Wednesday, December 2, 2015

Helpless, Hopeless, I Can't Tell Anymore

  • I feel utterly helpless with how much anger is being displayed in the world.  so much with the innocent people.
  • I can't imagine what others feel, who are currently or have experienced tragedy in the face of violence.  it's sickening.
  • I throw on my completely fucking defensive pants in honour of my friends who are threatened in person or on social media, yet feel downright powerless to help them.  once is too many.

Helping people is what I do, it's who I am, and I want nothing more than to drape a gigantic, impenetrable protective cape over everyone I know.  I want to keep them safe, but I can't.  I want to run and be their deflector shield against anything hurtful, but that's impossible.  I want to change what is broken, but all I can do is question.  I should also extend this to people I've never met, but I don't have enough fight left.

I'm not scared, but it makes you think.  it's not fair.  life isn't fair and when it comes to threats and brutality against innocent people, especially my friends, that's bullshit.

~~~~~

To my knowledge, I have never been in a situation where my life was in danger.  I have not faced death, have not had to fight for my life, nor been forced to do anything I didn't want to.  I have absolutely made a crapload of bad decisions, so I feel lucky none of those turned worse.  But bad decisions shouldn't come with an asterisk warning of "maybe this time."

I have no experience with daily barrages of peoples opinions who vehemently disagree with mine.  Not bombarded with nonsense by persons who feel the need to just be shitty to other humans.  And how would I feel if I did?  How do you learn to live/deal/excuse/ignore when all your might is geared towards educating the wrong.  Just because it happens a lot, doesn't make it right; I can empathize.  fucking human response, you can't argue with stupid.

I don't know what the answer is and these words are no solution.  But words in themselves, can be.  right?  I can be, right?  Words can change legislation, correct the wrongs of bygone eras, educate and help provide valuable treatment to those who need it most.  We have seen little to no course correction, but does that mean we should stop asking?  stop demanding?  I don't want this to be normal anymore, or an ever will be.

I'm angry.  I'm angry at faceless numbskulls who either get off by being assholes or aren't getting the help they need for a mental illness condition.  So I am angry because they showed me who they were.  I come from a place of compassion and care for people that do not deserve wretched hatred slung at them, while they are coming from a place of vile.

Does that mean I'm like them in some way? gawd I hope not.





PS: also, you guys know prayers are useless, right?

Pain's Backstory

5 years ago on November 30, 2010, Travis and I sat in near silence as we drove to Cedars Sinai for his back surgery.  His MAJOR back surgery.  A surgery that would take months to heal from.  We were both scared for our own reasons, but it was something totally necessary not just for his body, but for his life.


I held his hand tightly in mine, the entire ride.


~~~~~

I met Travis when his back was bad.
I married Travis when his back was shit.
I nearly lost Travis when his back was to the breaking point.

~~~~~

For seven years, I watched Travis fight daily against chronic pain, against worsening depression, and against everything telling him to quit.  For seven years, I learned how to maneuver my way through our life, being both a support system and lady friend.  I witnessed more mornings than I care to remember filled with gasps and screams.  The pain pills would make him fall asleep in the middle of a sentence and in meetings; he couldn't work.  We missed parties, movies, dinners and life because he was crippled with nerves that wouldn't shut up.  He tried desperately to remain positive it would all turn out ok, for him and for me.  He worked hard at the illusion things were normal - he had to cling to that dream or it would all be for naught.  And I did too - I was the loudest about it, because that would be the most important thing I could do, or at least control.  Silently I sobbed as it became harder and harder for this truly, most fucking significant person in my life to remain capable, to remain funny, to remain my partner, and to remain upright.

I would spend countless hours massaging his low back, waiting for sleep to reign down.  He had certain mannerisms that indicated it was coming and I would breathe, knowing it was the only time he would occasionally be granted respite.  And that relief was for me, too.  As the pain increased, naturally so did the seemingly erratic behavior, the anger, the depression.  I was constantly adjusting to the unpredictable whims of his nerves, which could lash out at any moment.  It was exhausting; we both were exhausted.

If you've never taken care of a person with a chronic condition,  needing a break may sound selfish.  It's not.  It's such an emotional, stressful existence for everyone involved, if you don't take care of yourself you're no good to the other person.  I had to master this on my own.  Dealing with the unknown and us being so young, I had no one to turn to.  These are old people problems, right?  We're supposed to have a bunch of years before theoretically facing any health junk... Sure, friends were around in the best way they knew how, but there was no context for them to truly understand the type of encouragement I needed, the support, or that my huge accumulation of guilt was normal.  I barely understood, let alone an outsider.  I dissolved more and more as a person, to where I was simply Travis' caregiver - not his old lady.

His L4/5 was near collapsed.
His L3/4 was in jeopardy of doing the same.




~~~~~

For a long time, he bounced around from doc to doc, test to test, med to med looking for answers and I was right there taking notes.  We arranged speculative surgeries & implanted devices, hoping we'd stumble upon the cure.  At first, no one mentioned degenerative disc disease, which was both hereditary and induced by his young-man weight lifting.  Initially, no one told us how long it had been progressing and that it was a miracle he was still able to walk.  He was put on hardcore narcotics by a surgeon, as a way to deal with the pain instead of correct it.  That person ended up abandoning him by refusing to answer our phone calls, let alone refill the prescription he started.  Mother fucker left us cold and on our own to oversee a legal addiction.  We finally found a pain management clinic who could properly administer the dosages, yet even they didn't diagnose his common acute illness depression.  Never discussed or suggested a therapist who could help talk through these traumas each of us were going through.  By the end he was taking one of the highest dosages of Oxycontin that could be given to someone not being induced into a coma, who was simply waiting to die.  His quality of life nearly becoming moot.

Now here's not to say Travis was never given option plans - he was.  For a long time, we were never in a position to either medically or financially do anything about it, so that was fun.  Some doctors were incompetent as was their office, some were dismissive and cruel, and others never made sense.  In what would later became the procedures Travis got, at the time they were suggested either the risks far outweighed the benefits OR it wasn't even available in the US.  This was the case for fusion and disc replacement.  Both had been suggested over the years, even before I knew him.  Fusion was common practice for collapsing discs.  But in the early days, that involved taking part of his hip (rather than a cadaver bone,) shoving it into his spine, having it take well over a year to heal, his hip would be messed up forever, his mobility would be greatly compromised and in the end, there was little confidence the problem wouldn't persist or spread.  yeah no.  The disc replacement was a technique developed in Germany and had been used in Europe for years, so the orthopedic surgeons Travis was consulting with were stoked about that being the best option.  But the US considered the device experimental and thus not approved by the FDA.  They loved it so much because the experience was basically opposite of everything fusion was.  HELL YEAH LET'S DO IT!  But until 2010, it seemed completely unattainable for a couple of young kids, so it was like why the fuck did they even suggest this wondrous idea...

Desperate, I researched americans going to Germany for procedures and just like every other avenue we pursued, it too, became nearly impossible to materialize.


We weren't yet living in a society where our government finally eliminated truly wrong pre-existing condition insurance clauses, which prevented people from getting the treatment they needed.  His carrier was legally able to repeatedly deny most treatments, year after year, especially the replacement.  We appealed every time, provided boatloads of research and backup, only to be disregarded by some general physician yuck who had no experience in spines.  And not just like sorry, try again.  Like seriously, we're sick of you, stop asking, we said no, now pay us our $600 p/mo so we can continue to service basically your meds.  Good luck.

I call bullshite.

Being faced with a problem and no apparent solution, made the tiniest part of me fall into hopeful denial he would just somehow get well.  The 99.999999.2% remainder of my brain knew better and it was hopelessness, defeatment.  I had no one who could advocate on our behalf; I didn't have enough cash to buy our way out, his insurance was a joke, at one point I even considered writing the local news asking for help getting in front of the medical review board...  I was a 20-something lass who was alone.  But I could never let him know that, I never let anyone know.

~~~~~

Travis did have days where he felt better, which only meant 'ok enough to do an activity beyond laying down.'  Early 2010, we had just taken delivery of a new couch and a few pieces of furniture needed to be moved back, which I always insisted he let me do.  Yet that day he offered to grab a chair - it was maybe 10 pounds, maybe. That was the piece that broke the Travis' back.  Something popped and instantly became an entirely new level of pain.  bloody hell.

Weeks after, although I don't remember the exact date, became our day of infamy.  I remember the moment vividly.  He was laying on the older couch that hurt least, writhing from side to side because he couldn't get comfortable, we were both crying, he couldn't stop screaming from his bodies' inability to have of a moment of reprieve.  I had become accustomed to these ups and downs, but this was an entirely different low.  I often had Travis squeeze my hand during flare ups, because it was the smallest gesture I could offer to take any portion of the hurt away.  That night was the tightest grip he'd ever had, probably close to breaking my fingers.  I never asked him to stop.  And instead of going through my reassurance rolodex, I flashed back to a very scary & personal thought he shared with me about suicide, not that long before this night.  As I sat on the floor, his hand crushing mine, looking at his face, assessing the state of things, feeling like every second is a year, I thought to myself "I understand wanting to make the pain stop.  How could I deny him that..."

Yes.  I did and it was the most real & compassionate thought I had at the time.  It's why I will always, fully support any legislation that allows people the right to die with dignity.  You may disagree, but I've spent years facing this first hand and in certain circumstances when all hope is lost, that may be the only thing to eliminate the suffering.  Most people will never experience a person going through something like that; It's horrific and emotionally immeasurable.  I get it, it's some heavy shit. But you have to put on a different pair of pants for a moment.  If you have ever spent more than 5 minutes with a person dealing with chronic, physical pain, especially one you care so much about the word love doesn't even come close to conveying how you feel, you would do anything to spare them.


It was right after that I knew I had to do something.  This was not a life.

~~~~~


Through crying pleas for help, that's when I called our dear friend Kevin, who selflessly left band practice to come over.  Normally, Travis didn't ever want to bother anyone with his pain, but Kevin was in a unique position to actually understand what he was going through.  He was the surgical assistant to like the top US orthopedic surgeon who was now performing the disc replacements.  For years, he & Travis had spoken about the health of his back and ways he could alleviate discomfort.  But we never pursued consults because his boss was in such demand, he didn't take insurance.  I knew how much our medical bills were on a regular basis, how could I ever think we'd be able to afford a top surgeon who only takes cash?!  However, we found out that night, due to a long series of misinformation and misassumptions, we were wrong.  We were so wrong...

Kevin gave us life changing information, which simply was "here's a hug, it'll be ok, call the office, tell them I sent you, and setup an appointment.  They will work with you...."  That was all it took (as I sit here crying, replaying all the years we fought to move forward an inch, were pushed back a mile, and he swoops in saving Travis' life in one conversation.)  :-)  We will forever be grateful.


With help from Kevin & adjustments to his medication, we were able to temporarily reduce some of the grossness until we could meet with the guy a month later.  It's still difficult to think about Travis' high tolerance for pain and this reduction was simply getting him back to the crappy feelings he was used to.  It was motivating in an odd way.

After the doc did his set of tests, we discovered Trav's L4/5 had deteriorated so bad disc replacement was no longer an option.  Not what we wanted to hear, but the advances with fusion either eliminated or greatly reduced those initial challenges - so we agreed.  And because we were now married and he was on my way better insurance, they approved anything related to said fusion would be covered.  yes.  For the disc above, L3/4, doc suggested doing the replacement since fusions often affect the upper/lower vertebrae because of the stress placed on the joints.  The replacement, in theory, should stop any degenerating progression and he was a good candidate at that level.  Yet anything related to the disc was 100% out of pocket.  I wasn't going to let that stop us this time and vowed to make it happen.  We sold stuff & took advances on several credit cards.  You do what you have to, right?

Travis' major surgery to regain his life, was finally scheduled.

This certainly wasn't his first, but hopefully his last.
I don't ever want to revisit his backstory.


~~~~~

Cash out of pocket:
- $10,000 for the disc
- $12,000+ for the surgeon & operating room fees associated to the disc
- a few thousand misc dollars for other things I can't remember

Thankfully our insurance covered the fusion, hospital stay, $50 aspirins, x-rays, nurses who were amazing, etc.  Their potion was over $300,000, which I couldn't imagine having to repay every cent of those exorbitant prices.  I wish I could help the people who have to...

~~~~~

In Travis' words, from 30th November, 2015:


Saturday, November 28, 2015

What I Didn't Tell You: Installment 4

Posts 1 - 3 found here.

What I've discovered since starting this show-and-tell on the 14th of April, 2014, is that this decision to expose my drafts is a fantastic & positive thing.  I've gained confidence while writing this here journal and yet, never really stop to appreciate the opportunity to tell myself good job now and again.  Both Travis and therapy are a continual, supportive reminder I should change that.

PS: A few of these are rad (see 4) and extra hard not to actually post for realz.  But those are the invisible breaks and I choose to stand by them.

High Five!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Again, the rules are:

  • I save them for any number of uninteresting reasons
  • I may have posted the exact or some form of said tweet
  • I present them exactly how they were saved, typos or non-sense and all

And now, Installment 4.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  1. I have a few found crush on Vincent Piazza, the fella who played Tommy DeVito in Jersey Boys. (whispers and by crush, I mean he's cute.) (April 4, 2015. 11:53pm)
  2. When this guy at the stores all "Ma'am, you do wrestling down here on the corner?"  And I'm all "Sir, I'm a married woman." (April 17, 2015. 7:30pm)
  3. I really wish they'd bring back Finders Keepers #GameShow (April 28, 2015. 9:26pm)
  4. Landscape Architects do it from the ground up. (April 30, 2015. 6:46pm)
  5. Do Your Part! Report water losers, so the Water Cops can flash their badges. http://www.ladwpnews.com/go/doc/1475/2226042/LADWP-Water-Conservation-Response-Unite-Takes-to-the-streets-to-Curb-Water-Waste (May 1, 2015. 11:34am)
  6. I just realized I don't know how to abbreviate Hawaii.  Is it HA or HI?  Either way, it's quite jolly. (May 5, 2015. 10:37pm)
  7. Taking a 10-100. (May 7, 2015. 12:09pm)
  8. Saw a license plate holder for what I thought was UC Breakfsst.  If go there  (May 11, 2015. 7:41pm)
  9. When you put on brave pants to go waterfall repelling, get there, but you're not listed on the manifest.  Because it's tomorrow.  (May 21, 2015. 2:36pm)
  10. I'm really digging The Girl on the Train, which is our current book club selection.  Although I keep imagining she's on the Ticket to Ride train. ;-) (May 28, 2015. 3:18am)
  11. An automatic toilet that flushes on its own, is possessed by a peemon. (devil face emoji) (toilet emoji) (May 30, 2015. 4:12pm)
  12. A man bun riding a bucket and air drumming. (June 1, 2015. 6:31pm)
  13. When I stood in between two houses and em watches a guy sing (June 3, 2015. 5:22pm)
  14. A Porto potty is a dirty Tardis. (June 12, 2015. 6:24am)
  15. Henny ponders, "What cooks?" (June 14, 2015. 7:57pm)
  16. Won a free Blue Apron box from work for achieving Level 4 during our step challenge.  I cooked the first of three meals tonight: calzones.  It took two hours instead of one and the kitchen had an eruption of dishes.  So that sucks.  But it was cheese & taste tastic!  I don't think we'll order the delivery on our own though.  Each serving seems too high in calories and the portions are wonky. (June 14, 2015. 8:20pm)
  17. Cereal is literally the downfall of my nutritional society. (June 14, 2015. 9:10pm)
  18. clock tease. (June 20, 2015. 7:48am)
  19. Tonights therapy session sponsored by Kleenex. (June 22, 2015. 6:07pm)
  20. Remember, The Fonz never ignores a challenge. (June 22, 2015. 10:10pm)
  21. The Wire, but with Monopoly. (June 22, 2015. 11:50pm)
  22. Here's a draft tweet frkm xxx ago. I then dreamt about ordering a dozen different donuts, all of which were knew to these people in my dream, and they wouldn't make up their mind about which one to try.  So I took a knife, cut little slices from each and went to town.  Reminding them how much their missing out.  At least my dentures were ok this time.  Now we're on a cruise ship that docked and I need to "run home" for something.  I don't renener what.  But when I got there, a few candles were burning.  Glass kind.  The realiEd I was duped wrapped up in blanket (June 23, 2015. 6:39am)
  23. Dreamt our roof was leaking, water pouring down all the walls.  So either I'm feeling like there's no way to overcome something or (June 25, 2015. 8:12am)
  24. This dude at our local farmers market sells orgasmically sweet strawberries.  Feels like I should take them to dinner first or something. (June 27, 2015. 9:52am)
  25. I just ordered a sandwhich by saying "I'd like the shoes please, but not the hat." (June 29, 2015. 1:04pm)
  26. How many building engineers does it take to get our a candy bar that got stuck in the vending machine?  At my work, apparently 3. (July 1, 2015. 10:21am)
  27. I've invested way too much effort, and been unsuccessful at, getting a picture of my fitbit when it shows 666.  The devil laughs another day.  (July 2, 2015. 11:47am)
  28. I <3 that Clementine gets me!! http://twitter.com/clementinesford/status/618870720987172864 (July 8, 2015. 5:42pm) 
  29. Making food for one is a bummer. I think that's why I used to eat so much cereal. (July 9, 2015. 9:21am)
  30. Elevate... The flavor profile.  - our Dalek grill  (July 11, 2015. 9:24am)
  31. I'm always a little sad when I see a lone sock on the street, because I'll never know its sole. (July 11, 2015. 9:27am)
  32. I'm close enough that I walk to therapy, which must have significance, although I haven't made the connection yet. #theraputhack (July 20, 2015. 4:51pm)
  33. The best part of having to park furthest away at the market is riding the shopping cart for the longest time!! (July 25, 2015. 6:38pm)
  34. A chicken who claims a game is rigged cries fowl. (July 26, 2015. 9:11am)
  35. Is 4 months too long to forget about putting the registration tags on your car (July 30, 2015. 11:30pm)
  36. Hair Ye, Hair Ye, I hereby declare: reddish < blond < whiff of lavender <3 (August 7, 2015. 4:21pm)
  37. I fully understand the amusement of my choice to bring a box of Cap't Crunch Donut Cereal into a fancy compassion dispensary. (August 8, 2015. 7:30pm)
  38. When a 60-something fella with a giant phone & notepad tells you how much he likes your shirt, but not in a creepy way. #CaptainPrettyBlouse (August 11, 2015. 1:22pm)
  39. Wearing this tshirt, a guy stopped to tell me he has one but his other car is a Tradis.  Then I saw a vanity plate with the same thing! (August 18, 2015. 6:12pm)
  40. I just took down ALL the spider highways, so if they're looking for them, please check my hair, face, arms & sanity. (August 18, 2015. 6:18pm)
  41. Asked Travis to make dinner because I suddenly got a headache for unknown reasons. Then I remembered the 8 hour work from home/year the roof off bang fest I endured.  (August 18, 2015. 9:18pm)
  42. I get so elated looking at our new roof, I'm pretty sure all millenials collectively just XXX. (August 29, 2015. 6:41am)
  43. It's not proper etiquette to wear white panties after Labor Day. (September 9, 2015. 11:54am)
  44. When you're the only taco in a sea of pickles. (September 17, 2015. 11:54am)
  45. I watched the white Bronco chase, completely unaware of what it meant at the time. Just like, this is weird. I was 13. (September 25, 2015. 11:15pm)
  46. I member a mature friend called, asking "Do you have O.J.!?" I pretended to not know what she meant cuz I thought watching news wasn't cool. (September 25, 2015. 11:16pm)
  47. But this chick was smart & confident. She was like dude "OJ! He's getting away!" We stayed on the phone, watching it unfold for a long time. (September 25, 2015. 11:17pm)
  48. It was the first time I realized you could be hip AND informed! I detested those other 'girlfriends' attitude to dumb it down for the boys. (September 25, 2015. 11:21pm)

Sunday, November 22, 2015

A Year Of Writing: 2015-7-1108


It hurt.  It always hurt when I thought about it, but I could never bring myself to stop.  Why did I crave a good, honest real-life torture.  what did I ever gain by thinking and looking, looking and thinking, driving myself mad to the point I could no longer scream?!


more pain behind these pale eyes who had already witnessed enough.


I tried to quit.  I did.  I found ways to trick my brain into thinking of literally anything else, but those moments escaped quickly.  I would cry far too often because of it.  c’mon, just a little bit of relief… but the images always found their way back into my blood, like the drug I was fiending for.

It wasn’t fair.  I’d already hurt enough.

~~~~~

I was waiting for the elevator to bring its bell of arrival, I’d pushed the call button like forever ago.  I stared down at my shoes and my clothes, wishing I was someone else.  somewhere else.  I want a new life, just for a bit.  Total Recall really had something there.  A new body to flaunt or hide, it would be fun.  I kid everyone, everyday - these clothes aren’t me anymore.  That person doesn’t exist.

finally.

The usual crowd stepped into our communal casket, day after day, head bowed towards the cold light transmitting from their hand.  No one ever says good morning anymore, it’s quite annoying.  I’m not any better, I’m such a hypocrite.  Something distracted me today and my eyes remained upright.

It was quick, almost nothing.  My soul sent up a signal flare, triggering the side head tilt that meant more.  I had to see why.  Something was calling my attention, but it was void of any sound.  It was howling silently to spot it.

And then I did.

And then I stopped breathing and then I passed out.  As I did, my brain acknowledged what I’d been socially inflicting on my eyes for months, was now in front of me.  And my bodies’ best defense was to give up.  I wasn’t strong enough to sustain real life.

A Year Of Writing: 2015-4-1007b


“what time is it?  how long have i been asleep? “  There is partitioned light bursting through every cracked wooden slat, filling the room, but few shadows.  I panic; launch my darting looks into a heap, scattering them around the room, hoping something will sonar back the answer.  nothing.  “it’s chilly, but barely fall adjacent.  i know this.  i’m nearly hyperventilating on this comfortable mattress, while millions of people wake from theirs, oblivious to my situation.  eager to start their day by gorging on pancakes & guzzling obnoxious coffee.  Or at least simulating to the best of their loneliest ability.  and topping that off by watching fucking stupid television, like there isn’t serious problems in the world.  selfish dicks.

but who really gives a shit anyway.”




…focus…

maybe if i get out of bed, i can figure this out.”  The familiar man and dog are right where they should be, but something is still off.  The quad-legged slowly engages his muscles, temporarily atrophied from the night before; he looks my direction.  i know.”

We get up and assemble the pieces that make his morning meetings tolerable.  I stare at everything either attached or in my hand.  the notion these green, fancy squared plastics are any better for our planet is a fucking joke, especially.  But what option do i have… there’s too many causes now and it just makes me overwhelmed and I wanna do nothing.  it’s exhausting having a conscious.”   

I carefully peel the front door open, half expecting a boogity to be standing there, asking what took me so long.  But stillness.  A washing of silvery tones over the entire overly bright scene, as if it were graylight savings.  I cautiously step one in front of another, heeding the warnings of isolation as I leave everything behind.  I miss those days where something familiar would be always be around.  My tethered friend looks to me for answers.  let’s keep going...”

There’s a suspicion the faders aren’t in sync.  The left light is way elevated, while the right people is extinct.  this doesn’t add up.  did i drink too much last night?  i thought i only had one beer, but did i fuck up with more?  was the entire nights’ rememberance made up, as each minute of clarity shows itself?  i feel wobbly, hazy and on the brink of tossing up those desserts i ate last night.”  My eyes are mere dashes, covered only by their lids as the glow breaks through the flesh.  I struggle to understand what is happening to me, my body.

That’s when they came up from their hiding place.

Monday, November 16, 2015

A Year Of Writing... Sort Of.

A friend of mine started a personal writing project a few months ago, her intention to put something down on paper, everyday, for one year.  No minimum number of words, nothing on/off limits, simply a new exercise program for an old friend.

She put the announcement on facebook, citing it's harder to renege once it's out in the interspace.  I can relate.  I've gotten on that bus, but sometimes forgot to get off at the right stop.  whoops.  But she bravely offered to share her stories & commentaries, so I enthusiastically volunteered as a reader.  And in the first few emails, I found myself inspired but what she was doing and intrigued to try my hand at such an awesome, creative challenge!

I knew setting a daily bar wouldn't work for me.  Not because I think it's wrong, quite contrary as I think the determination is admirable.  But since starting this journal, all I think about is writing everyday, which reality has translated into occasional.  I don't want to commit myself to an unrealistic goal because that will only set me up for failure.  And then I'll get discouraged, which is not the point.

So I decided to do my own version, which other than time is nothing different I guess.  I'd follow her lead with no minimum number of words (which is swell when I sent four on a page) and nothing on/off limits.  But in terms of frequency, do it when I can.  keep it simple.  And I gotta say, it's been exceptionally rewarding!  I'm writing a little more, including a couple short stories I really dig.  The sharing between ourselves has also been an unexpected reward.  There is an intimate accountability, for this trusted space we've created; I crave it.

~~~~~

I write. I won't call myself a writer... Writer is reserved for someone who like, isn't me.  How in as much as I'd love to do discover my voice full time, it's easier to call it a fulfilling hobby.  Maybe that's why sharing selected tidbits is acceptable, because I'm working through the discovery of who I am and what do I want to say.

Be on the lookout.

Tuesday, November 10, 2015

Post Glendale Humane Society: It's Raining Cats and Dogs!

Last Thursday, my handsome husband and I spoke at an event, to help raise much needed funds for the Glendale Humane Society.  Star, a lady who used to work at the shelter and still volunteers, asked us to share our story.  We became friends, as she was there for us during all our questions, cries, puppy shots, and lifey photos.  She gave Leroy his microchip and when I cried, because he yelped, she smiled and said that's your mama...  Star considers our adoption story one she'll never forget, so I wanted to make her super proud.  It was an honour.

According to the shelter's director Alyce, it costs many thousands per week to maintain the level of care needed for all the animals, which is nothing to scoff at.  So the more we can all do for this fantastic place, the better those little fuzzy faces will be.

The benefit was held at Pirch in Glendale.  Now what I thought Pirch was and what it turned out to be, were two very different notions.  I thought it was a restaurant - because duh, I read food on the invitation and put my money on assumption.  What Pirch ended up being, was an oh my gawd beautiful showroom space with the most fantastic appliances, making two chumps like us who are really into that stuff, quite happy.  We'll be back.






Writing down the massively influential memories occurring over the last 2 years was harder than I thought.  Oh how quickly regret seeps in for not starting sooner.  My first draft ended up like a commercial of greatness, instead of our experience.  I'm sure it's stuff I've already written in here, too.  No matter how I sliced it, the message became toast.  Frustrated, I asked Travis for help, being the brilliant writer that he is.  He returned two options: our story and our highlights.  Since he's a performer, talking points wouldn't bother him.  But when I speak about something personal, I need a reference.  I can't wing my heart because I'll forget the feelings.

Nothing was coming together and it was getting down to the wire.  Trying to wrap up a story that was far from complete in the 10 minutes I had left, wasn't gonna happen.  So Travis suggested he could speak first and summarize, where I would go second and add emotions.  ugh, ok... can I really do this?

Turns out I can't.  Not yet anyway.  We stood there after weatherman Fritz Coleman spoke eloquently and nabbed a whole bunch of auction donations.  He set a high bar that Travis handled with ease, painting a funny & truthful picture.  I secretly wanted to run to the corner yelling at the donors "THANK YOU WE KNOW THEY ARE AMAZING SEND MONEY AND BLANKETS AND COURAGE."  As the mic was handed over, I wasn't totally sure how close it should be to catch the tiny air escaping my lungs.  I managed to ramble something considered words, while I stared at the millers & murmurs, vying to grab their attention away from the hors d'oeuvres. I felt insignificant, anxious and rushed.  I overzealously launched into the few points I had rehearsed, hoping to be charming for the people who were listening.  I'm sure in my mind it was beyond worse than anything the people actually witnessed, but still.  I walked off that stage, carrying an emotional head hung low of lows, feeling like I let myself down, Star down, and the shelter down.  what a drag.

But you know what?  No one was lame.  Not a single one.  The people who spoke to us afterwards, were gracious and kind.  And even though my performance still bothers me, I will remember those who thought enough to say something.  I've learned from it; I think.  It's taken a stupid number of years to elevate my business confidence, so why should this personal nonsense be any easier.  I truck on, practice & persist.  And contrary to the point, I was up there not as the 12 year old who would turn beet red even walking in front of a group more than 2, but a person who had something to say.  I was going to be heard, I was going to make my point, I was going to make a difference for these animals.  That one night doesn't define me forever.  I used to think so, but I know better now.  Doesn't define how I could or could not ever make a difference.  I'll come back as that person who can command a room, even if it takes 1000 times where I walk it.

~~~~~

So I leave you with this:
     The pet psychic we met with, because I KNOW PSYCHIC-SHMYCHIC, BUT I AM FASCINATED BY THE OTHERNATURAL AND HAVE NEVER DONE ONE BEFORE, let us know I worry too much about Leroy (and in life,) he'll love it when we get a second pup, he thinks it's awesome when Travis and he play gladiator, and that he is totally, totally happy.

And we have Glendale Humane to thank for all of it.






Sunday, November 8, 2015

Sight Unseen

Does your dog (or cat, guinea pig, fish, pet rock) ever do this?

Leroy can be the most asleep on the couch, floor, piles of clothes, blankets, even in the most awkward position on Travis' guitar pedals.  When he'll get up without warning, walk silently into the dark bedroom, turn, sit down and stare back at us.  just. stare.

Leroy will also be the most asleep in the middle of the night, laying next to me in our bed.  When he'll sit straight up without warning and stare at the floor, the door or the window.  Occasionally he'll stare at one of us, before going back to the silent energy facing us.


I can only assume he's watching the ghosts hover.

Wednesday, November 4, 2015

Glendale Humane Society: It's Raining Cats and Dogs!

Leroy, our puppy boy, made his way home by way of Glendale Humane Society.  He was cared for, loved, and even went to school - all before coming to the home he'd share with us always!  Leroy wouldn't be the most gentlemanly set of ears he is today, without help from the incredibly kind, supportive and tireless work of the GHS staff. <3


Star, the woman who was there with us from day one, asked Travis and I to speak at their fancy but most awesome pants, fundraising event: It's Raining Cats & Dogs.  I can't tell you how honored we are to take part in such an important and worthy cause.  I've been writing and re-writing our speech and probably teared up about eleventy times. <3 <3

The shelter is no-kill, 100% funded entirely from private donations: no local, state or federal assist.  That means benefits and fundraising is crucial to ensuring every critter they take under their helping umbrella is cared for, loved and knowing their just hanging out until they find their home too - just like Leroy!  <3 <3 <3

If you'd like to help donate to Glendale, you can here :-)!  Not just money, they need blankets, towels, shampoo, necessities, etc.  If you're not in the Los Angeles area, I'm sure there are local shelters near you that could also use a generous donation of cashola, goods or volunteering.  The littlest gesture can bring the biggest joy to an animal friend.

~~~~~

I'm sure you don't, but in case you need a few more fuzzy reasons why this place means so much to us, just click on PREPARE FOR ADORABLE 1 and 2.  No stinkers here.

PREPARE FOR ADORABLE 1 is how we came to meet our boy

PREPARE FOR ADORABLE 2 is when Leroy and his brother Bentley saw each other, after a year

Construction Junction: A Strong Defence

I was up at 5a today, after losing a decent argument for 5:30a.  And even then, at 4a, couldn't fall back into any sort of rhythm you'd call sleep.  Maybe it was the anticipation of today,  maybe it was running through the giant list of to-do's permanently tacked to the 'ol brain board, or maybe because each time I stirred, my sweater was half off and a sock was missing.  ...curious.

I got up early so I could exercise before it all started.  I jogged around my quiet and emergingly sunny city, at a bit quicker pace than yesterday.  Because today is actually a big, real deal day.  Finally, holy jeebus, the other major piece of our current yard update is starting.

A new, super slick, fancy sustainable, front fence.

And by start, I mean like not yet, it's just demolition, but believe me it's all happening in exactly Dio-like explosions!

...maybe not.




Travis the Demolator:



Approximate rendition.




Approximate joy.



Sunday, October 25, 2015

Doom Room Zoom Zoom

Saturday evening we took Leroy to his second annual Doom Room puppy party at the Hollywood agility establishment, the Zoom Room.  Leroy's brother Bentley has weekly classes there, where he learns tricks and top notch agilityness.  They have themed parties throughout the year, where a small number of dogs get together and play games or just run around having the best time.  It's quite the cute and we never miss it when invited.

Last year Leroy wore his Star Wars Death Star sweater because it's awesome and I forgot to do anything else.  This year I kinda remembered and his costume was a tough guys' viking helmet.  His brother Bentley's handsome face adorned a zebra.  Bentley's mum Jess and I couldn't get enough of our two little boys and said so repeatedly, through a sea of happy, wagging tails.


 





Wednesday, October 21, 2015

Construction Junction: A Horizontal Hug

This statement shouldn't come as a surprise, but I can't have the entire front totally finished like I want, at least not right now.  And that's ok.  for now.  Who doesn't want to have their {insert project} seen through as they envisioned?  So it's not a total selfish desire to want that swell curb appeal, handsome sittin' picture, and a transition into the home that makes sense.  But I can't right now and that's fine, because I can still do the little things.  Spend time acquiring pieces we need and still find an area or two for planting over the winter.  That's pretty rad still - seriously.

And also rad is the one other bit item to bring solace to the process.  A new front fence.  Not only does it tie the black metal \m/ roof together aesthetically, it gives Leroy more freedom to kick ass on squirrel patrol. It'll be made from sustainable harvested Ipe/Ironwood in the horizontal style, have an automatic gate for the cars and like 25 foot high imposing side gates because we obviously live in a horror video.  Hopefully that construction will start soon and I can figure out what my next dance moves are.

Being a grown-up commands tough choices or some junk.



P.S. I couldn't fit this line in anywhere, but it's important.
But what good is that if the facade is still crap and then ok, I have some plants?

Friday, October 9, 2015

35 Year Check Up

In two months, at the stroke of 2:48p (I think) on December 9, my bells will ring for the 35th time.  And although no one's tinkering with the switch in that on/off kinda way, I feel like it's my halfway point.  Or I just had a numbergasm: I like even things.  And before you say "pray tell, the number 3 & the number 5 are odds," which duh.  I say 35 is half of 70, which is an even number, and I group actual even numerals, halfsies, and splits of things together into one bucket.

Because obviously I'm dancing with one foot over a grave, I've been taking stock of all things Brandi.  Tweak and adjust the things that I'd like to refine; Strive for quality time against what I enjoy or want to pursue, which in the past often came secondary to others.  Especially that last point is just my nature, but it's time for a shift.  Seriously, there's some rad shit I wanna do!


Wellness takes many forms. 
  • BODY: I've done the gym thing for nearly 20 years.  You know the routine: mostly cardio, some free weights, comparisons of my body against 'dem other bitches.  Overall it's been a long-form study of just getting by, so the last 12 months I've taken a different approach because insanity.  I've made efforts to understand nutrition and its effects on my individual model unit.  Currently reading about sugars and fiber and proteins.  And I tell you, it's been an incredible WOW experience for approaching food and why holy ballz we have such an unhealthy culture.  I don't ever want to be a statistic, so...
    • I credit this simple, long overdue education as an aid to realizating many, many results!  I still continue to learn, because life doesn't stop after a suss.  But check it kids, I'm eating more because I'm eating smarter.  AWWWWWW YEAHHHHH.
    • also this
  • MIND: I've been seeing a therapist for several months now.  There's always been an internal agitation of emotions and frustrations I didn't know how to handle, and certainly didn't know where to begin expressing.  But as fellow problem solvers are one to do, thought "Well I was never taught how, so I guess I'll figure it out like everyone else."  wrong.  I don't have to feel utterly helpless against the situations my parents put me through.  I don't have to feel downright tethered to my inability to read & articulate my emotions.  I don't have to feel alone.  Nope! I finally have this really swell counselor in my corner, providing tools for change.  CHUCK NORRIS KICK!
    • finally found a name for something I may have a mild form of this
  • SKIN: With unavoidable changes due to the environment, aging and that "BODY" update, I've been paying a lot more attention to my skin because I'm seeing shifts.  Face, neck, hands.  For 10+ years, I've used sun block, every. single. day.  I don't squint, I don't frown, I don't raise my forehead when a moment of shock attacks, and I sleep on my back.  I've upped my commitment to washing my face twice a day, using a facial sonic brush, and researching what an epidermis needs at 30, vs 40, vs 50, on till old.  Just like internal nutrition, our skin deserves the same attention to detail.
    • I saw our resident dermatologist for a surface check up and his official diagnosis: THUMBS UP!
~~~~~

I don't mind aging, I look forward to it actually.  Because wrinkles are inevitable, I have the means to showcase those experiences in the best way. Or maybe I look forward to the diminishing concern for what others think as the years go on.  But until I admit that, I look forward to additional wisdom, evolution, taking photographs, volunteering, reading, retiring, the things I don't yet know yet, and sharing a solid life with people I care mmensely for.

Wednesday, September 30, 2015

Construction Junction: What Now

When you can't afford to complete an entire project as one scheduled job, you start prioritizing.  But with construction, it's not as simple as throwing darts at a carny balloon pop, hoping it reveals the correct task prize.  There's an order to follow or else the midway wins and repeatedly snakes your money.  That's pretty much where we are now.

~~~~~

We've been slowly getting additional bids, yet it still hasn't clicked into place.  Maybe it's seeing the bummer reminder on paper that comes from knowing we can't have it all right now.  And not in a pouty selfish way, in a pouty "I just can't see why this simple plan is becoming so fiscally complicated."

Hardscape, lifeless as all get up but provides an important backbone to the Softscape, the breathing, bizarro variant.  All non-biological elements should be completed first, since those won't change much.  Whilst secondly, the living can then grow and evolve around its permanent environment.  two defined work streams in that order.  The happy path would be to first work exclusively with the solid elements.  I'd jitterbug along the 3x3 cement squares, while trailing my fingers against our new fence, while the sunset dims and flowers gently swaying in time... barf.  And only when all stiff facets have been counted and completed, would I start to plant our future.

But since this junk costs more than we anticipated, I can't walk down the jolly trail.  No skipping, no gossiping song birds, no cliche photography.  Which means it's become a necessity to blend parts of both subdivisions, if we want anything beyond a raked pile of dirt.  I'm struggling with this because I don't care much for unfinished business.  I want it either done or naught, think about it or don't.  Call it a form of brain slug, but as such I become fixated on all thoughts related to what's outstanding.  And only when this imagined checklist is finito, can I purge those translucent bullocks.

~~~~~

I keep swapping looks between our tokens and inventory of wants, hoping those bits will somehow go farther.

Saturday, September 26, 2015

Sweet Chili Sauce for Days

Sweet Chili Sauce
makes approx. 1.25 cups

This recipe has a nice balance of sweet heat, but isn't going to scrape your teeth.  However, feel free to increase the agave if you're looking for that extra sugary punch.

Adapted from here
  • 10-15 Thai red chilies
  • 10 Garlic Cloves
  • 3/4c water
  • 1/4c Apple Cider Vinegar
  • 1/4c Rice Wine Vinegar
  • 1/4c Agave
  • 1tsp Salt
  • 1TBSP Arrowroot or Cornstarch
  • 2TBSP Water

  1. Wash and trim ends of chilies.  You can choose how many seeds you leave in, depending on your heat level achievement.
  2. Place them and all ingredients through the Salt, into blender.  Blend on high speed until mixed and frothy.  It will be very watery.
  3. Pour mixture into a small saucepan and bring to a boil.
  4. Boil for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally.
  5. While mixture is boiling, mix Arrowroot with 2TBSP water until smooth.
  6. Add Arrowroot thickener.  Stir and bring back to a boil for another 30 seconds - 1 minute.  It will suddenly create thick, magicky goodness!
  7. Remove from heat; cool & place in glass storage jar.





Monday, September 14, 2015

Seitan's Graveyard Nuggets

Who doesn't love dipping chew pockets into a bowl of saucesome.  sickos, that's who.  Tonight I made Seitan's Nuggets and they killed.  Rich, mesquittey, and really fucking good.  I <3 my garden, filled with 23 gravestones.
  • 2c vital wheat gluten
  • 2 tsp baking powder
  • 2.5 tsp salt (I use a rich, savory blend called Magic Unicorn but regular works too)
  • 2 tsp garlic powder
  • .5 tsp ground fennel
  • 1 tsp cajun blend (or a mix of smokey paprika & cayenne)
  • 2 tsp McCormick brand, Mesquite blend
  • 1 tsp oregano
  • 1.3c water
  • 2 TBSP tomato paste 

Dipping Saucesomeness:
  • 1 TBSP Vegenaise
  • 2 TBSP tops Barbecue Sauce

Preheat oven to 400°.  Prepare two baking trays with either tin foil or silpat (if using tin foil, oil it.) In a medium mixing bowl, combine flour and baking powder, stirring thoroughly with a whisk.  Add all dry seasonings* and whisk again to really incorporate. Dissolve the tomato paste in the water to make a slurry.  Add the wet ingredients to the dry; mix with a spoon or your hands (or go wild and do both) until incorporated.  Taking your rolling pin, roll the dough to approximately 1/4" thick.  Use your favorite, not too detailed cookie cutter, and to cut to shape.  Arrange on the baking trays and bake for 15 minutes.  Remove from oven, flip over, and place back in over for another 12-15 minutes.  Remove when they have a nice browness and are slightly springy to the touch.  Eat right away with the sauce or cool for later snacks.

* the key to seitan is to season, season, season and season more until you think you've gone too far.  It's also flexible, so set your sights on creative.


Monday, September 7, 2015

Construction Junction: Woe Is Me

Professionally, I've experienced situations which completely blew.
Personally, I've experienced situations which were emotionally wrenching.


Constructionally, after spending 10 days with a black metal \m/ ailment, I feel cured of newbie-itis.  At least until the next visit, which may bring it round again.  The awareness has shifted from a personal idea of intrusion, to holy ballz why is everything more expensive and take so fucking long.  Apparently we have not been sufficiently prepared for the cost of seeing this project through, as well as the time invested simply asking companies how they can take our money.

I envisioned the next cookie parade would come after the hardscape was done.  The entire hardscape.  However, based on initial bids for said total plan, that's just not possible with the remaining budget.  marbles...  So the current main priority has shifted horizontally to a fence, a few other smaller things if we can.  Which begs the question - are we getting hosed?  Does items A, B & X really cost $chi-ching and how much to push over a stupid brick fence?  Trav & I will kick that over for you, no problemo.

And maybe it does cost what they've said, as more bids come in we'll find the baseline.  But until we do, I question it {Fry squinty judgement face.}  It's perturbing and frustrating, and for what?  We're not asking for anything unreasonable or extravagant.  It's livable and practical for the urban Los Angeles dustbowl.  New fence and siding; new seating area; new water saving plants.  No atom splitting here, people.

Saturday, September 5, 2015

Nostalgia Face: 90s Music

It's 1994 or whatever and I'm feeling something.  I sit at my desk, door closed, sun brightly coming through the closed curtains I just made.  Against a backdrop of school work, drawings, passed notes and my friends clothes - man, if only I was older, I could be on my own doing exactly this.  I look down at several plastic jewel cases, each one a key to exploring my life.  Which do I choose: number, blurred, or completely fucking important?

I pick up and open completely fucking important, careful it remains undamaged; the thought of it not existing means I lose the comradery I just found.  It was too precious and I couldn't let that happen.  I gently pluck the round, pliable disc out its claw-toothed holder with a faint click.  Punch open the cheap CD changer not worthy of playing any of this, but down goes the disc, P for freedom.

Without hesitation I was drawn.  I parted the frayed opening of torn jeans, revealing a secret world and I walked in, wearing nothing more than a thrift store tshirt and a pair of dirty chucks.

The song that jarred the door to feeling understood begins, played as loud as my parents will allow on a Saturday afternoon.  they still probably hated it.  I jumped & twisted on the grey carpet, shaking my head up and down, just like the music videos showed me.  My hands starting to perform some sort of rhythmic action...  I knew how ridiculous I looked having no experience being graceful at a head bang, and being solo without a family to join me, but I finally connected to something way beyond my comprehension.  I didn't have to understand why to know I fucking loved it.   This was for me.  always.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Last night we watched the Kurt Cobain documentary, Montage of Heck.  Travus has spoken countless times about how the 90s is where his heart will always live.  I couldn't disagree because mine does too.  In both are minds, the 90s were simply the last decade.  I graduated not that long ago, babydolls & docs are still kinda popular, and it's ok for me to sit on the floor in my room listening to this music over and over again.  This film brought all of it rushing back, as if to remind me I must fully appreciate what we experienced.  Reliving the past through the visualization of house parties, backyard shows, music, drugs, behaviors and friends.  That was our lives.  My life over 4 years.  Every running frame on that flat TV was like a convex mirror surrounding my brain, reflecting where & how I grew up, just different faces staring back.  A solitary image glimpses in my head of each girlfriend and I, with our arms around each other, smiling at who we are, each a mess of awesome.  I miss that.  terribly.

oh god... I found my nostalgia face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After Travis left for his comedy show, I went to the CD rack and ran my fingers over the boat loads of lyrical memories from both his and my intersecting lives.  I thought back on how many years it took for him to feel comfortable with us combining our music - no joke.  I didn't have many, but the few I had lived on separate shelves; we didn't co-mingle the past.  I didn't care; made it easier to find mine actually... But at some point post-wedded bliss, it finally felt right.  still makes me laugh though.  But for any duplicate albums, I would tuck a sticky note inside the liner notes with the letter B... just in case.  I recently went through those and peeled them off, one by one, because silly.  Except Nevermind.  I couldn't.  It was the embodiment of a turning point in my life that isn't soon repeated.  No sir-ee-bob, I wouldn't lose the actual physicality that took me there.

I finally landed on our copies of Nevermind.  his and hers.  gross, I just got a toothache.  I plucked both from their shelf plot and held one in each hand.  Which was whose?  I set them on the table and went liner note fishing.  bam.  Here she was, suddenly the same anticipating teenage girl ready to listen, experiencing emotions I still yet can't describe accurately.  How do you not respect that?

I sit here at my laptop, 20 some years later, the backdrop updated but familiar.  The CD now spins inside this portable, metal computing machine, which if it eats my disc I'll rip it's guts out.  Music still plays, clothes still unfolded, books books books, a puppy, and now our home.  I'm combing the memory banks for all that was once right in my life.  Simple, but complicated in the lamest sense.  My age will never matter.  I still feel like I'm playing grownup...

Sure, Nirvana made alternative ok.  Manufactured or not, it took a culture and shoved it into the oculars of every household.  And for me, it could have been any band, really.  It just happened to be them.  They unknowingly allowed millions of psyche's to start another revolution of questioning the norm.  And I wanted in.  With fury, I started listening to everything my parents hated or didn't consider country: grunge, alternative, psychedelia, punk, classical, nature sounds, foreign, my friends screamo bands, the bargain LPs at Goodwill.  I embraced The Ramones and NOFX, went to horribly overcrowded Guttermouth shows and generator parties.  Tenaciously repeated the mixed tapes these dudes gave me till they were worn out, laughed when Blink added 182.  Debated why The Smashing Pumpkins really only had one album and remained confused by why people liked Red Hot Chili Peppers.  Got stoned to Oasis and tripped on Mazzy and wondered what IS Bob gonna do now that he can't drink?  Sang awful renditions of Hole songs and crushed on Trent Reznor.  Screw you normalcy, I won't concede! shakes fist.

For us absorbent teenagers in the coveted youth demographic though, that part of the 90s was way more than marketing.  I needed the expressionism, not because it was popular, but because it moved me.  It broke down what my parents dictated; the desire to feel more and think more and explore more and to know I wasn't alone.  I was part of something huge and weird and special - I was hooked on a drip line of sounds and influence.

My life with Travis reopened that experience and I'm fucking grateful.  I guess I was too busy or whatever, but I somehow missed Screaming Trees and Mudhoney, Radiohead and Faith No More.  Kyuss, PJ Harvey, L7.  Siouxsie and the Banshees, The Pixies and Sonic Youth.  And like all the other ones your shouting at me right this very second.  Luckily we have countless musicalories left on MyDiscusPal to continue feasting.  And because the 90s will only ever be a few years behind us, it calms me to know when we're grey and feeble, we'll sit together on the floor and air drum our way to the grave.

<3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I didn't know then how incredible that time was, but I kinda owe it everything.

I respect you oh great decade, for I shall never replace you.

Monday, August 31, 2015

Construction Junction: And On The Tenth Day

Ten days of pounding at various intervals.
Ten days of heat.
Ten days of ice water.
Ten days of an outside port-o-john.
Ten days of thank yous.
Eight days of Travis taking Leroy to his parents.
Six days of wondering why they told us four.
Five days of working from home.
Two days of doughnuts.
One pair of pants.

Resolves to a gorgeous new roof!

~~~~~~

It's true, I am enamored with this piece of black metal \m/ aluminum, with the gritty coating on top and the radiant barrier underneath.  I want to stare and caress her beauty, her uniformity, her protection.  I didn't think I'd feel that way either; I hear the millennials collectively chanting basic, basic, basic...   Don't care.

That's what struck me unexpectedly.  As it morphed into a tangible thing, I became fascinated by my reaction.  Certainly not like the first day of the truck backup, excitement overshadowed that by a linear foot.  I wanted to see the progress throughout the day; I kinda wanted to learn; I gained an even larger appreciation for a days' labor.  I wanted a sign with classic neon typeface buzzing the evolution of seeing today realized, where this much needed necessity was hard at work, keeping us both fashionable and safe.

~~~~~








Tuesday, August 25, 2015

Construction Junction: Home Wasn't Built In A Day

What a difference 24 hours can make, yo.

Last Monday with honors, I received my first for reals construction experience badge!  Even though there was no time to go jogging, which has been my wonderful, stress-reducing morning routine for a while now, I was ecstatic!  I was at ease, I was actually looking forward to the clunky noises because it meant it was all happening!  We were starting off the week with a 3.5 year "to do" come to light; stoked over the moon, I tells ya. 

The original plan was for a family friend, who is also a contractor, to cut back part of an overhang before our new black metal \m/ roof goes on.  It was part aesthetics, part structural.  At the same time, the roofers were supposed to lop off the unkempt, crusty hair that had seen one too many nights out.  But a few hours into the overhang work, I found out they wouldn't be partying with us that day.

drats.

Maybe it was for the best.  John could work uninterrupted and truly prepare a great new accessory for her future metal \m/ outfit.  It was loud, although not an immense amount of work, so it was a solid introduction for something I'd never been through.  I could handle the rest of the job like a champ.






~~~~~

Tuesday, 6am:
I peacefully jogged a couple miles, prepared the crews' ice water, then got the entire family ready for puppy park play.


Tuesday, 7am arrived outta nowhere:
The previous days' positive wafty feeling was still lingering, just starting to burn off like a post rain.  Even had that familiar sweet & slightly tart smell, thanks to the "hasn't been exposed in nearly 30 years" wood.  As the Clark trio headed towards the door, I optimistically envisioned Day 2 would be very similar to the events of Day 1; I mean how could it be much different?  But the front door knock changed that: the loppers were here.

Whether it was the earlier than expected arrival time or it being someone we didn't know, I put a roll of quarters into the anxious machine and hit jackpot.  There was no introduction, no hey this is my crew for today, it was a blunt can you move your car so the big ass truck can back in.  What happened to the me from yesterday?  What happened to my tough guy exterior who was looking forward to this?  Did that mean I had to give my badge back?

I did as requested, still trying to figure out why all these emotions were suddenly flaring up.  After moving the car and going back inside to see Travis, we agreed I would take Leroy to the park and he would stay in case the guys needed anything.  Plus make breakfast, which was super sweet.

While the lopping crew got straight to work and they became prospectively smaller to my rear, I ran through various scenarios for why the change of heart.  I wanted them there, but felt tense.  I trusted the company we hired, but felt inundated.  why?  The only word I kept visualizing was personal.  I tried to shake it off while at the park because I didn't want to ignore our friends or become distracted from Leroy.  But it kept plucking at my nerve core.  Could I handle this?

Construction is a very personal experience.  I realized this even before we finalized the purchase of the house, although I had no context for what it meant at the time.  When the sellers brought in people to complete a list of repairs, I kinda jokey / kinda seriously thought this is ours now and I don't know you.  please leave, dudes.  I remember standing in the kitchen watching them work outside.  Not even inside! and thinking well shit, this is new.  Then they left and all was right again.

And when the occasional minor upkeep is needed, say a plumber, we choose who is allowed over.  We're initiating the contact, not a faceless voice behind a desk.  So it's like we've already gone through the mental checking of the short term relationship and agreed (fingers crossed) it works out.


Later in the day:
I was still adjusting to the barrage of everything, when I noticed we'd forgotten to move some vegetable pots in the back.  The peppers & basil had been doing so well, the last thing should be for them to get damaged because of this crumbly, old hag.  As I was dragging them to safety, some being way heavier than others, a crew fella standing above me near a pile of busted tiles offered to help.  I smiled & declined because I was nearly done, but almost instantly the edge of the past few hours began to recede.

~~~~~

Here we are:
Therapy has illustrated connections are very important to me, even associative ones.  And since exchanging vegetable-eyes, there has been no remnants for what I experienced that Tuesday morning.  I can't convey how rad it is without sounding repetitive, so trust me.  There was even a crew change and STILL the delight of the new metal \m/ roof supersedes.

I'm fascinated, in theory, that a simple introduction, interaction between two humans is all it takes to secure the bond between client and doer?  I guess it does for lady Clark because I can breathe a little lighter these days...