That's A Wrap

Ole Lux n' U had the last wedding. It started out normal, got a little finicky at the 6 week mark, and then turned out to be just a super stupid situation. Everything they paid me to provide, they also purchased and brought themselves. (Truly, what did they think they hired me for?) Also, there were more tables than they originally told me, and then I had to hang moss from a tree where there was none. "There needs to be moss there," she said. They must have told the wedding party that they had to stay to pack up all of the decor because the teardown was a disaster... drunk people running off with my candles and vases. I had to get rude with some people who couldn't understand that some of the decor belonged to the florist they paid to decorate. Brett had to run loads to and from the car while I swatted at people and took my belongings out of their bags. It was like trying to eat french fries near a flock of seagulls. I got so mad... and then it started to dump rain. 

What a stupid wedding. See, I get to say these things now because there's no business left to sue. Go ahead, send me an angry email, you entitled nitwits!! But really, imagine having to go through life so confused and disorganized. It gave me a hint of understanding about the people that just finally fall apart and have a public meltdown. I suppose everything really is just too hard for them.

We took Ellie and Caroline out to celebrate the end of a good chapter and the beginning of one that still needs to be written. We know it's the "justice and advocacy" chapter, but we don't know how it goes yet. 

Last week, Mama and Papa U got their hands on a Folly house so they packed it up and hunkered down in the sun with a revolving door of supporting cast members throughout the week. Little Liv and Nick thoroughly enjoyed their time at the beach, as did a collection of aunts and tiny nephew cousins. (What am I to Owen and Ethan. An aunty cousin?) Due to the Stupid Wedding, I only got to pop in for one day but it sure was a good one. I got there real early to have coffee and a beach walk with Big Mama. Then came Ellen and Lee n' tikes, followed by aunt Georgia. We sat in the sand awhile and then sat on the porch. Georgie and I took a nap (not together) and when we woke up, The Bartons had departed. In came Aunt Carolyn with a big pitcher of Sangria. A few hours later, Margie arrived with her two squirts and then Brett and Erik showed up with cheese and crackers. Dad ordered some big wet pizzas and then we all played Pig until bedtime. 

You can't begin to imagine how difficult it was to get a normal picture of these three. 

This one's no good either but it still counts as a good memory.

Final projects are due for school this week (I haven't started yet) and I have a really big pile of wedding decor to decide what to do with. That's all I know so far. 

Day 1.....

Finger Facts

The dropping down to two posts a month thing has reminded me of the mental lethargy that I allow when I no longer feel responsible for creating literary entertainment. At risk of only giving you pithy updates twice each month, I'm struggling to fill the storytelling void. Is that because nothing story-worthy has happened? Of course not! Everyday has a story in it somewhere. Living with EisenEars guarantees a certain kind of domestic adventure each day. 

On one finger I'm deep in a depressing look at human rights for school, and it's smothering out my hope for positive change. People are so terrible to each other and I just don't understand the motives they give for their terrible decisions. Money and power don't seem like they have a great ROI. Not compared to the wonderful freedom of anonymity and concocting a supper with the strange and expired things you find in the back of your pantry. Rich people never get to experience that kind of domestic adventure. What do they even laugh about? I'd never hurt people to make money. I'm certain of it. 

On another finger, I'm just so delighted by Springtime and all the pretty weeds that are blooming in our yard. There are fruits and flowers and seabirds, and my two little cat friends are a whole new kind of pet experience. Equally thrilling, I nursed a little bee back to health and sent him on his way. (That makes it sound like I labored for days with tiny instruments, but really I just fed an exhausted bee some sugar water and protected it while it recovered.) The joy I felt when it could fly again could possibly be described as unreasonable. Brett and I have had a few failed kayaking trips - the dogs aren't used to it yet / the current is strong / we beached ourselves - but we have high hopes for an aqua summer. 

A middle finger shows my whole "needing a job" thing to help pay for my existence. Bleh!

On my ring finger, we've got some trips coming up that are equal parts fun and educational. I'm especially excited to get to visit Farm Sanctuary in June. This is THE sanctuary that started the movement and holy smokes I can't wait to meet the residents! (The rescued animals.) I'm headed up to Acadia National Park for school, which has been described to me as an adult summer camp. They said people show up well-dressed with shoes on and by day three everyone is barefoot and traipsing around in their jammies. What kind of establishment is this, you ask? The kind that sticks it to The Man!

My pinky, and the final finger we'll discuss tonight is all the home/family goodies. We had a dramatic week of surgeries, interstate travel, important hosting gigs, and deadlines, and I'm glad to report that everyone made it out alive. Brett and I are looking forward to some weekend that is surely coming anytime now, where we can wake up and THEN decide what we'll do with our day. EisenEars may as well have three full-time jobs and I'm either trailing behind him cleaning up or forging ahead to make sure we have what we need for the day. We're exhausted! It has admittedly resulted in a lot more tv time than we'd really care to partake in, especially when it's so nice outside. 

This week we're putting sod in our disaster of a front yard and we know the whole neighborhood will be thrilled. We regularly get comments from passersby about how relived they are that the yard is being cleaned up. Even when we ripped everything out and got the yard down to just dirt, people would walk by and say, "It looks so good!" It's surely an improvement from not being able to see the house, but you know its bad when people are excited about dirt.

Springtime Scheming

In recent weeks the weather has shifted to oh-so-lovely and so has my outlook on life. We had a few hot days there for minute (in February!?) and the whole town forgot about winter. The azaleas bloomed, people flocked to the beach, and suddenly the neighborhood came alive with joggers and children and sunshine. It was marvelous. It's still nice out, though the temps have dropped again, but since everyone has already committed to winter being over, we're all still walking around in t-shirts out of principle. 

Brett and I are both sick this week. He started it. There we were, discussing my new favorite Turkish tv show when he felt a tickle in his throat. "I'm going down LUE!!" he shouted with a high degree of drama. Have I told you my theory on men turning to mush when they get sick? I've decided the fault is no one's. It's that women are used to feeling crappy. We have a list of symptoms that coalesce with our very existence. Men feel great all month long. It's no wonder a cold seems awful. It's all in what you're used to. Anyways, Brett wallowed around about the throat tickle and then became snotty. (As in mucus-y, not spoiled.) The next day he passed his germs over to me and I have carried them with a high degree of a grace and strength. 

Without fail, Pip lays in the way.

Meanwhile outside, Contractor Dad has started and nearly finished an unexpected addition to our home. The little toll booth was too narrow for our lawn-mower to go inside, so we looked into putting a large shed on the back of it. Dad had some kind of deal on one, so that was easy. But then the deal fell through at the same time that Dad ran out of things to do. "I'll just build one," he said. But he is a creative dreamer in his own reality-based way (because nothing is impossible for Chris Union) and he said, "You know what we could do...?" Zoom ahead about three weeks and we now have a legitimate garage with big recycled windows and doors and lumber - which makes his hippie, "one-love", "save the planet" daughter very happy.

Mom has begun her latest exercise regimen. After her last attempt at physical movement, her pants became too tight, so she threw in the towel. "I bulk up fast!" she says. And even though she was only doing some fast walking, she claims that her gluteus medius got so big that she couldn't zip her pants. I believe her, but the family has ridiculed her. This time around, she says she's going to stick with it even though exercise makes her fat. "I'm a medical anomaly."

Mom helps out at the latest wedding setup.

I don't know what goes on over in Ellen and Lee's place. I imagine high-pitched noises and sandwich jellies. In pet news, Ferguson slept his first night on our bed with both pups. We don't know how he escaped the laundry room but the pups did great and let him stay. Nora is much to sensible to attempt such things. Ferguson is just the most wonderful, but he is not a sharp crayon.

As for school, I'm wrapping up my winter quarter and registering for the summertime. I have finished all of my core courses and am moving onto electives and thesis-type classes. I'm officially headed to Maine in June for my "Residency" (snotty in the spoiled way) and we're tacking on a visit to Alex and Jessie while we're up there. With my final wedding coming up in April, I've really got to get moving on coming up with a new plan for my life. I have a few ideas, but they wouldn't result in a paycheck for a long time, so the real question is, do I want to have financial security now or later? Even though Brett makes a good salary, he's all worked up about my life plan because he's grown accustomed to the double income. "Now is not the time for whimsical purchases," he said to me with a straight face as he ordered an at-home radon test kit.

I have a meeting with my academic advisor next week. She's the kind of brilliant person that can take your little seedling of an idea and turn it into a whole system-changing empire in a few easy steps. I don't know how she does that but I always leave meetings with her feeling like I should run for Senate. We'll see what she thinks about my latest schemes.

A Kittycat Love Story

After that whole ordeal of rescuing Ferguson from the slammer, he and I had been building a happy life together. We were getting to know each other; spending time in the yard together, napping on the couch, playing with string, things like that. During his free time, Ferguson befriended a neighborhood stray; a tortoiseshell cat with the brightest green eyes. They became friends so quickly that I decided they might be related. Maybe that's his mama! So I started calling the little stray cat Mama. 

Ferguson just chillin'.

Mama is super skittish. For the first few weeks of our courtship, she'd run off when I came outside to get Ferguson. But those cats manage to talk to each other and Ferguson must have told her I was cool because  she started loitering around our place in the evenings. She's very skinny and petite, so I started going out and throwing kitty treats at her, and after a month of patience, she'd finally sit within three feet of me while she munched. Around that same time it started to get cold at night and Mama would eyeball Ferguson and me as we sheltered ourselves in the laundry room. 

The first photo of Mama on her first visit to the laundry room.

Sometime in December, she worked up the courage to climb the back steps and peer into the laundry room. She spent a week stepping inside, testing that the floor could hold her weight, and then darting back out into the safely of the wilderness. Once it dropped to the 30's I put a plastic and towel-lined box outside for her to sleep in. Brett said I was contributing a "homelessness factor" to the appearance of our porch. I'll zoom ahead and tell you that by the end of December, Mama was sleeping in the laundry room with Ferguson, and enjoying a small bowl of kibble twice each day. In all this time, Mama wouldn't let me pet her. She'd run if I stood too close, made too much noise, or acted like I was going to close the door of the laundry room. (Most nights that she slept over involved tricking her into staying. She never objected once inside.)

Ferguson graciously lets Mama sleep in his chair on the nights that she stays over. He'll hunker down on a towel on my desk - uncomfortable by comparison. He's a true gentleman. Mama and Ferguson have a grand time with each other each day. Mostly they wrestle, but they also prowl around the yard and bask in the sunny driveway together. Shortly after New Years, Mama began accepting light pats at the base of her tail before she'd step out for the day. On the nights that Mama didn't show up to sleep in the laundry room, she'd sleep across the driveway in a trailer in the neighbors yard, because she has her own life to live. Ferguson and I enjoyed her company when she was around and carried on with our life when she wasn't. 

Now if you're wondering about Brett, don't let him fool you. For every time he told me to let Mama be, he'd toss her some kibble and beckon her for cuddles. (She won't cuddle with Brett.) On very cold nights, Brett would ask if Mama was inside, and in the mornings he'd go sit on the floor and try to make her love him. So, don't believe his "disgruntled about the cat farm" act.

About a month ago, a third cat showed up. I named him Big Frank. He looks exactly like Ferguson except he's real big. They have all the same markings and everything. I've wondered if he's Ferguson's dad. I've never worried about feeding Big Frank because he's clearly getting his rations. Anyways, Big Frank was loitering around one day when I heard Mama just a-hollering. Mama doesn't make noise. I dashed out to the driveway and found Big Frank harassing her so I chased him off, and ever since then, Mama decided to trust me. The only thing off limits is picking her up - she doesn't like that - but now I get to pet her and call for her and she acts like my own personal cat. 

I decided I had built up enough trust to be able to pick Mama up long enough to stuff her into a cat carrier and take her to be spayed. So that's what I did. She rode quietly in her cat box - which almost made me feel worse, frightening such a skittish, distrustful kitty. I was sure I had betrayed our friendship. She had to spend the night at the clinic, so I brought her home the next day just certain she would dart away from me and out of my life. 

Well! I don't know what they did to her but this little rat cat won't leave me alone. She follows me around, chirping at me and rubbing her face on my ankles. I can't get her to go outside! She wants to spend the day in the house with me. After breakfast, I open the laundry door and only Ferguson leaves. I think he needs space from her. He only comes back once I've managed to get Mama to leave for the day. He's begun pushing his way back into the sleeping chair. His chivalry is out the window. I'm afraid I've created his own little clingy girlfriend. It's been a week now, and Mama's relentless love isn't giving up. 

Since we have two cats now, I gave Mama a proper name. 

Everyone, meet Nora... 

A New Phase of Aimlessness

Pippa helps me study.

I'm currently in the most challenging semester of school so far. I've never cared for challenges, but I do still love the program. Human Rights is the class that's really working my little goldfish brain. There's a whole lot of bad news involved, and we all know about the assorted bad news bits, but when you do a historical deep dive overlaid with policy making and corporate greed.... well. That's like... a total bummer?

Additional Lue responsibilities include: volunteer commitments, a few weddings here and there, organizing a speaker event at College of Charleston, an ongoing and halfhearted job search, a bit of political activism ( I hung out with Andrew Yang a few weeks ago!), and never-ending home repair and animal control.

The farther I get into my school program, the more confused I feel about what my next move is. While I'm learning a lot about things to advocate for and the importance of educating the'm'asses on the impacts of their decisions, I'm not learning what to do with that information. My "skills" aren't so obvious when it comes to changing policy. "How about a great story about echo-stones, Mr CEO?" My classmates think I'm great and they shower me with compliments after each of my presentations....but they haven't realized that my toothy grin and comedic timing don't equal out to any numerical data or economic strategy. I appreciate their appreciation for my disposition... now give me something productive to do. It's awful to care about something but have nothing you can do to help. 

Can I entertain people into changing their lifestyles to end animal abuse? Is that a thing? Would this involve more social media? I don't love that idea. So anyways, I'm in a new phase of aimlessness. Does this happen every decade or so? 

Ferguson hinders my studies.

A Surface Level House Tour

We've been in the new house for about three months and though every wall and trim board still needs another coat of paint and we're still missing a few cabinet doors, I've decided things are close enough to what they will be.... until I begin scheming wall colors for each room. 
But paint colors and decor will have to wait until I like.... get to know the space?

I do want you to know that I took proper pictures with my good camera, but my computer won't read the memory card for some reason, so they're all trapped in my camera forever. I don't know what to do about that. Blurry phone pictures will have to do. 

I could really drag this out and tell you about each space and corner and roofline, but even I'm not that interested. Instead I'll just tell you that Papa Union is responsible for this transformation... with the structural help of Big Guy Eisenhauer. I only take credit for the whimsical details.

The big pink bedroom soaked up A LOT of paint. The motivation for the pink ceiling still baffles us today.

This last one here is the coolest. We turned the third bedroom into the master bath and closet area and it is SO thrilling to have a bathroom with natural light. Who knew I had pores and stray facial hairs? Well I do now. Because we can see!

Honorable mention going to this little nook which is my favorite spot in the house. Even though I have a proper office setup in the laundry room, I drag all my crap over to this table (that we found in the yard and covered with a big sticker that looks like marble) and sit there in the sunshine while fussing over papers and due dates. 

That view, y'all. It's all about the view. 

Kindness: A Real Burden

There was this girl who moved in down the street from our house when I was twelve or so. She was a year younger than me and three years younger than Ellen. Her family showed up, found two of the only three little girls in the neighborhood, and forced us to be friends with their daughter. It's not that we didn't like her, its that the three of us neighborhood girls (me, Ellen, and Ari) already had a thing going and this immature interloper didn't understand how it all worked. But also her parents were the worst. They mistakenly thought their kid was likable and that we should want to hang out with her. She was kind of whiny and definitely over-opinionated for being the "new" person. everyone knows the new person needs to show some respect by keeping their thoughts to themselves. We don't know you and you don't how things work around here. 

We tried to be nice. We had her over for sleepovers and brought her along for bike rides, but we just didn't click. She also lingered way past the obvious signals for her to go home. One weekend, Mom insisted we needed to say yes to her invitation for us to spend the night at her house. So we went, but I woke up at midnight with some kind of tummy troubles, and had to wake up her mom to call my mom to come get me. Ellen who can't stomach any sort of discomfort for the sake of others, decided she would just go home too because she didn't want to stick it out until morning. So this poor friendliness neighborhood girl woke up on Saturday morning and all of her friends had left. I'm sure that was confusing and disappointing - but also how did she not wake up during all of that? But then her hoity-toity parents felt that they and their daughter deserved some kind of apology and that's when my sweet mama had had enough. 

My mama is the nicest lady you'll ever meet. She's petite and soft-spoken and pretty and gentle. She befriends the downtrodden, volunteers with old people, pays attention to your problems and will add you to her prayer list which is at least as thick as a phone book for a good-sized small town. She likes desserts and cats and wears enough hairspray that I sometimes worry when she walks past an open flame. She is a lovely humane being and there's nothing my mama wouldn't do to help a person in need. 

But if you get unreasonable, the deal's off. Forget her manners, Mama will wave her finger guns at all y'all and be done with it. So when the bossy neighborhood girl started showing up unannounced, ringing our doorbell like we owed her something, Mama taught us that the best place to hide was up underneath the windows by the door. We'd hear the doorbell and the three of us would drop to all fours and army crawl towards the front of the house. 

She taught us that this is the most polite thing you can do when you don't want to talk to somebody. Is it straightforward and honest? Hopeful of resolution? Not one bit. But they walk away assuming you weren't home rather than them leaving in shame having discovered that you think they're just a relentless burden. It's not rude. It's compassion! I watched Mom employ this tactic for her own unwanted visitors, and watching my beautiful, feminine icon of a mother slink through the hallway on her stomach made me feel proud to be raised by someone so kind.

As an adult in my own home, I arranged my living room so that my couch was beneath the window by the front door. I realized the error of my ways when a new neighbor knocked on the door while I was lounging on the sofa watching Gilmore Girls. I knew I had less than a minute before this curious extrovert would press their face into the window and see me laying there, looking back at them. I was in no state to answer door and also, I was taught not to talk to strangers. So I grabbed onto the corners of my blanket and ever so slowly rolled over the edge of the couch, wrapping myself in a blanket burrito as I settled on the floor. Then I laid there and waited. I heard the footsteps recede. Mom would be proud. 

As I struggled to get up, the footsteps climbed the front porch again and knuckles knocked on the door. I became frightened. Why would they come back? Did they see me laying on the floor and decide to call my bluff? I wormed my way over over front door and sat with my back against it. They knocked again. What's with this guy? When I heard them go back down the stairs again, I stood up and peeked out the window. It was an older lady. She looked friendly, but also she wasn't leaving. Just standing there in the yard. That's when it occurred to me that she could need help, and my mama's kindness training kicked in. 

I shrugged out of my blanket, preparing to save the old lady when I realized it would make no sense for me to answer the door after this much time had passed. She's been loitering for at least four minutes. That's equal to a half hour in unanswered door time. I needed an excuse, a reason why I had heard the knocking but didn't come out until now. So I did want any normal person would do; I put my head under the kitchen faucet, threw a towel around my shoulders and then barreled into the yard apologizing for being in the shower. 

In the end she didn't need anything. Just wanted to meet the new neighbor. Just another relentless burden. 

This post is a result of sitting to write about the kindness and compassion... things didn't go as planned.