More on this after I've had sleep, but today only confirmed for me that people who live in a constant affirmation of spirit energy and fairies and UFOs and Feng Shui are most likely to retreat to these fantasies instead of facing the cold truth in front of them, namely, that the 100-year-old house on the 17 acres they bought is a horror show that needs ten gallons of gasoline and a lighted match far more than solar panels on the roof and to have the bathtub repositioned.
Spent most of the day in said horror show, repeating (along with friend's very knowledgeable and construction-background cousin), "Do NOT put any money into this house. Make it habitable as much as possible while avoiding the deathtrap chimney and electrical and plumbing, but put your money into the new, wonderfully designed, green-conscious house you will put up in its place, and the party you will have when this thing comes down." Not sure she heard it, but I have convinced her to have an inspector come in to look at the heating and electrical at least (there is a wood-burning furnace attached to a cinderblock chimney that is held together with DUCT TAPE), and get some ideas of what needs to be done. Also spent all day ripping out absolutely filthy wall-to-wall carpet that had seen years of heavy smoking and who-knows-what else. What was underneath it was not pretty, but at least it wasn't pourous, and it didn't reek.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Friday, April 3, 2009
Paradoxically, being jobless makes me more productive.
Seeds germinating, bike tire repaired, freelance article written, gym visited regularly, college registration done, dining room converted to painting studio.
O happy dagger!
I'd been worrying that Amie and Leroy don't get enough stimulation to keep them mentally engaged.
Until I came upon them practicing the final act of Romeo and Juliet.
Until I came upon them practicing the final act of Romeo and Juliet.
Fraternite! Obama's town-hall meeting in Strasbourg
I am watching my president be thronged by adoring French college students after receiving a number of standing ovations.
O, brave new world.
O, brave new world.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
There is a spectre haunting Europe....
I was home all day, working on a painting. When I needed a break, I called SP at work. When SP got home, he called me. We discussed a very cool evolution of a word root involving an an Oak tree, the Salmon of Knowledge, the Druids, mistletoe, and Dryads. Then the conversation moved to politics (we both love Angela Merkel). Then..
"What's the first line of The Communist Manifesto"? SP asked.
"Gee," I said, "I forget. It's been a long time since first grade."
As we spoke, The Communist Manifesto appeared in my In Box.
"I wonder how many months of government surveillance that bought me," I said.
It's a rather cumbersome translation.
Still, all struggle is class struggle.
"What's the first line of The Communist Manifesto"? SP asked.
"Gee," I said, "I forget. It's been a long time since first grade."
As we spoke, The Communist Manifesto appeared in my In Box.
"I wonder how many months of government surveillance that bought me," I said.
It's a rather cumbersome translation.
Still, all struggle is class struggle.
Four years.
I arrived in Chicago four years ago today. It's hard to believe the time has gone by so quickly. There are times when I wonder what it is Chicago was supposed to teach me; sometimes I think it has to do with a life here, sometimes I wonder whether it has to do with learning a lesson that I had to learn by coming out here on my own, so that I can one day go back East a different person. Certainly, now that I've lost my job, it occurs to me that there is a possibility I may have to return to Boston one day, but I'm not sure that's the case; it's cheaper to be jobless here.
Although lately I've begun to feel a bit homesick for my East Coast friends, and I'm not sure what that means. I mean, I've always missed my EC friends, but lately the feeling has become more acute, so I have to wonder what I'm processing and projecting. I'm a lot less lonely here than I was in Boston; perhaps it's because I have no long-time friends here who have moved on to long-term boyfriends or family or moved far from the city, which is 99% of the people I know Back Home. Feeling less integral to people's lives here doesn't feel quite so bad; isn't as much of a stigma when you have entered people's lives well into the Second Act, rather than going from a main character to a supporting role.
Yet most of the time I spend on the phone is with friends Back East (and my Very Best Friend, who is Way Back East, in London). Chicago has delivered on its promise: I can't change that I'm single (or, rather, I have no interest in dating), which generally means spending a lot of time alone. This doesn't bother me, but in Boston I felt easily bored, since the city is the size of a postage stamp and most people out on the town are about 19 years old. Here, there is a lot for me to do, so I'm able to keep occupied and feel connected thanks to the ease with which people talk to strangers here.
This summer, E and I plan to have a 100th birthday party for our Dorchester house; perhaps what I need is just a visit back home; it's been a couple of years, after all.
In the meantime, spring is coming, the air smells delicious, and my artichoke and okra seedlings are germinating (yowza!)
Although lately I've begun to feel a bit homesick for my East Coast friends, and I'm not sure what that means. I mean, I've always missed my EC friends, but lately the feeling has become more acute, so I have to wonder what I'm processing and projecting. I'm a lot less lonely here than I was in Boston; perhaps it's because I have no long-time friends here who have moved on to long-term boyfriends or family or moved far from the city, which is 99% of the people I know Back Home. Feeling less integral to people's lives here doesn't feel quite so bad; isn't as much of a stigma when you have entered people's lives well into the Second Act, rather than going from a main character to a supporting role.
Yet most of the time I spend on the phone is with friends Back East (and my Very Best Friend, who is Way Back East, in London). Chicago has delivered on its promise: I can't change that I'm single (or, rather, I have no interest in dating), which generally means spending a lot of time alone. This doesn't bother me, but in Boston I felt easily bored, since the city is the size of a postage stamp and most people out on the town are about 19 years old. Here, there is a lot for me to do, so I'm able to keep occupied and feel connected thanks to the ease with which people talk to strangers here.
This summer, E and I plan to have a 100th birthday party for our Dorchester house; perhaps what I need is just a visit back home; it's been a couple of years, after all.
In the meantime, spring is coming, the air smells delicious, and my artichoke and okra seedlings are germinating (yowza!)
Old enough to vote!!!!!
Happy Birthday to George and Harry, who turn 18 this month. When I met them I was 27, making them my longest, most successful relationships. With each passing year I love them more, if that's even possible.
Let the wild partying begin.
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