Today

It's the perfect temperature today. As if I'm caught in a moment where nothing is changing. As if time isn't moving around me.

My few tomatoes continue to ripen - slowly - on the vine. Bryan continues to - slowly - work on his roof. What he is doing exactly is difficult to say, but there is constant activity and noise from that direction.

Blue is off making the rounds. Exploring the cemetery, visiting the neighbors, snoozing on someone else's    back porch?

Two cream-colored butterflies explore the overgrown butterfly bush. One landing on the no longer blooming bristle of old flowers, while the other hovers around. Is this a mating ritual? Or is the one hearing the activity of Some Are by The Low Symphony that is softly playing on my bluetooth speaker? They fly around each other a bit, then leave my yard.

It's a holiday, so there is little movement in the neighborhood. A pause before the dimness descends and we all huddle in our homes. Today is the official first day of Fall, and I feel the coming tension. Enjoy the day, and the few weeks we'll have with sunny-enough weather, but start thinking about those sweaters, and raincoats, and the damp darkness.

Today we have the perfect temperature, as if nothing is changing, time isn't moving. Embrace the stillness.

Trucking Photos

Here's a little collection of some photos I took when I was trucking. I picked these to enter into an art exhibition, but wasn't chosen.  No biggie. There are many more of these great images to choose from. Perhaps I'll find a place to post more of them online, or maybe even exhibit them in the real world!

 

Leaving

Seven weeks. From a distance, it can look like a short amount of time. Less than two months. A small bit of a full lifetime.

These seven weeks have felt like a lifetime. In the best way. I’ve met friends and had experiences that will stay with me forever. A community has been started. Now we will scatter to wind and wind up in various areas of the country. Will the center hold? Will we continue to maintain this community? With effort, yes. I have faith it will happen.

Leaving my home away from home after seven weeks puts me back into that unmoored feeling again. My future for the next two weeks is clear. Beyond that…. fog. Do I stay in Portland and start to learn my new trade? Do I stay there long enough to prep my house to rent to traveling nurses? Have I done enough to get a legit business going? 

Sidebar: I admit I am jealous of my fellow students who have this thing called A Wife (or A Partner) who is working in the background to get things going while they are in classes. I’ve said a few times that I need one of these Wife things to help me out. No, not a romantic wife… the romantic role in my life will be held by a man. Eventually.

Leaving here will put me on my own. Here I have been in practice mode. Classroom mode. Out there is the Real World. Where I will stumble. Where I will fuck up. Where I will start to ingest all the knowledge I’ve picked up here and make it work, make it become muscle memory.

It’s scary in a way. I’ve done this so many times – started a New Life by changing careers, moving to a new city, starting a new path of education. But this time I’m a bit unmoored somehow. Being away from my home, my cat, my familiar (but annoying) surroundings. I did this exact thing once before – when I went to furniture making school in Maine. Three months away, then move to a new city and start a new career. What is different this time is that I have a house to return to. In 2001 I was crashing at a friend’s house, all my belongings packed away, ready to move. Now I’ve upended that order. I’ve still got my house instead of it being packed up. 

And I have a situation to deal with when I get home. My ex has been watching my house and cat. It hasn’t worked out as I had hoped it would. He’s not lived up to the commitments he offered. It’s the end of a long relationship. And I need to kick him out of my life. Permanently. There’s a lot of difficulty tied up with that. I wish it was easier.

Then there will be the emotional hangover that comes with all similar situations. That sludge that hangs over you for some unknown amount of time until your system re-rights itself and you can move through your day without feeling drawn down.

I think it’s this work that scares me the most. I can get over my fear of dealing with strangers. I can become more confident in my Tech knowledge and skill. I can make decisions for my future more easily. I just have to get through this sludge portion. That’s going to be the hard work. 

Then I can get myself balanced, moored, settled, grounded. 

Then I can start to move again.

Because of course

 I’m really glad that Greg is on this first stretch of my run down to Texas. 

My 12-volt battery system batteries have been not working since I got the oil changed in my RV. The shop that did the change didn’t realize they were running the batteries down. Granted, the batteries were 4 or 5 years old already, but running them down to zero truly killed them. 

I had plugged the RV into shore power & they came back up to half power. So we hit the road. 

On our first night, they died again. So….off to buy two new deep cycle battery the time of $270. Ugh. 

We stopped to top off the diesel tank before we hit California.  I had a nice .50 cent discount, so we got out of there for $120. 

Don’t let anyone tell you that living in an RV is inexpensive. 😄

On the highway again and we start up the Siskyou Mountains. Only to overheat. 

Sigh. 

Now we’re hanging out in the side of the highway waiting for the engine to cool down so we can see if we can figure out what il the issue is. 

Greg has been a truck driver for 15 or so years, so he’s been a godsend so far. 

So Many Unknowns

 T minus 4 days.  And there are still so many unknowns.

1. Will the glass company have the new windshield installed in time for me to get the last bits into the RV and take care of the last punch list items?

2. Where am I going to grab the money from for the glass repair bill? And the final bill for the RV park where I'll be staying in Texas?

3. What the hell is wrong with the 12-volt system and can I figure that out before I leave?

4. How difficult will it be to get the motorcycle carrier on the RV, and then my motorcycle on the carrier? I'll have help, thank goodness, but this is a new experience for me.  Only time I've ever transported a motorcycle via a vehicle was over a decade ago, and both times the motorcycle was on a flat surface.  Once in a trailer, once in the back of a pickup truck.

5. What am I going to forget?  What will I have brought that I don't actually need? How much money am I going to spend to get to Texas? Aaaagggghhhhhhh!

Deep breath.  I'll get through it all.  Just keep moving.

My next ride

It's odd, this space I'm inhabiting. Getting ready for the newest adventure.  Not having an income source beyond unemployment.  And now that's ended.  Just in time to take off.

Feelings of uselessness (crazy because I've been doing so much), guilt for not working (gotta be a good consumer in our Consumerist society), anxiety about this next step (well, that one makes a bit of sense).

The only direction now is forward. Head down to Texas, back to another school.  This time it's RV Tech -fixing RVs for a living. 

It feels like a bit of an odd step for me.  I've been in this one place, this same house for 20 years now.  That's longer than I've ever lived anywhere.  Have I become accustomed to being here? Can I not envision being somewhere else?  How odd.  I've moved around all my life, somehow it's different this time.  Passing time? Because I'm older? The general Unknown? I can't seem to pin it down.

But for now..... here I go!

I've got my own RV - a 36' motorhome diesel pusher that I've been remodeling for the past year. 

I've got a better photo of her somewhere, but this is what I've got on hand for the moment. She's awesome.  No name yet, so I'm open to suggestions.  

She's a 1996 National Dolphin 635 diesel pusher.  Cummins diesel V5.9, 12 valve engine. Allison 6-speed transmission.  Disc brakes all around, one solar panel to keep the 12-volt system charged up, propane generator. One slide-out, queen bed, shower, kitchen, living room. Here's one inside photo - of the bedroom:

New floor & wallpaper, all surfaces painted. I'm gonna have to scrounge up some Before photos one of these days.

I've had a great time working on getting her insides so pretty and updated.  Now I get to learn how to keep her innards working!  Fortunately for me, she's mostly functional already.  I may need to buy a new battery or two for the 12-volt system, and I do need to figure out why her landing gear isn't working.  (Excuse me, her stabilizing feet - not landing gear.  Guess that's a leftover from my trucking days.) Otherwise, she's in good shape.  Or at least good enough to get me to Texas so I can figure out what needs to really be fixed and how to do so!

Now I'm down to the last days of my time at home.  Gotta get everything gathered that I will need for a few months, tie up some loose ends. I've got eight days until departure day....!

Again....

 Tap, tap.... is anyone out there?  Let's blow the dust off this thing.

Another adventure

 It's been too long and I need to update this website.  Not that I think anyone is really paying attention, but hey, optimism reigns supreme!

Another year

Following up on that last post... Mom passed away on January 6th.  Her two head traumas within a year of each other were stronger than her in the long run.  Now it's almost a year later, and shit still stinks.

I'm feeling confused and muddled.  Too many things to pursue, and I'm not sure which of them - if any - I'm truly interested in.  BF has gotten much better this past year, but there are still hiccups.  Like last night.  He decided to do meth again.  I have no idea what triggered it.  He came home around midnight, so it wasn't a long run.  But still.  He's recovering now so I haven't had the "pleasure" of discussing it with him.

We bought a used RV, with plans to fix it up, rent the house, and drive around the country finding work as we need it for maybe a year.  I started to work on the interior - got rid of the crap mattress, hide-a-bed and matching lounge chair, sold the table and chairs.  Tore out the *old* CRT tv, leaving a big messy gap where it used to live.  So it's basically unsellable at the moment.  At least it is without some investment in time and cleaning and money.

Then the holidays came around.  And our work schedule got crazy, as we knew it would.  Less sleep, more uncertainty, more stress.  None of which helps our relationship.

Plus we both seem to have contracted SIBO a few months back.  I had to do a 2-day test with an extremely limited diet.  It sucked.  BF knew he probably had the same thing, but we both know he doesn't have the self control to do the diet I did, even if it were just one day.  So frustrating that he has so little self control. Even with a fucking one-day diet.  He seems to pride himself on this.  That he's so bull-headed. He seems to get off on it a bit.  Like "I'm so contrary, no one can make me do something I don't want to do!", as he sticks out his chest with pride.

As if he knows what's good for him and what's not.  He grew up in horrible surroundings, and trauma like that doesn't allow people to learn to do self care.  It's his damn insecure ego speaking.

Anyway... So, RV is on hold.  Job is messy right now.  BF is a bit of a mess too.  As are our intestines.

Plus it's winter, and that means crappy weather in Portland.  A friend posted a poem, the first stanza hit me like a soggy winter raindrop:

all I crave is light & yet

winter

sky is busy imitating milk

frozen in an upturned bowl

Milk frozen in an upturned bowl. Yes, exactly. So damn depressing.

At least I now have the two antibiotics I need to treat my SIBO. BF is going a different route, which I suspect will fail as it relies on his self control. But why do I have to worry about that? That's his guts, and his health, and he certainly doesn't seem interested in doing anything positive towards all that right now.

And I'm sitting here spinning. Keep the trucking job until we get the RV road-ready? Empty the house and rent it out. And go where? We've been discussing an RV school where I would learn to be an RV inspector and he would become an RV tech. Then travel around and earn a living off fixing other people's RVs. The school, of course, costs money. Something in the range of $22k for both of us to get our schooling. Obviously something we would need to plan for, or find financing for.

Is it really a path I'm interested in? Or is it another job like trucking for me - something new to learn and make a few bucks, but ultimately not something I want to do for long term? Only one way to find out, I guess.

And what about BF? He seems to think that I should be able to trust him enough to finance the school for us both (because I do have the money). Huh? Especially after last night. Who the fuck does he think I am? I'm not about to shell out that kind of money for someone else again. Fuck that.

So, sell the extra car, sell the motorcycle, sell the RV(?). Drop my driving job and live off savings for a bit. Screw the world and most people in it. Take care of me, and me alone. Try to figure out my next move.

Would I be better off keeping the Pdx house and renting it out? Make passive income. I'm sure I could currently rent it for $2400. What with the mortgage, taxes and insurance being $1250, I'd almost double my money every month. Let's figure 35% goes into savings for maintenance & upkeep - $400. I'd still be up $700/month.

Or do I sell it and make BANK when I do, move somewhere else and start over? The money would certainly allow me to do so. I owe $195 and might be able to sell it for $450. Cut the profit in half for taxes, I'm guessing. It would still leave me with $200. How long can I live on that without bringing in other income? Six years? Not bad.

And BF, what to do with him? I didn't have a positive model for a loving couple in my life. Mom's two marriages ended in divorce, and she was so ahead of her time that I think it was difficult to find a man who could match her without smothering her power. Dad's second marriage was good, I think. It might have been a good model for me if he hadn't pushed us off to the side once my half-brother was born. I never felt welcome in their family, not really. (Maybe I should send that letter to step-mom. That one I wrote years ago about how unwelcome I felt in their lives. We'll see.). So I have no idea how to keep my autonomy and keep a relationship going. It's never been "my way or the highway" on my end. I've dealt with abandonment fears, so I'm usually the one who is trying to keep it together. I bend over my own will to keep the peace, and the person. But how long do I allow myself to feel so shitty? He is a good guy. He does a lot of things for me that no other partner has done. But he's not up to par with me. A messy childhood, grew up in a rural town, gave in to his demons and can't quite seem to buck them. So is "better than all the rest" good enough? I know I could live on my own - it's not that difficult. But the only thing here in Pdx that I really like is my house. The city sucks, the weather sucks, the people aren't my tribe. I used to have Dragonboat too, but Covid seems to have killed that for a while.

Time is creeping by today. Upturned soup bowl sky. Sunday. Nothing pressing to do. Covid still rampant (Omicron variant being the newest threat). BF recuperating, and then there's the aftermath of that to deal with. No drinking for me while on antibiotics (which is probably a good thing at the moment). Brain restless, seeming to defy landing on any one thought. Waiting while the world ticks along at its own pace can be maddening.

In the end....

 I'm having a rough go of it this Christmas.

Mom is in the hospital.

BF is not answering his phone.  Which could mean a drug run.

I am in a hotel room, in the city where my mom and sister live, hoping to see my mom in person.

But she's in the hospital. Where they aren't allowing visitors due to Covid-19. So that seems like a slim possibility.

I'm here alone, in a hotel room on Christmas day, watching movies, worrying about Mom.  Worrying that BF is gone again, and what do I do with that?

I'm in a hotel room, not sure what to do with myself.  Watching movies.  Trying to avoid thinking about reality.

What a fucked up year it's been.

This year was different

I started paddling on a Dragon Boat team in 2004. 

2019 was my 15th year paddling (I missed one year while living in Mexico).  It was my 4th time coaching a team.  My current team has been in existence for 4 years, I have been on it for three of those years.  My first year I just paddled, but couldn’t help myself from giving tips to newer paddlers.  The next two years I coached the whole team.

Four years ago we started out as a Division 4 team.  That’s out of 4 total divisions, Division One being the best.  We medaled that year, second place

Three years ago we medaled in Division 4, first place.  

Two years ago we came in at the bottom of Division 2. No medals for us.  

This year we medaled in Division 2, third place.

We paddled against some really tough teams.  Two of those teams have been in Division One or Two for the past four years.  And we kept pace with them!  We came in third in the finals by half a second.  It was a tight race.

We have come a long way in four short years.  I’m so proud of us.

However, this year felt different to me, knowing what my future may hold.  I don’t know if I’ll be coming back next year.  I have chosen to follow a new career which will take me out of town for weeks at a stretch.  This is new territory for me.  I’m launching into the unknown - again.  Will it be a move in the right direction?  Will I love it, or at least like it enough to follow that path for a while? 

I’m also ready to move away from Portland.  At least for a while.  I’ve been here for 17 years - longer than I’ve lived anywhere.  It’s odd and somewhat comforting.  I know what building was on that corner over there years ago, before they tore it down and built that new apartment building.  I know what restaurants have occupied the same space over the years, each new one thinking they can make a go of it when the ones before it couldn’t.  I know how to get around town (at least on the East side), avoiding the high-traffic areas.  All of which makes me feel like I’ve been here too long.  I’m growing moss on my feet from standing still too long.  I want to explore new places, and revisit old places.  I want to get more sun, meet new people, get some new creative inspiration.  This new career will offer me those opportunities.

Dragon Boat has been one thing that has kept me happy with it’s consistency over the years.  Every December I get an email from my team Captain rousting me out of my winter doldrums, offering the promise of camaraderie and time on the river.  I pay my fee, and block off my schedule.  

The end of March rolls around and it’s still chilly on the river.  Wear layers of clothing to stay warm.  Stretch out those muscles that don’t feel like they’ve gotten much use this past year.  Tap into body memory to get the paddling form going.  Make adjustments for a body that is a year older, perhaps a few pounds heavier or lighter.  Try to improve your stroke, your strength, your endurance.  Pull harder, stay in time, watch your stroker.  Get off the boat and feel the results of your work.  Repeat three times a week for ten long weeks.

April and May come, the sun stays out longer, some days are actually warm and dry.  Suddenly Race weekend is around the corner.  It’s a full weekend of pre-race party, Seeding Races, Elimination Races, and post-race party.  Photos explode on Facebook, praising and remembering the events of the previous days.  The flush of a great season stays with you for a day, a week - until the real world creeps back in and pushes that flush to the back of your mind and into memory.

The Summer Party email is sent out, a time when we can all get together in a few months to see one another again.

And then the lull.  Three days freed from suiting up and meeting at the flagpole.  No longer wondering if you’ve remembered all your gear as you rush from your house.  No more looking at the weather report to determine how many layers you want to wear tonight.  You eat when you want, not tied down to holding off if you’re going to be on the boat soon.

And yet, when you see those photos again, and think about putting your all into each race, “leaving it all on the river”, your heart beats a bit faster, and you check the calendar to figure out how many more months or weeks before you can do it all again.

I love my Dragon Boat team, and hope that I can - somehow - figure out how to participate next year.  Or perhaps I will take a year off and return sometime in the future.  In the meantime I will bask in the warmth of post-season glory, and look forward to the Summer Party.

Not Alice

My world feels like Wonderland right now.  Things are topsy-turvy.

We had a small electrical fire at the house this week.  There is still old knob-and-tube wiring in the house, which I've wanted to get rid of for years.  But I've never felt like I had the means to do so.  It's not an inexpensive proposition.    

And it's been hot this summer.  Greg got an A/C unit, which we plugged in to what was apparently one of the remaining knob and tube outlets.  Unfortunately, half of the outlets and lights in the house (including this one) were on one, singular circuit breaker.  Really? But the house was built in 1897, probably had electrical added in the 1920's, back when there weren't building codes or concerns about overloading a circuit.

On Tuesday, the circuit blew.  I was at class, Greg was at home, so he reset the breaker and nothing came on.  He left the circuit off and then went to his class.  Apparently some of the knob and tube wiring arced and started a smoldering fire in the old insulation in the attic.  

Fortunately both of us got back to the house about an hour and a half later.  The smoldering hadn't turned into flame yet, but we could smell smoke.  I looked in the closet where there is access to the attic and there was smoke there.  Greg asked for a fire extinguisher and said "call 911".  We pulled things out of the closet to get access to the attic and I made the call.  

Four fire trucks showed up.  Neighbors showed up to ask what was going on.  A fire inspector showed up to make sure it wasn't arson.  I got on the phone to my insurance company.  Greg, fortunately, talked to the firemen and convinced them not to turn the hoses on the house unnecessarily.  Instead, they took down the ceiling fan in the front room (they had been in the attic and identified that as the hot spot and the source of the smoke), and cut away the ceiling right there.  They were able to use minimal water to extinguish the fire.  That saved SO MUCH.  If they had turned the hoses on the house, it quite possibly would have been declared a complete loss.

Let that sink in for a moment.  

Instead we have a big hole in the front room, smoke damage, some structural damage, and a ruined electrical system.

But I have homeowners insurance.  And I have "code upgrade" insurance which will cover bringing my house up to code.  Which means new electrical in the house, a cleaned out attic (bye-bye old, useless insulation), and new insulation.

Holy hell.

The house is livable, so we're still there.  We're working around having only 50% of our usual electricity.  Extension cords and dimly lit rooms.

At first I thought, "well, we dodged a bullet there.  And this doesn't look like too much to fix up.  An electrician, a framer, someone to fix the lath and plaster ceiling, paint it and off we go."  

Then the "vendors" started showing up.  

The first guy was assigned by my insurance company, he says.  Oh, ok.  He works for a one-stop shop that will take care of everything for us.  The adjusters are so overworked that they will often ask him to manage the whole project and just report back to them when the work is done.  Oh, that sounds promising, they obviously trust you.  We will come in and take the contents of your house to get them cleaned from the smoke and store them until the construction work is done.  We will send your artwork to a specialized company that deals with art because we want to make sure it is treated properly.  Well, that is certainly nice because I love my art and have a lot of it.  We also have another department that will come take care of your textiles (curtains, clothing, rugs, etc) to get them cleaned or replaced.  Wow, I didn't know that was a thing.  Lastly we will coordinate electricians, carpenters, painters and post-construction cleaners to get your house back up to pre-loss condition.  Really?  All this for me?  Plus I'm contacting my assistant right now to have her get an air scrubber over here this evening to deal with the residual smoke in the air.  That's very considerate.  I am in charge of the Contents Department and we only have one-page that we need you to sign to get things started.

Ok, hold up.  I know enough about insurance to know that I don't have to go with you just because you are "assigned" by my insurance, right?  That's true.  Ok, I have a call into another company and I'd like to talk to them first.  That's fine.  They are a good company too.  But I've worked with your adjuster before and I have a really good relationship with him......


Thanks for your time and for the air scrubber.  Just to let you know, every vendor is in Audition Mode with me at this point.  I've never had to deal with a house fire before and I don't know all the facts or what the scope of the project is.  I want to talk to a few more vendors before I make any decisions, but I will let you know which way I'm going to go once I make that decision.

And then I started calling the vendors, and electricians on my own.  Another insurance adjuster called me - apparently I'll have 2 or 3 adjusters over this process - and was *much more* forthcoming with information than my first adjuster.  In quick succession I had a phone conversation with Adjuster #2, a meeting with a Textile vendor, a meeting with another All-in-One company, and an independent Electrician.  Then I had a meeting with my local insurance guy.

And then I started to fall apart a bit.  I hadn't understood the full scope of the work that needed to be done.  It was such a small fire, really.  Is all of this necessary?  And what if I make the wrong choice of vendor?  How am I going to navigate all this without fucking up?

Again, Greg was there to calm me down and assure me that I'm not going through this alone.  That everything is going to work out just fine.  He has been a life saver so far.  Had he not talked to the firemen and asked them to do minimal damage, my house might be damaged beyond reasonable repair.  And he has been there to support me every step of the way.  At one point we had three different conversations overlapping each other - Adjuster #2, Electrician and All-in-One company #2.  We seamlessly played tag team between them all.  He talked to the electrician while I wrapped up the conversation with the adjuster.  When All-in-One #2 showed up, he started talking to them, leaving me to finish up the conversation with the electrician.  Once I got to the All-in-One company, Greg had to take off to go to class himself.  It was pretty impressive how we rolled through all three so seamlessly.

Now today is Friday and we don't have anything scheduled regarding the fire.  Nor do I have any massage clients this weekend, which is fortunate.  But I'm going to have to figure out what exactly I'm going to be able to do about it by next weekend when I have two clients.

My stomach is achey.  I've had three headaches these past two weeks due to smoke in the air from wildfires on the West Coast.  The wildfire smoke has made going outdoors unpleasant, and made the city seem overcast.  Today the smoke has minimized, but the clouds have rolled in, which brings my depression with it.  Our back yard looks like a lumber yard because we had started to clean out the shed and Greg was in the midst of doing some repairs on the house before the fire happened.  And since I'm not working right now, I'm home *a lot*. 

I feel overwhelmed at times, in a holding pattern at other times.  We will be displaced out of the house at some point so that construction can happen.  And our belongings will be taken away to be cleaned (or it will be determined that we should just replace them).  Choba will have to deal with being taken to a new abode for a while, as will we.  And we'll have to keep an eye on things at the house during construction.  All this while I'm going to be in truck driving school and Greg alone will be supporting us financially.

Topsy-turvy here we come.

Time and tide

I've got to get my brain wrapped around the possibility of change - big change - in my life.  Figure out what I'm afraid of, what I'm willing to try out, what I'm not willing to let go of.

Greg and I have been talking about going Long Haul Trucking as a team.  He's done it before, for about 7 years, so I'd have him to rely on for experience.  I'd have to get my CDL, but that is apparently fairly easy.

But there is the house to think about, and Choba.  Greg's brother might be an option as a house sitter for the first couple of months - just until I get the feel for the work and decide if I want to go full time for a longer time period.

We are considering having Greg get a Long Haul job and bringing me along as a passenger.  I didn't know that was an option, but Greg says yes.  That would give me an opportunity to check out the life with out much commitment on my part.  We'd be reliant on his income alone (there's a first for me!), until I either decided to join him, or move back into the house and get another job.

I like this idea a lot.  I dislike my job so much and wouldn't mind never going back except to get my tools.  And I'd be able to test out the Long Haul lifestyle.  Regardless of what we do I have to get a new job, so if there is a month gap in my employment while I'm testing it out, what is the difference?

What is slowing me down at the moment is waiting on Greg to get some things organized on his side.  He would need to get a Long Haul job.  He needs to see if he can get a schedule that would work with some commitments he has here in town.

So there is some frustration for me with having to wait.

But there is also hesitation about jumping into another adventure where I have to almost completely rely on another person for my finances, my safety, my daily existence.  I did that in Mexico and it was painful.  Twelve years later I'm still affected by some of my experiences there.  I'm still gun shy, still untrusting.

But this isn't Mexico and it is Greg, not that other guy.

I feel close to making a decision.  And once I make that decision a different kind of impatience will arise:  I will want to immediately make the change, not wait any longer.

Guess we need to figure out how to do this quickly......

The one that got away?

I met a guy online.  We talked on the phone before we met face to face.  I was unsure, but figured one beer and an hour of my time would be a reasonable risk.

We talked for 2 1/2 hours that first time.  He was interesting.  He had a very difficult life but seemed to have risen above it.  There were things he was still dealing with, but he was well on his way, he was on a good path.

The next time we hung out, we talked for 4 hours.  We both stayed up past our standard bedtimes (we both work early in the morning, it's not just because we are old!).  He said it was a worthy investment.

He was cute, in a big teddy bear kinda way.  But his life had made it's mark on his body.  Some of that was less than cute.

We talked, we hung out, he met a few of my friends.  We hung out at my house, in my neighborhood, never his.  I was pretty ok with this.  But I didn't realize it was a small sign.

He asked me to be his girlfriend.  It was way too early.  We had only known each other maybe two weeks.  I said no.  He considered walking away at that point, he told me later.

He seemed to be awed by me.  Or fascinated.  Or.... something.  I felt like I was the driver of the relationship.  He was trailing behind me, being fascinated.  "Oh, let's see what she does next!"  For a while that was fun.  But I was always in front.  I started to feel like a draft horse.

He was interesting.  I was curious about him.  He seemed to be a "what you see is what you get" kind of guy.  He wanted to learn how to be a better person.  I told him what I knew.  He drank it in.  I started to feel parched.

We had good times.  Yet I held him at a distance.  I too had scars from previous relationships and wasn't willing or ready to receive more.  And I was unsure about him.  I had 70% / 30% split feelings.  The percentages weren't good enough.

We talked one day and were going to get food.  I said I would meet him at the restaurant rather than having him pick me up.  I needed me time.  He said ok, but called back 10 minutes later saying he was going to skip it.  I heard it in his voice.  He was thinking of walking away again.  Tipping point time.  I said ok.

I sent him an email that evening saying that I was never going to be the woman he wanted.  I think I wanted to say that I didn't think he would be the man I wanted, but it felt too cruel, too final, and I didn't want to take the blame.  It would have felt too final.

I left it open to him as to whether he wanted to remain in contact, to be friends.  He replied that he felt differently (I'm skeptical), and was going to keep his distance.

My condolence is that I got to be the bad guy.  Perhaps it made him feel better.  I don't think he wanted to walk away.  So maybe I gave him an out.  Or maybe I'm making that up to make myself feel better.

Of course I miss him.  I miss the conversations we had.  I miss flirting with him.  I miss the attention.

I fill in the gaps now.  The gaps that could have been a blind spot for me.  In a previous time I might have been able to overlook those gaps, and fill them in with what I wanted.  That ability has hamstrung me before.  It's why I was so defensive this time.  I didn't want to fall prey to my own traps again.  So I looked honestly at the 30% and decided it outweighed the 70%.  I want better percentages.

But boredom and loneliness go back to their old habits and now I fill in those gaps.

So far I've kept myself from contacting him again.  My fear being that those gaps would be even more apparent now, and seeing him again would only solidify my conviction.  And I would hurt him even further because I would solidly reject him while perhaps he was thinking there was hope.  I'm not that cruel.

Or would I see that the gaps weren't that big after all?

Perhaps I've made a mistake.  Perhaps I've been too judgmental.  Perhaps I didn't have enough patience.  Or perhaps I was right.  The only way I can think of to clarify this for me is too much of a risk to his feelings.

So I have to just sit with this for now.

Put in her place

I'm tired of being told, in ways obvious and subtle, by the men around me that I'm not doing things right.  That I'm not good enough.  Not strong enough. Not talented enough. Not knowledgeable enough.  Not enough.  Lesser.

This week was difficult at work.  I'm so tired of the dysfunction, and I was letting it get to me.  I've been working on a project which has allowed me to block out my coworkers for the most part.  It's been nice.  But it's given me a lot of time to think, which can be a dangerous thing.

I looked around the shop and examined each male there.

Jim has his own shop within the shop, essentially.  I was looking at his space and it's probably 1/4 of the whole shop.  He is a curmudgeon, and no one really wants to interact with him, which includes walking through "his" area.  Mike, the owner, thinks Jim walks on water, so he gets tons of respect, and gets away with being a dick.  Dane, the manager, hates Jim, and the feeling is mutual, so there's no control on Jim from that corner.  Jim has his situation set up to work perfectly for Jim.  He's got space and controls who interacts with him.

Mark has worked at the company for 30 years.  He's dealt with Mike's personality for so long he's obviously built up a thick skin for it.  He's good at what he does, and also has Mike's admiration.  He has a chunk of the shop as well.  Not quite as big as Jim's, but spacious nonetheless.  I like Mark.  He's cheery most of the time, and easy to approach.

Jeff is an interesting case.  He's petrified of change.  He worked for his last company for 20 years.  This isn't necessarily a bad thing.  But added to some of his other behaviors, it shows a pattern of calcification.  He is a nervous little critter, but he's a producer.  Give him a project and he'll get it done.  He also has a habit of taking over any flat surface within 30 feet.  His bench is right next to mine.  So most of the space around me is taken up by his work.

Marlin is a good friend of mine.  We worked together at another shop, and I dragged him into this place.  He is good at what he does - I call him the Master of Minutia.  This is a good thing in fine woodworking.  His bench is on the other side of mine.

My bench is situated at the bottle neck of the shop.  If I use any floor space, I'm blocking the main thoroughfare.  Compare this to Jim's space.

Dane, the manager, has used me as the main on-site manager for the work we've done at Nike.  Not that that gives me any authority or power or control.  It just leaves him off the hook for actually having to be on site and being responsible for the work done there.  He is still the point of contact for Nike people.  I was shown this pointedly this week.  Dane is going to be out of town this coming Monday and Tuesday.  We need to go to Nike on Tuesday to do some work.  I suggested that Dane give my phone number to the point of contact at Nike so that he could reach me directly in case plans needed to change.  Relying on Mike to pass along pertinent information is sketchy at best, so I figured that if I was the temporary contact, that would take care of things.  Dane hesitated.  He didn't want to give my number to the Nike guy.  The only reason I can think of is so that he feels like he can maintain some sort of "control" over the situation, to be sure that he was seen as being useful.  Which he isn't.  He ended up cc'ing me on an email to the Nike guy.  Lame.

Having worked in a male-dominated industry for so long, and being a tomboy since my teens, I am comfortable doing "male" things, like lifting heavy items, hauling garbage out to the dumpster, loading heavy things into our piece of shit van.  But it never fails that the guys (Jeff in particular) will walk right by me when I'm doing some task that I could easily walk away from, to ask someone else to stop what they are doing to help him lift something.  Dane does this too.  Jeff actually asked me on Friday if I needed help putting something into my car.  As if anything heavier than a purse was beyond my abilities.  It's insulting.  Mostly I let them lift the heavy things because if anyone is going to break their back doing something, I'm fine with it not being me.  But for fuck's sake.

So I have the smallest space in the shop.  I am useful to take over a certain level of responsibility, without the corresponding respect or control, in some situations.  I am obviously a weak girl who needs help on the basic parts of my job.

I don't think my boss quite knows how to interact with me.  He rarely talks to me unless I'm in the office (where our female bookkeeper sits).

It all adds up to a grumpy Laura.  Fuck this place.  I get no respect, a large reason is because I'm female.  And my attitude sucks.  But who could blame me?  I need to leave my job, and soon.

A previous episode, in a previous series, and a previous life

These are the words of Anthony Bourdain, at the beginning of an episode of his show "Parts Unknown".

It echos for me.

I've been wondering if it's time for me to change.  Change my job.  Change my career.  Change where I'm living.  Change how I'm living.  Change my attitude.

I was talking to a friend who is also a woodworker.  His goal has been to achieve the status of working at a furniture place, like the one we both currently work at.  He has never wanted to do something else.  He is happy, in a way.  Happy enough to put up with the active disfunction that imbues our company.

I listen to him and I wonder if I'm the anomaly.  I get bored.  I need to change.  Others like to stay where they are at.  Some of them are happy where they are at.  Some not so much.

I am neither happy nor interested in staying.  I need that change.  And I need to acknowledge that it's not a bad thing.

There is apparently a part of me which wishes to fit in with those around me.  And there is a deeper, more primal part of me that just doesn't, won't ever really, fit in.  That's the one I want to follow now.

Mid-life crisis?

I am too old, too bitter, too frustrated.  Too stuck.  Too helpless.  Too angry.

Maybe not helpless.  But the rest I feel to my bones right now.

My chest hurts with stress, anxiety.  My mind lashes out - at everything around me.  People suck.  My neighborhood is acting like it wants to push me out.  Portland is fucked - too clique-ish, too hip, too young, so fucked up.

Why aren't things different?  Why am I seemingly stuck in this one spot?  What in the fucking hell do I need to get out of this fucked up rut?

My job is.... geez, how do I describe my job?  The owner is in his own world.  He doesn't see the things that are right in front of his face.  He doesn't run his business like a business man.  He runs it by the seat of his pants.  And seems oblivious to the wreckage he creates and leaves behind.  None of this is malicious - it's just who he is.  An eccentric.  Not in the "how fun is he" kinda way, either.  More like the "how the hell has this guy survived this long" kinda way.

Change jobs.

Yes, that is the solution.  So I look around for comparable jobs.  None seem to pay as well as my current job (which still doesn't pay that much, all the same).  Ok, how about translating my 15 years of experience into a management job, or into a new career?  Sounds good.  But sometime since I last had to really apply for a job things have changed.  Seems like everyone is now using online application filtering software.  You submit your resume and then are forced to go through a form, re-entering all the info on the resume you just submitted.  (Fucking really??)  And if you don't have the proper "keywords" somewhere in there, your application is shunted to the circular file.  Great.  Ok.  New world, things change.  Got it.  Guess I've got to figure out what the proper keywords are and work them in there somewhere.

Sigh.

I need a bit of a break.  So I'm taking one.  Take a breath and figure out what it is that I really want to be doing in my next job.  Plus I'm tempering my acute frustration towards my job to give myself a mental break.

That's better.  Somewhat.

But I feel lost.  I'm fucking 50 years old and really understand what women (especially - men feel this too, just not as much) have said for decades - once you hit a certain age, you become invisible. I live paycheck to paycheck, and lately I get the feeling that my company is having cash flow issues (how many paper checks do you get before you realize that they don't consistently have enough in the bank to pay by direct deposit?).  My house needs work (it is 121 years old!), but in order to do any of it, I'd have to pull more out of my HELOC, which eats a big enough portion of my paycheck already, or ask my mom for a loan.  

I haven't found a man in this town that is worth my time.  Of course, part of that is that I never go out.  Don't feel like I can afford it (yes, money is that tight).  And most of my friends are married or coupled off.  They're at home chilling with Netflix, not out playing wingman for their single friends.  OkCupid was useless.  Plenty of Fish - equally so.

I've got very little tying me to this town.

So leave.

It's my most recent thought.  Rent my house out, buy a used RV, travel the country.  Find myself.

Easier to sell my house - then the money isn't an issue - but.... I'm not sure I'm ready for that move yet.  I'd rather travel for 6 months, see if I could find a place to land in, then sell the house.

Now... how do I fund all this?

Join the circus

Lately I've been considering the option of selling my house and traveling around the country and/or world, living off the proceeds of the house sale.

It's very tempting.  Put my important things in storage, selling the rest.  Get my cat accustomed to living in our car.  That would be the hardest task.

This option, once on my list, has only moved up the list, never off.

Sonajero dancers.

There is a family in Tuxpan, Jalisco, Mexico who I miss.  Laura and Pati and Cynthia.  And Luis, Luisito, Sergio, Sergiolito, Maribel, Ana, Oscar, Dorian, Mayra, and Avril.  Every once in a while I run across one of their Facebook posts and I surf through their photos.  I used to do this to see if I could spot my ex in their photos.  But he hasn't shown up for a long time now.  And I don't look for him much these days.  Now I'm marveling at how much the kids have grown up, how some things in the town never seem to change, how the sisters are aging.

Someone I don't know posted a video of the annual traditional dancers that take over the town three times around the beginning of the year.  When I lived there I took many photos of them.  Had I not been in such a messy mental state, I might have taken much more, much better photos.  But seeing this video brought me back to Tuxpan.  The cement buildings, the dusty streets, the plastic chairs.

And suddenly there was Laura, waving back at the camera.  She looks great.  And her husband Luis looks the same as he did 12 years ago when I was there.  Of course, Avril is a young woman now, not the child I knew.  I wonder if she'd remember me.  She was so young, I might not have made much of a lasting impression.

That time has had such a strong affect on my life.  For good and for bad.  Although the bad seems to have mostly faded with time.

Someday I might just find myself back there to visit.

Thirty-nine

So my friend Jack calls me up.  Invites me to meet him at a bar which is around the corner from my house.  I say "text me when you're there".

When I arrive, Jack and I chat for a while, then he suggests we join a group of people he knows.

This, by the way, is a "singles" group.  It's a meetup.com group I've been a member of for years.  I rarely go to their events anymore - in fact, the last event I went to was at this particular bar, with Jack, probably about a year ago.  So I know what I'm in for, mostly.

We join the group of people, and one guy gets introduced to me.  "John?" I ask after he says his name.  "No, Doug." Me: "oh, sorry.  I couldn't hear very well.  I'm old, you know."  It's ok to say this now that I'm old.  I say it with no irony or embarrassment.  It really is difficult for me to hear individual voices in an environment that has a lot of ambient sound.  "No!  You're probably the youngest person here!" he exclaims.

Oh fuck.  I've heard this for years.  I constantly praise my mom and the genes she passed on to me.  She is 76 this year and looks probably 20 years younger.  I follow in her footsteps and look younger than I actually am (50 years old baby!).  So I'm used to this sort of response.  And I'm constantly curious to know how old I look to people who don't know me.  Not out of ego (yes, there's some of that there, of course, I admit it), but out of honest curiosity.   I don't always have the best sense of age of other people.  Some folks who are younger than me I think are ten years older.  Some folks who are older seem to be my age or maybe a bit younger.  It's an interesting tidbit for me.

I chuckle and say "really?!".  Doug says "I'll bet you a dollar that you're the youngest here."

Ok.  I'm at a singles group meeting.  This is all window dressing and an attempt at flattery.  But I'm going to call his bluff.  Because it's amusing to me. Because it's a test for him.  "Yeah?  I'll bet you that dollar!"  And I stick my hand out to shake on it.  Of course, I know my friend Jack is younger than me, so it's an easy win.  But there's something else.  If you're going to come on strong like that, back your shit up.  Don't just feed me that line and think I'll fucking fall for it.  You made the bet - live up to it.

"Ok, um...." Doug looks around at the group, obviously sizing everyone up - trying desperately to decide if he's just painted himself into a corner that he doesn't know how to escape from, or if he thinks he's on the winning side of this bet.

Really, if he was trying to score with the girl, he'd take the damn bet regardless of whether he thought he'd win it or not.  It's an in with the girl.  Win or lose, he's got something to talk about with her afterwards.  And it's an easy bet.  But, as he himself said, "I'm also cheap", so the negative possibility of having to scrape a dollar out of his wallet beats his desire to connect with a girl.  He is not a betting man.  He doesn't take the bet.

"How old are you?" I ask.  "Forty-five" he answers.  I chuckle.  "How old do you think I am?" I ask.  "Well, I was going to say 39, but after your laugh, I'm not sure."  He looks very unsure and a little sick.  I don't bother to tell him my age.

The conversation fizzles from there, and he drifts off.

It's sad, this singles scene that I have access to.  Men who have no fucking spine.  Men who aren't willing to bet their shit, win or lose.  Because a small loss might equal a bit win.  But they don't seem to know that.

Is this a Pacific NW issue?  Or is it a cultural issue of our time?  I don't know.

But I'm willing to bet $1 that I might be single for a long, long time.