts of the city. And traffic never seemed horrific going to and from the area.

And then I started to think about the downsides to moving to that area. We sort of feel like we’re part of a community down on the south end. Sometimes when we go out, we run into people we have met from previous churches, our current church, or our neighbors. We both volunteer with programs that are within 15 minutes of our home. Friends in our small group all live within 15 minutes of us.

As I thought about these things and sort of people-watched during lunch, I realized another thing that I would miss: diversity. Everyone in the restaurant, and everyone walking past the restaurant, was white. Now, I have friends of all races, and I don’t discriminate when it comes to getting to know people - but I just feel more comfortable in a multicultural environment. I don’t feel UNcomfortable in a non-multicultural environment (which is basically the case everyday at work, as I’m the only non-white person on my team - and the only one under 40), but I just feel MOST comfortable when there are other races present. (And I don’t mean JUST Asians. Heck, even being in an all-Asian environment makes me feel uncomfortable at times.) I don’t want our kid to be “that Asian kid” in their class or their baseball league. And most likely, our kid would be “the Asian kid” because to most non-Asians, it doesn’t matter if you’re Japanese, Chinese, Korean, Vietnamese, etc. All look same, right? (Then again, I’d want our kids breakdancing or playing capoeira, so the whole race thing might not even be an issue…)

I think that I especially want our kids growing up in a diverse environment because it’s so valuable to be exposed to different races. My high school was incredibly diverse - and I don’t just mean racially, but economically as well. When you’re young, you may not realize it as much. I know that the goal is to not see color when you look at someone, but at the same time, I want to appreciate each person’s differences. Sometimes the differences are personality issues, but sometimes the differences are a product of ethnicity. You can’t deny that it’s beneficial to learn about other cultures and to understand our differences as well as our similarities.

From there, my mind got stuck on the race issue. As diverse as our country (at least certain states) are, it’s sad but true that higher income areas still are dominantly Caucasian, while lower income areas are more culturally diverse. Take our area, for example. Our small dead-end street alone has Filipinos, African-Americans, Laotions, Chinese, and Caucasians. Nearby is the Rainier Valley which is chock full of immigrants from East Asia and East Africa. You’ll probably never see any of them living up in the Queen Anne area.

I told Matt that I would probably feel a teensy bit guilty if we moved to an area like Queen Anne, but I couldn’t explain why. I would almost feel like a sell-out, although we’re definitely not low-income, and there is no reason why I should feel like a sell-out. I guess there’s a sort of comfort level for me in an environment where people are living more with frugality either by choice or by necessity - and I don’t know how I would feel living in a neighborhood where people hire dog walkers or bring their kids to local restaurants to trade Pokemon cards (yes, this took place where we had lunch). When you live in a place where people are more well-off, the focus becomes more on having the “right” baby stroller, the “right” look, having your kids in the “right” league or school, or always having a Starbucks cup in hand.

But then I thought - well, why COULDN’T we live in a neighborhood like this if we could afford it? We could still enjoy the aspects of the area that we already enjoy without being tempted by the social and material pressures that turn people into yuppies. If we have kids, we’d bring them to the Rainier Beach community center to take classes, so how would that be different from taking them to the Queen Anne community center? Why should I feel guilty if we did move into a place like this? There is nothing WRONG with it.

Anyway, after lunch, we walked around and ended up stopping into a few open houses. We loved the cozy homes with so much character (and smaller, more manageable yards). We still hadn’t heard back from the realtor of our dream home, so at one of the open houses, we asked the realtor there if she knew anything about our dream house. She pulled out a listing of all the available homes in the area, and found the one we were referring to. She rattled off a few details, “Four bedrooms, three baths, Craftsman home…$1.2 million…” Right after she listed the price, she gave me a quick glance, probably knowing that it was definitely not what we expected to hear. In fact, it was double what Matt had estimated. It was like someone put a plate of desserts in front of me and then pulled it away, telling me that I could never eat desserts again. Ever.

Later that day, Matt said, “Well, that’s why it’s a dream house - because we could never afford it.” To be able to live there, both of our entire paychecks would need to go toward mortgage, and we wouldn’t have money for food, gas, or anything else. It was disappointing, but it at least gave us a good discussion about our thoughts on where we live, where we’d like to live, and what sort of things we value in a neighborhood.

In the meantime, we’re thankful for our home. We really are. And after hanging out with some guys through our church’s homeless ministry today, and knowing that at least 1 million people in Haiti now are homeless, I could definitely say and mean that I truly am thankful.

I have a fat binder full of old writing exercises and my first blog, which was started on November 26, 2001. Wow, I was a stronger person back then. I still am oddly obsessed with six-pack abs (unfortunately not my own). I also realized that it was back then - new year’s day of 2002 - when I told myself that every time I caught myself saying, “I’ve always wanted to…” then I would make a point to do whatever I wanted to do so that I would no longer look back one day and say, “What if I had done this…” or “I wish I had done that…” It’s still something I try my best to live by.

It’s fascinating to read everything I wrote. Not because I think I’m a great writer, but because there was so much going on - externally and internally. And even now, I remember a lot of the emotions I felt as I was writing those blog entries.

Anyway, I’ve come across a few quotes that I incorporated into my entries, and wanted to share them with you…

“Never apologize for showing feeling. When you do, you apologize for truth.” (Benjamin Disraeli)

“No matter how often defeated, you are born to victory. The reward of a thing well done is to have done it.” (Ralph Waldo Emerson)