I had a super cute title: 30 days, 30 years. But, I didn't like the blog, so now I write this on my teeny-tiny phone keyboard in Munich.
Please forgive typos (more than normal) because my phone sucks)
Here's the "Diehl" I was going to write this super awesome blog with super awesome drawings I did this past summer for this post and other comics I've gathered for this (probably crappy) post, but it's not happening.
Instead, you're getting a raw post of a person closing on the "third life crisis" which is NOT a thing. Hell, half of us entering this crisis are still trying to pay off college.
But that's another post.
In twenty days I turn thirty.
do I feel older?
no.
the question nor the answer has changed since I remember.
BUT
I know no longer feel like I'm flying when I run. Instead, I feel every joint cry in pain.
I am no longer in awe of my elders for knowing every every answer, but am annoyed they do not answer how I want them to.
I still enjoy sunsets, but feel the pressure of another day passing without an accomplishment pressing on me.
"Running out of time"
Means more to me than ever before, thanks Hamilton.
When I was 10, I never felt older than nine, but 15 made me feel older than 10, just like 19 made me feel older than 13.
When I turned 20, I was so happy to no longer be a teenager. I do not know if turning 30 makes me feel happy to no longer be in my 20s.
I know my nights at the bar are not over.
I know my nights of eating takeout and watching Netflix are not over. What is over is the feeling of invincibility.
the feeling of:
Oh, might as well jump when met with a cliff.
(Sorry mom, but I jumped the many feet down while skiing, numerous times)
the feeling now, is where do I need to turn so I don't have to jump?
I don't avoid those obstacles more, I just know how to handle them. And if that's what being in the 30s means: doing stupid shit, but knowing how to get out of it alive; than I'm good for life.
I think I finally fifigure it out, maybe.
Do what you will, but survive the landing.
if I can stick the landing of turning 30, than I think I'll be able to see 31. 😊
Sunday, October 9, 2016
Thursday, January 28, 2016
How to Drive in Seattle
Seattle.
The home of Boeing and Amazon, Microsoft is a short (in miles) long (in time) from downtown.
It's become a melting pot of people from around the country and the world, the roads are constantly jammed with cars. So, for all you new people, welcome to Seattle, and follow this awesome driving advice I wish I was told when I moved here nearly seven years ago.
NEVER go the speed limit, as it is much too fast. You should go a couple miles per hour slower than the posted speed, five is preferred, but you can go ten under if you want to be a real overachiever.
Also, there is no difference between the right and left lanes. It is frowned upon to pass in the left lane, and you should match your speed with the person beside you. You also don't have to worry about getting up to speed on a freeway entrance. Entering as slow as possible is preferred, especially if there is a line of cars behind you. Coming to a complete stop on the entrance ramp is best.
You don't have to use those pesky devices which indicate a turn or merging. Just go about your day and everyone will avoid you.
Do whatever you want at a four way stop. It's the custom to let everyone go before you, but you can also skip the line and do what you want.
Seattle, unlike everywhere else in the world, experiences weather. When there is weather, it is encouraged for you to take your vehicle and ram it into the nearest object you can find. Bonus points are awarded if you ram your car into another car, during rush hour, on a two lane bridge.
You also never have to check to see if your car is in danger of hitting anyone else. Drive by feel is totally okay. Want to back your car into another car so you can try to maneuver through a parking lot? Go right ahead. The scratch will buff right out.
It is always rush hour, it's a thing Seattle is trying out. What you should do is park your car in an intersection of your choosing and don't attempt to move. Just sit there. Feel free to eat a sandwich.
If you can't park your car in an intersection, feel free to park in the right lane of any major street during rush hour. Don't even pull all the way to the curb, the middle of the lane is just fine.
And feel free to ignore every traffic sign, such as "Wrong Way" or "No Left Turns" you do you, you free spirit wonderful person, we'll figure it out.
Last, but not least, don't be shy about slamming on your brakes. Why tap them, when you can slam them, right? Especially, when someone is behind you. Then not only slam, but stay on the brakes for a bit, then proceed with extreme caution, but only when you're ready.
Now that you know how to drive in Seattle, have a wonderful drive everyone!
**EVERYTHING I SAY IN THIS PIECE IS SARCASTIC. FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS, PLEASE DO NOT DRIVE LIKE THIS!!!!!!**
The home of Boeing and Amazon, Microsoft is a short (in miles) long (in time) from downtown.
It's become a melting pot of people from around the country and the world, the roads are constantly jammed with cars. So, for all you new people, welcome to Seattle, and follow this awesome driving advice I wish I was told when I moved here nearly seven years ago.
NEVER go the speed limit, as it is much too fast. You should go a couple miles per hour slower than the posted speed, five is preferred, but you can go ten under if you want to be a real overachiever.
Also, there is no difference between the right and left lanes. It is frowned upon to pass in the left lane, and you should match your speed with the person beside you. You also don't have to worry about getting up to speed on a freeway entrance. Entering as slow as possible is preferred, especially if there is a line of cars behind you. Coming to a complete stop on the entrance ramp is best.
You don't have to use those pesky devices which indicate a turn or merging. Just go about your day and everyone will avoid you.
Do whatever you want at a four way stop. It's the custom to let everyone go before you, but you can also skip the line and do what you want.
Seattle, unlike everywhere else in the world, experiences weather. When there is weather, it is encouraged for you to take your vehicle and ram it into the nearest object you can find. Bonus points are awarded if you ram your car into another car, during rush hour, on a two lane bridge.
You also never have to check to see if your car is in danger of hitting anyone else. Drive by feel is totally okay. Want to back your car into another car so you can try to maneuver through a parking lot? Go right ahead. The scratch will buff right out.
It is always rush hour, it's a thing Seattle is trying out. What you should do is park your car in an intersection of your choosing and don't attempt to move. Just sit there. Feel free to eat a sandwich.
If you can't park your car in an intersection, feel free to park in the right lane of any major street during rush hour. Don't even pull all the way to the curb, the middle of the lane is just fine.
And feel free to ignore every traffic sign, such as "Wrong Way" or "No Left Turns" you do you, you free spirit wonderful person, we'll figure it out.
Last, but not least, don't be shy about slamming on your brakes. Why tap them, when you can slam them, right? Especially, when someone is behind you. Then not only slam, but stay on the brakes for a bit, then proceed with extreme caution, but only when you're ready.
Now that you know how to drive in Seattle, have a wonderful drive everyone!
**EVERYTHING I SAY IN THIS PIECE IS SARCASTIC. FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS, PLEASE DO NOT DRIVE LIKE THIS!!!!!!**
Thursday, August 20, 2015
The Magical Art of Being Screamed At to Tidy
My friend was telling me about a book that would help me tidy my house and keep it tidy. She said a friend was reading it and had a lot of bags of things to toss and donate.
Interesting.
Would I be interested?
I'd like to think my house is clean, and it is before people come over, and tends to stay more picked up in the winter when we're not packing and unpacking and dropping towels everywhere (I'm guilty of the towels)
The house kinda looks like a bear frat party came through, and only stopped partying when a tornado ripped through.
No matter how much I clean, the house looks like it was destroyed within three days.
Sure, I said. Let me borrow it.
I understand why people brag about their workouts and diets now.
People are talking about packing, or their houses and I'm the obnoxious person who suddenly knows EVERYTHING about tidying.
I've read 177 pages of "The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up" and I'm more than happy to tell you how to tidy. But that's weird. So I'll try to keep it under control.
Anyway, I've already donated three bags of clothes, and Marie was right, I can feel my stuff relax now they're no longer crammed into drawers with things that don't bring me joy.
Keep things that make you happy, get rid of everything else, and thank them for doing their job and at one time giving you joy.
Okay, it's a weird book.
I may be more granola than I thought.
It also uses Japanese efficiency. That's pretty cool. It took someone ten days to nearly complete the KonMarie Method, I'm on day three, and progress is happening. Not as quickly as Marie probably wants it to happen, but I'm making progress.
I think.
Anyway, the method makes you grab ALL of your clothes into one place and go through them. There is no room to room nonsense, there is no room for "Maybe I'll keep this" No. Because when I think "Maybe I'll keep this" I have a scary Japanese woman yelling at me, as you can see below. (My friend sent me this video when I told her I felt like I was being screamed at. Terrifying.)
Okay, maybe she's not terrifying, but I have this voice in my head saying: Get Rid of It!
So I am.
I've moved onto books and papers, and being a writer I have a thousand plus one pieces of paper. Gone. Books? I've only kept the ones I LOVE, so that's easy. But now it gets a little difficult. Marie says I shouldn't nag my family to tidy because they'll resent me. And I shouldn't ask my family's permission to get rid of stuff I know they haven't used in forever.
I'm asking permission.
Anyway, I'm going through the book, and she says to thank your shoes for protecting your feet and your bag for carrying your things, and your jacket for keeping you warm, and then you put everything into its home.
I'm not sure if I'll be able to do that, but I'm enjoying the feeling of less stuff. I feel like the house is slowly getting bigger.
Warning: This book also makes you want to do some serious deep cleaning. Like cleaning out HVAC vents and moving furniture to clean.
Oh, Marie, what have you done to me?
Ohhh, more things to get rid of!
Interesting.
Would I be interested?
I'd like to think my house is clean, and it is before people come over, and tends to stay more picked up in the winter when we're not packing and unpacking and dropping towels everywhere (I'm guilty of the towels)
The house kinda looks like a bear frat party came through, and only stopped partying when a tornado ripped through.
No matter how much I clean, the house looks like it was destroyed within three days.
Sure, I said. Let me borrow it.
I understand why people brag about their workouts and diets now.
People are talking about packing, or their houses and I'm the obnoxious person who suddenly knows EVERYTHING about tidying.
I've read 177 pages of "The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up" and I'm more than happy to tell you how to tidy. But that's weird. So I'll try to keep it under control.
Anyway, I've already donated three bags of clothes, and Marie was right, I can feel my stuff relax now they're no longer crammed into drawers with things that don't bring me joy.
Keep things that make you happy, get rid of everything else, and thank them for doing their job and at one time giving you joy.
Okay, it's a weird book.
I may be more granola than I thought.
It also uses Japanese efficiency. That's pretty cool. It took someone ten days to nearly complete the KonMarie Method, I'm on day three, and progress is happening. Not as quickly as Marie probably wants it to happen, but I'm making progress.
I think.
Anyway, the method makes you grab ALL of your clothes into one place and go through them. There is no room to room nonsense, there is no room for "Maybe I'll keep this" No. Because when I think "Maybe I'll keep this" I have a scary Japanese woman yelling at me, as you can see below. (My friend sent me this video when I told her I felt like I was being screamed at. Terrifying.)
Okay, maybe she's not terrifying, but I have this voice in my head saying: Get Rid of It!
So I am.
I've moved onto books and papers, and being a writer I have a thousand plus one pieces of paper. Gone. Books? I've only kept the ones I LOVE, so that's easy. But now it gets a little difficult. Marie says I shouldn't nag my family to tidy because they'll resent me. And I shouldn't ask my family's permission to get rid of stuff I know they haven't used in forever.
I'm asking permission.
Anyway, I'm going through the book, and she says to thank your shoes for protecting your feet and your bag for carrying your things, and your jacket for keeping you warm, and then you put everything into its home.
I'm not sure if I'll be able to do that, but I'm enjoying the feeling of less stuff. I feel like the house is slowly getting bigger.
Warning: This book also makes you want to do some serious deep cleaning. Like cleaning out HVAC vents and moving furniture to clean.
Oh, Marie, what have you done to me?
Ohhh, more things to get rid of!
Friday, June 12, 2015
Advice to the Grads
In the last couple of weeks my Facebook and Twitter feeds have been filled with famous people giving advice to college grads.
Ten years ago I graduated high school, I'm trying to be a published author, and I operate a blog focusing on me trying to be the adult I thought I was supposed to be. You know, competent.
And because of this I'm extremely qualified to give a commence speech type thing:
To the high school graduates, Congratulations!
You've proven you can remember facts and figures and spit them out at a moment's notice, and you're capable of filling in bubbles with a number two pencil.
Forget all of that.
As of now, you're going to be graded and judged on what type of person you are, and what you can do for others and for yourself.
This is the time when you get to figure out what type of person you want to be. (Hint: If you're going to college you have a few more years to figure it out) And the choice is up to you, but remember the rest of the world will be judging you, so don't be a jerk.
Also, enjoy this summer with your friends. This will be the last summer where everything is as it was. Next summer friends may stay at school, have jobs, hang out with new friends, and be working. The jokes of senior year won't matter as much, and you'll all be changed, mostly for the good.
So, before you embark on your journey, enjoy the time with your friends and family. Have fun, cause shenanigans, don't get arrested.
Remember this time, capture the moments with friends (you don't have to use your cell) and go on adventures, have bonfires, hang out.
High school was not the best years of your life (unless you make it so), nor will college. A million things will happen between now and by the time you get the invite for your ten year class reunion (it comes faster than you think)
You will work hard for your goals and you may not reach them, but something better comes along you never thought would happen. Embrace it.
Things you never thought possible, or thought of at all, will happen, while things you've worked your hardest for may not.
There will be a time when you look around and wonder how you got where you are. It's entirely possible your life is unrecognizable from what you imagined.
I hope it works out so it's better than you thought possible.
And if not, there's Netflix.
You will fail. You will fail so hard you won't want to pick up the phone and talk to anyone. You will want to hide out and watch movies and eat pizza and wonder how the hell you got yourself into this mess.
And at that moment you have two options. Get up and work some more, or lie there and become a blob.
Don't be a blob. Be glad that you tried, be glad that you lived, and be glad you took the chance. And go do it all over again.
And for some of you, you may fail more than you succeed. So did a lot of people who have led the way in new technology, science, books, and acceptable pizza toppings.
It's okay to cry yourself to sleep after you've failed. And if you're a college student, you may find yourself just breaking into tears at three in the morning as you try to finish a project or paper.
It's okay. It happens.
At some point you're going to wish for an answer sheet. You're going to want to see what the future holds. You're going to want the answers for your exams. You're going to question your ability and why you are where you are.
You're going to feel lost and overwhelmed.
Ride it out.
Here's the secret I learned since graduating high school: No one knows what they're doing or why, or where they parked their car.
Welcome to the scary world of doubt.
The training wheels of life are officially off, and you're on your own to pedal. However you remain upright, do it. You may pedal differently than others, but if it works for you, do it.
You do you.
You will meet people who's lives appear perfect, and neatly mapped out for success, while you struggle working the soft serve ice cream machine (hint: turn the knob the other way) it's okay, everyone finds their way at some point. Sometimes, it takes a bit longer than others.
And if you're the one who has it all figured out, help the poor person who is starving for some ice cream.
Have fun and good luck!
Ten years ago I graduated high school, I'm trying to be a published author, and I operate a blog focusing on me trying to be the adult I thought I was supposed to be. You know, competent.
And because of this I'm extremely qualified to give a commence speech type thing:
To the high school graduates, Congratulations!
You've proven you can remember facts and figures and spit them out at a moment's notice, and you're capable of filling in bubbles with a number two pencil.
Forget all of that.
As of now, you're going to be graded and judged on what type of person you are, and what you can do for others and for yourself.
This is the time when you get to figure out what type of person you want to be. (Hint: If you're going to college you have a few more years to figure it out) And the choice is up to you, but remember the rest of the world will be judging you, so don't be a jerk.
Also, enjoy this summer with your friends. This will be the last summer where everything is as it was. Next summer friends may stay at school, have jobs, hang out with new friends, and be working. The jokes of senior year won't matter as much, and you'll all be changed, mostly for the good.
So, before you embark on your journey, enjoy the time with your friends and family. Have fun, cause shenanigans, don't get arrested.
Remember this time, capture the moments with friends (you don't have to use your cell) and go on adventures, have bonfires, hang out.
High school was not the best years of your life (unless you make it so), nor will college. A million things will happen between now and by the time you get the invite for your ten year class reunion (it comes faster than you think)
You will work hard for your goals and you may not reach them, but something better comes along you never thought would happen. Embrace it.
Things you never thought possible, or thought of at all, will happen, while things you've worked your hardest for may not.
There will be a time when you look around and wonder how you got where you are. It's entirely possible your life is unrecognizable from what you imagined.
I hope it works out so it's better than you thought possible.
And if not, there's Netflix.
You will fail. You will fail so hard you won't want to pick up the phone and talk to anyone. You will want to hide out and watch movies and eat pizza and wonder how the hell you got yourself into this mess.
And at that moment you have two options. Get up and work some more, or lie there and become a blob.
Don't be a blob. Be glad that you tried, be glad that you lived, and be glad you took the chance. And go do it all over again.
And for some of you, you may fail more than you succeed. So did a lot of people who have led the way in new technology, science, books, and acceptable pizza toppings.
It's okay to cry yourself to sleep after you've failed. And if you're a college student, you may find yourself just breaking into tears at three in the morning as you try to finish a project or paper.
It's okay. It happens.
At some point you're going to wish for an answer sheet. You're going to want to see what the future holds. You're going to want the answers for your exams. You're going to question your ability and why you are where you are.
You're going to feel lost and overwhelmed.
Ride it out.
Here's the secret I learned since graduating high school: No one knows what they're doing or why, or where they parked their car.
Welcome to the scary world of doubt.
The training wheels of life are officially off, and you're on your own to pedal. However you remain upright, do it. You may pedal differently than others, but if it works for you, do it.
You do you.
You will meet people who's lives appear perfect, and neatly mapped out for success, while you struggle working the soft serve ice cream machine (hint: turn the knob the other way) it's okay, everyone finds their way at some point. Sometimes, it takes a bit longer than others.
And if you're the one who has it all figured out, help the poor person who is starving for some ice cream.
Have fun and good luck!
Thursday, January 29, 2015
31 Days Sober
It has been thirty-one days since I've had a drink. #SoberSolidarity
It began with a friend, who will be known as FRIEND, who was sober for three years, after a night that landed FRIEND in the hospital to have stomach pumped and a cast placed on a broken leg. FRIEND has struggled in the last couple months, complete with a trip to the drunk tank on Halloween. So when I was asked if I would help FRIEND stay sober for a year I said yes.
FRIEND began getting back on track in November with the help of others, and I was asked to be sober the month of January. Sure, no problem. How hard could it be?
Not as hard as I thought, but still difficult.
Also, in December, I entered a weight loss bet with a friend. If we lost the weight, we would go on a warm, sunny trip for a weekend. I knew I was going to be sober for the month of January, and felt confident I could lose fifteen pounds.
I knew of the health benefits of cutting out alcohol, and everyone says if you want to lose weight, cut out the drinking. I lost eight pounds this month (twelve since we began this), I don't know if that is from not drinking, or a combination of that, and eating healthier, and being more diligent in workouts.
Either way, I feel good.
We rang in 2015 on the roof of a friends' house, with drinks in hand. I finished mine, and from 12:30 a.m. January 1 and until Sunday (Feb. 1) I'm sober. I'm also not going to be popping open a drink at 12:01 a.m. on Feb. 1. Thankyouverymuch.
It was more difficult in ways I never thought, and easier in others.
Our house did not go dry for this month. Chris still drank a beer when cooking, or after work. I was moving beer bottles around in the fridge, and there was no temptation. We went to Whistler and the fridge was packed with beer, and the temptation wasn't bad.
What was bad, was being at a brewery, or out to dinner and ordering water when I saw the beer list. It was also hard to wait longer for my water when everyone already had their beer.
The month began and I was hit with my first temptation. The Cotton Bowl. Michigan State vs. Baylor. Michigan State was getting blown out, which I watched sober. Then State mounted the most amazing comeback which I watched sober.
The temptation was high, but I was okay with not having anything but water in front of me. It was harder the next day when we went to a friend's house for Chris's birthday and Chris and our friend, Charles, opened several bottles of delicious beer to split.
We went to Whistler, and the thought of not drinking with everyone was harder than not drinking with everyone. FRIEND told me I could drink while I was at Whistler, but I knew FRIEND was struggling more than I was. After all, I had an end date, FRIEND has no day knowing a beer can be opened.
I told FRIEND I would see this through. And FRIEND stayed sober. Awesome. There were nine of us in the house, and once people knew I wasn't drinking they were cool with having a beer for me, which was dubbed a "Mo Beer."
Not a single person, who knew about me being sober, offered me anything with alcohol the entire month, and were pretty supportive.
And this is where I feel lucky. I could turn down a drink and say I'm #SoberSolidarity and people backed off. When FRIEND turned down a drink FRIEND said people would pressure, or would ask why FRIEND couldn't have only one. Which partly led to the relapse.
What I learned during this month, was how unhelpful, and rude people can be. I was at my writer's
critique group, and I announced I was twenty-one days sober. People were impressed, and said congratulations.
A friend asked if I was going to meetings, and I said I was only doing this for a month, and it was in solidarity for a friend. Another member of the group began mocking the idea of "for a friend, suuuure, suuuure," she said.
Even if I was going to AA, and needed a friend cover, because I didn't want people to know; I thought it was rude to mock. People don't have to be encouraging, it would be nice if they were, but not everyone is, so if you can't say "good job," SAY NOTHING.
I also learned how often the term Alcoholic was tossed about. Having a night of drinking more than you should, does not make you an alcoholic. Drinking one more than you should, does not make you an alcoholic.Having a beer or two every night, does not make you an alcoholic.
As FRIEND told me, FRIEND could not wait to get home and open the new twelve pack. FRIEND could not wait to get drunk, and would not stop until FRIEND was so drunk FRIEND could not make it from the couch to the bedroom.
People who drink and alcoholics are separated by the ability to stop. Alcoholics as FRIEND told me, will not stop until drunk, or passed out. FRIEND craved that moment of drunkenness where FRIEND did not care what other people thought and felt confident.
We were out the other night with friends, and a couple stories of people getting drunk were being told, and a person at the table kept repeating "That's because you're an alcoholic. That's because you're an alcoholic."
The person telling the story is not an alcoholic.
Just because a person has gotten drunk in their lives does not make them an alcoholic. According to Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, IV, alcoholism is a progressive disease, symptoms and effects of drinking alcohol become increasingly more severe over time.
Alcohol abuse is when someone continues to drink even after it reaches a level that causes recurrent problems, like missing work, driving drunk, skipping things to drink, and continuing with the behavior even after being reprimanded, or given a DUI. "Continuing to drink after it causes someone to miss work, drive drunk, shirk responsibilities or get in trouble with the law is considered alcohol abuse."
An alcoholic, or "Alcohol Dependent", can experience other symptoms, including neglect of other activities, excessive use of alcohol, impaired control of alcohol consumption, persistence of alcohol use, large amounts of time spent in alcohol-related activities, withdrawal from others and a high tolerance of alcohol.
It's a mental disorder, and the addiction to alcohol controls them. Meaning, they cannot have just one, because one leads to a lot, and poor decisions, and as FRIEND told me, those poor decisions either seem like good ones at the time, or give the feeling of it can be accomplished, no big deal.
FRIEND is doing well, FRIEND made it the entire month without a drink. It was a struggle, but FRIEND made it through. There were a lot of AA meetings attended, nights spent on other people's couches because FRIEND couldn't be alone in fear of drinking. But FRIEND is making it.And I'm incredibly proud of FRIEND.
It began with a friend, who will be known as FRIEND, who was sober for three years, after a night that landed FRIEND in the hospital to have stomach pumped and a cast placed on a broken leg. FRIEND has struggled in the last couple months, complete with a trip to the drunk tank on Halloween. So when I was asked if I would help FRIEND stay sober for a year I said yes.
FRIEND began getting back on track in November with the help of others, and I was asked to be sober the month of January. Sure, no problem. How hard could it be?
Not as hard as I thought, but still difficult.
Also, in December, I entered a weight loss bet with a friend. If we lost the weight, we would go on a warm, sunny trip for a weekend. I knew I was going to be sober for the month of January, and felt confident I could lose fifteen pounds.
I knew of the health benefits of cutting out alcohol, and everyone says if you want to lose weight, cut out the drinking. I lost eight pounds this month (twelve since we began this), I don't know if that is from not drinking, or a combination of that, and eating healthier, and being more diligent in workouts.
Either way, I feel good.
We rang in 2015 on the roof of a friends' house, with drinks in hand. I finished mine, and from 12:30 a.m. January 1 and until Sunday (Feb. 1) I'm sober. I'm also not going to be popping open a drink at 12:01 a.m. on Feb. 1. Thankyouverymuch.
It was more difficult in ways I never thought, and easier in others.
Our house did not go dry for this month. Chris still drank a beer when cooking, or after work. I was moving beer bottles around in the fridge, and there was no temptation. We went to Whistler and the fridge was packed with beer, and the temptation wasn't bad.
What was bad, was being at a brewery, or out to dinner and ordering water when I saw the beer list. It was also hard to wait longer for my water when everyone already had their beer.
The month began and I was hit with my first temptation. The Cotton Bowl. Michigan State vs. Baylor. Michigan State was getting blown out, which I watched sober. Then State mounted the most amazing comeback which I watched sober.
The temptation was high, but I was okay with not having anything but water in front of me. It was harder the next day when we went to a friend's house for Chris's birthday and Chris and our friend, Charles, opened several bottles of delicious beer to split.
We went to Whistler, and the thought of not drinking with everyone was harder than not drinking with everyone. FRIEND told me I could drink while I was at Whistler, but I knew FRIEND was struggling more than I was. After all, I had an end date, FRIEND has no day knowing a beer can be opened.
I told FRIEND I would see this through. And FRIEND stayed sober. Awesome. There were nine of us in the house, and once people knew I wasn't drinking they were cool with having a beer for me, which was dubbed a "Mo Beer."
Not a single person, who knew about me being sober, offered me anything with alcohol the entire month, and were pretty supportive.
And this is where I feel lucky. I could turn down a drink and say I'm #SoberSolidarity and people backed off. When FRIEND turned down a drink FRIEND said people would pressure, or would ask why FRIEND couldn't have only one. Which partly led to the relapse.
What I learned during this month, was how unhelpful, and rude people can be. I was at my writer's
critique group, and I announced I was twenty-one days sober. People were impressed, and said congratulations.
A friend asked if I was going to meetings, and I said I was only doing this for a month, and it was in solidarity for a friend. Another member of the group began mocking the idea of "for a friend, suuuure, suuuure," she said.
Even if I was going to AA, and needed a friend cover, because I didn't want people to know; I thought it was rude to mock. People don't have to be encouraging, it would be nice if they were, but not everyone is, so if you can't say "good job," SAY NOTHING.
I also learned how often the term Alcoholic was tossed about. Having a night of drinking more than you should, does not make you an alcoholic. Drinking one more than you should, does not make you an alcoholic.Having a beer or two every night, does not make you an alcoholic.
As FRIEND told me, FRIEND could not wait to get home and open the new twelve pack. FRIEND could not wait to get drunk, and would not stop until FRIEND was so drunk FRIEND could not make it from the couch to the bedroom.
People who drink and alcoholics are separated by the ability to stop. Alcoholics as FRIEND told me, will not stop until drunk, or passed out. FRIEND craved that moment of drunkenness where FRIEND did not care what other people thought and felt confident.
We were out the other night with friends, and a couple stories of people getting drunk were being told, and a person at the table kept repeating "That's because you're an alcoholic. That's because you're an alcoholic."
The person telling the story is not an alcoholic.
Just because a person has gotten drunk in their lives does not make them an alcoholic. According to Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, IV, alcoholism is a progressive disease, symptoms and effects of drinking alcohol become increasingly more severe over time.
Alcohol abuse is when someone continues to drink even after it reaches a level that causes recurrent problems, like missing work, driving drunk, skipping things to drink, and continuing with the behavior even after being reprimanded, or given a DUI. "Continuing to drink after it causes someone to miss work, drive drunk, shirk responsibilities or get in trouble with the law is considered alcohol abuse."
An alcoholic, or "Alcohol Dependent", can experience other symptoms, including neglect of other activities, excessive use of alcohol, impaired control of alcohol consumption, persistence of alcohol use, large amounts of time spent in alcohol-related activities, withdrawal from others and a high tolerance of alcohol.
It's a mental disorder, and the addiction to alcohol controls them. Meaning, they cannot have just one, because one leads to a lot, and poor decisions, and as FRIEND told me, those poor decisions either seem like good ones at the time, or give the feeling of it can be accomplished, no big deal.
FRIEND is doing well, FRIEND made it the entire month without a drink. It was a struggle, but FRIEND made it through. There were a lot of AA meetings attended, nights spent on other people's couches because FRIEND couldn't be alone in fear of drinking. But FRIEND is making it.And I'm incredibly proud of FRIEND.
Monday, December 1, 2014
Definition of Adulthood
A couple weeks ago Chris and I met up with friends for dinner, and I said I wasn't feeling this adulthood thing. My wonderful friends and husband listed a million reasons why adulthood is awesome, and as I eat my dinosaur chicken nuggets for breakfast, I'm agreeing with them.
The definition of adulthood:
Knowing how to remove a toilet, and trade out toilet seats. It is waking up in the morning and water is coming through places it should not be. It is scrolling through Facebook and "liking" pictures of my friends babies, when it was only a short time ago we were hanging out in bars.
It is watching DIY Network and HGTV, and being excited about the boring floors and trim. It is wanting to have movie nights more often than bar hopping, and conversations center around work than who is hooking up with who.
It is being less concerned about what people think of me and more what I think of myself. It is eating puppy chow for breakfast and all of my vegetables at dinner. It is cleaning the house, and sleeping until noon. It is bill paying, equity building, beer festivals, and super soaker fights.
Adulthood is fun, and exhausting, and not everything I thought it would, but I'm having a lot of fun.
Tuesday, August 26, 2014
The best and worst of adulthood
My seven year old self would be so proud of me this weekend.
Chris and I along with two friends went camping, and with the fun camping brings, it also comes copious amounts of junk food and beer.
So, before there was actual breakfast, there were Oreos. And I high fived the child who would be so excited I wasn't a fuddy duddy.
And I am indeed eating what I want when I want, food pyramid of healthy eating be damned!
I then high fived myself and did an awesome dance and died from a sugar rush.
And then I paid for it dearly at the gym Monday morning. But that's okay; because my inner child isn't completely dead.
Which is a good thing, because for a while life threw way to much adult stuff my direction, and I was not okay with it. First I had to go through the car buying process, and then when that was finally under control, there was water in my ceiling light.
It started simply enough. My sister was over before we were to embark on a bike ride to several breweries and tasting rooms with our parents and family, when half way through her shower we noticed water in a ceiling light.
And as much as I enjoy fish tanks, I did not appreciate the one on the ceiling.
After calling five plumbing companies a couple days later (we had beer to drink) I taped the light switch and saved the problem for another day. Of the five companies called, three companies showed up.
Also, when stereotypes are confirmed I can't help but laugh. Plumber butt cracks are no joking manner, but hilarious!
The people from the company that will do the work, has total control of the butt crack situation, and I am forever grateful.
Anyway, plumbers come to try and figure out where water is coming from.
And one plumber is staring at the ceiling of the main floor pointing out water damage EVERYWHERE. Dude, we have textured ceilings and walls. Not every bump is water damage.
And then he says, I need to cut a couple holes here, here, and here (all are very far from where the water made an appearance).
And I'm like:
There is a hole, one hole, a small square hole close to the light where the water was hanging out. The leak was spotted, work will be done to fix the water, but it is on me to fix the hole in the ceiling.
Everyone, begin chewing bubble gum!
So, now on Tuesday the plumber is here, and it smells like he lit several gerbils on fire as he used fire to repair several of the busted, broken, pipes which were leaking water EVERYWHERE!
But now I have a couple holes.
And I wanted to redo my bathroom (the one that now has a hole) so this might be a good time to do so. Or I can just put the tiles back on the wall and call it good, but that doesn't seem quite so fun. Oh, the decisions.
I'll go eat an Oreo and make a decision...
Chris and I along with two friends went camping, and with the fun camping brings, it also comes copious amounts of junk food and beer.
So, before there was actual breakfast, there were Oreos. And I high fived the child who would be so excited I wasn't a fuddy duddy.
And I am indeed eating what I want when I want, food pyramid of healthy eating be damned!
I then high fived myself and did an awesome dance and died from a sugar rush.
And then I paid for it dearly at the gym Monday morning. But that's okay; because my inner child isn't completely dead.
Which is a good thing, because for a while life threw way to much adult stuff my direction, and I was not okay with it. First I had to go through the car buying process, and then when that was finally under control, there was water in my ceiling light.
It started simply enough. My sister was over before we were to embark on a bike ride to several breweries and tasting rooms with our parents and family, when half way through her shower we noticed water in a ceiling light.
And as much as I enjoy fish tanks, I did not appreciate the one on the ceiling.
After calling five plumbing companies a couple days later (we had beer to drink) I taped the light switch and saved the problem for another day. Of the five companies called, three companies showed up.
Also, when stereotypes are confirmed I can't help but laugh. Plumber butt cracks are no joking manner, but hilarious!
The people from the company that will do the work, has total control of the butt crack situation, and I am forever grateful.
Anyway, plumbers come to try and figure out where water is coming from.
And one plumber is staring at the ceiling of the main floor pointing out water damage EVERYWHERE. Dude, we have textured ceilings and walls. Not every bump is water damage.
And then he says, I need to cut a couple holes here, here, and here (all are very far from where the water made an appearance).
And I'm like:
There is a hole, one hole, a small square hole close to the light where the water was hanging out. The leak was spotted, work will be done to fix the water, but it is on me to fix the hole in the ceiling.
Everyone, begin chewing bubble gum!
So, now on Tuesday the plumber is here, and it smells like he lit several gerbils on fire as he used fire to repair several of the busted, broken, pipes which were leaking water EVERYWHERE!
But now I have a couple holes.
And I wanted to redo my bathroom (the one that now has a hole) so this might be a good time to do so. Or I can just put the tiles back on the wall and call it good, but that doesn't seem quite so fun. Oh, the decisions.
I'll go eat an Oreo and make a decision...
Friday, July 18, 2014
Legit Adulthood Checklist
Let me just say, Adulthood sucks.
Bills, groceries, cleaning, house stuff, responsibility sucks.
Adulthood sucks. There, I've said it, can I opt out?
I've technically been an adult for nine years; however I've been able to avoid actual adulthood for those nine years.
Sure there are bills, and a mortgage, and I don't eat candy for breakfast like I promised myself I would. But I do have infinite Cocoa Krispies, and that alone keeps me from having both feet in adulthood.
Being an adult was supposed to be fun. I was supposed to be able to do anything I wanted whenever I wanted. Except there is far more responsibility than I ever imagined.
Until this week I'd never considered myself a real adult. Somehow I got smacked in the face with a sign that says "WELCOME TO ADULTHOOD!" Unfortunately the sign smacked me as I was on a test drive for a new car. Luckily I didn't crash.
Like every teenager in the country I took drivers ed, and let me tell you, test driving my potential car was a massive flashback.
I checked all my mirrors, adjusted my seat, and tried not to terrify the guy in the passenger seat with my driving, and then slammed on the breaks and sent us all forward into our seat belts. The salesman practically hit the dash.
Sorry.
Engine breaking, touchy break pedal, all those things, and suddenly I was fifteen again. Awesome.
Use the turn signal for every turn, crawl over speed bumps, slow for pedestrian crossings, yup, all of that.
I have yet to buy a vehicle, but I'm close, and it is stressful, and overwhelming, and hard.
I have a theory about adulthood. There is an adulthood checklist, and not until is every item checked off do you become an adult. Buying a car is one of the biggest items on that list.
I'm checking off more items than I'm happy to admit, ever so slowly life is pulling me into the adulthood realm, and no matter how much I'm screaming, it's happening. I'm slowly turning into an adult, like a slime monster.
Oh man. I needed a car, and now I'm an adult. Abort! Abort!
And there is no coming back from adulthood. It is a horrible place with horrible things and horribleness.
I'm trying to find the things that I thought were so cool when I was a young and silly child, and besides Cocoa Krispies and no real bedtime, and being able to do whatever I want when I want, but still within the bounds of society.
And I really want the second star to the right, grab some Fairy Dust, and have a new car without having to be an adult. Is that so hard?
Bills, groceries, cleaning, house stuff, responsibility sucks.
Adulthood sucks. There, I've said it, can I opt out?
I've technically been an adult for nine years; however I've been able to avoid actual adulthood for those nine years.
Sure there are bills, and a mortgage, and I don't eat candy for breakfast like I promised myself I would. But I do have infinite Cocoa Krispies, and that alone keeps me from having both feet in adulthood.
Being an adult was supposed to be fun. I was supposed to be able to do anything I wanted whenever I wanted. Except there is far more responsibility than I ever imagined.
Until this week I'd never considered myself a real adult. Somehow I got smacked in the face with a sign that says "WELCOME TO ADULTHOOD!" Unfortunately the sign smacked me as I was on a test drive for a new car. Luckily I didn't crash.
Like every teenager in the country I took drivers ed, and let me tell you, test driving my potential car was a massive flashback.
I checked all my mirrors, adjusted my seat, and tried not to terrify the guy in the passenger seat with my driving, and then slammed on the breaks and sent us all forward into our seat belts. The salesman practically hit the dash.
Sorry.
Engine breaking, touchy break pedal, all those things, and suddenly I was fifteen again. Awesome.
Use the turn signal for every turn, crawl over speed bumps, slow for pedestrian crossings, yup, all of that.
I have yet to buy a vehicle, but I'm close, and it is stressful, and overwhelming, and hard.
I have a theory about adulthood. There is an adulthood checklist, and not until is every item checked off do you become an adult. Buying a car is one of the biggest items on that list.
I'm checking off more items than I'm happy to admit, ever so slowly life is pulling me into the adulthood realm, and no matter how much I'm screaming, it's happening. I'm slowly turning into an adult, like a slime monster.
Oh man. I needed a car, and now I'm an adult. Abort! Abort!
And there is no coming back from adulthood. It is a horrible place with horrible things and horribleness.
I'm trying to find the things that I thought were so cool when I was a young and silly child, and besides Cocoa Krispies and no real bedtime, and being able to do whatever I want when I want, but still within the bounds of society.
And I really want the second star to the right, grab some Fairy Dust, and have a new car without having to be an adult. Is that so hard?
Monday, February 3, 2014
The Bathroom Remodel
And it really was a great idea. While the bathroom was functional, it was not aesthetically pleasing.
The floor on the other hand, was gross. No amount of scrubbing could ever make the floor look clean. And since the house was a rental for twenty years before we bought it, I don't even want to think about the junk the floor has seen.
Out it goes!
And if you're going to take out the floor, you might as well cut out some drywall and throw some soundproofing insulation in between the wall for some added privacy.
Not a large project at all.
So let's begin taking everything out!
And in case you wanted to preform pullups on the towel racks, very long screws kept those suckers mounted to the wall.
This is when I began questioning what the people prior were thinking. A question I had for the next two weeks.
Everyone please join me a resounding EWWWWWW.
So, I began peeling back the vinyl sheet and was met with this. Apparently, you do not need a subfloor across your entire floor, but only where the vanity will be resting.
For the record, it made it easier to pry up the particle board subfloor that was stapled every inch apart. It was very secure.
The last piece was the hardest to pry up, as it had the consistency of hamster cage lining.
It took about a week for me, Chris, and my wonderful friend Becky to pull up the particle board which was glued and stapled to the floor. And where there was no glue or staples it had fused itself to the floor.
Again, who did this?!
So, we decided to leave the floor for another day and start demoing the walls. I greatly enjoyed my drywall knife, which cuts through everything, except studs, heating vents, and anything not drywall.
Ok, it just cuts through drywall, but it does it very well. Also, Becky is very safety conscious and says eye protection is a must while cutting drywall.
So I grabbed my eye protection.
Yup, those are ski goggles.
But it was a little weird using duct tape for it's intended purpose. We took down a wall with the hope of moving a light switch closer to the door. Instead, we found a heating vent with puncture holes.
Neither one of us used one before, but I've seen a few people using one to figure it out.
And keeping stereotypes alive we decided the best way to use one was like an iron. Keep it moving, and don't put a hole in the floor.
She got the glue and particle board chunks up pretty quick.
And we got the drywall up pretty quick. It was surprisingly easy to cut drywall. It's not that easy for us to read a ruler. We had measurements like: 34 inches and seven lines. Or 20 inches and two lines past 3/4.
While it was not legit ruler reading, it was pretty accurate.
(** We are capable of reading a ruler, and had legit measurements as well.)
Although, I had a wonderful moment of trying to figure out how many 16ths are in an inch.
I blame the dust or something.
I admit it was not my finest moment. But look, the walls got done.
We only had one issue of hanging it. A ninja nail snuck itself in a corner and made us crazy on why the drywall would not go flush. We figured it out. It was fine. Made us feel kind of dumb. But it was fine.
At 3pm on Thursday I was leaving for Whistler and I was on my own for adding texture to the wall. I could not get the texture to be consistent. Which is why it looks like a drunk sailor added texture with a seagull.
The theme for the bathroom is Great Lakes Winter, so I guess the seagull texture goes with it.
What was fun, as seven people walked into the house were all surprised I was remodeling the bathroom. And being engineers all had the question of why I was doing this right before we were supposed to leave.
It was supposed to be done by the time they got to the house. Oh well.
A sore and broken Mo was back to work in the bathroom on Monday, with a quick paint job with paint leftover from my bedroom, it was time for the floor.
Oh the floor. It looks awesome, but it was a pain to grout.
Becky came up huge with methods of cleaning the grout off the rocks.
And floor went from this:
No.
It took us longer to put the bathroom back together than it did knocking everything down.
I thought four weeks before the Superbowl would give me plenty of time to finish the bathroom before thirty people came over to watch the game; and yet it was Friday night before the game we were installing a door.
For the record, installing doors are a pain in the ass. But once Chris recognized his lovely wife made the drywall 1/8 of an inch longer than the header, and therefore impeding the top of the door jamb from being raised as it needed, and then sent lovely wife up a ladder with a knife to undo what was done, it was installed in under two hours.
And plumbing on Saturday morning for the sink. Chris took over because I could not get the PVC to connect on Friday:
Chris claimed he liked plumbing, or wouldn't mind doing it. And he completed the project with less than 26 hours remaining before people came over.
And this is how it all looks minus a mirror and four canvas prints of Great Lake lighthouses.
And surprisingly I still have all my fingers and there were no accidental holes in the wall. So that's a win.
Next project?
Well, because we are pros at hanging doors now, we're going to switch all the doors out in the hallway, and I'm going to be painting and removing the old baseboards. Woot!
Friday, January 3, 2014
New Year Resolutions
Happy 2014!!
We brought in the Eastern Time Zone New Year as we flew over eastern Washington on our way back to Seattle after going home for Christmas.
For the record, I'm never flying on New Year's Eve again.
Sure, the fireworks from the plane were cool, but you know what's not cool? Falling asleep on the couch.
When I booked the flight I didn't think it would be that bad.
It was bad.
One, I was exhausted before we began our journey back.
Two, it was a connecting flight through Minneapolis. Which was the easiest connector in the world. We got off the plane, and got back on the same plane for our second leg.
I got the awesome seat assignment of the same seat, on the same plane.
Yeah, that was the highlight.
We landed at 10pm in Seattle, waited for our bags, with the intention of going over to a friend's house after we dropped our stuff off at home.
Did not happen.
We spent New Year's Eve opening our Christmas presents and sleeping on the couch.
So with the new year, it's time to reflect on last year and start all over, and blah-di-blah-di-ty-da.
So now it's time for resolutions.
I don't smoke. So there's nothing to quit.
I don't have to lose weight, or go to the gym more (I'm there four to five days a week)
I'm not in debt, so there's no spending I have to cut back on.
I'm happily married, so I don't have to figure out the relationship thing.
Yup. New Year Resolution's suck when you have your life together.
Here's to a year of friends, family, and fun!
Happy 2014 everyone!
We brought in the Eastern Time Zone New Year as we flew over eastern Washington on our way back to Seattle after going home for Christmas.
For the record, I'm never flying on New Year's Eve again.
Sure, the fireworks from the plane were cool, but you know what's not cool? Falling asleep on the couch.
When I booked the flight I didn't think it would be that bad.
It was bad.
One, I was exhausted before we began our journey back.
Two, it was a connecting flight through Minneapolis. Which was the easiest connector in the world. We got off the plane, and got back on the same plane for our second leg.
I got the awesome seat assignment of the same seat, on the same plane.
Yeah, that was the highlight.
We landed at 10pm in Seattle, waited for our bags, with the intention of going over to a friend's house after we dropped our stuff off at home.
Did not happen.
We spent New Year's Eve opening our Christmas presents and sleeping on the couch.
So with the new year, it's time to reflect on last year and start all over, and blah-di-blah-di-ty-da.
So now it's time for resolutions.
I think any year you're not arrested, and your family is still talking to you, it's a good year.
I will not be inspired. I will not be original. I will not work hard. I will not enjoy. And you can't make me!
No, in all honesty, I'll just keep doing my thing.
I don't smoke. So there's nothing to quit.
I don't have to lose weight, or go to the gym more (I'm there four to five days a week)
I'm not in debt, so there's no spending I have to cut back on.
I'm happily married, so I don't have to figure out the relationship thing.
Yup. New Year Resolution's suck when you have your life together.
Here's to a year of friends, family, and fun!
Happy 2014 everyone!
Monday, November 4, 2013
Writing a Novel
It's NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month)
You have the month of November to write 50,000 words.
Many, many people participate, and many, many people finish their novel in a month. The goal is to finish the novel; not to write a perfect novel.
I'm not participating because I don't want to stop working on my current novel to begin a new one.
I can read three novels at once, but I cannot create three worlds at the same time. There are way to many voices going on in my head.
Yes, the voices.
Writing isn't hard. It just takes a lot of discipline to sit at a computer and type on Word and not on Facebook or Twitter.
There is a reason I turn off my Wi-Fi.
Soooooo, why do I write? One, there isn't anything else I really want to do. And because of this:
Focus on the "technically."
There are the jerks who make fun of you writing, and who say stupid stuff about it not being a real job. And stuff that makes them look like ass holes.
It happens. I just try not to let them get me down.
So how do you help a writer? Don't be Gabriel.
Unless if you want to be the villain.
You have the month of November to write 50,000 words.
Many, many people participate, and many, many people finish their novel in a month. The goal is to finish the novel; not to write a perfect novel.
The rules are simple. Do not write a single word before November 1. You can have an outline, character profiles, and research done, but not a single word can be written.
I'm not participating because I don't want to stop working on my current novel to begin a new one.
I can read three novels at once, but I cannot create three worlds at the same time. There are way to many voices going on in my head.
Yes, the voices.
Chris and I will be in the car, and he'll ask me what's wrong.
Nothing is wrong, I'm just listening to the voices in my head have a conversation and trying to keep up so I can write it all down when I find a computer or a pen and paper, whatever comes first.
Chris is used to losing me to fictional people.
He came home one day from work and I was sitting on the couch crying as I typed on my laptop.
"What's wrong?"
"Grady Died."
"Who?"
"A character in my novel."
"Don't kill him then."
Yeah, I have no control over my characters. They do what they want, and I'm just lucky enough to get it on paper.
Writing isn't hard. It just takes a lot of discipline to sit at a computer and type on Word and not on Facebook or Twitter.
Soooooo, why do I write? One, there isn't anything else I really want to do. And because of this:
Focus on the "technically."
There are the jerks who make fun of you writing, and who say stupid stuff about it not being a real job. And stuff that makes them look like ass holes.
It happens. I just try not to let them get me down.
So how do you help a writer? Don't be Gabriel.
Unless if you want to be the villain.
Monday, October 28, 2013
The Pool
Some people are able to walk in and out of a grocery store without a story. I'm not one of them.
It started with me going to the grocery store after swimming at the gym.
After swimming I have wet hair. Apparently, this is an issue for an older woman who happened to be in front of me at checkout.
"Women should not come out in public as if they just walked out of the shower. You should put effort into your appearance."
I just pulled my exhausted body out of a pool after swimming 2,100 yards. I reek of chlorine, my eyes burn and I'm starving. I'm thinking my wet hair is the least of the issue. And really, the only one it's hurting is me; especially in the freezer section.
Also, I'm working out. And not just lying around on my butt.
Thank you very much.
You know The Oatmeal's Why I run long distances?
Yeah, well, this is like that. Only it's not.
A long, long time ago I was on a swim team.
It was a love hate relationship with the pool.
I love swimming. I love the quiet under water and I love the lightness and the buoyancy.
I hate the cold water. I loathe the cold water. Especially early in the morning.
Try running people say. I'm lazy. I'd rather lie on the couch with a book then go run.
Yeah, me and running is not a pretty thing. In fact, if you ever see me running, there is a very good chance I am being chased. Check behind me, and then start running because zombies are probably closing in.
I also prefer Cheetos to carrots.
Sugary drinks to water.
Do I eat Cheetos?
No.
Do I drink pop?
No.
Well, maybe occasionally.
But with swimming, like running, it's okay to eat an out of control amount.
I'm not training for anything. It's just my preferred method of working out.
When we were at the apartment I used the workout facility and spent a lot of time on the elliptical and stationary bike. I spent so much time on the elliptical it was amazing I could walk normally instead of my legs moving in a circular motion.
And that is when I went back to the pool.
So I entered the pool. I picked it back up one summer when we were in the apartment, and I swam for twenty minutes on the hour, until I swam for an hour and a half.I had a great tan that summer. And I lost a lot of inches around my thighs, stomach, and butt.
Anyway, when I looking to join a gym I wanted a pool. Sure I can do all those at home workouts, and stuff, but I really liked the coolness of the pool water.
The lightness of the water, but the resistance of a million strength bands, leaves me exhausted when I finish my hour swim.
And this isn't an old lady swim, this is a swim where I'm so tired, I can barely pull myself out of the pool.
Have you seen those Crossfit games?
It's amazing those guys haven't somehow torn every ligament and tendon in their body. Horrible form. And that's just them trying to swim.
Also, no one cares about my workout.
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
Don't buy a house
We have a house, and therefore it makes me qualified to tell you this:
DO NOT BUY A HOUSE.
I don't care how much more room there is for activities, it is NOT worth it.
With a house comes a yard. Our yard is goat approved. Meaning a goat could eat our grass and not starve within a day or four.
Our yard was basically abandoned and has required way more Saturdays then was preferred.
Yeah, you heard me. You buy a house and you lose your weekends to keeping it from falling down.
There's insulation, and flooring, and painting, and ugly bathrooms, and horrible laminate floors, and nothing like it looks on Pinterest (yet).
It is a money pit, I swear to God, you buy a house and you just toss money into the black hole that is Home Depot.
You know how when you are in an apartment and your sink stops working and you can just call the front desk and ask them to send someone over to fix it, and twenty minutes later there is a knock on your door?
Yeah, that stops. And now you're required to fix the sink.
This is what I learned.
Self-sufficiency sucks.
You fix one thing, another thing breaks.
You fix one part up and beautify it, and everything else looks awful.
So then you bust out a power washer, which is really fun to use, and then you start spraying the patio, which leads to the house, which leads to the fence, which leads to your neighbors fence, which leads to you now in her backyard, and it really makes the mouse and the cookie conundrum seem small scale.
And even when there is nothing to do around the house, there really is something to do, you're just waiting for the best time to do it. Like next week.
And you're constantly talking to people about quotes for house projects. And then you decide their prices are insane (because they always are). You end up doing it yourself, even though you have no idea what you are doing.
So then you go to the Internet to figure out what you're supposed to do, and then you're given an unhealthy amount of confidence and you end up way over your head, wishing you had never started the project, or better yet, never bought the house.
I'm begging you. Don't be like me. Don't buy a house.
And also, everyone who was so happy for us because we were buying a house, yeah, you kind of suck for not telling us how awful it is.
It is awful, do not buy a house.
Editor's note: I've been informed that my house is on the verge of burning down and becoming a playground for mold. Insulation is touching the furnace vent, making it hot and setting it up to burn. And the bathroom vents do not vent up to the roofs but to an opening on the side of the attic, allowing moisture to hang out on the wood.
All I wanted as new insulation, and now I'm getting holes cut into the roof. Awesome. Excuse me while I go have a beer.
Second editor's note: Between the Michigan State offense and my attic this is going to be a very long fall.
DO NOT BUY A HOUSE.
I don't care how much more room there is for activities, it is NOT worth it.
With a house comes a yard. Our yard is goat approved. Meaning a goat could eat our grass and not starve within a day or four.
Our yard was basically abandoned and has required way more Saturdays then was preferred.
Yeah, you heard me. You buy a house and you lose your weekends to keeping it from falling down.
There's insulation, and flooring, and painting, and ugly bathrooms, and horrible laminate floors, and nothing like it looks on Pinterest (yet).
It is a money pit, I swear to God, you buy a house and you just toss money into the black hole that is Home Depot.
You know how when you are in an apartment and your sink stops working and you can just call the front desk and ask them to send someone over to fix it, and twenty minutes later there is a knock on your door?
Yeah, that stops. And now you're required to fix the sink.
This is what I learned.
Self-sufficiency sucks.
You fix one thing, another thing breaks.
You fix one part up and beautify it, and everything else looks awful.
So then you bust out a power washer, which is really fun to use, and then you start spraying the patio, which leads to the house, which leads to the fence, which leads to your neighbors fence, which leads to you now in her backyard, and it really makes the mouse and the cookie conundrum seem small scale.
And even when there is nothing to do around the house, there really is something to do, you're just waiting for the best time to do it. Like next week.
And you're constantly talking to people about quotes for house projects. And then you decide their prices are insane (because they always are). You end up doing it yourself, even though you have no idea what you are doing.
So then you go to the Internet to figure out what you're supposed to do, and then you're given an unhealthy amount of confidence and you end up way over your head, wishing you had never started the project, or better yet, never bought the house.
I'm begging you. Don't be like me. Don't buy a house.
And also, everyone who was so happy for us because we were buying a house, yeah, you kind of suck for not telling us how awful it is.
It is awful, do not buy a house.
Editor's note: I've been informed that my house is on the verge of burning down and becoming a playground for mold. Insulation is touching the furnace vent, making it hot and setting it up to burn. And the bathroom vents do not vent up to the roofs but to an opening on the side of the attic, allowing moisture to hang out on the wood.
All I wanted as new insulation, and now I'm getting holes cut into the roof. Awesome. Excuse me while I go have a beer.
Second editor's note: Between the Michigan State offense and my attic this is going to be a very long fall.
Thursday, August 29, 2013
It's football season, Charlie Brown
It's a cool, rainy morning in the Northwest.
A perfect day for football!
It's officially fall. At 3 pm PST today, there will be the first kickoff of the 2013 season.
There is new hope! All the disappointment and frustration of last season matters no more because it's a new season.
A new season, but the same old superstitions are observed.
My superstitions involve not speaking of my superstitions.
And with a new season you have new hope. And because it's my team I normally have the Charlie Brown moment, of believing this time, this season it will be better.
And like Charlie Brown this always happens to me:
But that's okay too.
You know why?
IT'S FOOTBALL SEASON!
A perfect day for football!
It's officially fall. At 3 pm PST today, there will be the first kickoff of the 2013 season.
There is new hope! All the disappointment and frustration of last season matters no more because it's a new season.
A new season, but the same old superstitions are observed.
My superstitions involve not speaking of my superstitions.
And with a new season you have new hope. And because it's my team I normally have the Charlie Brown moment, of believing this time, this season it will be better.
And like Charlie Brown this always happens to me:
The ball represents my hope and dreams for the season, which are always pulled out from under me because my team is a jerk and likes to cause emotional pain.
Just like Charlie Brown believing Lucy will not pull the ball out from him, every year I think it will be different.
And like Charlie Brown, it is always the same. Lying on the floor and wondering why I got my hopes up again.
And I'm depressed and sad for rest of the season.
Some people don't understand the seriousness of football season.
They have these silly sayings of "It's just a game." Or "It doesn't really matter."
But no. No, it is way more than a game. And these games do matter.
It's very serious, this football thing.
It's so serious my happiness of the week revolves around the outcome of a game. So by saying football doesn't matter, you're now saying my happiness doesn't matter.
And I may have taken the football a little far with that last sentence. And it may be a little nutty but it's okay because IT'S FOOTBALL SEASON!
So from here on out I'm busy on Saturdays and Sundays from about 9am to 8pm, and you can find me on my couch yelling at players and coaches like a maniac. But that's okay too.
You know why?
IT'S FOOTBALL SEASON!
Monday, August 26, 2013
Acrophobia
There is something to be said about the security of my feet on the ground. It's where my feet are supposed to be and I like them there.
I didn't read "Wuthering Heights" in high school because the idea of a strong gust of wind blowing me off a cliff is a real fear.
So when the opportunity arose for us to go to a high (55ft in the air) ropes course this past Saturday, of course I said yes.
I've ziplined in Mexico, and completed the high ropes course in my hometown, I've bungeed jumped, and skydived, why shouldn't I do the high ropes?
Because of the small detail of I hate heights.
How much do I hate heights?
This much:
Please note the tears.
And the "I'm going to be sick" look.
I would have loved to have backed out and played it safe. But I had already paid, and you can't get your money back if you're being a wimp.
So then I do this:
Granted, liquid courage was needed on two of the tree, and peer pressure took effect while skydiving. But I did it, and was happy I did it, and so glad I survived.
And I'm so glad I did it, I can actually admit I had fun, even if I was so terrified I could barely walk my legs were shaking so bad.
So at the base of the high ropes as my friend looks at me in shock and says, "You're afraid of heights?"
I nodded, because my voice stopped working in fear.
She had, after all, seen me jump off a cliff a month ago. I was the last person to jump, and I was so scared I forgot to breathe.
It's a common thing. The same thing happened on the ropes course as I walked ten feet on a tightrope wire. The poor staff member probably thought I was going to pass out and he would have to save me, as I dangled 55ft above the ground.
I'm like the worst Acrophobia person ever, because I'm terrified of heights, and still think going up into the air is a good idea.
"Need a pep talk? I'm awesome at them!"
She really is. She had to give me one while I was standing on a cliff.
I shook my head, as Chris answered: "She'll be fine."
And I was fine, even if I thought I was going to puke while looking over the edge of the first obstacle.
I gave a whole new meaning to tree hugger but I was fine.
I made sure all my safety lines were properly secured, and I made sure I always had a firm grasp on the wire lines wrapped around the tree. And I hugged the life out of those trees. I'm pretty sure you can see my body indent on some pine trees.
"The tree is shaking," someone said.
Yes, yes it was.
But not because I was hugging it so hard.
What's that old adage, if a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it still make a sound?
I don't know, but I do know I'd be making a sound if the tree fell over with me in. It would sound like this:
EAAAAAEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAKKKKKKKKKKKRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHH
"We could die from here."
Shut up.
"These cables could snap at any second"
Shut up.
"This tree is ready to fall"
Shut up.
The only thing I could say the entire day was "shut up" in various tones.
Everyone was very nice in they never tried to shake the line or obstacle I was on.
They were very mean in speaking everything I was convinced would happen.
Luckily, they did not.
I made it through the course, and I lived to tell about it. Chris was ready to go into the next course, higher, and bigger, and more challenging. I was happy my feet were finally on the ground.
But if you ever get a chance, go to Northwest Trek. It's amazing!
http://www.nwtrek.org/
I didn't read "Wuthering Heights" in high school because the idea of a strong gust of wind blowing me off a cliff is a real fear.
So when the opportunity arose for us to go to a high (55ft in the air) ropes course this past Saturday, of course I said yes.
I've ziplined in Mexico, and completed the high ropes course in my hometown, I've bungeed jumped, and skydived, why shouldn't I do the high ropes?
Because of the small detail of I hate heights.
How much do I hate heights?
This much:
Please note the tears.
And the "I'm going to be sick" look.
I would have loved to have backed out and played it safe. But I had already paid, and you can't get your money back if you're being a wimp.
So then I do this:
Granted, liquid courage was needed on two of the tree, and peer pressure took effect while skydiving. But I did it, and was happy I did it, and so glad I survived.
And I'm so glad I did it, I can actually admit I had fun, even if I was so terrified I could barely walk my legs were shaking so bad.
So at the base of the high ropes as my friend looks at me in shock and says, "You're afraid of heights?"
I nodded, because my voice stopped working in fear.
She had, after all, seen me jump off a cliff a month ago. I was the last person to jump, and I was so scared I forgot to breathe.
It's a common thing. The same thing happened on the ropes course as I walked ten feet on a tightrope wire. The poor staff member probably thought I was going to pass out and he would have to save me, as I dangled 55ft above the ground.
I'm like the worst Acrophobia person ever, because I'm terrified of heights, and still think going up into the air is a good idea.
"Need a pep talk? I'm awesome at them!"
She really is. She had to give me one while I was standing on a cliff.
I shook my head, as Chris answered: "She'll be fine."
And I was fine, even if I thought I was going to puke while looking over the edge of the first obstacle.
I gave a whole new meaning to tree hugger but I was fine.
I made sure all my safety lines were properly secured, and I made sure I always had a firm grasp on the wire lines wrapped around the tree. And I hugged the life out of those trees. I'm pretty sure you can see my body indent on some pine trees.
"The tree is shaking," someone said.
Yes, yes it was.
But not because I was hugging it so hard.
What's that old adage, if a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it still make a sound?
I don't know, but I do know I'd be making a sound if the tree fell over with me in. It would sound like this:
EAAAAAEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAKKKKKKKKKKKRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHH
"We could die from here."
Shut up.
"These cables could snap at any second"
Shut up.
"This tree is ready to fall"
Shut up.
The only thing I could say the entire day was "shut up" in various tones.
Everyone was very nice in they never tried to shake the line or obstacle I was on.
They were very mean in speaking everything I was convinced would happen.
Luckily, they did not.
I made it through the course, and I lived to tell about it. Chris was ready to go into the next course, higher, and bigger, and more challenging. I was happy my feet were finally on the ground.
But if you ever get a chance, go to Northwest Trek. It's amazing!
http://www.nwtrek.org/
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
the jury room
*Mo Note: I'm writing this on the Surface on my lap, please excuse all typos, and severe lack of grammar.
From the time I registered to vote, three weeks before the 2004 election, I've been excited about serving on a jury. Think about it, you get to be part of the U.S. Justice system, a system so few people in the world get to experience.
They can be stoned, executed, and disfigured, but they don't get a trial.
The summons came in last year and my group was not called. Meaning no jury duty for me.
The summons came again with the date July 17 stamped on it. A week before my parents are to arrive. A week before the Portland Beer Festival. The timing was not great, but it's part of the responsibility of being a voter.
The crappy part.
And this is where my attitude changed. I became a frustrated member of a potential jury.
I think the system needs to change so people are excited about being on a jury. We should be acting like we're going to Disney, and not to the dentist.
So here I sit, in a room of 210 people waiting to serve justice. 150 of us are waiting to be called for jury selection in one case, everyone else is waiting to see where they will be placed.
There are a lot of grumpy people here.
Reginald Rose's "12 Angry Men" is being rivaled by 210 tired, whiny, grumpy, stressed, people. The title of my next book.
It is not an exciting room, a dentist's waiting room would be preferable. Yeah, and that's me saying that.
And so I sit, with a tight knot in my stomach waiting to hear if I will be stuck in a courtroom while my parents are off gallivanting.
It's not unlike waiting for a train, or plane. Although, those are more fun.
For one, you can people watch at an airport or train station, and from experience the train station is way more fun.
Especially Newark.
The homeless are allowed to hang out in the large waiting room. Growing up in the Detroit's suburbs I saw my share of homeless whenever we went downtown for dinner, baseball games, the theatre, etc.
Basically ignore them.
My friend used to hand out stuff to Seattle's homeless, like food, soap, socks, etc. so she didn't follow the rule I do.
call me a horrible person.
Except, in Newark, you can't ignore them.
Watching the large group of homeless sleep, eat, talk, and interact with each other was kind of fun. One they took really god care of each other. Everyone shared food, coats, stories, everything.
This was a real world lesson on it can always be worse.
I could be the defendant on trial, and not the jury.
For the next four weeks I would have my life in hands of people who would rather be anywhere but in the jury box. I'm telling you, the dentist waiting room is a popular preferred destination here. For everyone.
"You can't trust anyone," is what one of the prostitutes in the Newark Train Station yelled. "You gotta take care of yourself. People are always looking to screw you over."
Now, if I am chosen for the jury I'm going to be bummed I can't spend all my time with my parents, who I only get to see about two times a year, but I'm not going to screw the person over.
So we'll see what happens.
From the time I registered to vote, three weeks before the 2004 election, I've been excited about serving on a jury. Think about it, you get to be part of the U.S. Justice system, a system so few people in the world get to experience.
They can be stoned, executed, and disfigured, but they don't get a trial.
The summons came in last year and my group was not called. Meaning no jury duty for me.
The summons came again with the date July 17 stamped on it. A week before my parents are to arrive. A week before the Portland Beer Festival. The timing was not great, but it's part of the responsibility of being a voter.
The crappy part.
And this is where my attitude changed. I became a frustrated member of a potential jury.
I think the system needs to change so people are excited about being on a jury. We should be acting like we're going to Disney, and not to the dentist.
So here I sit, in a room of 210 people waiting to serve justice. 150 of us are waiting to be called for jury selection in one case, everyone else is waiting to see where they will be placed.
There are a lot of grumpy people here.
Reginald Rose's "12 Angry Men" is being rivaled by 210 tired, whiny, grumpy, stressed, people. The title of my next book.
It is not an exciting room, a dentist's waiting room would be preferable. Yeah, and that's me saying that.
And so I sit, with a tight knot in my stomach waiting to hear if I will be stuck in a courtroom while my parents are off gallivanting.
It's not unlike waiting for a train, or plane. Although, those are more fun.
For one, you can people watch at an airport or train station, and from experience the train station is way more fun.
Especially Newark.
The homeless are allowed to hang out in the large waiting room. Growing up in the Detroit's suburbs I saw my share of homeless whenever we went downtown for dinner, baseball games, the theatre, etc.
Basically ignore them.
My friend used to hand out stuff to Seattle's homeless, like food, soap, socks, etc. so she didn't follow the rule I do.
call me a horrible person.
Except, in Newark, you can't ignore them.
Watching the large group of homeless sleep, eat, talk, and interact with each other was kind of fun. One they took really god care of each other. Everyone shared food, coats, stories, everything.
This was a real world lesson on it can always be worse.
I could be the defendant on trial, and not the jury.
For the next four weeks I would have my life in hands of people who would rather be anywhere but in the jury box. I'm telling you, the dentist waiting room is a popular preferred destination here. For everyone.
"You can't trust anyone," is what one of the prostitutes in the Newark Train Station yelled. "You gotta take care of yourself. People are always looking to screw you over."
Now, if I am chosen for the jury I'm going to be bummed I can't spend all my time with my parents, who I only get to see about two times a year, but I'm not going to screw the person over.
So we'll see what happens.
Monday, June 10, 2013
The Ode to Costco
It is impossible to make a quick trip to Costco.
Even moving at Mo speed, Costco takes a while. And it's not just because it is a treasure hunt to find things. For the record, I've gotten very good at climbing through the shelves to grab what I need.
It's fine. The other adults have even asked me to grab them one of the items I was climbing for. Costco has yet to tell me not to.
It is impossible to stick to the Costco shopping list.
It is impossible to get in and out of the Costco parking lot.
It's just impossible to get in and get out of Costco.
In fact, if there was a fire and Costco was burning down, people would not move out of the parking lot to give way to the fire trucks because the fire trucks would be taking the premium parking spots.
I was on Costco duty today because I ignored my Costco duties over the weekend. I do have a good excuse, but I still had to make the trip today.
Strawberries, blueberries, cherries, vinegar, lettuce, apples, and milk were all on the list.
Check.
Then there was a Tshirt added. And then three books, because they needed a better home and my crammed bookcase always has room for one more, I say this as I watch it lean. It's fine. It's fine. Then there was grass seed which we really do need and while you're there you might as well grab it, just like the lemonade mix, and raspberries.
Costco is the new Target.
Amber Dusick of Crappy Pictures Blog, posted about Target a while ago.
The just of it:
But now it's more like this:
Ignore the small people in the cart, Amber drew them there, and I'm not an awesome computer drawer like her. Amber I do not know you, and we will probably never meet since my blog it teeny-tiny (seriously people, feel free to share this blog) But thanks for letting me rip off your drawing you spent a lot of time making.
Moving on.
Even when you do make it through the store quickly (this has never happened, but one day it will) you have to wait through the checkout process. There really needs to be a line for 50 items or less. Or better yet, I have my sh!t together and am not paying with pennies or by check.
I know people are on a no credit card kick. I blame the Duggars:
These people who have used their show to "share their beliefs" with America, among them being no credit cards.
I understand some people struggle with paying them off every month.
And I know Costco only accepts AmEx, but if you go through Costco you get your picture on the card. HOORAY!
but for those of us who are responsible should not have to stand in line forever while people write a check and watch it be processed.
My time is not more valuable than others, I just hate waiting in line.
Costco is the magical land where all your dreams come true.
You wish for it hard enough and you can find it on aisle 22.
Friday, May 31, 2013
Mo's Landscaping Company
I used physics and algebra for the first time since I took physics and algebra. I realized I am still very bad at it.
Because I used physics and algebra I can't lift my arms, my wrists are scratched to the point people think I should be on suicidal watch, my legs are scratched and bruised. I look and feel like I fought a bear.
Yeah, kids, watch out. Algebra and Physics can injure, maim, or kill you.
When, in fact, all I did was build a foot and a half retaining wall. That's it.
I'd hate to find out how it feels to fight a real bear.
We spent our Memorial Weekend digging, dragging, kicking, carrying, and hauling building supplies to build our retaining wall. We began early and ended late, often with us passing out on the couch at 9:30 pm, and me not eating dinner because I was to sore to move, and making an PBJ sandwich was more effort than I wanted to spend.
Everything from my toes to my ears hurt.
Anyway, the backyard is in phase 1 of about 894,850,329,274,930,927,834,973. I really wish I was exaggerating.
Here is what's been done.
The east wall, Before. Actually, all those cement brick things were in the ground. People prior to us must have gotten an amazing deal on them, because they are everywhere in our yard.
East wall After. Feel free to "ooohhhh," and "aaaaawwwww."
West wall before.
West wall after.
We began removing the railroad ties Saturday afternoon, after Chris dug and axed out several large roots. Luckily, our friend Richard who is the lead-bossman came over to help lift some railroad ties. Again, someone had the great idea of using rebar to hold them together. It only made the process slightly more difficult.
And we dug. And we trenched. And we removed railroad ties. And this is what greeted us at the end of day two. Three cement fence posts and our sprinkling system. Morale was very low at this point. I was on the Internet that night trying to find someone to finish this for us.
We begin day three, with much more enthusiasm then we ended with. Our friend Meghan, who is becoming a professional crisis repair person, came over at the end of day 2 and assured me the brick/stones I laid that day were in fact level, and I do not suck at life.
Onward!
No joke, I left for ten minutes and Chris busted through the three cement posts. He was very proud of himself.
The cement posts were out, and I began laying stone/brick while Chris worked on the sprinkling system. He dug a very impressive hole to redirect the sprinklers. He did a very good job, the sprinklers work.
He dug and glued and played with PVC, which I have decided is the grownup version of Legos, while I continued building a wall.
Close up! Look how pretty the brick/stone is! I did like this brick/stone, one of the reasons I chose it. I had to keep reminding myself I liked the brick/stone as I carried it through the yard.
I forgot the rule of pi. Anytime you have a project you must multiply the estimated days by pi, and you will get your total number of days it will take you to finish.
Six days it took to build our wall. Six days and almost 20,000 pounds were lifted, carried, dragged, and cursed at. But we do good work.
See for yourself.
Because I used physics and algebra I can't lift my arms, my wrists are scratched to the point people think I should be on suicidal watch, my legs are scratched and bruised. I look and feel like I fought a bear.
Yeah, kids, watch out. Algebra and Physics can injure, maim, or kill you.
When, in fact, all I did was build a foot and a half retaining wall. That's it.
I'd hate to find out how it feels to fight a real bear.
We spent our Memorial Weekend digging, dragging, kicking, carrying, and hauling building supplies to build our retaining wall. We began early and ended late, often with us passing out on the couch at 9:30 pm, and me not eating dinner because I was to sore to move, and making an PBJ sandwich was more effort than I wanted to spend.
Everything from my toes to my ears hurt.
Anyway, the backyard is in phase 1 of about 894,850,329,274,930,927,834,973. I really wish I was exaggerating.
Here is what's been done.
The east wall, Before. Actually, all those cement brick things were in the ground. People prior to us must have gotten an amazing deal on them, because they are everywhere in our yard.
East wall After. Feel free to "ooohhhh," and "aaaaawwwww."
West wall before.
West wall after.
Impressive. Yes? Yes.
But this was the warm up act.
Our yard a second tier because a long time ago someone thought it was a good idea. The other good idea they had was to use railroad ties.
Here's the thing about railroad ties. They are first used by railroad companies and then when they are deemed to worn for train use they sell them off to people to use. These are our railroad ties:
Please note how the railroad ties are falling apart. They were not in great shape when we moved in last year, and after we removed our trees and had giant logs fall on them, they are in worse shape. They are also rotting and are being eaten by bugs.
Time to come out!
I found the brick/stone thing I liked and ordered it. No major story there, I figured it out without any real issue, shocking, I know. Two days after ordering the brick/stones, they arrived. Four pallets of 45 brick/stones individually weighing 60 pounds.
The thought process was it would take less trips and brick/stones to complete our wall.
I forgot to factor in how much it sucks carrying 60 pounds.
The husband, Chris, was not happy I chose the heaviest brick/stone I could find. Especially since he and his lead-bossman were in shock these brick/stones could weigh 43 pounds. Lead-bossman and his wife are also building a wall, but with wimpy 20 pound brick/stones. Chris wanted their brick/stones.
Anyway. The brick/stones arrived on Friday (5/24) afternoon as I was waking from a syrup coma.
Time to go to work.
Chris was at work, so I began doing what any normal person would do. I began moving the railroad ties.
Most of them were so rotten they were pretty easy to move. The ones I couldn't lift by hand, I lifted with a shovel, using it as a lever. Physics.
By the time Chris came home from work I had dug a pretty impressive trench. Not World War I impressive or anything, but impressive enough.
I also understand why trench war fare did not last. It's exhausting digging only eight inches into the ground, I can't imagine digging five feet.
The trench was dug, and three large roots were located. One root was larger than my leg.
Hey, honey how was work?
Good. Grab an ax.
And he did.
He became very attached to that ax. He was definitely channeling Paul Bunyan, the great lumberjack of Michigan, by the end of the project.
Look! we made a trench! All pretty and ready for the brick/stones.
Our first brick/stone. All level and looking good. It came out the next morning and wasn't considered permanent until day three after it had been removed seven times.
We began removing the railroad ties Saturday afternoon, after Chris dug and axed out several large roots. Luckily, our friend Richard who is the lead-bossman came over to help lift some railroad ties. Again, someone had the great idea of using rebar to hold them together. It only made the process slightly more difficult.
And we dug. And we trenched. And we removed railroad ties. And this is what greeted us at the end of day two. Three cement fence posts and our sprinkling system. Morale was very low at this point. I was on the Internet that night trying to find someone to finish this for us.
Onward!
No joke, I left for ten minutes and Chris busted through the three cement posts. He was very proud of himself.
The cement posts were out, and I began laying stone/brick while Chris worked on the sprinkling system. He dug a very impressive hole to redirect the sprinklers. He did a very good job, the sprinklers work.
He dug and glued and played with PVC, which I have decided is the grownup version of Legos, while I continued building a wall.
Close up! Look how pretty the brick/stone is! I did like this brick/stone, one of the reasons I chose it. I had to keep reminding myself I liked the brick/stone as I carried it through the yard.
I forgot the rule of pi. Anytime you have a project you must multiply the estimated days by pi, and you will get your total number of days it will take you to finish.
Six days it took to build our wall. Six days and almost 20,000 pounds were lifted, carried, dragged, and cursed at. But we do good work.
See for yourself.
Now I'm just waiting for the junk people to come and take our railroad ties away, and we are completely done with step one!
Time to party!
No, wait. Never mind. The yard isn't totally done yet, but when it is? Oh, there will be a party!
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