As I said before, we went to Michigan the day after the fire. This made perfect sense at the time considering that all of our family still lives in that area. There was where I planned to drop the kids with the grandparents and drink for three weeks strait while crying. I deserved as much.
That twenty or so hour drive to Michigan I drove in a sort of trance, trying to plan the next few months in my mind. Contacting our insurance company, finding a new house, transferring to Michigan schools because there was no loving way I was going back to Colorado anytime soon- things of that nature. Most of all I kept wondering how the hell I was going to explain to the kids that they weren't going back to the home they knew. Yes, must drink!
I was pulled over in Iowa. Iowa, *sigh*, I hate that place. A police officer noticed that one of my front lights was broken. He decided that I was a total and utter menace to society and needed to be punished for such a blatant disregard for the law. I told him "Yes, "Officer The Krispy Cremes Weren't Warm This Morning So I'm Feeling a Bit Pissy", (I swear that was on his badge) my light was busted out last evening when a fire fighter told me to move my vehicle out of the way of the big trucks filled with the water they used to put out MY BURNING HOUSE."
-Yeah, that happened. I was told I had plenty of room to maneuver yet still smashed the front end of my SUV into a boulder. Guess the one who's not so good at judging distances shouldn't be in charge of those sorts of projects. I'm just saying. The bright flames are very pretty and a bit hypnotic, I understand, but could you please pay some effin' attention to what you are doing, sir? Always, I ask too much. The cherry on the top of my evening, that was.
The most amusing thing was how this guy who had me drive into a rock kept apologizing to me for his mistake. Not so much my main concern at the moment. I think he was waiting for me to pull a reporter type smack down on him and loose all control. I sincerely had lost interest in the stream of destruction being thrown my way that evening, so much so that I couldn't even muster the energy for a speck of rage over a silly broken head light at that point.
Not only was the police officer upset about his doughnuts and my lamp being out, he was just a tad irked that I hadn't pulled over for him right away and he had to follow me for a few miles until I pulled off the highway to get gas. Would you like to know why I drove for miles and miles Officer? Because YOUR lights were broken as well. If that wasn't the pot calling the kettle black.
In the end I was issued a warning ticket and sent on my merry way. Yep, he was THAT kid of cop.
We arrived "home" to Michigan to a family that greeted us with sympathetic hugs, alcohol and some basic personal goods that my mother (with nothing but panicked good intentions, keep in mind) had purchased for us to have available as soon as we got in.
Here's where I insert proper recognition to my mom, huge thanks for doing that for us!
Now, I'm not one to look a gift horse in the face, really I'm not. That being said, I feel the need to share what my mother bought for me. Cautionary tale? Perhaps. Embarrassing? A little. Good for a laugh? For damn sure. So here it is, and...you're welcome.
After showering and trying to wash away yet another crap day I find myself faced with the worlds worst undergarments to dress in. This is not an understatement. Somewhere in the Philippines a little old woman was laughing her ass off while making these abominations. I guarantee you this.
Clue #1 things weren't going to go well- my new underwear was sold in bulk packets of 6 and wrapped in plastic. Okay, beggars can't be choosers, right?
WHOA, Nelly! What in the...? This certainly can't be right! Maybe I put them on wrong. Are there instructions for these things on the package? I think inspector #17 has much lower standards then I do. The mesh underwear the hospital was kind enough to send me home with after birthing my children had a sexier cut then these things did. Nothing I did made any sort of positive impact on what was sheathing the lower half of my body. If you can't beat them then let's just move on, shall we?
I had hoped the garment provided for the upper half turned out better then the underwear Omar the tent maker designed. Clue #2 that things weren't going uphill any time soon was the fact that this alleged "bra" contained no distinctive markings that would make you recognize what it was without a careful and thorough examination. A bra wasn't absolutely necessary at this point seeing as how there was room enough in the ENORMOUS panties to pull them up to my armpits and just tuck everything inside and call it a day. I didn't think it could get worse, I honestly didn't, so I sucked it up and put the damn thing on.
It got worse.
I understand that my mother wouldn't know my exact measurements in this department and that things may turn out a bit ill fitting. Ill fitting I could have dealt with. A uni-boob creating sports bra? Not so much.
So there I am, standing in front of a full sized mirror, covered in crimes against cotton, and I lost it.
I laughed so hard I nearly peed and was grateful for a moment that the underwear did indeed come in a 6 pack so that I had some back-ups handy.
After the initial shock wore off and my laughter died down I ventured out of the bathroom and yelled for my mom to come see what a bang-up job she had done picking out unmentionables. I begin by telling her "Just because I am homeless doesn't mean I have to look the part." She looked at me with honest confusion until I lifted up the pink and teal polka dotted pajamas (those really happened, I can not make this stuff up), she was kind enough to get for me as well, and share my party. "Seriously mom!"
She felt awful and tried to explain through her own laughter/pouting just how distraught and upset she was while shopping that she just grabbed the first things she saw. She figured these items would do until I could get to the store and pick out stuff for myself. My mother had no idea how much her trait of effortlessly being perfect in nearly everything she does added to the humor of it all.
I never ended up crying and drinking that evening. Or the evening after that. Nor the next. What good was it going to do me? Not much. I had shit to do and it wasn't going to get done while hungover. I had to think about what it would do to my children if they saw me breakdown.
Explaining it to the kids, who were ages 5, 3, 2.5 years and 8 months of age at the time, wasn't as tricky as you would imagine. I wasn't bothered much so in turn they weren't bothered much. We have always taught our children that "home" is your family and not your surroundings. Thank goodness for that.
They still bring up the fire once in a while. They know it's alright to talk about it and I am not going to flip out. The kids are very matter of fact about it. I love the resilient minds of my little ones.
I can't change the past and I wouldn't want to. Yes, it was alarming to loose my home, my memories and keepsakes. An event like that is shocking... but it's not soul destroying. Not unless you allow it to be.
Fuck that path! No thanks, I'm a little better then slipping into a self pity coma while drowning in tears. I'm not saying I sucked it up and went on with life. There was no sucking it up. I'm not saying I laughed it off, either. It wasn't funny. It was what it was. I just had to figure out which direction to take it.
I could do something great with this new situation...like start a new shoe collection. I was thinking positively already! I recruited my sister-in-law, Jen, to help and we started plugging away at the nightmare that is a loss claim while visions of new spring boots with a 4 inch heel danced in my head.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Well, this wasn't expected.
This particular post isn't going to be filled with a ton of levity. I try to find the humor in everything but sometimes...sometimes things just suck.
February 8th, 2009 was a Sunday. It was cold and wet with overcast skies. This I remember. The kids were stir crazy from staying in. They had asked to go to the Aquarium that day but Todd was suffering from a kidney stone and there was no loving way I was taking 4 kids out in public all squirly from cabin fever into downtown Denver on my own. I struck a deal and took them to McDonald's instead to play and eat. I honestly didn't think it was going to be the last time leaving my house. Who does?
What I came back to was surreal.
While driving home a police truck came up from behind at an alarming rate and flipped on it's lights soon after I had turned onto our road. They eventually passed around me only to slow to a stop just past my driveway. I felt something was seriously wrong... and it related to me.
After a 15 minute trip to the store, Todd had come home to a dark house. Odd, since he had left most of the lights on inside and out. He approached the house knowing something wasn't right. Oxygen was all the fire needed to really get things going and that was exactly what it got when Todd opened the front door. Luckily he has quick reflexes and ducked when greeted by backlash. Welcome the hell home.
Back mountain disaster doesn't even begin to describe our 1/4 mile driveway- which is filled with ruts, lined with drop offs and steeper then any 2 wheel drive can handle on a good day. Delightfully rustic sounding, don't you agree. The layout of it left the fire which I arrived home to a huge surprise that was delivered about 150 feet from my charred and kicked in front door.
First thing I saw was a bright orange glare as I turned the last corner. In the enormous glow of the fire was the silhouette of Todd in the middle of our drive, just standing there, frozen. Watching our home, all of our work, burn. Realizing what was I was looking at, I pulled the car into a side drive hidden behind thick trees to keep the kids from seeing what was happening and put in a DVD for them to watch. I was aware in the background that there were vehicles racing up towards us with loud sirens and flashing lights as I approached my husband, who still had yet to move. We stood there for an amount of time I couldn't define even if I wanted to. Watching.
I remember small bits and pieces of what happened in the next two hours, before they cleared enough vehicles to make a path so I could finally get the kids off of our property. Police yelling into radios, EMT's repeatedly asking me if everybody was alright, volunteers chopping down trees, fire fighters racing in and out of the house. What stuck with me most from all the chaos was a single reporter.
This bold man decided to join the party, set up a camera and start snapping away at the evenings events. Having nothing better to do at the time, seeing as I have no training in the fire battling department, I decided to take a break from watching my home burn to the ground and ask him just what the hell he thought he was doing? The guy actually tried to shake my hand and introduce himself as a reporter for some local newspaper.
I had been pretty stable up until that moment yet this, this is when I snapped. It took a few officers to separate myself from the asshat trying to get a story out of my tragedy which was still in the process of providing a lovely little backdrop. I give them credit, they may have had the toughest job of the evening. Granted, I wasn't being a very gracious hostess when I told the reporter, in not the most polite mannerism I admit, to get the ever loving *bleep* off of my *bleeping* property and quit *bleeping* snapping *bleeping* pictures while my *bleeping* house is burning to the *bleeping* ground, ya *bleep*. Then things REALLY got interesting. He tried to pull his freedom of press crap on me and say that "technically" he wasn't really on my property. The police pulled a sympathy card from their back pocket and sided with me, duh, and the reporter had to pack it up and get off my land. (Told you so!)
The blame may not lay entirely on him though. It was quite dark and hard to make out the writing on my t-shirt that said "Warning- Irish temper may flare at rapid rate when encountering insensitive douche bags. Use extreme caution."
A short time later a co-worker of the reporter tried to approach me and apologize for upsetting me further in the face of such a...blah blah blah. Todd intercepted and subtlety escorted him a safe distance from me. Nice save. Things could have easily taken a turn for the worse and I may have actually gotten ugly.
After a few hours and some unwelcome sympathy hugs from the Red Cross we made it to a hotel for the evening. Todd and I decided then that the best course of action would be to get the kids to Michigan for a impromptu "visit" with the grandparents. We planned on leaving the following afternoon after Todd stopped by the fire station to give a statement; but not before a look at the aftermath.
Holy hell. Everything was, gone. Gone. Our house had burned to the ground and my life just changed drastically.
I can handle change. Change can be good, right?
Bring it on.
February 8th, 2009 was a Sunday. It was cold and wet with overcast skies. This I remember. The kids were stir crazy from staying in. They had asked to go to the Aquarium that day but Todd was suffering from a kidney stone and there was no loving way I was taking 4 kids out in public all squirly from cabin fever into downtown Denver on my own. I struck a deal and took them to McDonald's instead to play and eat. I honestly didn't think it was going to be the last time leaving my house. Who does?
What I came back to was surreal.
While driving home a police truck came up from behind at an alarming rate and flipped on it's lights soon after I had turned onto our road. They eventually passed around me only to slow to a stop just past my driveway. I felt something was seriously wrong... and it related to me.
After a 15 minute trip to the store, Todd had come home to a dark house. Odd, since he had left most of the lights on inside and out. He approached the house knowing something wasn't right. Oxygen was all the fire needed to really get things going and that was exactly what it got when Todd opened the front door. Luckily he has quick reflexes and ducked when greeted by backlash. Welcome the hell home.
Back mountain disaster doesn't even begin to describe our 1/4 mile driveway- which is filled with ruts, lined with drop offs and steeper then any 2 wheel drive can handle on a good day. Delightfully rustic sounding, don't you agree. The layout of it left the fire which I arrived home to a huge surprise that was delivered about 150 feet from my charred and kicked in front door.
First thing I saw was a bright orange glare as I turned the last corner. In the enormous glow of the fire was the silhouette of Todd in the middle of our drive, just standing there, frozen. Watching our home, all of our work, burn. Realizing what was I was looking at, I pulled the car into a side drive hidden behind thick trees to keep the kids from seeing what was happening and put in a DVD for them to watch. I was aware in the background that there were vehicles racing up towards us with loud sirens and flashing lights as I approached my husband, who still had yet to move. We stood there for an amount of time I couldn't define even if I wanted to. Watching.
I remember small bits and pieces of what happened in the next two hours, before they cleared enough vehicles to make a path so I could finally get the kids off of our property. Police yelling into radios, EMT's repeatedly asking me if everybody was alright, volunteers chopping down trees, fire fighters racing in and out of the house. What stuck with me most from all the chaos was a single reporter.
This bold man decided to join the party, set up a camera and start snapping away at the evenings events. Having nothing better to do at the time, seeing as I have no training in the fire battling department, I decided to take a break from watching my home burn to the ground and ask him just what the hell he thought he was doing? The guy actually tried to shake my hand and introduce himself as a reporter for some local newspaper.
I had been pretty stable up until that moment yet this, this is when I snapped. It took a few officers to separate myself from the asshat trying to get a story out of my tragedy which was still in the process of providing a lovely little backdrop. I give them credit, they may have had the toughest job of the evening. Granted, I wasn't being a very gracious hostess when I told the reporter, in not the most polite mannerism I admit, to get the ever loving *bleep* off of my *bleeping* property and quit *bleeping* snapping *bleeping* pictures while my *bleeping* house is burning to the *bleeping* ground, ya *bleep*. Then things REALLY got interesting. He tried to pull his freedom of press crap on me and say that "technically" he wasn't really on my property. The police pulled a sympathy card from their back pocket and sided with me, duh, and the reporter had to pack it up and get off my land. (Told you so!)
The blame may not lay entirely on him though. It was quite dark and hard to make out the writing on my t-shirt that said "Warning- Irish temper may flare at rapid rate when encountering insensitive douche bags. Use extreme caution."
A short time later a co-worker of the reporter tried to approach me and apologize for upsetting me further in the face of such a...blah blah blah. Todd intercepted and subtlety escorted him a safe distance from me. Nice save. Things could have easily taken a turn for the worse and I may have actually gotten ugly.
After a few hours and some unwelcome sympathy hugs from the Red Cross we made it to a hotel for the evening. Todd and I decided then that the best course of action would be to get the kids to Michigan for a impromptu "visit" with the grandparents. We planned on leaving the following afternoon after Todd stopped by the fire station to give a statement; but not before a look at the aftermath.
Holy hell. Everything was, gone. Gone. Our house had burned to the ground and my life just changed drastically.
I can handle change. Change can be good, right?
Bring it on.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Why can't you just sit still?
I think it would be a good idea at this point to let people know as to why my need to travel is so strong.
I have ADD.
Although this is a self diagnosis, I still believe it to be true. I highly doubt that any person professionally diagnosed with ADD would actually enjoy being classified with me but oh well. Add it to their list of issues.
I have never been able to sit still and am always looking forward to what's next. I have a hard time waiting for the Magic Shell to harden on my ice cream. Mmmmmm, Magic Shell. The world just seems so shiny there is no way I would be able to stay in one area for long without exploring the rest of what is out there. Me and shiny objects, it's an addiction.
My husband, Todd, and I have always talked about just packing up and traveling ever since we first started dating 15 years ago. Leave it all behind. What a wonderful concept; carnies do it. Although most carnies seem to reach a level of creepiness that tips the scale of comfort for me- they seem content. I wanted to be content, too. Get my itch of travel scratched if you will.
We (Todd and I before kids) have lived in our small share of places throughout the U.S. Originally we are from MI, which is a whole other story for another time. On a whim we both dropped out of college and moved to Laguna Beach, California for a job Todd had been offered..
Beach life was NOT for me. I knew this after a horrible day in the surf ended with a lifeguard running to my rescue and my bathing suit bottom full of 1/3 of the beaches sand in the crotch. (Seriously, what ARE the little pocket flaps in the crotch of bathing suits and underwear for?) Southern California just rubbed me the wrong way, literally. I lasted 5 months there and gained about 15lbs just to add to my misery. On to the next stop...
San Francisco. This was also not my choice, yet again Todd had a great job offer (he has ADD, too) with a start-up company that was promising. We lived in Alameda, which is just across the Bay Bridge, for nearly 1.5 years. This was the longest I had ever stayed in one place since leaving my parents house at the age of 18. I didn't love it there nor did I mind it. I lived in a house with 4 males who we're not house trained in the least nor charming enough to pull off the fact that they weren't house trained. I suppose it gave me something to do with my downtime.
The Vietnamese food was fantastic, and I lived close to an IKEA. Who could complain. I have never been known to turn away Swedish meatballs.
At that point Todd had quite a few options in the job market and could pick nearly anywhere to relocate to. YAY- I pick Vermont! I had an apartment all set up. Moving truck was packed and on it's way to meet us there. I was so excited. I had never been yet I was sure I would love it at first sight. Ski towns, mountains and fall foliage. My kid of place.
While the truck was halfway to my new dream destination Todd decided to take a job in Rhode Island instead. Humm, okay then, no problem. East coast living should be fun, right? Call the moving company and tell them to meet me elsewhere.
Providence, Rhode Island lasted 5 months. The people are wired in that state, and I couldn't for the life of me focus on them long enough to figure out why. Driving was a daily gamble filled with the fun of white knuckles, lewd gestures and profanity that would have made you sure I was raised on a ship full of sailors. The pure overuse of the word "wicked" and "awesome" and "wicked awesome" left me with a "wicked" headache and the urge to do some "awesome" damage to these road rage enthusiasts.
Back to Michigan. Get married. Buy a house. Have a baby. Live the standard mid-west dream. Done and done. Now I'm bored. I know, lets have another baby!
This is where I want to insert my disclaimer that having children does indeed NOT cure boredom. I don't need any life threatening emails or ugly lawsuits from anyone who goes out and has a child and is still suffering distress with their lives. Your issues are yours and yours alone. I can't fix myself let alone give advice on how to fix you.
I have dreamed of moving to Colorado since a visit to my aunt's house when I was 15 years old. I fell in love at first sight. I felt like I needed something new to do...again. I know, move there! Todd secured a job and we were off for the mountains when baby #2 was 4 months old. We bought a foreclosure on the top of a mountain surrounded by acres of beauty. This house was a disaster yet had potential you wouldn't believe. We started working on it a mere 30 minutes after closing. Projects and more projects to keep me busy. I LOVED mountain life.
I have always been happy in my life with Todd but now I was content. I knew we had finally found the place I had been searching for. Oooo, lets have more babies!
We worked on the house for 3 years. Every inch designed and remodeled by us. Blood, sweat and even some amniotic fluid went into making this house our perfect home. It was near completion, only my dream kitchen to finish. The materials were all there. Beautiful new slate floors, a commercial sized fridge and freezer for when we get snowed in for weeks at a time, pine planked ceilings and even 2 dishwashers. All set to get started!
Then...it burned to the ground.
A little over two years ago we lost our house in a freak fire. Everything gone. It was labeled a "total loss". I deem that term understatement. Believe it or not this is where the real story of how we ended up traveling the U.S. in a trailer begins ....
I have ADD.
Although this is a self diagnosis, I still believe it to be true. I highly doubt that any person professionally diagnosed with ADD would actually enjoy being classified with me but oh well. Add it to their list of issues.
I have never been able to sit still and am always looking forward to what's next. I have a hard time waiting for the Magic Shell to harden on my ice cream. Mmmmmm, Magic Shell. The world just seems so shiny there is no way I would be able to stay in one area for long without exploring the rest of what is out there. Me and shiny objects, it's an addiction.
My husband, Todd, and I have always talked about just packing up and traveling ever since we first started dating 15 years ago. Leave it all behind. What a wonderful concept; carnies do it. Although most carnies seem to reach a level of creepiness that tips the scale of comfort for me- they seem content. I wanted to be content, too. Get my itch of travel scratched if you will.
We (Todd and I before kids) have lived in our small share of places throughout the U.S. Originally we are from MI, which is a whole other story for another time. On a whim we both dropped out of college and moved to Laguna Beach, California for a job Todd had been offered..
Beach life was NOT for me. I knew this after a horrible day in the surf ended with a lifeguard running to my rescue and my bathing suit bottom full of 1/3 of the beaches sand in the crotch. (Seriously, what ARE the little pocket flaps in the crotch of bathing suits and underwear for?) Southern California just rubbed me the wrong way, literally. I lasted 5 months there and gained about 15lbs just to add to my misery. On to the next stop...
San Francisco. This was also not my choice, yet again Todd had a great job offer (he has ADD, too) with a start-up company that was promising. We lived in Alameda, which is just across the Bay Bridge, for nearly 1.5 years. This was the longest I had ever stayed in one place since leaving my parents house at the age of 18. I didn't love it there nor did I mind it. I lived in a house with 4 males who we're not house trained in the least nor charming enough to pull off the fact that they weren't house trained. I suppose it gave me something to do with my downtime.
The Vietnamese food was fantastic, and I lived close to an IKEA. Who could complain. I have never been known to turn away Swedish meatballs.
At that point Todd had quite a few options in the job market and could pick nearly anywhere to relocate to. YAY- I pick Vermont! I had an apartment all set up. Moving truck was packed and on it's way to meet us there. I was so excited. I had never been yet I was sure I would love it at first sight. Ski towns, mountains and fall foliage. My kid of place.
While the truck was halfway to my new dream destination Todd decided to take a job in Rhode Island instead. Humm, okay then, no problem. East coast living should be fun, right? Call the moving company and tell them to meet me elsewhere.
Providence, Rhode Island lasted 5 months. The people are wired in that state, and I couldn't for the life of me focus on them long enough to figure out why. Driving was a daily gamble filled with the fun of white knuckles, lewd gestures and profanity that would have made you sure I was raised on a ship full of sailors. The pure overuse of the word "wicked" and "awesome" and "wicked awesome" left me with a "wicked" headache and the urge to do some "awesome" damage to these road rage enthusiasts.
Back to Michigan. Get married. Buy a house. Have a baby. Live the standard mid-west dream. Done and done. Now I'm bored. I know, lets have another baby!
This is where I want to insert my disclaimer that having children does indeed NOT cure boredom. I don't need any life threatening emails or ugly lawsuits from anyone who goes out and has a child and is still suffering distress with their lives. Your issues are yours and yours alone. I can't fix myself let alone give advice on how to fix you.
I have dreamed of moving to Colorado since a visit to my aunt's house when I was 15 years old. I fell in love at first sight. I felt like I needed something new to do...again. I know, move there! Todd secured a job and we were off for the mountains when baby #2 was 4 months old. We bought a foreclosure on the top of a mountain surrounded by acres of beauty. This house was a disaster yet had potential you wouldn't believe. We started working on it a mere 30 minutes after closing. Projects and more projects to keep me busy. I LOVED mountain life.
I have always been happy in my life with Todd but now I was content. I knew we had finally found the place I had been searching for. Oooo, lets have more babies!
We worked on the house for 3 years. Every inch designed and remodeled by us. Blood, sweat and even some amniotic fluid went into making this house our perfect home. It was near completion, only my dream kitchen to finish. The materials were all there. Beautiful new slate floors, a commercial sized fridge and freezer for when we get snowed in for weeks at a time, pine planked ceilings and even 2 dishwashers. All set to get started!
Then...it burned to the ground.
A little over two years ago we lost our house in a freak fire. Everything gone. It was labeled a "total loss". I deem that term understatement. Believe it or not this is where the real story of how we ended up traveling the U.S. in a trailer begins ....
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