Tuesday, November 15, 2011
The house I still own is a mess. The bulk of our belongings are out of it but we’ve left behind piles of flattened cardboard boxes and the fridge is full of half-used condiment bottles that need to be thrown out and when the big pieces of furniture were removed giant piles of cat hair and crayons and filth were revealed. I do intend to get back over there for some clean up this week, before my temporary caretakers move in. And yesterday I gave the lock box code to the heating company so they could get the newish boiler going. I had no luck getting the pilot light lit. Naturally there was more than a bit of troubleshooting involved. Nothing has been easy with that place and I do not have the most positive associations with it. I still have no idea what path TCF may take - approve the sale, grant me a deed in lieu of foreclosure or just go for a straight up foreclosure. A brilliant co-worker friend has dubbed that pile The Barn of Despair. So very apt.
Our new home couldn’t be more different. It’s all sunshine and light. And in need of a proper name. I am open to suggestions. Over the weekend I happily busted my ass putting everything in its place and breaking down more boxes. We are 99% unpacked and it feels good. And the boyfriend assisted, putting together our new flat-pack bistro table and chairs. Ceiling cat watches my every move in the kitchen.
Five more good things:
- Local yarn bombing artist HOTTEA is having his first ever solo art show this Saturday! I look forward to seeing the installations.
- A friend turned me on to the sleazy listening stylings of Beat At Cinecitta, songs from 60s era Italian sex films, compiled and re-released by Crippled Dick Hot Wax records.
- I’ve always enjoyed Anarcho-punks Amebix so this was a fun read: “When Amebix disbanded in 1987, Rob Miller started an entirely new life. Penniless and saddled with a broken arm, Miller retreated to the remote Isle of Skye, off the coast of Scotland, to forge a new path. He sold his gear, found a simple place to live and began the hard work of learning how to make ancient weapons. In the ensuing two decades Miller has become one of the most accomplished swordsmiths in the world. His business, Castle Keep, handcrafts Viking swords, medieval blades, and custom weaponry.”
- Friday night I’m going to try to get to a special edition of Wits, featuring John Hodgman and The Mountain Goats.
- One of my all-time favorite coffee shops, Kopplins, is moving into my new neighborhood. The grand opening is November 25th. I’m excited.
After work I will be returning to my former residence for some hasty clean-up, and a few bins full of emotional time bombs. I left behind a craptastic amount of paperwork and photos that need to be sorted. I know at least one bin holds hospital wrist bands from my last stay. Memories will be dredged up that I’d rather not dwell on but the sooner I get this over with the sooner I can put it all behind me, and enjoy the happy times ahead.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
For someone who bakes pies only rarely, and then one or two at a time at most, I sure have an awful lot of pie plates. And I’m not entirely sure where to put them all in my new kitchen. But the move went very smoothly. The weather was pleasant. The 24 foot truck I rented was HUGE. Large enough that all of our things were moved in one load. By the Herculean efforts of a dozen or so friends (2/3 of them Clockworkers). Only one item was broken and that managed to be an improvement. The hutch that had been in my dining room in the house is now in my new bedroom. And with the glass doors broken and gone I can now more easily use it as a bookshelf. It’s already loaded with all of my trade comics and other books that had been boxed up since last Spring. There is still much unpacking to do but we are settling in nicely. All four of us (my son, the two cats and myself) are already so at home there. It’s a feeling I hadn’t felt in a long long time.
Five other good things:
In the midst of packing and moving last weekend I managed to pop by the Minneapolis Indie Xpo 2011 at The Soap Factory, for just a bit. And last night I took a break from unpacking to see the legendary Ray Davies at The Fitzgerald Theater. The weekend ahead will be filled with more breaking down of boxes and organizing of the new place, but we’ll also be making time for the Meat Puppets and other choice activities. Life is good. I could get used to this.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Last night I took an unplanned break from packing to bear witness to a GWAR performance in First Avenue’s main room. I first saw GWAR at First Avenue, but in the cramped confines of the 7th Street Entry back in 1990. At that show there was no escaping the fake blood raining down on us. I was even bludgeoned with the oversized prop tampon being swung around by one of the GWAR slave girls. So last night I intentionally stood further back, to enjoy the spectacle without it interfering with my person. I remembered that diehard fans often wear white t-shirts to the shows, to better show off the fake blood, but I didn’t realize that First Avenue staff did so as well. All in all it was an enjoyable distraction, save for one thing. We spotted some idiot father who had dragged his three or four year old son to the show, and positioned him so that he’d have a clear view of the entire spectacle. INAPPROPRIATE. Way to go jackass. That kid is going to have nightmares for years to come. And I shudder to think what the little guy is being regularly exposed to at home.
Time to muster up five good things:
Feeling a little distressed that it is already Thursday. And we move on Sunday. Tonight will find me packing in a panic, fueled by five hour energy drinks. Let the fun begin!
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
I pick up our apartment keys today. And pay rent. For the first time since 1999. This is really happening. Though I still have no idea what is happening with the house we’re moving out of.
Five things I do know with great certainty:
Hoping by next week there will be fewer stressors triggering my 4am anxiety attacks. I hope to be happily moved in and unpacked/unpacking at the new place. And to know more about my house situation. And to have my Canon 5d back from the manufacturer (it’s been away for three weeks now, being repaired). But near-future stressors include my son’s annual IEP review at school and follow-up dental appointments with the autism dental specialist we met with yesterday. It’s always something.
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Not long ago I was worried we wouldn’t have anywhere to live but now it would seem we have TOO much housing. I’d thought things were finally lining up for me but…the short sale is likely going to fall through. And we’re moving out next weekend. So what now? No one has any answers for me, good or otherwise. TCF wants $20,000 more, either cash from me or from my buyer, and that’s $20,000 more than I’ve got. My only hope is that they’ll agree to a deed in lieu of foreclosure but I’m not holding my breath. And this whole thing has unfolded at a snail’s pace as it is so I may not know anything more for weeks. I hate not knowing. In the mean time I’ll have to shell out for homeowners insurance & utilities for my unoccupied property. I’d really like to have someone move into it, even if it’s only temporary, but I doubt I can find someone reliable and responsible who would be open to such an arrangement. If you happen to know such a mythical being please do get in touch with me.
At least it’s the weekend! Let me pull together five good things:
I’ve acquired oodles and oodles of moving boxes but really hope I don’t need to use them all. I’d much rather move less. We did get rid of ever so much this past Spring, but it seems like we’ve acquired even more stuff in the interim. So back to purging and packing I go.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Today is picture day at school. My son’s hair is in that unfortunate in-between stage, growing out from his summer camp shearing. Which means it’s too short to lay flat and is sticking straight up all over the place, like an anime character. I suggested we roll with it and gel it up to make it even spikier but he wasn’t having it. The best I can hope for is that he’s managed to keep his new shirt clean before his turn to sit in front of someone else’s camera (and yes, I find it difficult to fork over money for Lifetouch photos when I am a photographer myself, specializing in children’s portraits). Le sigh.
Five good things:
Taking a brief break from short sale/moving stress to enjoy a (hopefully) good meal tonight at Masu. I haven’t been yet and have heard mixed yet intriguing reviews.
It was a fairly quiet but lovely weekend. Solid foods were consumed. I saw some friends. Ran some errands. Acquired bigger shoes (men’s 8.5?!) for my ever-growing boy. My incredibly thoughtful boyfriend brought over a replacement pumpkin for the one some jerk stole from our front steps. And Halloween costume components were procured. I took my son to the zoo. Nearly went to the Turf Club for the Riot Act Reading Series but opted to stay home, with cats, to read a bad book in bed instead. The weekend brought my stress levels down into the manageable zone but today they are SPIKING again, for a variety of reasons. Let’s look at five good things instead, shall we?
We move in less than two weeks and I have yet to start packing, in earnest. Though I have been having dreams about packing tape and measuring tapes and metric to standard US conversions and nightmares that none of our furniture will fit quite right in our new place and my brain just needs to settle down and shut up already. Yeah.
Starting to think I should just duck and cover. Roll into the fetal position until this all blows over. But that doesn’t seem like an option. Instead I’m following doctor’s orders. Drinking gallons of water to flush my system. And this drug I was prescribed? I’m seeing shades from iodine orange to neon fruit punch coming out of me. I’M PEEING THE RAINBOW! And while waiting for this rough stuff to pass me by I’m missing all of the good. The Boris show at the Varsity on Monday. John Zuma St Pelvyn & Skoal Kodiak Wednesday. Last night I missed the Crafty Planet sponsored Crafterhours at the MIA, and Kitty Cat Klub’s goth night, Perish, with The Rope and Crusader No Remorse. And I haven’t exactly made the most of my son’s school break this week. I’ve mostly been working from home in pajamas and/or napping away my fever while he amuses himself, and me. The other day he did a performance art bit about The Birth of the Spork, complete with a Venn diagram. Today he built the Yellow Submarine out of Lego. The only time we’ve left the house since Tuesday was yesterday, and only briefly, to walk to the local library and coffee shop. That was when we noticed some asshat had stolen the pumpkin our front steps, the one we hadn’t yet carved. While I will miss much about this house itself (the ample space, the way I’ve decorated it and made it mine) I won’t miss the neighborhood. At all. But somehow I’ve got to muster the energy in the next couple of weeks to pack up our things and move. And I can’t even imagine how, when I can barely get out of bed.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Last Friday my brother Tom would have turned 41. The anniversaries of his birth and death always lead me to think about death and aging and what he might have done with his life if he’d been able to live it. Tom never became the GenXer that some thought we were. According to writer Joshua Glenn, my brother and I were actually something else.
As a direct result of mis-periodization, those of us born between 1964 and 1973 never developed generational consciousness. [snip] Hazy sense of generational identity, splintery culture — and on top of that, when the 1964-73 cohort were undergrads, deconstructive theory was all the rage in humanities departments. Small wonder, then, that this cohort’s collective disposition is accommodationist — i.e., in the cognitive-development, not the political sense of that term. The 1964-73 cohort shares, that is to say, a marked tendency to brood over taken-for-granted cultural, political, social, and philosophical forms and norms, not rejecting but self-consciously remixing these fragments into innovative new patterns. In honor of the 1964-73 cohort’s post-deconstructionist capacity for accommodationism, I’ve named it (us) the Reconstructionist Generation.
At least I’m not a Millennial. I feel sorry for those kids. The Kids Are Actually Sort of Alright: My screwed, coddled, self-absorbed, mocked, surprisingly resilient generation.
I could use five good things:
This afternoon was spent at the doctor’s office, enduring a battery of tests and exams, with inconclusive results. Lately everything is too much, all at once, with the impending move and minor nuisances piling up. But I’m taking a little break from all of that for just a spell, for a showing of Detective Dee and the Mystery of the Phantom Flame. Now that’s just what the doctor ordered.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
This is the week that keeps on giving. Unfortunately it keeps on giving me grief. This morning I gracelessly up-arrowed one too many times and executed a command to delete something I had intended to copy. Which is both beyond my power and not at all trivial to restore. Instead I’ve frittered away someone else’s bandwidth to fix my fuck-up and have been on a downward shame spiral all day. Also? Yesterday I had to send in my Canon 5d body for repair. I’ll be clenching my teeth until I hear the estimate. And my pre-teen son’s feet suddenly started stinking to high hell. Hopefully throwing his sandals in the washing machine last night improved matters. And today I received a notice from the department of revenue about some debt collector wanting to garnish my wages (thankully just to the tune of $76, but still). And even though I’m moving soon I had to switch trash companies due to stunningly poor customer service. And thanks to a shitty contract I signed with my home security company, it looks like I’m on the hook for another 20 months even though I will no longer own a home to secure…unless another homeowner wants to assume my contract. But maybe I will continue to be a homeowner for a while, as the not-so-aptly named short sale DRAGS ON.
Let’s roll with five good things that might cheer me (and you) up.
Tonight I could go to the Turf Club, to see the Dum Dum Girls (as stylish as they are talented!) with Crocodiles, or off with the boyfriend to see Drive. But I’m not quite sure what I’ve got left in me. It could very well be just another early-to-bed night, with books. While hoping for a brighter tomorrow.
