Welcome back, Creative-Me!

Posted on by bangscrafts

I’m arguing with myself to not start this post with “recently, xyz…”.  Because, “recently” what have any of us done?  We are at all least in the same bubble, or should be.  However, recently in terms of this blog, there’s so much: I have a new work partner, a new role, and a new desk.

Having someone who works with you- works with you, not just has to work with you, is life changing.  I have that now for the first time in my work partner, and friend, Lindsey.  This blog entry is undoubtedly dedicated to her, for constantly being my advocate and telling me often that I’m very well written.

I haven’t posted on this blog for years, and so much has changed since then; and so much has changed since March of this year.  So, we’re in a double weird nice-to-meet-you situation.  Since March the world has changed, and so I am trying to change with it.  I want to still hold a constant, and maybe that is something I dug up from my past that I didn’t realize how good I was at, until I had a partner encouraging and complementing me on it.  Thank you very much, Lindsey; for seeing my words, and commending them.

I wish I could share a photo of the two of us, working together, but Lindsey lives in Florida, and regardless what does a photo with friends look like these days.  Let me just leave you with the knowledge that she is brilliant, chill, wonderful, and supportive.  She’s something that has caught me by surprise to be so lucky to have in my working and personal life.  She makes me work harder.

Hopefully everyone meets their Lindsey one day.

Sometimes I say things

Posted on by bangscrafts

I say things sometimes.  Some have kept things I’ve said as things of infamy.  Molly’s would be “how do you make it tight,” something I accidentally said in Mrs. Foley’s 5th grade art class.  What can I say, I spoke fast and had low self-esteem.  Of course I utter this sentence.

Another Molly would be, “It’s a Toy.”  It’s a declaration of one near and dear to our hearts, Yellow Bunny.  He’s simple and not quite yellow anymore, but he knows how to leave a last line.

Full family: “The crops are failing.”  The story behind this deserves a whole blog, and it will be scheduled at a later date.

Jim: “Good stuff.”  I don’t think I realized how much I said “good stuff” before I met Jim.  I’m glad I have realized it though.  I think it means I’m overall pretty satisfied with life if I’m saying this a lot.

Then there are times that I say something that means no consequence in the moment.  Like, “boy, I’m thirsty.”  Or, “I’d like the LEGO Slave 1 model,” and “my foot hurts more today than yesterday.”

There are times where I’m sitting in my boyfriend’s home, absently watching TV, and a commercial for the The Lion King on stage comes on, and I express how much I’ve always wanted to see that.  He admits that he has seen it, and that it is amazing.  And I sort of slump, because it’s a goal I’ve never been able to complete.  He consoled me, and we moved on, having an overall great evening.

Months later on Christmas, he gives me a cleverly thought out box of letters, each with a different date on when I should open them.  Some of them were specific, and some where personal admitions, like when he’s away, or when we move our seats coming up.

The last envelope said “Open Now.”  And I obliged, finding what might be the grandest gesture I have ever been the object of.  James gave me Broadway tickets to see The Lion King next year.  In the age of USB ports, app alignments, and gift cards, I received a gift that speaks to so many levels of my being and my heart, that I can’t believe I really received it at all.

The second best part is that I get to go see the show with my Best Friend.

lion-king-tickets

Just look at the presentation.

playhouse

We clean up nice.

cake

See? Best friends.

Saturday’s Alright for Shelving

Posted on by bangscrafts

Father and daughter days are so great.  They go way back too.  Before I was in first grade and able to attend PSR, my dad and I spend Saturday mornings together when Mom and Molly were at PSR, as teacher and student, respectively.

There was this coffee shop in Mayfield Hts/Lyndhurst that was in a plaza behind another plaza, and it has a huge front window that looked onto the stage that they had against the back wall.  There was once, and one time only, a magician on that stage, but I think that sealed in my little 5 year old mind that the coffee shop was magical.  Real or magic or not, it was magical because of the memories it created.  Dad and I would play card games, mostly War or Go Fish!, because again, I was about 5.  I remember winning War against him on a couple occasions and feeling like a rock star.

The best thing about those mornings was radio’s predictability.  Every one of them “Saturday’s Alright for Fighting” would come on the radio, and dad would turn it up and lip sync animatedly to the lyrics.  To this day I think of those mornings when I hear that song.  Riding in a red Thunderbird with my awesome dad, blasting some Elton John gold.

The song wasn’t played this morning, but dad and I were up and at em bright and early this morning.  The most important part of any day is of course breakfast, which is another shared love of ours.  We arrived at Nick’s Diner on Lorain with bells on, and ordered specialties of the place, like breakfast champs.  After cleaning our plates with lip-smacking delight, we were fueled up and ready to go pick out some lumber.

Arriving at Cleveland Lumber was a bit of a dream come true for me.  I’ve passed it on multiple occasions, and I’ve been curious of what wonders it contains.  Going with my father, who is the reason I even think about lumber stores (let alone fantasize about them) is where the dream really takes flight.

Once we told the man behind the counter our shelving plans, my dad did some really impressive on the spot math, and we were pointed in the direction of the lumber garage.  Entering this area was a sight to behold, because it was eye to eye lumber, and two dozen some ginormous saws.  Two guys came in and asked what we needed, and in maybe 25 minutes we had everything cut and loaded into the car.

On the drive home my dad said, “they must have thought we were cute,” because that lumber store mostly sees big projects that take upwards or hours to cut and load.  Arriving back at my apartment, we got right to fitting the pieces together, which put my dad in the bedroom with a drill and sander and myself in the living room with a somewhat archaic hacksaw contraption called a Miter Saw.  I had to whittle down the tips of 3/8” dowel rods, then hack them into 1 ¼ pieces on the Miter Saw.  I wasn’t very good at it, and dad kept saying “by the time you’re done you’ll be an expert.”  That wasn’t untrue, except I do not think I will ever be a whittling expert, which held me back.

We finished the day off around 1:20 PM with some pretty damn perfect looking shelves.  We will live to fight another day, because we know how to keep killing it.

Optional information:

Playlist: Jamie N. Commons (download everything he has, we have to get that guy more famous ASAP in order for him to tour ASAP).

When not watering your plants is a blessing

Posted on by bangscrafts

Just a routine day in my life.  Stacks of pancakes and partaking in my family using up at least a whole quart of maple syrup to ourselves.  Getting a new phone that may end up making the whole talking to myself even a bit more dangerous.  Receiving a gift from my father from the comic-con he visited the day prior.  Listening to “Slow Ride” too loud while freeway driving with the windows down on the way home.  Deciding to hang said comic-con picture in a MacGyver-like fashion, which meant going into the basement to find some wire.

Going into the basement isn’t always the most convenient thing to do, since I have to go outside and then back in again to get there.  In most cases I try to do it when I’m just home and still wearing my shoes.  It is winter still, anyways.  Today’s unseasonable weather influenced my going down there in some floral PJ shorts and a light pull over sweatshirt with flip-flops.  I had opened all the windows in my living room/kitchen, and it was feeling nice and breezy in my apartment, so warm weather clothes were what was comfy.

I find the wire in seconds, because I have a strategically drawered system of organizing my wires, glues, tapes, tools, gadgets, and miscellany.  Grabbing the wire, not pocketing because I don’t have them currently, as to the reason why my phone wasn’t with me, and started my long trek back through the catacombs of my basement.

Opening the green door, a synch (since the WD-40 was applied to it)!  So getting to my door predicted the same experience.  But no, the bottom lock, the doorknob lock, won’t turn.  I think it hits me as a slight inconvenience at first, because I assume I’ll be able to wiggle it to open.  After a few tries I start to sort of freak out.  After a few minutes, I’m stressed out completely.  I leave the entrance way and exit the building, because I think, “well I have my car keys!” so I get in and once the engine is on, I realize what is it that I’m going to do from here?

Thinking that the door would fix itself with some time and space, learning it did not was a bit of a blow.  When I was outside I had surveyed my windows, realizing for the first time that if I jumped out of my kitchen window for one reason or another, it’d be a lot longer of a drop and a concrete landing more than I had been expecting.

There are alleyways that flank this building, and the one is a wide causeway for dogs and getting your mail by not walking all the way around the block.  The other (the one that my windows look out onto) is blocked off by what look like fence doors, that are nailed to posts keeping that line of dead plants and air units completely closed off.

I grabbed the one slightly loose board, threw my weight back, and pried the nails out of the wood.  I then pulled the frame back, making as much as a 7 inch opening with a lot of effort.  There were sticks, logs, prickers, mud, and a bed and breakfast next store to possibly witness everything I do.

There is an AC unit just to the right of my second living room window, and so I scramble and stomp my way through dead branches of plants until I am climbing on top of the thing.  I use my keys (now attached to my bra strap because of the pocket lacking situation) to jiggle up the screen, and push up the slightly ajar window.

I am a cactus person.  I’ve at most had 7 at once.   They are all kept on my windowsills, for sunlight reasons.  Once the window was open, gently as I could,  I knocked them all the the floor.  The sound of cute antique planters filled with dirt crashing to the ground is certainly a depressing one.

I am at an angle and about two feet lower than this window.  The closest thing to me is a gray box, concealing important modules, I’m certain.  Next is a small pewter pipe that is wrapped in black foam insulation.  Next are two PVC pipes, jutting out further than their predecessors.  Taking one foot, I judge the strength of each of them, having a very unique Goldilocks experience.

The last PVC pipe is the strongest, and with one bounce I hoist myself up using all the arm strength I  could muster into the tiny opening of my window, still moving things out of the way, and trying not to break the new chair I have sitting right beneath the windowsill as I dive into my apartment.

Once I am sitting on the ground surveying the mess I had made, panting to catch my breath, I look up at my front doorknob, and flick it off.

dirt.jpg

Also, The Martian was watched shortly after this craziness.

Non-vilification

Posted on by bangscrafts

So remember when I valiantly kept the washer from falling off its pallet?  Guess that wasn’t so dire after all.  And apparently the regular state of our basement.

washer

I must just try harder than all my apartment-mates.  Oh well.  What can I say?

Gym class and now

Posted on by bangscrafts

I can’t help but compare myself to younger me sometimes.  Especially now that I have found myself to be a fitness nut.

I must give some credit to the Army.  No I didn’t join, but I worked for and with them.  I met some really amazing people during that point of my life, and I can’t say their stamina didn’t inspire against my laziness.

My most recent evolution of fitness is joining a Crossfit class that’s offered at lunches at my job.  I can’t say it’s easy, but I also know my body, and I am doing fairly well.

Workout girl

I’ve been saying, if I can do this workout in this time, I can do anything.  No matter what anyone says.

Groundhog Day 2016

Posted on by bangscrafts

Today was a good day.  I had my 90 day review at my job, and came out pretty shiny.  I didn’t have a hugely busy day besides that.  I worked out and felt strong.  I finally ate my chowder and it was delicious.

Getting home was even more productive.  I did all the things I planned to do today.  I put away the last two boxes.  I swept, I dusted, I tidied.  I cleared away all my mountainous paperwork.  I organized my overload books.   I swiffered up the salt-floor.  I emptied the dishwasher.  I hand-washed all the dishes in the sink.  And I deep cleaned the stove top.

Meanwhile I watched The Neverending Story Part II….which I haven’t seen in about 15 years, and it’s pretty awful.

How funny is it to be cleaning your stove and realize you’re exactly fulfilling your nightly plans.  I am an adult!

Good news is, I didn’t do it for approximately 34 years in a time loop.  And early Spring for us all!  Happy Groundhog Day!

Boredom Chowder

Posted on by bangscrafts

“Worries go down better with soup than without.”

-Jewish Proverb

So few people appreciate the power of a good bowl of soup.  You are sitting there, chilled and sad, and then you have a deep spoonful full of a broth that will stick to your ribs and warm you heart.

When I feel the worst or if I feel bored, I tend to lean towards soup-making. Once upon a time I had no idea how to cook, and then I learned speedily, and now I never look back.  I remember as a child thinking that soup was exactly one thing; a can full of something.  Once I realized I could make my own, I’ve never looked back.

I have the specific skill both my mother and sister have (that probably dates back further than that even) to not follow recipes.  I was afraid of the oven for years (as previously posted) and then I came quick to cooking.  After a few easy recipes, I was on top of the earth.

Cutting to the point, bouillon cubes are the freaking bomb.  You can buy a pack of 8 and have so many soups-worth of cooking from them!  I never buy stock anymore.

I have some chowder a’ stewing right now in my crockpot.  I don’t even anticipate eating this until Monday, but that is how ahead I plan.

My house smells awesome!

Eggplant stew

Runaway washing machine

Posted on by bangscrafts

I’ve had a pretty eventful morning for a quite Saturday.  I was able to read about 20 pages of my book before getting out of bed.  I made a quick grocery store run before the parking lot was mobbed.  I even ran to the bank to get deposit a check and get a roll of quarters so I could go back to my apartment to do laundry.

Upon return, I made myself breakfast and hard boiled eggs for the week, subsequently setting off the fire alarm for now a second time while living here.  That was mildly inconvenient, mostly due to it’s unnecessarily shrill note, and that I started fanning the wrong detector before realizing my mistake.

Finally I got around to sorting some laundry, deciding I would get to towels first.  I went into the basement where the apartment’s two washers and two dryers are kept, and I threw in my towels to return upstairs and eat my breakfast.  After eating and sorting another set of laundry, clothes this time, I ventured back down to the basement.

To get to the basement, I have to go outside and then down into a separate door.  Right inside the door is one of those timer switches that you turn and the light goes on, but it sort of clicks the entire time since it’s counting down from wherever you set the thing to.  I usually just turn it just about halfway, since I’m never down there very long.

As soon as I had entered and turned the light on, I was immediately aware that the washing machine was on a rocket mode, and desperately trying to free itself from its hookups and the wall.  I ran inside and threw my laundry basket down, now realizing the machine was dangling off of the pallet platform it sits on.  After sort of just staring at it in disbelief for how fast and loud it is, I try pushing will all my might against the front of the thing, to no avail.  The only victory with doing that was that pressing my body against it muffled the ungodly loudness of the thing.

Briefly it started slowing down, and the light reading “Last spin and tumble” lit up on the display.  Mind you, these are bare bones machines we have down there.  There are options for water temperature and normal/delicate settings, and there’s an Start button.  The doors lock after you insert your quarters and press start, so there are few options other than waiting for your laundry to be done.

The spin starts going haywire again, and it’s trying to run away once again.  I get on the side that’s really dangling off the platform, and I press against the back of it with my right hand and keep my left at the front, and I shove as hard as I can.  This gets it at least back on the platform, but precariously since it is moving forward with every cycle.  I get on the other side and do the same thing, rotating back and forth until it’s as far back as it can go.  At this point I was hoping it’d slow down again since that light had turned on, but it had no indication of slowing down or staying up.

I took a look behind me at the door, paranoid someone was going to come in and see the weird new tenant hugging the washing machine.  Concerned that the person who lives above this part of the basement would hear the racket, I pressed all my weight on it, again muffling the sound.  Minutes went by in this style, me looking over my shoulder at the door every so often, and ultimately even yelling for the damn thing to stop (which I could barely hear over the grumble and swish).

What must have been five minutes went by and my bones felt entirely rearranged in my body by the time the spinning turned into a low pulse.  I leaned down and looked into the front window and watched in relief as it flipped my towels over a few more times and came to a halt.  I started clapping my hands in glee, and then it started spinning again in the opposite direction.  I slammed my palms on the window and nearly yelled again, in what would have been a very dramatic reaction, but thankfully it came to a full stop.

I stood up, shaky from feeling like I’m a Christmas tree in those shakers to remove the dead needles, and opening the door hauled my laundry out of there as fast as I could.  Although then I filled it up again with clothes, but I’m hoping since those won’t be as heavy the machine will feel comfortable staying put for this load.

We’ll see when I go and check on the dryer….

 

My mama can dance, and my daddy does rock ‘n roll

Posted on by bangscrafts

My mom is pretty much my best friend, and there is little contestation in that.  (Except, as a friend pointed out, when it comes to my sister, my dad, or my sister in law).  I welcome the day with a “good morning” text to her; one of us always says goodnight before whichever of us heads to bed first.

On occasions people have asked me if I’m checking Facebook when I’m texting her.  For starters, I do not have Facebook, and I never have.  And since those circumstances, I have referred to my mother as my Facebook.  I told her that once and she sent me a blushy emoji face.

She is the most the most graceful person I know.  Whenever I have a tough conversation, or a bad day at work, I try to emulate her approach.  She invented devil’s advocate because there is always another side and usually it is important to see that.  My mother created in me someone who wants to be fair, to stand up for myself, but to also be patient and kind.

Mom and me

My dad is my dad.  He is exactly the exception of all the stupid He-Man bullshit the world puts out, while simultaneously being the most capable and coolest man possible.  He set the bar high, to put it simply.  When I was a kid all I wanted was to be exactly like him, even down to being an electrical engineer.

Once I hit the age where I realized literature was more my forte, I had to come to terms with being so different from my dreams.  But then I became an adult.  And I started asking to borrow the staple gun, or I got fed up with my landlord and I nailed down the floorboards myself.  It was a great day when I realized I become more like my father every one of them that I live.

phone-update-may-190

 

I hit the jackpot with these parent units o’ mine.  My favorite description of myself is that I am the perfect amalgamation of the two of them.  I have my mother’s beautification skills…with my dad’s power tools. 😉