Day 26

I am feeling the best I have felt since the fire. I put it down to a weekend with warm and loving Caroline, Paul, Richard, Chris, Scott Kurtz, Angela Kurtz, Scott Hinze, Stefan, DeAnn, Joolee, Kit, Cal, Brian, Mark, Darrin and Jean Paul. (Well Jean paul wanted me to buy stuff, but he made me (and Caroline)look FABULOUS, so he gets namechecked.) And everyone else I'm not naming because the awful truth is I SUCK with names, but I'm working on it, and if I hugged you, thanked you, drew somethin' for you, talked to you, you're included.

Scott Kurtz wrote about CAPE 2.5 in his blog, and said such nice stuff about my drawing. I am totally chuffed because this is Scott Effing Kurtz liking my work! Here's his pic:



The rental house is a disaster. King cleaned a lot while we were gone, but not the kitchen, and dayum it's scary. He doesn't load the dishwasher, and I am lazy about putting a liner in the trash can. We go together. '
The studio is a disaster, too, as I go through the art supplies people have been so kind to share and send. Today was a big box of clays and tools from Tonja of http://www.tonjastreasures.com/, who found out about the fire via Polymer Clay Central, which is an amazing and friendly resource for all things polymer clay.
Speaking of, I found a box of my favorite clay, unsmoky, at the house tonight. I knew it was there somewhere. I was so glad to find it, I almost started crying.

I used Amanda Wynn Lee's (HI AMAAAAANDAAAAAA!) Hobby Lobby card to replace glues, get a book, a portable sanding booth, and some art prints to decorate the Rental Beige walls of the house. King got an awesome poster of an image from "Earth vs. The Flying Saucers." Girl got "Chat Noir," which is this:



I got a poster for the entry, an image of the Chinese characters for prosperity and joy.

Chris Williams, partner of Zeus Comics owner Richard Neal, has a column at Popsyndicate.com. He wrote about The Fire for his first installment. It is really good for this reason:
"It's difficult think of how internet doesn't influence pop-culture. And while writing a piece about Web 2.0 technology getting adapted into major markets sounds like the perfect subject for a column called "Nerd Alert," the events of this past month has weighed heavily on me. Our favorite "series of tubes" has made the world a lot smaller, but more importantly, the internet has become an extension of our humanity. With all its crazy trends, social networks, legislation during its half century life span, the internet is just a bunch people learning to communicate better."

The wierdest thing about After the Fire is that everything is new, like a Super Target meteor landed in our yard. Like Yuko (from xxxHOLiC) granted our wish to fix up our house, but took everything old away. Everything. Eventually, saved things that can be cleaned or treated will be a part of our landscape again. By the time the house is rebuilt, what's new now won't be.
I can't say it's not nice. It is. But I can't (both in the sense of I am unable to, and that I must not) forget how it all came to us, either. The two things are intertwined like Yin and Yang.
Girl says, "Hitsuzen," which is the concept, as we understand it, of It Is The Way It Is. By definition, inevitable, neccessary.

Caroline said I am like a pheonix. To which I had to reply with an f-bomb impression of Harry Potter freaking out over Fawkes. "Fawkes! Fawhhhhhk! Ooooh, SHINY!"

All for tonight. I am reading comments, and enjoying getting them, I'm just not having much time to reply. Please keep posting, though!

Boardwalk Realty, Not So Much

My message to people in both my old neighborhood and new:

IF YOU DON'T LIKE THE SPEED AT WHICH THINGS ARE GETTING CLEANED UP OR UNPACKED, THEN GRAB A GODDAMN SHOVEL, SOME GLOVES, OR A BAG AND HELP.

We have been in Chez Rental about three weeks. It cost us a double deposit, two pet deposits, and six month's rent in advance. Since we've been in it, we've not had our locks re-keyed (promised within four days of move-in). We finally put curtains in the window over the toilet in the master bath, our daughter's bedroom, and the kitchen (promised, not delivered). The drain in the master bathtub has been clogged since the day after we moved in. There is a hole that is two feet deep next to the driveway that everyone except Girl has fallen in and hurt themselves.

The city fire inspector asked King last week when we were going to be done cleaning up the outside of the house where the firefighters hucked a room's worth of debris. Mind you, he hadn't seen it himself, but said code enforcement was asking. They all know we have two kids, both special needs. King has been cleaning it up alone, one painful shovelful at a time, since the day after the fire.

Ken at Boardwalk Realty has called us but one time since we signed the lease. When we call him, he is always "out of the office." We turned in our inventory by Tuesday after we moved in. We turned in the work orders for the problems at nearly the same time.

He called King, not to tell him, say, that someone would be out tomorrow to fix the sinkhole, or put up the blinds or unclog the drain, because gosh, when someone lays out almost 10K in insurance money for a rental, he feels like giving them his best, like he looks out for both his clients, the ones who trust him to protect their property, and the ones who pay his damn salary by renting from him.
But no.
He called because someone in the neighborhood (allegedly) complained about the PODS we have in the driveway. This would be the PODS that was delivered this morning. It is 12 feet long and 8 feet wide. It is less than half-full, and it contains everything left from twenty years of marriage, and over a century, combined, of the lives of King, me, Girl and Boy. He wanted to know when we were moving it. King explained it'd only been in the driveway since the morning, which confounded Ken. "Oh. I guess it's a good thing I didn't..."

Didn't what, Ken?

You know, I really need something to distract me from the memory of nine dead animals in the back of the Animal Control truck. Six months of rental hell and rebuild hell would be just the thing. Dear people in this neighborhood--we don't want to be here, either!
Please, oh please, let the rebuild be done in three or four months. I cannot get out of here fast enough.

Oh yeah: state fire inspector? Behind on his paperwork, according to someone who spoke to King today, and asked him the same questions he has answered already. Can we have a copy of the report? Why, yes we can--in two weeks.

You wouldn't think this was our house fire at all!

This post brought to you by Obsessive Documentation, and I'll Be Over It When I Am, Thanks.

UPDATE
I made a sign for the PODS:

And here is the PODS, in all its eyesore glory, in front of the rental:


Oh noes! It's so white and clean and clearly identified as a storage and moving container from a legitimate company! It totally takes away from the house to the left, which has five bags of trash on the porch! And the house on the left, whose dog was running loose this morning and barking at us!
It totally destroys the kitchen view of the Shell station and the highway!
It utterly negates the class of a thudding car bass that seranaded me for an hour of the wee small hours of this morning!
LE GASPE'!

I don't know how people live in communities with HOAs and not get crazy.