I was up til 3am installing a dog door. When I’d finished and re-hung it, Kila immediately trotted over, stuck her nose through the flap, and boredly shuffled back to her pillow. Turtle jumped through, then only came back when she knew i was locking up the garage for the night. At least it will get utilized immediately, and animals can shit in the grass, though a thank you would have been nice. I meant to go to bed sooner, but these things happen when you start at 10pm after several other projects and reconnaissance.
One of G’s good friends from school was having a party the next morning, way the hell over in AJ. But we had to deal with the pond at the Mesa house to remove it from the plate of the renters, and G was going to freak out if she didn’t play with some kids. We got to Mesa at about 2:30. G and Alana had both had a full day, but would not rest, depsite being stuck in an empty house and an empty yard with parents too busy doing prison labor to listen to any of their yammering.
I feared this might take 2 days. The rocks pulled back and pond emptied of plants in an hour, another hour to pull the skin. Instead of bailing we ripped the skin up in pieces and let everything spill over and sink in, periodically requiring one of us to get nearly under water to eviscerate the rubber lining and let a cascade of crud fall on the slicer.
some serious roots on the mesquite, one of em was wrapped in cloth, which told us it was huge before the pond even went in over 10 years ago
more amazing roots on the water plants
G and Alana keeping busy in the sandbox
We were now so foul and in awe of the enormous sinkhole in front of us, we just pushed nearly all the crap right back in. Getting splashed as rocks and plants and the compost pile were hurled into the murky, green-brown pit was barely noticed. Then we stacked up the cinder blocks and dug up the garden and shucked it in on top. A tuckbed of dirt and a truckbed of gravel and you will never know any ot it existed. It will keep things simpler and make the house look cleaner to sell. When I told my parents we filled in the pond, Mom didn’t even know we had one. Filling it in was the 2nd time ever I got in to work on it, I hated it that much. Beckie gave it one brief eulogy then hurled in filler as fast as she could. It took 2 of us about 4 hrs to kill it, and at least twice that to maintain properly every year. Still not sure I can handle the Happy Meal sized yard i now have, but i sure as fuck never want any of that shit again.
Alana and G both were exhausted, bored, stressed, and wailing inconsolably. Had they not fallen asleep when they did, they might have ended up in the pit too. Finally i let G play with the camera, and she did quite a remarkable job capturing the day.
A week later, and we are almost moved and sustainably settled, evidenced by my being on the trainer and uploading photos. The trainer is my chrysalis, and when i have time to ride a bike again I shall emerge a resident of Snotsdale. Contrasts to Mesa were immediately apparent, others I will be smacked by for months to come. More people in nicer cars driving self-importantly tops the list. There are houses closer together, narrower streets, xeriscape, R38 insualtion and businesses so well camoflauged i nearly ran out of gas looking for gas. There are bike lanes, and smart flow to the signal changes, efficient use of private and public spaces to maximize utility for all, leading to a higher cost per square foot. There was an article in the Repbulic about the Scottsdale waterfont levying a permit on restaurants to fund sewer and grease trap cleanup, cause the area stank. Commenters bitched about government intervention, and clearly they know nothing of libertarianism or market forces or negative externalities…the business will pass it on to the customer, and draw a more well-healed, more decisive crowd to enjoy a beautiful waterfront experience that does not stink. I lived next to the Salt River for 10 years, and I assure you a year-round non-stinky body of water does not happen naturally in Arizona. The overriding theme to Scottsdale is people making choices about their choices, and choosing to invest in a lifestyle that strives to be eco-friendly, value-laden, and giving the homeowner what they want and not what they don’t.
Or perhaps I am just projecting. Scottsdale is definitely more modernly and urbanly designed than Mesa. People may just follow the crowd and move here on the promise of better; we chose it, since Flagstaff would be a colossal waste of our shiny degrees and current market values.
The garage is enormous, the house is enormous, I passed Jack Shepherd on the way to the back bedroom. Every square foot is maximized for daily usage, and every ounce of fat is trimmed, much to the chagrin of the movers attempting to get a treadmill up the stairs and around the corner. Every corner can be well lit, its quiet and dark and light in all the right places. It feels just a bit too tiny, like an ipod, a Japanese template of cleverness for a tidy miniMcMansion. Except for the side yard, which is just barely not wide enough to let the garbage can and the recycling can pass. Its kafka-esque. We have no side yard, whatsoever, but a beautiful wall of windows in the office that looks out onto the only functionally smart space to store the trash. Trimmed a little too close with that one. Perhaps $5k more would have bought me 1000 feet more in the lot, and perhaps I’d still be shopping and waiting a year from now. *SHRUG*. Its so small as to exactly fit a pool and a spa and a bbq, and is visible on the corner. A fishbowl. Beckie and I both grew up on huge yards, our shitbag 1400 sq ft Tucson house had a HUGE backyard. Our Mesa house is a test lab for the NAU College of Forestry. Our new house has nothing. It has less than nothing, it has so little, there is not even room for me to store tools i will not need.
There is more, i don’t see it yet, but i see more possibilities every day. The garden we could not maintain in Mesa may be a manageable source of fresh chilis. Vines and oleander will give us privacy. Brushing off catclaw of opportunity and angst was my mental trainer for the long days ahead where i would not get to work out or ride, full of time-sensitive milestones, rented resources, labor rates, and dependencies. Days of project planning in the making, and within the first mile on the entrance ramp, a dooshbag in a full size pickup jumped between us only to hang out right behind Beckie and her F150 and her ATV trailer laden with shit, going 50 in the 65 zone. Never ceases to amaze how dumb drivers are not to notice 2 cars riding together like 2 bikes. i pulled out a roadie trick: if you cant get on a passing line, speed up, and force your way in until they realize they will die if they don’t fucking let you in. Its hard to miss a shiny black car, with 2 bikes hanging off the rack on nearly every trip. I was the Bandit running blocker with Alana, keeping the tailgaters away.
marking my territory
The schedule on Friday went like this: arise, fill vehicles to overflowing, arrive, sweep and blow out garage, inspect all closets and cabinets, unload all into garage, return and complete packing and loading. There was no time to eat, sleep, chill built into the schedule. I have no idea when I went to bed, but i woke up early.
the old owners accidentally left this, and i am taking to rum after about a 20 year layoff
very full garage after only 2 trips
Saturday was tighter. Drive, unload, expunge from the garage into closets and counters at a ballistic rate, drive, reload, repeat, greet maid service to clean all the crannies, drive, pack.
I met the neighbor across the street, he was clipping his bushes with bonsai-care, and picking up stray leaves with his bare hands. I blew out my garage with a garden blower before unloading, and am about to halve a plant that is in my truck’s parking spot. Somewhere, I still have a drill bit case autographed by Tim Allen in 1991. I bet no one in this hood has a chain saw oush oush!
Allegedly the new neighbor has a 5 yr old girl. We shall surely find out soon when G and I let the freak flag fly. He said “dont be alarmed if you hear loud music and drug delaing“. I said be sure to invite me. We shall see… Glen next door turned out to be a great guy, but a challenge to gel with at first. This could be too easy.
The maids went in circles for 2 hours within 5 miles of the house, and i was helpless to help them as i barely knew the area. I was amazed at how incompetent they were with directions. Not mapquesting is very beaner, and while its mean to write this, they are not on the internet. I gave them $10 extra for gas, while they cleaned my half million dollar house. Does that make me a dick, or a guy giving 15% for $70 worth of work that was 2 hrs late? The crew that cleaned the Mesa house today appreciated the tips every year, and asked for me to ask for them when we move. They were playing the radio while i was weeding, and sheepishly asked it it was ok – i busted up laughing, they asked me to say hi to G and Alana for them.
I sallied forth to rescue the cleaning service, and got a look at the bridge over the canal into Horseworld. College Nationals was held here in 1990, my first trip to Arizona. Its got paths, and is a nice steep pitch that is begging for jumps. I need to explore. I want to explore the desert areas and the streets more than i want to ride the trails or the roadie routes. I need my comfot zone, like a cat, doing concentrice circles of caution and daring, gradually expanding the cat-empire.
Turtle bolted across the street the instant we let her out of the car, and was not seen for 10 hrs. We called all day for her, and she finally strolled nonchalantly out of the garage. It took me 2 days to find my cell phone charger, perhaps she was there all along. She is a smart cat. She now darts cautiously about, learning all the patterns I want to see but have not had time.
Sunday was much the same as Saturday, with heaping heaps of stuff and vehicles, but now we thought it was time to bring Bette and G. The hitch-hauler and Prius were conscripted. Kila rolls with me. G gets her first look at the house.
That night i runzeheunded out behind the high school down some quad tracks and back. A tidy 3 or so miles in a lazy hour, all but .5 miles of it off leash. Score one for the new house, and despite the shocking density vs. Mesa, we had the night to ourselves.
last chopper out of Saigon
magazine detritus over the treadmill
Last project on Sunday before working with the movers Monday at 8am was to template the pool table. Only 1 shot at this, the pressure was amazing…
the movers were quite cool and way cheaper than pool table movers and taught me a few things about the table. Its not as hard to scootch around as I thought. Thanks Always Professional in Moving. Awesome job and great value. And, tipping the movers after load but before unload was a savvy veteran move.
cant wait to view the table from the blimp during games
The cable guy came, i fixed things and installed things, i lost track of time and space and diet, it became a pseuo-sisyphean tunnel of honey-do tasks. I spent 10 hours on Tuesday in an empty house not saying a word other than babbling to myself as i patched and painted away 10 yrs of hard living, went snow blind painting the white master closet another shade of white. Coupled with Thursday’s weed-a-thon, i want to shed the Mesa house like a sticky booger and hug the agent-orange blight in the Scottsdale place. At least this week.
I possibly incurred the wrath of my new HOA; I painted my fence today. It was on “the list” that I started writing down over the last few days of exploring the house. After a home inspector noted my fence in Mesa was hanging together by some old dead tree fiber and paint boogers, and it had been about 8 years since i weatherproofed it, I couldn’t not notice that about 2/3ds of the fences in the neighborhood were painted, and i couldn’t not notice none of them in the new neighborhood were, and mine was looking like about a 10 year old fence instead of a 3 year old one already.
I spent a mere 1.5 hrs at work today and had to get home to ignore the kids and blow off work and obsess over the chaos surrounding me. After 10 nonstop hours patching and painting the Mesa house yesterday, much of it locked in the white master closet painting it white and inhaling paint fumes, avoiding some of the mistakes in that house was on my mind. So i sorted through all the leftover cans and tried to match them to swatches, which led to me replacing the water filter on the fridge, which led to me disassembling and servicing the splash pad, which led to a dog door, which led to insulation for the garage, which led to painting the fence. There is a line through all this, a ginormous 4 lane highway like the Loop 101, but I’m too tired to follow it. The last few days of non-stop tasks and time-sensitive milestones have left me numb. And I have lost all faith in the orderly conduct of packing and unpacking when i can’t find my cell phone charger or a pair of clean socks. Beckie is obsessed with unpacking, fortunately. Such endeavors are too vague and subjective for me, I need minor victories for motivation.
Amazingly, I lost not one of 30 bolts or 30 nuts used to hold the slats in place, even with Genevieve and Alana helping me. G’s help goes like this: ask if she can help, get dressed in the old t-shirt i had moment before been wearing, wield a brush dripping paint like grease from bacon, amazingly take and follow instructions, paint almost 1 side of 1 coat of 3 out of 10 slats, declare she wants to return to her movie, run through the house a Bark Mulch 8374M-colored sprite. Alana’s help goes like this: take every single shiny piece out of my ratchet set, especially the small ones. I was a little worried, but there’s nothing smaller than 4mm so i was pretty confident i could pull it out of her throat as needed. She faced much greater risk earlier trying to crawl through all the chemicals and cleansers under the sink.
One thing I really like about the new house: there are no streetlights in our little neighborhood. One thing I don’t like: the parking spot on the driveway for the truck in front of the door that never opens is just barely not wide enough to not allow me to pass with the garbage bin. Kila can hear the sound of a dish being put on the floor from 2 stories up; Genevieve passed out on the couch must be carried 2 stories up. Vertical space is expertly used to allow gobs of storage, but its all just a wee stretch for a below-average height dwarf such as me. The attic is well laid out with safe convenient access to the air-handlers, but it is useless for storage. The insulation does not itch, but is like swimming underwater in the dark to find the wires buried beneath it. The yard is small, the pantry is big, the side yard is claustrophobic and there is no room to hang clothes in the laundry room. There are outlets everywhere, except for 1 whole half of the garage where I will either store a fridge or a workbench – I’m going to learn how to tap into an existing outlet from behind. I watched the cable guy do it today when he added a cable port for me – there was cable in every room except where i wanted to put the office. The house is weather proof and sound proof, which is good cause i live almost on top of my neighbors.
We took G to her new school today, so she could meet her teachers and her classmates and we could meet the staff, and its not all such a sh0ck in 2 weeks. She was shy for about 2 min. The other kids in her class were very friendly and that made her feel better, nice to see kids of all different colors in the class. as soon as she saw the new toys and new playground she was her typical gregarious self. such a wonderful upbeat little girl – she surely doesnt get it from me. She insisited on going back to say goodbye to her new teacher.
We drove around the neighborhood, to the house and back, to see the uphills and the downhills and the intersections. The daycare is 1.2 miles, with 1 big intersection – a vast improvement for our 2-wheeled endeavors vs. now crossing 5 lights and the 202. The McDowell Mountain Ranch park is 1 mile away, is offering Memorial Day-to-Labor Day memberships for $120, and has a good enough gym and pool to at minimum handle our shit through summer. Though the scenery at Mountainside Fitness will surely be much better, i think the pool shall help compensate for that. Too bad the skate park does not allow bikes – i would love to learn how to drop a bowl. The nearest unfenced playground is 1 mile away, uphill, which means rolling home will be much better. The desert area is .5 miles for Kila to be onleash, .3 if i duck behind the school. There is a lot back there, a lot of good walks to be had, probably no super gnar gnar, but i will remedy that with that with a shovel.
Alana and Kila and I rode out to pick up G again, more firestation runzeheunding, more budding bipedalism, but absent any melancholy. Grab it while its good. Look for the next thing that is good. Chooses to be near the next thing that is good. I am fortunate that I have had the opportunity to make choices in my life, I am jaded and resolved to continue to take advantage of opportunities, and I am sensitive to reflecting honestly upon them and their fragility.
G wanted to explore the construction site behind the Church again today. It will only be around for a few more weeks, irregardless of our zip code. She may ultimately be Daddy’s negotiator for AC service at Casa V. I am stoked on many levels.
The troubled economy makes salary adjustments and bonuses thin pickings. I understand. I’m not happy about it, but I understand. I get other perks, 2 days a week, to get all i like out of work along with most of what i like out of a day – software, sunshine, coffee, and the good company of my Budding Bipedalist, with a bike and no traffic or need for a shower. Its all work, whether its for TM or for G&A, I enjoy it all in the right doses and the right mixtures…perhaps it means I have embraced my sellout, perhaps it means i am blessed.
the carnage is kinda scary
About 4 we turned to a workout – mine and hers. Seriously…how did she get back there and manage to spill my beer?
then the Burley with Kila for some nubby-nosing en route to pick G up from school, and one of the World’s Most Perfect Spots! How many awesome things can you count in this picture?
baby
beer
bike
sunshine
budding bipedalism
runzeheunding (offscreen)
blogging about my radness
failing to cap my recently-replaced rear shifter cable had a secondary benefit
Goodbye Hawes! Goodbye Pass Mtn!
Goodbye Firestation and Evil Traffic Light
Goodbye Red Mtn Church – thanks for letting us poach your parties and your spigots and your grassy areas, thanks for letting us hit your staircase and your curbs and launch off your bbq pits
Goodbye Boeing’s Longbow factory
The McDowells, are you ready Kila?
riding home from school
Almost as soon as she got in the trailer, G asked me if we could go up the bumpity-bumps and down the big hill near home. This took some Q&A to figure out she meant the giant mound of earth they pushed up at the construction site behind Red Mtn Church. We got up the hill, but could only reverse course to get down.
Everyone was already extremely extremely dirty, why bother holding back? The girls made mischief in the sand til they were good and done. Alana spilled my 3rd beer of the night, and my 2nd of this ride – if this sounds like I’m having too many beers, its cause I’m drinking none of them!
G had to potty, i told her just pick a spot any old spot
The desert area next to our neighborhood used to be 2 miles long and a mile wide, but the highway and the golf course and the church have wittled it away to just enough for Kila and I. I’d be amazed if anyone but us is ever out there. I only know every inch of it cause Kila needed runs every day for 10 years. It worked with my love of exploring on the bike, which fed my need to string routes together. I have the zone around my house so dialed that moving is terrifying, but also a challenge to find something new. Kila is getting old, she will not want to roam outside a comfort zone like she used to; she used to do 18 miles up and down Bulldog Canyon. But there is a high school and a wash and a canal blocks from the new home. It will be fun for us. I managed to find every jewel in the sand in Rocky Point; Kila and I will work it out. And who says I cant bring a shovel and a mcleod and make some ramps into the wash pit?
After about 9 yrs, its time to codify the house rules. Especially after some new guests hit the table for the first time in awhile. Good times were had, thanks James and Dave.
Rule #1: Little scuffs of the ball do not count as a shot, do not count as an interference, do not affect the game. As long as you are just setting up or gesticulating a point with genuine emotion, the attitude of “fuck it, balls move!” shall prevail. Balls can be put back to their original spot, given that no advantage has been gained. This is an offense-friendly room.
Rule #2: 3 balls in a row gets you a bong hit.
Rule #3: scratches are ball in hand, this is a offense-friendly room. See Rule #1.
Rule #4: Garbage stays down. See Rule #1.
Rule #5: you gotta pay attention to when its your shot. Delay of game is a penalty worthy of beheading. There are people waiting for opportunities. See Rule #2.
Rule #6: scratch on the break is not a loss, its a loss of break, rerack bitch. See Rule #3.
Rule #7: everything is in play. Dogs, kids, toys, aggressive heckling…its all part of the playing field.
G and I headed out at 8am to meet Beckie at mile 14.5 by 9. She came flying in on about a 7.5 minute/mile pace.
she got in so quick G never got into the feeling of watching the race, and was back in the car before having a chance to stretch. The race route ran along ours for about 2 miles, so we waved at Beckie and waited for her where she turned onto the smaller roads at mile 16.
Then out past the finish, where we rode a few miles back on the 2bike.
waiting is hard on a tinyHuman
there’s Mommy!
“Beckie Holmes of Mesa, AZ finishing with her daughter”
Dennis Miller, Tony Kornheiser…I can crush them both, easily, even if they double-team me. Bet on me for fantasy-league fantasy-league.** I’ve been heckling a long time, I can win over or initiate bedlam at any bar or party with a flick of the finger.
the genius of my art is knowledge of the game, no fear, spontaneity, and a high BAC. Brushing up at urbandictionary.com is a plus. I’m not gonna be one of those candyasses in denial; i am funny, but I am really funny with a few beers and a tight game. its ok, I’d give up my liver to have a contract on MNF. I can take funny pics, cause the moment remains. But the heckles disappear on the party-hat-infused breeze. Suffice it to say they were as good as the food. Seriously! Can i get a witness? Don’t even get me started on The Who.
I’m amazed at how a slow broil leaves only the sweetest richest flavor in a jalapeno. and a Superbowl ad taught me that vinegar will cure sting ray bites. Armed with this knowledge i am ready to face bubonic plaugue, radiation poisoning, and the zombie virus. I must have missed the Tim Tebow ad. Bacon and cream cheese after a lot of salsa and salsa verde convinced us to leave fajitas for Monday, but provided a nice pork-flavored drizzle for the veggies.
The pre-game of Pass Mtn to NRA to Pink Park set the mood. For me, at least. No one else but G made it to the end, and she cheated. Great game, amazing display of nip-tuck football, based on how few penalties and how few big plays and how few hits on the QBs. I invented a system for the chaos in my fridge – start all beers on one level, and as the day goes on, restock warmer beers on adjacent levels, then work along the axis of replacement. Can’t go wrong – freshman year of college there was a single uninterupted path that led from Prospect Street to my hallway, got home every time. The only trick is remembering if you are moving right to left, top to bottom, bottom to top or left to right.
** Each metaheckler selects a heckler, much as hecklers select players. Score +1 when your heckler wins an argument or votes with the majority on a call, -1 when your heckler loses an argument, and +3 if he or she wins the Fantasy League. Metahecklers may also be hecklers, but it is not permitted to choose yourself in Fantasy League Fantasy League.
my old TV is worth exactly $100. nice, flat screen 36inch tube TV. 150 lbs. I dont even want to take it to my beach house to replace the really shitty tv there, cause i dont want to carry it up the stairs (though in my defense, they are very steep and very narrow). When I was researching how to price it, I could not find any big tube TVs at circuitcity.com or bestbuy.com or crutchfield.com. A guy bought it, practically crapping his pants with glee, that he was getting a nice big TV cheap. I helped him get it into his Expedition, i guess he had help getting it out.
I carted Ludwig Wittgenstein’s Philosophical Investigations around for 22 years. I read it once, freshman year, and could not remember what it was about. I had to read Wikipedia to be sure I didn’t want to keep it. By pitching Ludwig I am abandoning something, but its not his influence. Hauling Ludwig around imbued him with value. That value was imbued by professors who understood him far better than I ever didn’t, and who imbued in me a desire to impress them by collecting their valuable books. I have no idea why Ludwig was valuable to me; it was surprisingly easy to leave him in a worn cardboard box on the curbside of the Goodwill store, along with David Hume and Friedrich Hegel and a Java 1.2 guide . The Goodwill guys didn’t give a crap enough to greet me, they left a pad of tax receipts on the wall for me to tear off. What some call one of the top 5 philosophy works of the 20th century, and assorted other works, netted $50 in tax writeoffs. Ludwig will hopefully find his way to the $.50 bin somewhere.
I have baby things that are beautiful and inspiring and kept our baby safe and close and secure and full of the smiles of a newborn child, and i can not get $20 for them. I can list them on Ebay and with fees and shipping net $18, or deal with some asspod on Craigs List and get $14. They all found good homes with friends of friends and the IT guy who fixes my constantly-broken laptop, and they made me gush with well-wishes for the new parents, somehow drilling into an estrogen source i did not know i had. A nearly brand new humidifier that we bought for $45 before G was born and used twice I reaped a windfall at $25. An extremely-dusty but otherwise-perfect car cover will be sent back to Nashville in Bette and Bob’s dirty laundry.
The prospect of moving forces you to cull, to really evaluate just what to keep. for those of you following, the move has blown up, yet again. I am becoming like Brett Farv (spelled incorrectly, as a sign of disdain) with my constant “we’re moving, we’re not moving, we’re playing for the Jets” bullshit.
The culling is not limited to stuff. Habits, patterns, fears, confidences, memories and skeletons. The books, the pictures, the mollies in the drywall and the spunk on the garage floor: the things you can’t remember why they made you smile or pang with regret without those things – off they go. It hurts immediately, then its very liberating. You are your past completely, and not at all. Sartre said that, basically. I kept him.
A buffer of happy consciousness, a spot-checked memory, a plastic bubble with a warm blankey, a plan for a path to follow. A manifestation of the will, as Nietzsche would say. I kept lots of Nietzsche. I don’t see anything wrong with it, self-improvement of the mind and the soul and the capacity for nimbleness. Code review. Wisdom. I need the strength if I am throwing myself into change. And its always changing. I am getting an epoxy-painted garage floor first thing when we finally move.
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