Salute to Secretaries

© Dashk | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

© Dashk | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

Offices aren’t what they used to be. When I was a kid, my dad–and everybody else’s dad that I knew–had a secretary. She was always very nice and had candy on her desk, plus she answered his phone, ran his errands, kept his calendar and knew where he was all the time, even when my mom had no idea.

When I got older and got cubicled for the first time, I discovered that these secretaries weren’t just the ones who knew where the bosses were all the time, they were the ones who knew how to make the coffee, operate the copy machine, send a fax or find an extra large paper clip. They also knew when the boss was in a good mood and was likely to say “yes” to a day off, and even more importantly, when the boss was in a bad mood and was likely to bite your head off if you asked him to hold the elevator. Secretaries had super powers like eyes in the backs of their heads, and ears that could hear through walls. They could make appointments appear or disappear with a flick of their pen, and make or break your career with the raise of an eyebrow.

My boss called his secretary his “work spouse,” which was a pretty apt description. He would have been literally lost without her–she printed up a color-coded itinerary (“don’t forget to go potty and eat lunch”) and driving directions for him every day. Now, a whole generation of these Wonder Women seems to be lost. I’m guessing they’ve discovered they have the power of invisibility.

According to the International Association of Administrative Professionals (IAAP), there are more than 4.1 million administrative assistants and secretaries in the United States, but I defy you to find one anywhere but on school campuses.

Call an office today and you’re lucky to get a real live person to answer the phone, let alone a real live person that resides in the same country, let alone the same building, as the person you’re trying to reach. And as to knowing the boss’s whereabouts: good luck. You can try her cell phone, pager, emailing or texting her, but if she doesn’t answer, there’s nothing you can do but sit there in limbo and wonder if she’s mad at you or just taking a day off.

We used to have Secretaries Day, where everyone in the office chipped in for flowers and took our Gal Friday out for their annual lunch. That’s all over with now. Secretaries, where they still exist, have been transformed from the Target to the Tiffany’s of office professionals.

In fact, it’s hard to find anyone who’s not in the White House Cabinet that calls themselves secretaries. The politically correct term is “Administrative Professionals,” with this entire week designated to wine and dine them and generally try to bribe them into making sure your career stays on track.

According the IAAP, there’s been a ginormous evolution in clerical duties in the past 20 years. Where secretaries once took phone messages (remember those little pink slips of paper?), now they “coordinate communications.”

Technology has taken over so many of the tasks that secretaries used to do; we’re now up to Office Assistant version 3.3. Secretaries used to take dictation and shorthand, then type memos and letters. Now they’ve mastered integrated computer software applications and use the work “task” as a verb.

Whereas before we always knew they could do the boss’s job blindfolded with their hands tied behind their backs, now they actually do the boss’s job.

How do you show your appreciation for these unsung someones who run the show? As far as gifts go, forget the candy and the flowers. IAAP’s advice is a presentation from a motivational speaker or a membership in a professional organization, or–get this–a computer hardware/software upgrade. You call that a gift? I say nothing says “thank you” better than cold, hard cash–and pick up your own dry cleaning this week.

What’s your take on secretaries? Send me a memo, or better yet, have your people email my people at Leslie@LeslieDinaberg.com.

Originally appeared in the Santa Barbara Daily Sound on April 27, 2007

My 100th Column

Leslie was very young when she wrote her first column! Image © Daviddomi | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

Leslie was very young when she wrote her first column! Image © Daviddomi | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

Writing 100 columns sounds like a big deal, doesn’t it? You’d think my editor would have thrown me a party or at least bought me a candy bar or something.

I started writing this column right after Koss started kindergarten. When he had his 100th day of kindergarten, they had a big celebration and all of the kids had to bring in 100 of something. Most of the children brought in buttons or pennies or crayons or fish crackers–you know, kid stuff.

As an overambitious first-time kindergarten mom who really needed to impress the teacher, I had the brilliant idea that we bring in a jar filled with 100 wishes. Of course I didn’t realize at the time that Koss only had the attention span to make about 47 wishes, and 23 of those were to have another one of the cookies I used to bribe him to focus on the remaining 69 wishes.

Despite all the duplicate wishes, I eagerly anticipated my gold star from his teacher, who would surely be blown away by our creativity.

Instead she tactfully suggested that perhaps I was giving my son too much sugar, and that his attention span might improve if he expanded his vegetable repertoire beyond potato chips and French fries.

I’ve learned a lot since then. Don’t ever let you kid tell his teacher what he really eats for dinner, for starters. And don’t ever start work on a class project until you’ve had at least one glass of wine.

I’ve learned a little bit about column-writing too. For example, even if I had learned 100 things since I started writing this column, I would never have enough space to include them here. Besides, 100 is an even number, and if there’s one rule I’m absolutely sure of, it’s that odd numbers are funnier than even numbers. My husband told me so. He also seems to think the number 69 is a lot funnier that 67 or 65 for some reason.

Writing this column has really done a lot to deepen my relationship with my husband. Now, instead of crying or throwing things when we fight, I get out my notepad and start taking revenge, I mean, ahem, taking notes.

And when my son does something horribly embarrassing or cute, I get out my camera and my notepad, and sometimes my tape recorder too.

My parents didn’t realize it, but when I started tape recording their childhood stories last weekend, it wasn’t just for the family archives. You never know where you might find new material.

Another great thing I’ve learned is that when you’re writing a column about your life, everything you do can be considered working.

“Why are you napping, Leslie? It’s the middle of the day.”

It’s work. I’m writing a column about napping.

“Why are you shopping/drinking/staring at your navel in the middle of the day?”

I’m working of course. There’s never a minute for myself, I just work, work, work, even when I’m sleeping I work. It’s 25/7 around here.

Apparently writing all of those columns hasn’t done anything to improve my math skills.

This is actually my 101st column. I realized that at some point last week, but I wanted to write about spring break, so I fudged it a little bit.

See, unlike my other job–as a reporter, where you have to pay special attention to things like truth and accuracy–you get to fudge a little when you’re a columnist. So when I tell you that this is my 101st column that doesn’t mean it’s my 101st column for THIS paper; I worked for another paper before this. And it wasn’t my fault they went out of business–although it might have helped if THAT editor had thrown me a party.

Originally appeared in the Santa Barbara Daily Sound on April 13, 2007

My Gym Diary

© Tadija | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

© Tadija | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

The Weight Watchers theory is that writing down what you eat can make you lose weight, so I decided to keep a going-to-the-gym-diary to help me get in better shape. Here is what happened my first seven (non-consecutive) days at the gym.

Day 1- Feel That Credit Card Burn

Like most new endeavors, getting in shape takes motivation, determination, commitment, and cold, hard cash. I want to change my life, so buying the “lifetime gym membership”–where I pay $45 a month for the rest of my life, regardless of whether I ever break a sweat–seems like a really good idea.

I’ll also need new shoes, socks, a gym bag, sweats, a heart rate monitor, water bottle, an iPod and a lifetime subscription to “Ahnold Magazine” to get started on my journey.

No wonder all these people are wiping off their equipment with $20 bills. I guess that’s the price you pay to get in shape.

Day 2 – Just Do It

There’s nothing like new shoes to put a spring in my step. I drive the 12 blocks from my house to the gym, then circle around the lot 17 times before parking 3 blocks away. I’m exhausted before I set foot in the door.

I see some moms I know from school and end up chatting for an hour, while I occasionally look appreciatively at the equipment. If you’re at the gym, does that time count as a workout? I decide that it does and feel a little superior as I leave and notice the same three cars from an hour and a half ago still waiting for parking.

Day 3 – Checking Things Out

I go up to the weight room to look around. The grunting, the cyborg noises and the mirrors all bring back horror movie flashbacks and the armpit-vomit smell reminds me of my college dorm. Maybe I’ll try the cardio machines.

I’m still learning to use the equipment, so I peek over at Skinny Sally’s control panel to see what level and program she’s using on the elliptical machine. Of course I’m not very subtle and almost lose my balance trying to crane my neck for a better view. Must be the traction on my new shoes!

She gives me a dirty, sweaty, scary stare and quickly throws her towel over the lit up panel. Meow! It’s not like I was snooping in her purse, and why is it filled with ex-lax and breath mints?

Day 4 – Not Checking Things Out

I can’t stand it any longer. My bladder’s about to burst like a wicked rhinoceros. I force myself to go into the locker room to pee. As I wash my hands, I try to avoid making eye contact with Skinny Sally, who is completely nude except for her hair dryer, and now friendly as can be.

I sit down on a bench to compose myself.

When I look up, there’s a 95-year-old naked woman, Wrinkled Rhonda, two inches away from my face.

Day 5 – Real Time Versus Gym Time

I keep switching treadmills, but they are all defective. There’s no way I’ve only been working out for 17 minutes. It’s been at least an hour. I try to focus on what I’ll write my column about next week. If I’m thinking about work, can I bill for my time? I would call my accountant, but the gym has gotten very strict about enforcing their no cell phone policy on the gym floor and in the locker rooms–and I don’t have an accountant. Earlier today, Wrinkled Rhonda was naked in the hallway, taking a call from her great great great great grandson.

Day 6 – Power Reading

I have an epiphany. If you read while you’re on the treadmill, the time goes by faster. I should be reading War and Peace for my book club, but Bolkonski and Tolstoy are a lot less compelling than finding out what’s going on with Carmen Electra and Joan Jett.

Is reading the “National Enquirer” at the gym the same as reading it in the grocery store? I’m pretty sure that as long as you read it standing up, then it doesn’t have any calories.

Day 7 — Look Out

I’ve discovered something else about reading at the gym. I can’t read with my glasses and I can’t see other people without them. This is good and bad. My sister still hasn’t forgiven me for not recognizing her the other day. Give me a break. She was pretty sweaty, and very blurry.

On the other hand, if I don’t make eye contact with my high school homecoming date over there on the elliptical machine, maybe he won’t recognize me. Of course I’m twice the woman I was back then–hence the gym membership–so there’s no way he’d recognize me.

I remember from theatre arts that if you’re backstage and you can’t see the audience, they can’t see you either. I wonder if this is how it works at the gym? Maybe I should just take off my glasses when I look at the scale and forget about the gym completely.

Originally appeared in the Santa Barbara Daily Sound March 30, 2007

The Amazing Adventures of Danger Boy and Wimpy Mom

© Kapu | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

© Kapu | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

I stared up at Koss in amazement, as he confidently donned his bike helmet and harness to climb Gibraltar Rock. He looked so little, just a wisp of a boy, yet so excited and sure of himself. I couldn’t help but be impressed. Then I looked down at Rattlesnake Canyon 150 feet below, and almost lost my footing–and my lunch.

What kind of nut job mom lets their seven-year-old kid climb a mountain? Yet, there I was, terrified and shaking, watching from the side of the road. My Little Danger Boy was about to try rock climbing for the first time, with only a rope, a helmet and a harness to protect him from harm.

It was all his teacher’s fault. Teacher Danger Boy is an avid rock climber, and he promised the kids he would take them climbing as a belated Christmas gift. Talk about the gift that keeps on giving–grey hairs. Now it was time for him to “pay up on his promise,” and I was a wreck.

Under normal circumstances I wouldn’t have been anywhere near the mountain. It’s been well documented that I’m not exactly the queen of all things daring and dangerous. My fears are completely rational. When I was 16 years old I took a 25-foot spill down a cliff onto the beach, and therefore all cliffs–even biggish sand dunes–are extremely dangerous and should be avoided at all costs.

OK, I was wearing flip-flops and was too busy flirting with the boy I was with to pay attention to my footing, but that doesn’t change the fact that all cliffs–and even biggish sand dunes–are extremely dangerous and should be avoided at all costs.

But see, Big Danger Boy (a.k.a. my husband Zak) was off on a dangerous “mancation” of his own that day, kayaking down boulder-filled rivers, drinking way too much and supervising a bunch of Neanderthals wobbling their way through a testosterone- and alcohol-fueled makeshift firewalk.

Since Zak was unavailable, I had to be there to “supervise” Koss’s rock climbing adventure. I warned his teacher that I would be watching from the side of the road. Unfortunately, Teacher Danger Boy didn’t pick up on the massive waves of “please don’t make me come and watch this” vibes I was sending his way, and said it would be just fine for me to watch from afar. I could have strangled him with my bare hands, but Koss really wanted to go, and his Wimpy Mom just didn’t have the heart to say no.

Clearly I was the one that needed a helmet to protect me from the blow to the head I must have suffered that got me to edge of this cliff (if 20 feet away is still “edge”).

I flashed back to Big Danger Boy’s skydiving adventure a few years back. I spent what should have been a lovely Saturday with my nerves shot, chained to the telephone. I could have killed him when he came back with a house full of pumped-up revelers, complaining of groin pain.

This time there was stomach pain (mine) as I grabbed my camera with one hand and a tree to steady myself with the other. I don’t even like writing about this, it just wigs me out again. If I could have sent him up there with full body armor and a hovering helicopter I would have, but all I could do at that point was cross my white knuckles, fingers, toes, and eyes and watch from afar as Koss climbed up that mountain like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Through the zoom lens of my camera I could see the huge smile on his face when he got to the top. He was so pumped up and proud of himself. For a split second I thought that maybe I wasn’t such a Wimpy Mom after all.

Originally appeared in the Santa Barbara Daily Sound on June 8, 2007

My Destination Vacation

© Dushenina | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

© Dushenina | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

While most of Santa Barbara was schussing down the slopes at Mammoth or slathering on the sunscreen in Hawaii, I spent my spring break on a guilt trip, once again. I’m a creature of habit and guilt trips are definitely my vacation destination of choice.

Well, not exactly “choice.”

I’d rather be drinking upside down margaritas in Mexico, or yachting in Europe without a care in the world, but given my current bank account, that wasn’t going to be happening this year–again. Like most other creative types who feel incredibly lucky just to be able to eke out a living without selling their souls, when there’s work to be had, I have to work.

Last week just happened to be one of those weeks. It also just happened to be the first week of Koss’s spring break. Yes, that wasn’t a typo. The FIRST week of his spring break. Apparently the families in our school district worked so hard for the three months after our three-week winter break that they need a two-week spring break to oh, say, ski in Mammoth or sun in Hawaii.

Not that I’m bitter or anything. If I could afford to take FIVE weeks off in the middle of the school year and go somewhere glamorous, I’d do it in a heartbeat. I’m sure if I left out enough bowls of cereal, the kid would be fine.

Instead, I sent my son to camp, where he golfed, bowled, fished, hiked, learned a few swear words, and had a marvelous time. I, of course, felt incredibly guilty.

Despite the fact that I take my son to school every day, spend a ridiculous amount of time volunteering at his school when I should be working, then pick my son up from that same school every single day, have a semi-nutritious snack waiting for him in the car, and am always there after school to help him with his homework, schedule play dates, play handball, and take him to soccer/basketball/baseball/whatever else is in season practice–if I spend even a small part of his school breaks working, I feel guilty. If I spend a large part of those breaks working, I feel really guilty.

And if, as was the case last week, I spend a part of those school breaks actually taking a break for myself, say by putting him in camp all day while I do some writing and then go to the movies, I feel really, really guilty. Especially when my husband surprises me and says he wants to go to the movies one night during the week. Do I admit that I’ve actually already seen everything worth seeing? Then I’ll feel really guilty since he’s the one who’s been working full time while I’m doing full time chauffer/ part time career thing from home, which is actually harder, I know, because I’ve worked full time before when he stayed at home, but I feel guilty saying that because I know he’d switch positions with me in a heartbeat if I’d let him.

It’s a vicious cycle. But I’m comforted to know that I’m not the only woman who was raised on a diet of guilt (though mine was well seasoned with plenty of humor, I should add, so that I won’t feel too guilty when my mother reads this). A recent article in the Washington Post told the story of a woman in Virginia who felt so guilty about leaving her family in the evening that she almost missed out on an interesting lecture–titled “Mommy Guilt.”

Honey, I feel your pain, but I’ve decided to play through it anyway.

Rather than guilt tripping about my need to have a little bit of time to myself–and taking it anyway–I’m going to make friends with my guilt and take it on a few more outings this week. You won’t see us on the slopes, unfortunately, but maybe you’ll see us at the movies.

Originally appeared in the Santa Barbara Daily Sound April 6, 2007

Education 101

Are Santa Barbara Schools Making the Grade?

Education 101, story from Santa Barbara Magazine

Education 101, from Santa Barbara Magazine

Education 101, from Santa Barbara Magazine

For better or worse, the days when parents would simply whisk their children off to the nearest school are long gone. Discussions of “where are you sending your child?” dominate local parks, pediatrician’s offices and preschool playgrounds. While there’s no such thing as a one-size-fits-all approach to education, luckily we have lots of options in Santa Barbara. In general, our schools are getting better too–a concerted effort is underway to narrow the achievement gap between middle- to upper-class and low-income students. “Our schools are improving,” according to experts including longtime local educator Gerrie Fausett, the current superintendent of the Hope School District and former principal of Santa Barbara Junior High and Washington Elementary School on the Mesa. She says that schools are “doing a better job educating our students, and have particularly improved in their work with students that are not meeting academic expectations. The improvements and the dedication to making sure that kids are learning what they need to learn are moving forward.” Continue reading

Mating in the Millennium

Stuart Miles (Freedigitalphotos.net)

Stuart Miles (Freedigitalphotos.net)

The singles scene is changing fast.

Leslie Dinaberg tags along to dig up the dish on blind dating — 21st-century style.

MAN SEEKING WOMAN: Funny guy with killer body and money to burn seeks woman who doesn’t believe everything she reads.

Eye catching ad, isn’t it? It should be. That’s the online dating promo for professional online personal ad writer Evan Marc Katz, founder of e-cyrano.com, just one of the many Web sites for people who are looking for love in all kinds of interesting places. Continue reading

Where Silence is Golden

The Immaculate Heart Center for Spiritual Renewal

A feeling of tranquility and peace welcomes visitors as they enter the grounds of Montecito’s historic estate, La Casa de Maria, and head up the oak tree-lined driveway to the grand stone house in the center of the 26-acre nonprofit interfaith retreat and conference center. Once considered holy ground by the Chumash nation, today La Casa de Maria offers a quiet destination for people of all faiths to escape the stress of everyday life and deepen their spirituality through individual and couples retreats in the intimate surroundings of the Immaculate Heart Center for Spiritual Renewal, or in group gatherings throughout La Casa’s campus.

La Casa’s property was originally part of the San Ysidro Ranch; then became El Prado Rancho, the first lemon orchard in the area; then later became Rancho El Bosque, which brought the addition of the estate house, designed by architect Mary Craig. The home, which now houses the Immaculate Heart Center, remains mostly intact today, featuring stone quarried from nearby San Ysidro Creek, hand-carved teak ceilings, distinctive Italian fireplace mantels, and courtyard tiles from Spain.

“It is a very prayerful surrounding,” says Carol Carrig, the center’s director since 1997. Offering a spiritual bed and breakfast getaway, with delicious organic meals made from produce grown on the property and prepared by the Immaculate Heart Community of former nuns, guests often start out visiting for a few days, then come back again for longer retreats. “They realize that they’re getting in getting in touch with the deeper things that are going on within themselves,” says Carrig.

But beneath the peace and solitude of the center lies a long and storied history, not just of faith, but also of integrity, determination, and vision.

In 1943 Novice Mistress Mother Regina McPartlin, along with 12 novice Sisters of the Immaculate Heart of Mary, turned the estate into a Novitiate, where young women train to become nuns. While they pursued religious life on La Casa’s grounds, the peaceful surroundings were also gaining a reputation in Hollywood. Stars such as Irene Dunne, Loretta Young, and Ricardo Montalban came for retreats, holding prayer services in the Novitiate by day, while staying overnight at the Biltmore. In 1955, La Casa de Maria Retreat House formed and became the first retreat center for Catholic married couples. “Every weekend for probably 15 years, 40 married couples came to La Casa. The priests said mass for them, gave them conferences, they renewed their marriage vows, and had wonderful weekends,” says Stephanie Glatt, director of La Casa de Maria.

During the 1960s, there were conflicts between James Francis McIntyre-the Cardinal Archbishop of Los Angeles who oversaw the Immaculate Heart community-and the sisters’ understanding of the Vatican’s directive to update the church for contemporary times. “McIntyre said, ‘either follow what I say or give up your vows,'” recalls Carrig. “So that’s what we decided to do. To remain a community and to follow what we believed should be the right direction-but everybody had to give up their vows.”

The sisters took the revolutionary step of evolving into the Immaculate Heart Community, an ecumenical group of men and women, both single and married. Rather than fall apart, as many predicted, the Immaculate Heart Community has stayed together and thrived, with almost 200 members still active around the world. The community has operated the Immaculate Heart Center for Spiritual Renewal since 1974, opening its doors for private retreats for people of all faiths.

“It feels like a holy land. Not like Christian, I mean it just feels that the meditation, the peace, the quiet there is special,” says author/psychotherapist Alyce Faye Cleese, one of La Casa’s patrons. She calls the sisters “renegade nuns,” adding, “their story, for their day as women, was an extraordinary piece of women’s lib really-their courage and their bravery and their saying, ‘We’re women, we can do this and we will survive.'”

Today La Casa offers a wide array of programs, such as 12 Step Retreats; the Sacred Art of Living and Dying (for caregivers); Kaballah (Jewish Mysticism) (Jewish Mysticism); Waking up on Earth: Spiritual Life in a Time of Crisis; Centering Prayer Practice Retreats; Recovering Religion as a Work of the Imagination; and Capacitar, which combines Tai Chi, meditation and other practices that integrate spirituality and body wisdom.

In 2005, the Immaculate Heart Community bought back the entire property and is now in the process of a $7.7 million capital campaign. In addition to paying off the mortgage, they also plan to renew the conference buildings, preserve the ecology of the site-including the creating a sustainable agricultural site that protects native plants; developing an organic orchard/garden to provide the produce for the dining rooms; and improving the overall health of the citrus orchard and native Coast Live Oak grove-and develop additional La Casa-sponsored programs. “Part of that is our plan to integrate La Casa de Maria with the greater community and have more people understanding what we’re doing and supporting our program,” says capital campaign chair Christine Garvey, a retired banker. “We’ve mobilized a lot of the neighbors.”

One “neighborly” recruit is capital campaign cabinet member Joan Kreiss, a physician who did AIDS research in Africa before moving to town seven years ago. “What I love about La Casa de Maria is its rich sense of history,” she says. “For our family-and this is particularly important for my children-living next door to La Casa de Maria… gives a sense of context, a sense of being part of a historical continuum.”

“It’s kind of like Peter Pan, you have to believe,” says Cleese. “Not in God, just believing in the goodness of people and the goodness of nature and that something (like La Casa de Maria) is worth existing.”

For more information on La Casa de Maria, call Stephanie Glatt at 969.5031 ext. 204 or visit www.lacasademaria.org.

Originally published in Santa Barbara Magazine

First Time Home Buyers: The American Dream … the South Coast Reality

Google maps photo

Google maps photo

Breaking into the local real estate market is tough but not impossible. Leslie Dinaberg explores who’s buying for the first time and how.

Practicality, frugality and focus were the key values that got Jonathan and Kara Rocque into their first home, at 7126 Del Norte Dr. in Goleta. Both UCSB graduates, the Rocques lived in a one-bedroom apartment and didn’t really upgrade their lifestyle much after college in order to save money for a house.

They started making offers right after they married, about 2-1/2 years ago, but Jonathan said he wasn’t really ready to buy until recently. “People always say ‘get in as soon as you can,’ but … at the same time, I really have no regrets not getting in any sooner because I wasn’t ready.” An engineer, he said he worked for a start-up company and was worried about job stability.

“I think I got to the point where I gained more confidence in myself and that things were going to be okay,” said Jonathan, who now works for Indigo Systems, which recently merged with FLIR Systems.

When he felt really ready to buy, Jonathan had the willing assistance of his father, John Rocque, a realtor and mortgage broker in San Dimas.

Another factor that kept the Rocques from buying quickly was their expectation of what they would be able to afford. “We started thinking that we wanted our dream home out of the shoot, and I think that’s what delayed our purchase, probably,” said Jonathan.

The three-bedroom two and a half-bathroom home the Rocques eventually bought this year for $659,500 has a studio apartment (garage conversion) on the property, a big selling point. “We were looking at these two-bedroom one-bath cottages and went, I just can’t do it. There’s got to be something out there that’s better because it doesn’t leave us the flexibility to grow,” said Jonathan. “When we saw this place with the studio I just thought ‘Oh God, couldn’t be better.’ I could give up the garage and take the extra income that will definitely help.”

Kara noted the backyard had a shed for storage, making it easier for her to give up the garage space. Being able to have a vegetable garden was also important to her, as was the school district. “Basically any school in Goleta, I’m totally comfortable with,” said Kara, who teaches first grade at La Patera.

The Rocques also knew what they didn’t want: no condos and no commuting. “The whole reason we live in Santa Barbara is the lifestyle,” said Jonathan. “I ride my bike. I love the mountains. I love riding by the ocean. I love the weather. I value my time … I’m not going to drive an hour each way to work. I’d go somewhere else where I could live close,” he said.

“I don’t think either one of us ever wants to move into one of the new developments because they’re so crunched together,” added Kara. “Yeah they look pretty, they’re nice and new, but to me this has more character than those houses. You can paint it whatever color you want to paint it; you can do whatever you want with your yard.”

While the Rocques would eventually like to move to a larger house, they are fixing up their yard and treating the house like a home.

“It’s not short term, but it’s not forever,” said Kara.

“This house easily gets us ten years,” said Jonathan. “If we wanted to, at some point we’ll refinance and we could reclaim that space (the studio).”

And as for the realities of being able to afford to stay on the South Coast, they credit much of their success to Patrick Flood, the financial consultant Jonathan began working with when he graduated from college. The Rocques said they feel both blessed and proud to be able to get into the housing market

“I like taking on challenges too. I took a major in college … that was challenging. And staying in Santa Barbara was a big challenge, but I was going to do it. I was really, really happy that we could,” said Jonathan.

Added Kara: “If we can do it here then we can do it anywhere.”

Originally published in South Coast Beacon

Java Joys

Courtesy Daily Grind

Courtesy Daily Grind

Ah, that rich, strong aroma of coffee. For some of us it’s the only thing that makes getting out of bed worthwhile. Even if you’re more interested in soaking up the atmosphere than the caffeine, it’s fun to know the 411 on local coffee houses.

Here’s my two cents. I’m sure others will disagree, and I’d be happy to debate them, as long as it’s over a latte.

Best overall

Red’s (211 Helena) – the “anti-Starbucks” in the heart of the Funk Zone, this place gets an A+ for funky ambiance and friendly staff. Red’s has an individual’s vision and personality written all over it, with eclectic art pieces, jewelry and purses for sale. Red’s serves lattes in handmade ceramic cups that are as individual as this fun new hangout. They also serve breakfast and lunch, as well as wines by the glass. This homey spot attracts an artsy neighborhood crowd that makes for interesting people watching. If only the chairs were a little more comfortable I would never want to leave.

Good Cup (1819 Cliff Dr.) – this coffee house reflects the upscale, healthy, family-oriented neighborhood the Mesa has become. In additional to first-rate coffee, they also offer gelato, smoothies, sandwiches and a great-looking quiche. The halo over the logo and the “good karma” tip jar gives you a taste of Good Cup’s spiritual bent. They offer a cool selection of things to buy with a bit of a new age/feminist bent, including a “smart women thirst for knowledge” cup and a Virgin Mary beach bag. The crowd is a mix of Mesa moms (think cute kids and Yoga pants), students and professionals from both the white and blue-collar crowd.

Best lattes

Northstar Coffee (918 State St.) – their foam is indeed a work of art. A little more expensive, but this is the place to go if you want to really treat yourself. Unfortunately, the decor is upscale generic and the place is mostly packed with tourists. Just close your eyes and pretend you’re in Italy.

Muddy Waters (508 E. Haley St.) – the service is “pierced and tattooed with attitude” and the decor is straight outta Santa Cruz, but the lattes are among the best in town. Not a bad people watching spot either.

Good strong, cups of Joe

Peet’s Coffee & Tea (3905 State St.) – Peet’s is almost a religion in the Bay Area, but here on the South Coast we tend to prefer our coffee with a little foam, and our coffee houses with a few more amenities, which is probably why there’s only one of the Peet’s chain in this area. The beans are excellent and other than at 8 a.m., there’s almost never a line.

Jeannine’s Bakery (1253 Coast Village Rd., 3607 State St. and inside Gelson’s at 3305 State St.) – also serves Peet’s coffee, along with the best carrot cake in town.

Santa Barbara Roasting Company (607 Paseo Nuevo and 321 Motor Way) – ROCO has gentrified its look with a new Paseo Nuevo store but the coffee still gets an old-school A+. It’s strong, hot and rich. On weekends I prefer the locals-only crowd on Motor/Lower State, which fills up with adorable young ballerinas (and their parents) from the nearby Gustafson Dance School.

Best ice blended drinks

The Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf (3052 De la Vina St., 811 State St. and 5745 Calle Real) – this is where the iced blended mocha trend started and they still make the best. Plus, the staff on State Street is goofily friendly and the De la Vina and Calle Real chains are great places to run into old friends.

Best people watching and eavesdropping

Coffee Cat (1201 Anacapa St.) – it’s cattycorner from the courthouse and right across the street from the county staff offices. Need I say more?

Starbuck’s (1046 Coast Village Rd.) – the only place in town where you simultaneously see Hollywood types discuss the latest hot screenplay with the same passion that Westmont students discuss “the word.” For some strange reason, this Starbuck’s is also a great place to see unusual breeds of dogs.

Hot Spots Espresso Company (36 State St.) – not only is this the only 24-hour coffee house in town, it’s also a living, breathing student UN. Definitely the only place in town you can routinely hear French, German, Russian and Chinese spoken simultaneously.

Vices and Spices (3558 State St.) – one of the oldest coffee places in town, this is a great place to run into old friends and find out the latest San Roque gossip. People still play checkers, read books and write in journals here, as opposed to talking on their cell phones and scanning the headlines.

Friendliest service

Mojo Coffee (7127 Hollister Ave.) – When the Beacon was in Goleta, Mojo Coffee was right downstairs. I started every day with good Mojo thanks to the friendly smiles of Chris and his staff, the only college students without attitude in town.

Espresso Roma (1101 State St.) – while the one near De la Guerra Plaza has closed, the one near the Beacon is still thriving, thanks in part to the truly nice people that brew these beans. The staff is always ready with a smile, and a fast cup of good, strong, reasonably priced coffee. Plus they make their own delicious muffins, croissants and cookies and sell them for half price at the end of the day.

Starbuck’s (Five Points Center) – Starbuck’s coffee and the decor might be consistent throughout the known universe, but the staff in Five Points is truly a notch above the others in the chain. If only it weren’t so hard to park …

Best lunch

The Daily Grind (2001 De la Vina St.) – their sandwiches are delicious and big enough to split. They also make really good soups; don’t miss the chicken and dumpling. Goleta Coffee Company (177 S. Turnpike Rd.) has the same menu but the San Marcos High School crowd and strip mall location gives it a totally different vibe.

Best breakfast

Jeannine’s Bakery (1253 Coast Village Rd., 3607 State St.) – fabulous baked goods, impeccable presentation. They have a full, cooked breakfast menu, as opposed to just muffins and burritos, and the coffee’s pretty darn good too.

Neighborhoods most in need of a coffee house

Cabrillo Boulevard – it’s hard to believe that this tourist Mecca lacks even a Starbucks, but the closest coffee house is at Hot Spots on lower State.

Milpas Street – sure there are donut and bagel places, but there’s not a single coffee house to be found on this bustling street.

Westside/San Andres – another mixed use neighborhood without a coffee house.

Originally published in South Coast Beacon