Last year, January 9, 2013, late in the day we got the keys to our house in Nashville. The house my husband bought without me. The house he said was in a perfect location and just needed "just a little bit of renovation." He totally lied about one of those things. And location wasn't the one thing. We’d been in Nashville living in a hotel for three weeks waiting for the sale to go through. The sale that was supposed to go through before we left California in December but didn't. Buying a foreclosure sucks for everyone – everyone except the bank. I think the bank likes the dicking around that comes with foreclosures. At least it feels that way to me. Anyway, we’d been in a hotel for ages and the day after we got the keys, my over excited self hit Target for cleaning supplies as soon as it opened and headed over to the house, to our NEW HOUSE! Our new house where my excitement quickly wore off as I spent the day battling crusty spider carcass and icky mouse poop and dealing with the not so bright carpet-cleaning guy that was trying to get the countless pee statins out of the once white carpet. Side Note: in what world is white carpet EVER a good idea and with pets – and I mean more than five small to large furry pets that the previous owner apparently had and let pee all over the once white carpet. What the heck were they thinking??? The next day, January 11, 2013, the skies opened up and we discovered that the pretty dry creek bed next to the house was actually a river. A massive noisy overflowing surprise river that originated in the culvert at the top of the driveway and rushed down the side of our property line. Joy. Soon after that, I found the drawer full, and I mean FULL of mice poop and the kitchen was ruined for me. Nothing says, “don’t cook here” to a non-cook like me like a drawer full of mice poop.
Needless to say, I was not a happy camper. I was a camper – we had no furniture and we were sleeping on a blowup mattress in the dining room – but I was not happy. Fast forward and here we are, one year later. We have no kitchen but we also have no mouse poop. I consider that a win. We have new windows and a new driveway wall and patio fire pit area. A wall, by the way, the mayor of our street calls the quarry. I am slowly making inroads in the garden. The owl and his/her new family is still in the yard, giving us occasional glimpses of him/herself. The deer hang out under out play structure in the summer and wander through in groups in the winter and the chipmunks continue to drive Tigger the Dog absolutely mental. Outside it is all I imagined and more and inside is slowly getting there. It was a long year but one of lots of growth, emotional and physical. The physical growth solely because the food in Nashville is so fantastic and, since our kitchen was occupied and no longer exists, we have been eating out a lot. A LOT! And the emotional growth? Well I'm nicer. Something about not working for an ass and not having to battle through stupid to get to the job I no longer woe at with said ass has made me nicer. Go figure. So happy One Year to us. Happy One Year down and five bazillion more house projects to come. And time, I think, to change my lingo from I just moved to Nashville to I LIVE in Nashville.
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We all have those friends that seem to have all the answers. Not answers like, “You should…” and “If it were me I’d…” but answers that come out of what you’re saying and head you off in the right direction. They listen to you and don’t try to fix the problem for you (Mom, Husband...) but lead to you the answer of how you might make the issue less annoying or important or right. And they know when to just listen to you babble on about that boy or that boss or that bitch and nod with understanding and just let you vent. And vent. And vent. And when you’re done venting, they calmly talk you off the ledge and onto a more rational path. My friend Nancy is that person, that voice of reason. We met 16 years ago as actors in a show that had a somewhat chaotic start and just wound up to absolutely crazy from there. Even with the crazy, it was good time. But the kind of good time where we spent more than a few evenings in rehearsals looking at each other across the room, something resembling panic in our eyes, screaming silently, “Can you believe that just happened?” You know, the kind of good time that has you in giggles, despite one cast member almost breaking his neck and another going through the motions of becoming a major alcoholic. That kind of good time. Last night I combed the Internet for photo evidence of the crazy. The fact that these are out of focus and the faces are blurry is a perfect representation of the experience. Nancy and I have had a similar personal history too - men done wrong. I know we sadly all have those type of stories but Nancy and I had the men done so wrong we both could be on Oprah discussing the trauma as she passes us tissues and asks us how we’re stronger because of it. Men done seriously wrong. Instead of Oprah, we spent a lot of time drinking wine and her fabulous home made guacamole discussing the indignities of dating and how men – those done wrong men in particular – were broken.
And we both have a family history that would rival any of the ‘families’ in any Jerry Springer episode. We have spent countless hours talking about our upbringings and crazy relatives and what they’ve done and said and continue to do. And we’ve talked about writing and how to write about the life we’ve had without upsetting those people in it. And when to just ignore what those people might be saying or doing and just write. (Don't worry Mom, Husband and Brother. I'm not writing about you. Yet.) Anyway, Nancy has been my life coach for 16 years, in a very unofficial capacity. Heck, she has been many people’s life coach; she’s just that calm and knowing of person. Last summer we had a lunch that led me to writing this blog and her to get formal training in coaching and now she has the official title of Life Coach. The good news for me, Nancy is still my unofficial life coach despite her new title. I can still call her and chat and she can clear my head of the crap and let me see what it is that is really getting my knickers in a twist. Last month during a chat with her the three months of serious mad and hate and gloom I was feeling for all things my life was put in perspective with one 15-minute conversation with her. Heck, she did it with one simple sentence. And thank goodness she did because Husband was getting ready to sheetrock me into the walls. The good news for you is I’m willing to share Nancy and her voice of reason. If you’re interested, here is the link to her practice Nancy Sauder Coaching. And for you life coach skeptics (Mom, Husband…) she offers a 30-minute complementary session. Worth a try for a little bit of reason in your life. The beginning of the year always brings us a clean slate and a grandiose list of plans and dreams for the year ahead. This year I’ve been thinking a lot about what’s to come in the year ahead, of the future and predictions, of fortunes.
I’ve had my fortune read a few times with unnerving results. The first time was a palm reader in Boston. No, that’s wrong. The first official time was the Ouija board at a party that told me I was going to die August 23rd my 21st year. I blame that for my lack of future planning when I was a teen. But here I am so that didn’t come true. I will say I try to be extra careful in August. The second time, was the palm reader in Boston. I was visiting a friend and we passed the garish Palms Read Here sign on the way to dinner and made very snarky superior comments about the unlikelihood of the process being true. And then, over dinner, we realized that we were both at a major crossroads and had no clue which way to move. His career was on the rise but he was unsure about his romantic life. And my romantic life was fantastic – or so I thought then – but my career, as it was, was in the toilet. On the way back, the garish sign looked like a beacon of hope and we pulled into the lot. I can’t remember what was said but I do know she spoke to him only about his heart and she spoke to me only about my career. Both of us got back in the car slightly less snarky. The third time I had my palm read, was at a street fair in Chicago by a large African man, dressed in all white with massive sausage fingers. My boyfriend at the time wrote down key points on the back of a business card for me to remember while sausage fingers told me what was going to happen in my life. Funny thing, Boyfriend forgot to write down the one where sausage fingers told me I was about to make a massive life change. Boyfriend and I split one month later and I moved back to California. I still have the card somewhere and probably should find it. Big thing were supposed to happen in my 44th year. I need to be prepared. Then there was this move out to Nashville. Everything felt right about the move but we’d decided to do it before we’d even visited the city and that made me panicky. Luckily my dear friend officially opened up her tarot reading business. Deedra is one of those people that can see right through the bullshit. She won’t always call you on it, she’s polite, but she knows good from bad and losers from users. She speaks in ‘energies’ and of karma and I don’t often understand – no I don’t often feel what she feels but she’s not been wrong about a couple of key people in our lives so I listen to her. Anyway, when I was unsure of our move – well, sure of the move, sure of the choice to move but looking for some reassurance that we were doing the right thing selling our house and moving our lives to a place we'd never been to live a life we had no clue would work out – I contacted Deedra at Tarot Perspectives for a reading. She doesn’t have sausage fingers or a garish sign over the door but she’s good people. And I like good people. And the reading was awesome. Creepy and awesome. Now all you non-believers can say what you will. I can hear your logical breakdown of why this was said and that was said. A skeptic in all things religious and mystic raised me so I know. I myself am a pessimistic optimist so I really wasn’t expecting things to go well. But she laid out the cards and the things she said weren’t all rosy and gold. I wasn’t looking for that. Okay, maybe I really was but she didn’t give me that. I got a mater of fact reading that eased my worry and let me feel comfortable in our choice and here we are. So far, so true – both the good and the bad. And I still feel like we made the right choice, that we are on the right path. Isn’t that what we’re all looking for - in whatever religious or mystical form we choose – a little reassurance we’re on the right path? One of my oldest friends started a blog last week. Oldest as in, I’ve known her a long time, not oldest as in, she’s really, really old. She’s younger than me and I am not that old – today anyway. I digress. Again.
R is an English teacher and mother of three and her husband is a high mucky muck in DC economics and she’s started a fashion blog, Do I Look Typical? And if you know her like I know her, you’ll understand how awesomely funny that is. She knows a bit more than I do about fashion and I know next to nothing. The best part is that she started the blog because she lives in a house with her husband and three sons and they were sick of discussing the wonder that was her new boots. It’s also awesome because she also seems to get herself into situations like I do, blog worthy situations as my friends now say. Like the time I went to the Dog Park and threw the ball for Tigger the Dog and nailed the guy next to me in the head with the ball. Hard. And we had to do the Walk of Shame out of the park. But my friend’s blog worthy situations are more “went to dinner with this dignitary and did/said this embarrassing thing” type of stories. Or “went to dinner with this person who’s in the papers all the time and brought my mommy purse complete with cheerios and toys and that person commented on it, and not in a good way.” We’ve known each other for years and, without fail, if something happens to either of us that is cringe worthy, we are on the phone to each other sharing the drama and the shame. She’s worth a read. And while you’re at it, check out Holly Golightly, Traveling written by the friend I won in an awkward overnight date with two other almost friends. Thankfully one of them brought N with her and we hit it off. The two almost friends, well the almost friendship didn’t survive the night. Anyway, N is a photographer and she photographs light. Which is a weird thing to write/say but when you see her work, you’ll understand. Someone once called her the Seinfeld of photography but that’s not really a great description of her work. She captures with her camera, the little things that give you hope, that make life more than stupid people and days gone wrong. She shows you the "oooh pretty" moments that go past in the blink of an eye. She her pictures have talked me off many a bridge. N is also one of the most logically sane people I know, probably because her in day job she is a nurse and there is nothing crazier than people in a hospital dying, about to die or thinking they’re dying. Oh, and check out D’s blog The Super Diva. D has always been sure of herself and not in the least bit shy to do what she wants to do and, something I suck at, NOT do what she doesn't want to do. And then she went vegan two years ago, lost a bunch of weight, gained a better, stronger and clearer sense of self and became the warrior she was meant to be. This super diva. The transformation in her has been more than the physical. Always confident in her body and who she was, this change allowed her, pushed her to step out of her comfort zone and try new things. And that’s what this living thing is all about; stepping out of our comfort zones and living live at 100%. These three - are living life at 100%. And they inspire me to live mine - to try to live mine at 100% too. Good people! THIS is the temp right now. THIS! Tigger the Dog ran out to do her business, her paws hit the snow and she ran right back in. I had to encourage (force) her into to completing the task outside. She’s still shooting me looks of death. I love drama so I love the drama of this deep freeze. I love chatting about what it could be like and later, what it was like. I love hearing stories of slips and slides and, I know it’s totally wrong, but I love to hear stories of doom and gloom. But this is freakin’ cold. I’m pretty sure the wall I have my desk set up near has no insulation. Unfortunately, the iPhone doesn’t do inside/actual temps or I’d take it to prove my point. It's cold. I grew up in Kenya. And this is the temp there right now. Husband is Scottish, and therefore should be conditioned to ‘weather’ but this is the temp in Greenock, his hometown, right now. And it is not 7 degrees. Did you know that Scotsmen can be quite prolific when cussing about the weather? When cussing about all things really but boy, can he go on about the weather! Anyway, to sum up, it ain’t warm out there. Oh. And we don’t have the kitchen floor totally installed and only a quarter of the den has floor and the kitchen was due to be installed at the end of this week but the hardwood floor still needs to be installed, sanded, varnished and left for 72 hours… I’d rather talk about the weather. Heck, I’d rather go OUT in the weather right now that deal with this drama… I'm off to put on all my clothes.
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AuthorMy name is ej. I'm a girl. I say that because with the short hair and the short initials, folks aren't always sure. More brilliant insights to who I am in About me Archives
April 2019
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