Wednesday, July 16, 2014
Friday, May 23, 2014
Here's a different project, one of three sand-blasted signs for a local dentist. This sign was stained, and then I used a color called "Chamois" to paint the letters. I'm finding that attention to detail here is crucial in preventing touch-ups, an inevitable step, but the fewer I have to do, the better.
Here's another sand-blasted sign. The paint is all down, and we're just waiting on vinyl lettering and graphics and the pin on the bottom that makes it official.
This is the same sign (albeit with a blurry picture), to show what the finished product looks like. We should be installing this one next week.
Thursday, May 22, 2014
"My body is sore from a ¾ day of snowboarding yesterday at Loveland. [The Chin] has made a very dramatic improvement since I rode with him about a year ago at Eldora. A few more times up, and we may be able to try some trees together.
My first van, the original BattleWagon had a leak, too. I remember one time I drove it from 13th & Quebec to 13th & Grant in Denver and had to put three quarts of oil in it to get me there. I was convinced it was going to cost me thousands of dollars, so I didn't drive it for weeks. It turned out to be a $100 (with labor) O-ring.
Lindey Staar, one of my favorite co-workers of all time, was working on the FujiFilm Acuity flatbed printer that the company I worked for at the time had recently purchased. Since it's December in this entry, I'm guessing the truck I was talking about was one we were going to do graphics on.
Posting these entries are also forcing me to talk about my kiddo, the oldest son of mine, who passed away from SIDS when he was less than 5 months old. He died in 2006, about a year and a half before I wrote this. I had just been given my "share" of his ashes, and was bitter with his mother for a long time and for various reasons, many of which remain unjustified. I was also crushing on a place called Lily Lake, a small, high-altitude lake on the backside of the Blanca Peak Massif in southern Colorado. The Chin and I had hiked there a few months prior, and it was a truly religious experience
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
It's been a while since I've posted. Life takes some turns. I find myself in Belgrade, Montana, quietly waiting for a young lady to run to the bank and get a title squared away. Last night, my family sold our only car, Chandler, a 1996 Geo Prism, and this morning, I'm adopting her replacement, a 1983 Chevy Suburban named Road Kill. We've found that having a sedan is difficult when there is two adults, a toddler, a newborn, a dog, and any amount of groceries or stuff to haul. Sacrificing fuel economy to be able to put everything in one car and still have room to pick up other people could be a game changer.
Yes, I've said it. A newborn. For those who don't follow me on Facebook, our little Fidget was born March 19, joining our growing family in our new place to call home, Bozeman, Montana. We decided to move here from Ketchikan, not in response to disappointment with all of the grandeur that is Alaska, but to be closer to The Boy, my son and My Queen's step son, who lives with his mom in Denver. The community here has been beautiful, and we found ourselves hitting the ground here running with overwhelming support from friends and family, new and old. K and J, friends of friends, let us stay on their futon before we found a place. The Unitarian Universalist church here has been wonderfully supportive and intellectually challenging. Gas is a dollar cheaper per gallon. Our biggest hurdle to overcome as a family continues to be financial, as my income after child support for The Boy and rent continues to allow only a hundred dollars for food, fuel, and various other expenses.
Still, My Queen and I feel optimistic that we're going to come out on top, knowing before we left Alaska that this was going to be the most difficult year of our lives. We're confident that, in a few years, we'll be able to tell stories about how hard life was and how we got through it together, laughing about the times we had only a few boxes of store brand macaroni and cheese to last us until payday, three days away.
Life is fickle, but it is also beautiful and to be cherished. We're going to be okay. We have help, donations of furniture, money, clothes and baby gear, all thrown our way, and while we'd love to pay it all back, we're accepting that, when we can, we'll only be able to pay it forward, and we'll do that. Life may be fickle, but it's so damn good to hear The Boy laughing when I get home from work that it's all worth it. Don't let the bastards grind you down.