Progression 2/100

I wanted to think, or read, but she wanted to

Talk. And talk. I stayed polite, mostly. While wanting to

Tell her to just be quiet, please, stop, I'm not

Answering, adding, encouraging, nothing but barest civil acknowledgement but no.

She needed company, I needed solitude, not a good mix.



Got soil to plant lettuce in the raised bed.

Green leaves in autumn is the hope. We shall see.

Nearly every day, visible progress. A bit more wood here.

A new doohicky there. Evidence of attention and care.

Moby more comfortable with Eleanor lately, his old weak eye obvious.

Blindness 1/100

Hundreds of dime sized tomatoes. Some frozen. Many already eaten

Brought to work, given to neighbors. Some dropped while picking.

Most from just one plant, sprawling, generous, eager. Such pleasure.

Such bounty. A puppy of a plant, eager and happy.

Pouring out everything in one season, one whole rich lifetime.


Moby went out, he's going blind, and misses the step,

Keeps going. Stretches out near the catnip, sunning himself.

Moves to return, mews in his hoarse voice, looks exactly

Like a panic attack, can't focus on my voice, pick

him up bring him in, calm him down. Fine now.

Luggage

Having lost my way writing, I need to be workmanlike. Not avoiding subjects, nor including them. A structure, but not a theme. I must reach back out to the world. Pour out art as my handful of sand in the eyes of fascism.

Dobby Lessons‏ @DouxDux Jun 2

7)Authoritarianism cannot withstand creativity and the love of beauty and the enjoyment of people you know around you, your neighbors&friends.

8) On days I don't have much time and I feel useless, I send a card to a nearby mosque or synagogue. Thank them for being in my community.

8.1) I just write 3-4 sentences that express my gratitude for their mission of peace, and that I am glad they're my fellow Americans.

8.2) It's cheesy and I don't care. They must get so much hate mail. I want them to know they are loved.

And it came to me, 100 words. I've done this, and it's prose that reads vaguely like poetry.

My first entry - though not my first essay, was a

simple list. 100 things about me. Having now lost my

impetus, I am drawn to the idea of a dribble

of words. I stare at nanowrimo with my toddling novel

staring at me with big imploring eyes. I am at

a loss, of words and of focus, though not ideas.

First, to prime the dry pump, lubricate. Today and for

the rest of the month, I will write 100 words

exactly every day. I will write about whatsoever is at

hand. There may be more bad haiku, whinging, work stories.



So, starting later today, for the next 100 days, 100 words a day. Photos at least every other day. Get my mind disciplined again. Maybe distract and entertain you who still have me on your rss feeds... Getting out my hammer, gonna build something. Not sure what.

Hidden

Coming along. Down to the plumbing and electrical that doesn't much show.

The windows await.



Hard week, 4 straight days. Last night, vomiting, for hours. Exhausted and sore today, but feeling better this evening, keeping food down.

Trying to keep pragmatic, doing the job in front of me. Sustaining emotional food, to stay strong.

Spasm

The plumber was supposed to be here too, but there was a water heater emergency, so he'll come later. The framing is done.

Watched the eclipse today, the most impressive way was through the leaves of our tree. Light got odd, birds freaked out, grasshoppers got lost, it came and went and the breeze was cooler for a few minutes.

I was home because the schedule was so small. Instead, I'll be doing my ten hour shifts 4 in a row. Difficult, but then, we could have more shortish days.

Trying to stay strong and calm and rested. Massive apprehension, the small minded hatreds and bubbling violence so ominous. The war is upon us, declared or not. The world spasms.

Frame

The framing continues. To the point that I long to decorate. We've found self-stick vinyl floor tile at .38$ per sq ft, enough to do the whole space, to be covered by colorful children's play area mats and foam tiles (now in the basement.) The yard sale wall coverings ready to go. Planning to faux brick the painted brick so that it looks like... brick, again.

Want this to be a place to occasionally sit, reading a book, until the laundry is done. Not gorgeous, but a pleasant enough place. Not like the concrete, dark, basement.

Doors from the house on feet, on slides, hinged together, as a screen, for the toilet. And fogged windows on that side. But moveable so if I need the space...

Ok, I have this idea in my head. The plans, and contractor, and Dylan, were confused on this. But I think it's more or less sorted now. With some runaround with the City planning. Sorted now. Need a stretch of room for a drying line. Away from dust and pollen, but can hang up some clothes to dry. Or spread out a project. The term "Powder Room" on the plans should have alerted me. As much as en suite and vanity on our initial meeting with 'designer' long ago to get a cost estimate. I do hate those fluffy words.

Got my shift moved away from Monday, and the eclipse, so great, until Wednesday, which means 4 days in a row, ten hour shifts, and glad, but, ugh. Making ready for a pinhole camera set up.


Cats being weird about food, adjusting. Giving them options today, more acceptable. Trying to care for our interspecies relationships. Bad air? Probably.

Boston calls me today, and I so wish I were there, with the tubas and trombones, the bagpipes and resistance.

Restoration

The TV in the staff room was broken this week, a relief. One of us brought in his laptop to stream movies. He started with Sing! I'd half heartedly intended to see it eventually, but after catching a few minutes, I had to see it soon. Got home, Dylan rattled by his day, we watched.

The animation is really good, no smirking. The story a bit thin, but the characters rich, very funny, the songs don't go on too long either. And, it's not sugary. There is a sweetness to it, but enough bitter to keep it interesting. The rat with the wonderful voice is a rat literally and figuratively, he's not redeemed, but his talent is undeniable. The porcupine couple live together and are not married, and nothing is made of this. The female animals have tails, but not busts. Rosita and Gunter are dance partners and friends, but not romantically attracted. Neena is painfully shy, and although she does well once she finally sings on stage, I get the feeling she'll always be happier behind the scenes.




The audition bits are pure humor, how else to describe a snail singing Fly Like the Wind?

Anyway, I found it delightful.

We went to the Craft Lake City festival. Dylan picked up a few witty postcards, so he tells me, it's Mormon images subverted. He explained, but I don't have the references from my childhood. And a print of an original needlepoint by the same artist, "Nevertheless, She Persisted." Dylan quite taken with it, as was I.

The crowd was so diverse, a welcome antidote to the news. Salt Lake is far whiter than Detroit, but there is still a lot of color here. The young hipsters have a distinctive style, but they seem to make it work for them, rather than force themselves into it. Mix of ages as well, although it skewed young. Dylan got to do a little music and VR, I talked with some naturalists. The music didn't interest us, but there was quality. Lots of soap, lots of vintage updated, recycled, reinterpreted, lots of punk esthetic, death made cute, or cute made morbid. We took the bus, so I didn't have to drive. A restorative afternoon.

Progression

More progress. Holes drilled in the foundation for plumbing.



Wood framing begun, and continued over two days.



It's taking shape. They seem to stop by, do a part, show up another day, do the next bit.

As you can see, I made a very small pile out of the half of a large pile they left after they filled and tamped in. There is dirt all over the back garden. Hopefully, it will sustain plants a bit better in time.


I think once it becomes a utility room, we shall still call it The Porch. It's a good name, and it's used to being called that. House seems to be pleased with the much needed upkeep.

Dirt

Lots of dirt moved. Most of it went back in where it came from, the contractor's guys tamped it down well. But about half the pile remained, and getting it hauled away would be an extra cost and who knows when. So, I claimed the dirt, and spadeful, cartful at a time, shifted the pile to the various areas of the back garden that could take it. Mostly beside the fence, where the neighbors' yards are higher and erosion has taken a toll. But my neighbors have enough room to turn around and get their vehicle into their garage again. They've been more than patient. They will be getting a chocolate babka when this is all over.

The work is hot and sweaty. Dylan helped me moving the two slabs of old concrete out of the way. One muddy day when this is all done, they will go back. And one day when the $$ is replenished, we'll get a load of pea gravel and stabilize the mud properly. Until then, well, it's dry and dusty at the moment anyway.

Still a mess out there, which depresses me a bit. I'll deal with it in small amounts, over time. Much as it would be lovely to have someone come in and make it all pretty, it wouldn't be mine then. So, I do what I can and nibble away at the endless tasks. When I do my own work, I get stronger.

I admit, I've been spending too much time on the tweeterverse. Watching the train approaching as we lay tied to the tracks. Holding vigil. This afternoon, it's slowed to a halt, tweeter that is. Although, it may indicate a break in the toxic treason wave we're enduring. Not getting hopes up. Stalled out, I come back to blooger and write. I think I've figured out how to write the novel, started so long ago as nanowrimo. I may start seriously writing again. Soon. It's building up, slowly. Getting The New Yorker is inspiring me. Not that I've read it much, I can't seem to focus that long, but I dip in, and it's there, waiting. Like this site waits for me. I won't stray too much longer, I think.

Yesterday evening, feeling tangled and spiraling, I put on the heavy duster coat, the smell and weight of it comforted me. I've always had a thing about textures and textiles. Not necessarily soft ones, either. Quality though, silk and wool, leather and canvas. This coat is heavy and enveloping, I knew as soon as I saw it, and nearly talked myself out of it. But sometimes, the important things in your life come along, when you least expect them. When you are least prepared to accept them, when it all seems like bad timing and you're NOT ready. When I have shut myself up, not let myself talk myself out of them, they have turned out to be lovely. Some small things, the odd sweater or pair of mittens. Some huge, like Dylan and House. This duster coat was one of those. Moby nearly was for Dylan, but I knew as soon as I saw his photo on the Rescue site that he was OUR cat. Turned out he was Dylan's cat, he nearly talked himself out of Moby.

We hit yard sales this morning early. A fabulous set of cloisonné, bowl and tiny cups, but for $20, I felt it was a find for another lucky searcher. I don't have a place to show it off properly, glad to have seen and held them. And a chat with the current owner. And his black cat, Wanda. But, we got a large mirror in a wood frame there, dust came free! At another, genuine U.S. Postal mail bags, which took Dylan back to his days as the unit postman when we were in Saudi for Gulf War I. Got those, and the Useful Tub and a lovely large teacup that is pleasing to drink tea from. I almost wish I'd gotten the whole set with bowl, but I have no place to put them, and unique in the House is desirable.

Drove to the west side of the valley later in the afternoon heat. Nothing like that concrete, industrial, shabby part of town to suck some of my love of life away. I begin to think maybe full destruction has it's appeal. Then we get back into the greener, residential side, and I want to save it all again. At least from human harm. If the supervolcano gets us, I'm good. I won't even know. Maybe future archeologists will find me with my teamug.

Midgets

These are my midget tomatoes. They have a lot of flavor in a wee bite.

And there are LOTS of 'em.

Duster

After the footings were poured, the metal forms went up for the walls.



Smell of oil and metal. Rebar. This is a big thing. I don't think we realized how big, although we wanted it done properly. This feels proper. Takes a while to do a job right, down to the dirt.




Yard sales a bit thin this week. But this reached out to me. An Australian duster, oilcloth coat. I fell a bit in love. Only $10 they wanted. I tried it on, and it hugged me back. I keep putting it on, smelling it. Vacuumed out the grit in the bottoms of the pockets.



#Resist.

Finches

So far, the footings and walls are up. We assume next are the plumbing underpipings, hopefully starting Monday. Big pile of dirt.


Moby had to investigate. He's getting frail and wobbly, but still making sure everything is going well. His vision also seems affected, he steps off edges when he clearly doesn't expect to. Dylan gets very sad about this. I try to keep in mind that he's still interested and moving.

I pulled a large rock out of the pile Wednesday, exposed after overnight torrential rains. Worker out there in boots bailing out the hole, so I put on my wellies, got a couple more buckets, and we got it done very quickly. I think the gutter just poured in rainwater, since the downspout had to be removed to do the work.



There was a pile of wet cement on the dirt pile Wednesday, so after they left, I shoveled it into the crack near the garage door, and reinforced the edge of the dirt where the bottles are buried. Waste not, want not.






Moby is still an elegant cat, with gravitas.




And it rained, two nights in a row. The first caused flash flooding in areas around the valley. One high school got badly damaged. A branch library had 6' of water in the lower levels, losing the whole children's and non-fiction sections, and will be closed for 3 months for repairs. My garden is quite happy, as are the weeds. Or the weeds were, until I easily pulled them up by their roots. Weeding when it's very dry is not very useful.

Sitting on the front porch, watching the finches feast on sunflower seeds and battle furiously.

Excavation

Left the car home, took bus up to work yesterday, walked home. It wasn't bad, although my feet were pretty tired. 2.5 miles downhill. Very small schedule.

The reason was to avoid having to park somewhere on the street, since the driveway would be full of equipment and workers.



Concrete is down now, rebar sticking out. The guys were soaked with sweat, as the humidity yesterday was way up, dewpoint in the 60s. I sat on the porch and watched as they loaded concrete into wheelbarrows. My neighbor, who is 2 1/2 watched from her porch as well.

A... well, possibly a crank on twitter (whodathunk?) says to prepare for a spasm of societal upheaval. White nationalist provocateurs, power interruption, riots. And yes, it sounds nuts, but it's not out of the question, these things have happened before. They urge us to be prepared. Which we really should be, just as for a flood, blizzard, earthquake, tornado, fire. Have a 72 hour kit prepared, shelf stable food, water, flashlights, batteries, radio, meds, first aid kit.

I thought about riots. I was very small during the Detroit riots in '67. We drove through the aftermath, burnt out storefronts is all I can recall. And I wondered, where would riots happen in Salt Lake City? The answer came to me really before the question. Rio Grande area, where the homeless shelter is, and the overflow of people camp out. And they spread out into surrounding areas, sleeping rough in doorways and bus shelters, as I saw on my way to the bus yesterday morning. One on the concrete outside the door to the mattress store. I felt both compassion, the irony, and the irritation of having to see that.

Not pretty, to know I have that evil impulse, to be repulsed by the misfortune of a fellow human being. But there is in all of us the hatred of that which we fear in ourselves. Aggressive panhandling is awful, I feel my anger rise. In that situation, I would wish not to live. I've given up on life for far less. My lust for life has never been strong, mostly had to work very hard on it.

Entitled bigots would have far fewer restraints, would indulge their darkest impulses instead of looking inward. Especially if they were pretty sure they'd get away with it.


We hate our own poverty and misfortune, our strangeness among our own, some externalize it to the point of fury.

Take care of yourselves, stay safe, keep your compassionate hearts, build, protect. Have some water and jerky in reserve.

Cement

They came by on Thursday and did the remaining demolition. This is my view from the car in the garage Friday morning before I left for work. They plan to come back on Tuesday to clear the debris and pour cement in the afternoon.

Tried to hit a few yard sales, but the street is partly closed for one of the parades for Days of '47, i.e Pioneer Day. A state holiday, and much bigger than the 4th of July here. One of the perils of living downtown, we get the odd parade and marathon closure. We went out, hoping to do other errands. But it's already hot, and I lost interest after the first one. The rest were much farther and the traffic here will only get worse. There are several later in the day, we may venture out. We may not. Hard to tell.

Did go back out. Got some lightswitch covers at an estate sale.

"We cannot live in a world that is interpreted for us by others. An interpreted world is not a home. Part of the terror is to take back our own listening. To use our own voice. To see our own light."
- Hildegard of Bingen

Jazz

Jazz. This makes me so happy.

Stripped

Contractor came by yesterday, contract signed, payment made. These might illustrate better what is here.



My head started reeling/and it started feeling/like there was no ceiling or floor.

That song from Cinderella keeps going through my head for some strange reason...

Tidied

Tidied up the pile, so that the rest of the porch floor was clear. Contractor coming Monday, hoping to pour concrete sometime around next weekend. I've done a substantial bit of the demolition.

\

Offering the salvageable wood on our nextdoor.com, free of course. No idea if anyone will want it. Too much paint for me to want it for the potential greenhouse. This should make it a bit easier to put in the skip. Making a sign for the front parking space for our neighbor when the skip is in the driveway.

Whole lotta nails, splinters. I'm handling it all slowly and with care. Thought about a guy I worked with at the library decades ago. He had a lugubrious manner, reserved. Seemed not to be doing much, and that slowly. But, somehow, all his materials got shelved. I eventually figured out, he just never stopped. He was like the tide coming in. When I have a difficult, tedious, or potentially dangerous job to do, I think of him, and try to be like him. Mostly, I like to work quickly, then relax. Some jobs, that is entirely the wrong approach.

Bergamot

Unexpected day off yesterday. Felt wrong footed all day as well. But got some stuff done.

More evident that Moby has vision issues. I no longer bother with the harness when we take him out. He doesn't move that fast, and is intermittently, heartbreakingly hesitant. Still. Loves going out, thin, but still active. Slow, but still getting around. So, we watch, and take care of him as best we can.




Eleanor in rude good health.


Spotted the most lovely black bee with golden wings on the bergamot this morning.



The mexico midget tomatoes are tiny, but nice, and lots of 'em. About the size of a large pea. Had to deal with a slug infestation on one plant. More and more earwig oil traps, all getting lots of the little bugges. Still no noticeable rain since May.

The contractor will be coming on Monday to start work on the porch, concrete maybe Friday, maybe Monday next.

Is it so odd that I'm considering this still important, in case we need to take in a refugee? Like, Anne Frank sort of thing? I don't need anyone telling me how much danger I'm in, I can imagine the worst case without prompting.

Trying to stay pragmatic and determined.

Lucky

Some more destruction, to make way for new.



Not a lot more I can do, although I'm taking a hard look at the floor boards tomorrow. Strange offering to Shiva, to clear away and destroy, to allow for new growth.

Found a beer can under there, that suggests a date for the porch enclosure, 1965-67.



A logo used late '60s, local brewery closed in '67.

Contractor may be by next week.

Dylan fervently hopes so.

Yes, Black Lives Matter, and the rise of kkkism, white terrorism, violent rhetoric, worries me deeply.

The world goes to war.

But, part of me wonders if this isn't the earth dosing itself with medicine, to reduce the excess humanity infection. A global autoimmune purge, with plagues to follow. Humans causing too much damage, so the planet using neoplastic methods to shrink the malignant tumor of homo sapienicemia.

Jumpy

Jumping Jellybean.




A petition to save the world.

Rather quiet for a firework holiday last night. A few booms from what were likely official fireworks. A small number of closer ones. Very subdued.

Of course, the big firework holiday here is Pioneer Day, on the 24th.

Demolition

I may have taken this a little too far. Especially since we don't have a date for the concrete people to do the footings. Contractor will do the demolition first, with a skip. I got the windows out long ago. Today, I found the pry bar, got out my trusty hammer, and, well...

One of my favorite stories about my mother was when she took a sledge hammer to a wall in their small, cramped house one day. My father had to fix up an archway right after that. One of those post-WWI tract houses built for minimal heating, tiny rooms being easier to keep warm. They did a lot to that shoddy little house over the years. Not a happy place for me, but they did try to make it stable.

Dylan a bit worried about this, but there is a deadlock on that door. It was already broken this is just opening it up. Getting some of the work done. Saving us a bit of demolition cost.

Nothing like clearing away rotten wood, stripping away the broken and obstructive.

Another yellow rosebud, a golden celebration. The catnip hugs the stones.



Had another conversation with the little boy who breaks my onions, and his mother. She's at wits end with his energy. I have nothing to offer her but a kind ear. I suspect he's just very bright and energetic, he asks good questions, then hares off. Younger brother in stroller, who Onion boy says "likes white people." Mom unsure what to say, I take it as a straightforward statement, smile and let him chatter. She seems to be an immigrant of no more than a few years, she asks about my garden, as people do.

Trying to be a good neighbor.

Calm

"There is the inner life of thought which is our world of final reality. The world of memory, emotion, feeling, imagination, intelligence and natural common sense, and which goes on all the time consciously or unconsciously like the heartbeat.

There is also the thinking process by which we break into that inner life and capture answers and evidence to support the answers out of it.

And that process of raid, or persuasion, or ambush, or dogged hunting, or surrender, is the kind of thinking we have to learn, and if we don't somehow learn it, then our minds lie in us like the fish in the pond of a man who can't fish."
- Ted Hughes
Via Whiskey River

My own inability to create or even read more than pertinent articles, worries me. I'm staying calm, to the point that people at work are telling me how calm I am, easy to eat lunch with, patient. I know I did the ptsd work, but I also know I get unnaturally calm in a crisis. Waiting, alert.

Trying not to feel much. Hyper-vigilant.

That rather lovely volunteer grass of spring is the kind I now know puts out the nasty spiky seeds. I'm working on digging them out of the now hard baked clay, raking away what I can. In fall, when it hopefully rains, I'll plant clover. Catching massive numbers of earwigs in my soy/oil traps. At least our water situation in the mountains and reservoirs is good this year. Even though it hasn't rained this month.