When It Rains...

In the Star Wars universe, the Gray Jedi have a code. One of the lines is "knowledge fades without the strength to act". I've spent the last few months in a fog. Things have been so terribly difficult, financially, logistically, practically... God only knows how we survived. But we have survived. We've done pretty well. This rivals the Montana times in my epic saga, but I have to believe good things are on the horizon. Even if Star Trek turns out to be prophecy (look up the Bell Riots) and there's a third world war or a second civil war, I'm hopeful that my kids will survive and make babies of their own that explore space and rebuild humanity with kindness and compassion.

Cozy

On this particularly chilly morning (15°F), snow shrouds Mount Shavano and fog hides her face.

Once we got dialed in, the camper experience hasn't been too bad. The skirting and heat have saved us, and made this a cozy winter. I'm thankful.

Grief

The more things change, the more they stay the same. I keep thinking I've found a good gig and a home, and the rug keeps being pulled out from underneath me. I'm hoping that, in this just recent instance, there will be salvation for us all, because we all deserve good things for the work we've done, no matter where it's been or how we got to where we are.

Hungry

I'm hungry. The last few weeks haven't been great for my checkbook. I don't know how we survived on my income from before. It's been tight, and we are still drastically under budget, groceries-wise. Then again, I'm hungry. I'm really hungry. So there's that.

Struggle

The last four days have been... interesting.

My aunt and sole survivor on my dad's side older than him, died on Saturday. No kids, just shirttail relatives, which means responsibility fell on my dad to take care of things. My bro and I took four days and helped him out. The first and last day was the journey: twelve hours to Green Valley, Arizona and back. My brother and each throwing about half the drive time behind the wheel. Dad didn't touch the steering wheel.

The second day was hard, going to my aunt's home, seeing her room, where she died, who was around, all that shit. We went through and gathered what we needed/wanted and then went to the funeral home to figure out paperwork and whatnot. We had to scramble to find appropriate documents, but then we got everything plugged in and processed as much as we could.

The third day was just tying up loose ends, and relaxing before the drive home.

We, my dad and my brother, had a bittersweet time.

Chess

This is probably the best analogy for life in a playable, shorter form. I try to make it a point to play chess with my daughter regularly. Sometimes we get busy and we don't get time. But I'm always impressed when she plays. Every time, she's better than she was the time before. It's been exciting to watch. I still beat her every time, but I have to pay a lot more attention than I did. 

A Day

I start stirring at 4:30. It's dark, and I can hear everyone snoring in this tiny RV camper. I fumble around, find and activate the inflate-a-light, throw on my sweats, and start boiling water for my Great Value instant coffee. I get out some ibuprofen and set four blue gel caps on the counter next to my Darth Vader mug. I find my Bluetooth headphones, and start my daily mix of NPR and music. This is typical of every morning.

This is a Monday, and Monday is the early start day at UPS, my morning job. After I finish my coffee and Greek yogurt, I throw on my Stone Cold Steve Austin knee brace, grab a plain white tee and my FedEx sweater. (I'm wearing it until they give me a UPS hoodie.) I grab my backpack and make sure my huge Nalgene and my sunglasses are in it. I'll be pissed if I get done with work and I forgot them. Again.

I head into town, a ten minute drive from where our camper is hooked up at an employee housing project that's currently up for sale. I get to work about fifteen minutes early, fill up my water bottle with ice from one of the two machines in the cramped little lobby, and water from the fountain. Time to clock in and spend the next three hours relieving a full 53 foot semi trailer of it's cargo, around 3000 boxes this morning.

I clock out, grab my backpack and sit in the car for a second. My white tee is now slightly gray, and there's a line on my wrists from where my gloves ended. I start the car, queue up my playlist, dig out my sunglasses, roll down my window, and light up a smoke. The drive home is almost always my favorite 10 minutes of the day.

I park my old, gold Tercel and pop the hood. The alternator is failing, and the mechanic hasn't gotten back to me in two months, so I've been hooking it up to the trickle charger every time I get home. The kids are in school, and the dogs are at my parents - they have a yard. It's quiet, and I'm beat up from my paid CrossFit. I need a shower.

I lift up the skirting from the back of the camper and drag out the drain hose. I need to drain the gray water and fill up the fresh water. A family of four makes this a ritual around three times a week. I do the dishes first, and then take a shower, leaving evening hooked up so that, when I'm done, everything's appropriately empty and full. When I'm finished, it's after noon, and there's a towel covering the two burner stove loaded with clean dishes, I'm showered, and the fifteen feet of sewer hose is rinsed out and replaced under the camper.

I put on an episode of Yellowstone for two reasons: first, it's TV-MA and the kids are at school. Second, it gives me about enough time to sit down and eat some food real quick, and update my Google sheets budget spreadsheet. It takes a minute because I refuse to use an app to help me budget. I need to know where every penny goes.

It's almost 1 in the afternoon, and it's time to run errands. I close up the camper, disconnect the car from the charger, and head to the Post Office to check the mail and the store for groceries, before I head back here to put the dishes and groceries away and clean up. The music is blasting at this point, which is great. Motivated!

3:00 rolls around, and it's time to pick people up. My first stop is at the Early Childhood Center. My 5-year-old had a great day, no accidents, and no cussing. Plus, he tried a strawberry. It's a huge win. I take him to my parents' house to brag and grab my dogs, one super old three-legged mutt and a 90-pound pit bull.

We get back to the camper, and I set the kiddo up with a TV show. His sister is still at school, and then she's taking the bus to boys and girls club. That's handy, because I gotta go to work again at 5:00, and I need to change and get ready still.

My wife rolls up as I'm getting to roll out. We smoke a quick cigarette, and I get in the car. I'm early, which is nice. I like to un-fuck myself before I get fucked, you know?

I clock in at 4:45, get a beer, and start serving pizza. It's a busy night, and the four of us in the kitchen are talking enough shit to make the night enjoyable. 6-8 seems to fly by, and before I know it, I have another beer and I'm stocking and cleaning up my shit, taking a smoke break in the alley here and there, like when the lead cook wants to bullshit about business or when the Turkish guy in the dish pit wants to tell me about his family back home. It's fun, but I'm tired.

I clock out after I get my tips for the night. Almost a hundred bucks, which ain't bad. I psych myself up for the dark drive home, which my headlights aren't really a fan of. The alternator is still failing, after all. I gotta call the mechanic again tomorrow. For now, though, my wife is barely awake. She wants to smoke a bowl and catch up. I oblige.

I spend the next half hour or so unwinding. I clean up after the kids, take the trash out, wash my hands and face, brush my teeth, and set out my clothes for the next day. Thankfully, I only get to do this a few days a week.

I climb into bed, certain that I'll fall asleep in seconds. Right before I do, my wife rolls over and wraps me in her arms... and my pit bull puts his head on my hips. I'm out like a match.