Life in an Abandoned Trailer Park

Or at least it seems abandoned.
Mind you, the park managers (who moved into #8 when we bought #9 from their landlord and are thus our closest neighbors, with intimate knowledge of our home, or at least what it was like before we ripped it up and rebuild it) are very nice.
And Old Man Joe as we like to call him is in pad #7 (which isn't really a full pad because he lives in a little camping trailer and doesn't need much room) and we see him outside very regularly. He checks the mailbox compulsively but it may be just to get out of his trailer that I think is probably colder than the outdoors, with less room to stretch.
But there are a bunch more trailers... and no more people. We never see them. It's eerie.
We had been taking whatever household garbage we had with us to the dump in our regular loads of gross carpet, wood paneling and etched glass tiles, etc. But apparently we can leave our garbage in the designated area, tagged, and someone will pick it up (the city doesn't do it because we live 5 min out of town). So Ryan inquired about buying some tags from the managers. They said to come back the next day. When he went back, they said that they didn't have any tags to sell at that time but we could just put our garbage in the shed-thing and they'll let us know when they get tags. The designated area used to be a chicken coop. Recently. But there was a sign that said "garbage" with an arrow so we left it there. A few weeks later, Ryan took a couple of bags over and the only thing in there was our garbage - from last time.
What does everyone else do with their garbage? Or, rather- because they are the only others here - what do the managers and Old Man Joe do?
Another thing: last week I went in the ditch (the road was treacherous, and, in my defense - the tow truck that pulled me out got stuck just around the corner immediately after) and I was waiting for Ryan to get there with the tow truck. The park managers (#8) pulled up alongside me and asked if I was okay and if I needed them to get Ryan and I assured them that everything was fine. They said, "Well, we just wanted to make sure you were okay," which was sweet, but then they turned around right there and went back home. So... apparently they came because they heard that I went in the ditch (simultaneously with my actual going into the ditch) and made a special trip to check on me. How is that possible? It was really nice of them but... what?
One good thing about having very few neighbors is that it's super quiet here. And, here, sitting on the couch, looking out the front and side windows, there isn't a single trailer in sight. Just some trees, a mountain and a whole lot of snow.

The Year of the Move

a record of the places i've lived in 2007, for the interest of my future self:
1> Wentink's, Inglewood (January - February)
2> Parent's, Balfour (February - March)
3> Paul & Gen's, Nelson (March)
4> Aronson's, Nelson (April)
5> Jord's (April)
6> Josh & Louise's (May)
7> Jord's again (May - July)
8> Blue House (July - September)
9> Don & Jackie's (September - November)
10> Home.

A New Idea of Home

"You know that point in your life when you realize that the house that you grew up in isn't really your home anymore? All of the sudden even though you have some place where you can put your stuff that idea of home is gone... And you can never get it back. It's like you get homesick for a place that doesn't exist. I mean it's like this rite of passage, you know. You won't have this feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, you know, for your kids, for the family you start, it's like a cycle or something. I miss the idea of it. Maybe that's all family really is. A group of people who miss the same imaginary place." -Garden State

Call it nesting if you want. I've been hopping around houses for the past year, never bothering to really unpack all of my stuff.
I want a place of our own.

The Urban Trailer

I thought Ryan and I were being so brave about this trailer. We'd charge into it with full force and rip up the flooring down the seventy foot length. We'd throw paint on all the walls and lay laminate and all would be well.
Not so, not so.
We did charge into it, actually and ripped up all the flooring from back to front. And then we tore down a couple of walls to make the kitchen more functional. While meticulously picking off the wallpaper in the living room we found.... you guessed it! Mold! So we had to partially rebuild the corner of the trailer, from the outside in. Then, all hell broke loose.
Better check under the raised floor in the laundry room! Rip it out! Better tear down the ceiling, right back to the studs. May as well stop scraping away at this wallpaper and replace the walls. In that case, let's drywall the whole living room and kitchen, walls and ceiling. Hey, there was water damage. You know what we need? A second roof!
....and so on.

But as a take a sip of my rice milk latte (espresso machines make great wedding gifts), I am reminded that all is well. We're being well taken care of.
Examples:
Our families are giving up much of their time to help us. We had a work bee last weekend too and about 20 people came. Tim's a flooring expert and handyman extraordinaire. My dad is an electrician. Ray is doing our plumbing. Josh, Richard and Brenda come every couple of days to help with whatever they can.
We get an employee discount at the building center, even though neither of us work anywhere near it.
Here's my favorite: we're getting a free roof! A roofing company just happens to have a trusses and a metal roof for our size of trailer just laying around and is willing to get rid of it for... $3200. No, wait, they'll give us a deal... $1600 (at this point I would be thrilled). Nah, actually, let's just trade for labor. So we'll just do some rip-outs and lay some laminate and voila! new roof.

So, anyway, this, as you can tell, is all-consuming right now. It's is taking a little longer than we had hoped but we should be moving in at the beginning of october. And when it's been completely gutted, a month isn't so bad.

Now, I should be packing right now. We have to move out of the blue house this weekend. I will miss it terribly. In its honoe, we've even painted our bedroom in the trailer orange.

And now... puppies and plush!

My poor Annika had surgery today.
I miss her terribly.

Roxy

The party's crashing us

Does anyone know a guy named Tod? I don't.
If I did I would tell him to celebrate every day like it's Todday.

Origami

Last week I made this pinhole camera, because, well, I didn't want to make the sushi too early.
You can make one too.

Out of Egypt, into the Great Laugh of Mankind, and I shake the dirt from my sandals as I run

The Black Hawk War,

or, How to Demolish an Entire Civilization and Still Feel Good About Yourself in the Morning, or, We Apologize for the Inconvenience But You're Going to Have to Leave Now, or, "I have fought the Big Knives and will continue to fight them until they are off our lands!"

It's raining again. If you didn't wake up, put a sweater on and watch the storm last night... you well, missed a good storm (I can't think of a good threat but that in itself should haunt you for weeks to come).

It just thundered. Hurrah. Wake up!!

Dear Disney,

I read a strange thing in the paper today. You're not renewing your legendary partnership with McDonald's. You are abandoning the finest purveyor of trans fat... for fruit and veggies?? You would rather encourage children to horde licensed fruit and keep the collectible stickers? Some collectors become, um, very deranged... you should be ashamed of yourself. These children may just turn away from their culture of obesity, without those little Winnie the Poohs and Mickey Mice in their happy meals.

Sincerely disappointed,
Britt Davis.

soft revolution

I keep checking this, hoping that someone hacked into my account and wrote something incredibly insightful. Or anything really, to change the look of this page. Looking at that newspaper clipping (from February!) has become quite depressing. I considered deleting Mr.Blog but, well, he's goin' on two years now. 2004 seems like such a long, long time ago.

So, let me see... something to push my february banter down the page...
Well, the other night I was re-reading East of Eden and I dug out my highlighter for this:
"Eventlessness has no posts to drape duration on. From nothing to nothing is no time at all."

That is why schedules are evil.
And why I need to move.

ALSO:

Speaking of goings-on here in Cal-gary (CALgry), I also found this. Serena, what say you, it's no amateur wrestling but it is in a high school... C'mon...
[the above was clipped from DOSE, Feb. 10, 2006 while I was riding the train, on my way home from work where I was dismissed 5 hours early because I'm sick and apparently coughed-in lattes aren't so hot right now, just after realizing that I didn't have my key and no one was home and had to switch trains and trek back across town to meet my parents. At least I had my london fog (ugh, okay, vanilla earl grey tea misto) and white chocolate blueberry scone to comfort me. I'm not sure if any of that made sense but I'm sick and I reserve my right to not make sense (coincidentally, I also fight for my right to party)
bah! I almost forgot that last bracket. ]

...and then Death Cab for Cutie came to Calgary

I heard
a rumor.
And I
found
this.

...and then it was february

February! And I'm yet to be booted and toqued. In fact, on my meal break, I'd rather float up the endless escaladers in TD square with my caramel and cream covered shirt than wear a coat. Gawk if you want to. I'm warm.

Well, I'm off to do my jum-de-jums. Take a scan of my brain. I'm using every little part, even the part that recognizes unforgiveness but doesn't know whether it is coming or going.

That little part told me to end the blog silence. You know when you say something and if you or someone else doesn't say something quick it just repeats and repeats in your mind? Well, I don't drink grande americanos anymore and I have to stop the repetition. It's been too long.

Death by caffeine.

It would take 84.5 Grande Americanos to kill me.

Know your limits.

Songs about happiness, murmured in dreams

My first day on the espresso bar. I didn't even feel like crying when it was over. I just walked out of Starbucks and thought about how pretty the lights look downtown when it starts to get dark. There were blue lights in the trees (FYI: John K. Sampson is a 'faulty string of blue christmas lights'). Then I thought wouldn't it be more lovely if all the lights were turned off and the visible patches of sky between the buildings were smothered in stars.
I sat across from an interesting character on the train. Nondescript, well, business-like I guess. Then he turned on his mp3 player and he really got into the music. Head bobbing, shoe tapping, air piano and drums. He looked like he was so moved he was going to cry.
I would've given my venti green tea misto to know what he was listening to.

Diagnosis (The Weakerthans)

I have a headache.
I have a sore back.
I have a letter I can't send.I have desire,
it falters and falls down,
it calls you up drunk at three or four a.m.
to wonder when...wonderful.
All the cheap tricks I tried too hard not to pull.
Pulled along or pulled apart.
The diagnosis of a foreign frame of heart.
I have a story that I'd like to tell you,
it's littered with settings and second takes.
I have a feeling that hums with the street lights
and hides under ice in always frozen lakes.
My mistake to make you cringe.
Another greeting like a broken creaky hinge to oil
and push or pry apart.
The diagnosis of a foreign frame of heart.
Found a cure for being sure,
and, sure as anything,
I'll smile for my reckoning.

The dawn of Nintendo ushered in an era of inactivity, obesity and lonely equipment.

'gainst all odds