Truly Disappointing

Sunday, April 16, 2006

my favorite place in the world and a wwmd

parte un

I bought my house about a year ago. It's a mile from work, walking, and about a pop song driving. It's not beautiful; it's a 1960 ranch house that is currently painted a nice hospital scrub green -- side gabled roof, asbestos shingle siding, mismatched storm window, a giagantic attached garage, and shallow long corner lot. My backyard is tiny, but has a nicely-sized deck and is very private -- on two sides, I have a lilac hedge. On the third, at least on the deck, the back of the garage shields me from neighbors' view. Or would, did I have a neighbor -- no one seems to live there.

I love my deck. It faces south. It is usually close to 20 degrees warmer than the "official" weather channel temperature (according to the cracked moose) and until late afternoon, I have a corner of shade in which to sit, should I so choose. Birds love the lilacs, which are budding, and my cats love to bird watch. I have Cathy's grill -- which despite its rust and loose bolts, smells fantastic when cooking. If I finish its nice coat of new Rustoleum, it will look even better, but I can't seem to confirm that it's safe to use spray paint even on the exterior of a metal surface that's to be heated way the hell up (pun intended).

Granted. There are down sides. The grass back here is patchy and I should reseed. The ground is not level. The gutter on the back of the garage needs to be fixed (for that matter, after the hail storm last year, I need a whole new roof -- should get on that). I live one block from the highway and sometimes, depending on the wind speed and direction, that is louder than others. But this little plot is mine and I can sit on my deck in my pajamas and drink my coffee of a weekend morning, which is about as close to heaven as I'm like to get.
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What Would Moz Do?
What is the proper and appropriate response when someone you love and care about is having one hell of a time, many miles away? I can listen, but I gather we're beyond that stage and into the needing actual assistance stage. The thing that sucks about how I've chosen to conduct my life up to this point is that moving across the country a few times means that you lose all your acquaintances and you end up with widely scattered dear friends that you cannnot truly help in a crisis on short notice. If need be, in an emergency, there's always Northworst and their highway robbery (airway robbery? hmm.) But that option has to be chosen carefully because the above-mentioned deck is attached to a house which is owned by a very nice mortgage company that would like to be paid. I.e. I'm usually somewhat broke.

I guess I just hate feeling useless. I am NOT the person you want with you in a crisis. I was a Girl Scout; I've taken first aid and CPR. I'm not the person who will break down into screaming fits -- I'm the deer in the headlights. If someone tells me what to do, I can do it. Otherwise? I'm about fit for making tea.

1 Comments:

  • You're doing something by "being there". Maybe not in person, but you're there. That's more than most of us can expect, & take it from me - that's much appreciated. Maybe not immediately, but it leaves a lasting impression.

    By Blogger Tug, at 7:58 PM  

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