Home Improvement

It’s summertime, and I’ve got the bug.

Last winter, a picket fell off our fence. The wood was too rotten to hold nails anymore. Branden and I couldn’t adult our way through it at the time, so we just let the picket lie on the ground near the fence, whose gate was no longer secured and was now swaying in the breeze. Until, that is, our neighbor came over and screwed the picket back onto the fence, presumably because he was ashamed to be associated with such a pathetic structure so near his property.

After that, Branden and I realized that we couldn’t ignore it; we actually had a responsibility to our neighbors to keep the fence to at least the bare minimum of presentability.

But… it was also winter. So we resolved to deal with it once the weather improved.

Winter was extremely weird this year. We had winter-storm-warning-level snow storms all the way through May, then all of a sudden it was in the 80s (if not higher) every day. So, spring sorta rushed by, and then it was summer, and I said—Now! It must be now! before it gets more hot, before all the rest of the pickets fall off. We must take care of it!

Luckily, the pressure-treated posts and cross-bars of the fence are still in relatively good condition. (Not perfect, but they’ll last another five years, easy.) So we decided to do a 75%-assed job and only replace the pickets. My family all flash-mobbed my house over a weekend and got the pickets put up, lickety-split. Branden and I painted the whole arrangement with linseed oil over the remainder of that weekend and the following weekend, and I’m so proud of the result. It looks great.

But it may have created a monster.

After that, Branden and I agreed that it would be way smarter if our cat room had some kind of hard floor, instead of the carpet that was in there at the time. We were trying to keep it “clean” by putting down painting drop cloths when we had kittens, but here, “clean” is a comparative term. It was way, way too much trouble. So we agreed to lay down a floating vinyl floor… ourselves.

Well, we tackled that project this last weekend. I can’t believe how much we got done. We pried off the baseboards. We pulled up the carpet, carpet pad, tack strips, staples, the whole shebang. We bought paint and painted the room. We bought new baseboards. And finally, we laid down the floor. (Check out the kitten blog below for more pictures.)

We still have to put the light switch and outlet faceplates back on. We still have to put down transitions between the carpet and the vinyl. We still have to put up the baseboards. And, of course, we still have to move everything back into the room. But I am so happy with everything, so far. It looks so great, and I can’t wait for it to be done!

This may or may not be obvious to you, but I haven’t been writing much recently. I’m making myself be okay with that. I want to pursue other creative endeavors for the moment, and as long as I’m not being a human slug, I think that’s probably okay. Plus, once Becky’s all moved in, we will surely resume our weekly writing dates, which will get my writing back on track.

Thanks for hanging in there, friends and fans! Until Wednesday!

•••Hey, did you know? I’m fostering kittens! Come follow my tribulations on my kitten blog! Paw-Purr-azzi•••

Learning new things =)

In the past, I have had bouts of feeling... extremely static. Like I have itchy feet—I don’t know what I want to do, but I know I want to stop doing nothing! These bouts can be really frustrating because most of the time, I’m not doing nothing. I’m just doing more of the same. I can’t put my finger on what I want to do; most things sound really unappetizing. What do I want‽ I yell at myself.

Finally, after much mental wiggling, I figured it out.

When I feel like that, I’m longing to learn something new. Something creative, preferably. A new craft, a new skill, a new technique. My brain is tired and wants to stretch its atrophied muscles.

In the spirit of learning new things, I’ve been going through the Python Codecademy course to learn how to program. I’m 90% of the way through it, apparently, and it’s come... fairly easy to me, so far, but the farther I get the more respect and awe I have for people who got a degree in this nonsense. You have to tie your brain up in corkscrew-knots to think through the logic, and once you have something that works, your brain unwinds and you don’t understand what you just did. But hey, it works, don’t look at it too closely!

I have been wanting to learn to program for a long time now. I learned PHP well enough to automate math problems, which was what I wanted it to do. But since I’ve been unemployed and struggling with being functional, there is a project that is near and dear to my heart that none of my code-savvy friends have the time or bandwidth to do for me: An Android app.

In its conception, Next is a to-do list, but it’s much more than that to me. It would be a time- and energy-management tool. It would help me keep things the right “size.” It would help me reclaim my agency.

Okay, I’ll go through why it would be special. (See, I’m having a hard time figuring out where to start, haha!)

1. User makes a list of what they need to do.
   1. User makes a short-term to-do list.
   2. User makes a long-term to-do list.
2. User arranges things in priority-order.
   1. User organizes things in terms of what is most important to them to get done.
   2. User organizes things in order of what has the closest deadline.
3. If there are explicit deadlines for a task, user assigns those deadlines.
   1. This can be used for appointments, too.
4. User customizes settings.
   1. What kind of encouragement does the user want to receive?
      1. Text messages, notifications, social media, calendar events.
      2. Message a friend/SO/family member to ask them to send encouragement.
   2. How frequently do they want to be “encouraged”?
   3. What escalation of encouragement do they want?
      1. User-written affirmations / encouraging messages.
      2. Developer-written affirmations / encouraging messages.
   4. What kind of recognition does the user want for completing a task?
      1. None, congratulatory message, social media integration.
   5. Choose the level of urgency for each item on to-do list.
      1. One task may require frequent, escalating encouragements, while another may require a more low-level reminder schedule.
   6. Specify down-time.
      1. After a specified time of day, notifications go away, encouragement messages stop, and the pressure is off.
5. When settings are finished, list is “finalized.”
   1. The list becomes a little obfuscated; at this point the user is passively discouraged from altering it.
6. The next thing on the list becomes a notification in the user’s notification bar.
   1. The notification cannot be swiped away; the user must consciously deactivate Next or complete their to-do list to vacate their notification bar.
   2. The notification can be interacted with via “snooze” or “mark as complete” buttons attached to the notification.
      1. “Snooze” will move the item in question below the subsequent item on the list.

Uh, so, that’s it in a nutshell. It’s enforced baby-stepping, but not as baby is it could be, which is a little unfortunate, but I suppose a user could get that kind of granularity by having user-written “encouragements” that read “Stand up,” then 30 seconds later, “Put on your shoes,” etc. It will hopefully stop a to-do list from looking overwhelming, because, well, you only have one thing to do!

But that kind of integration is the sort of thing I’m not going to be able to jump right into, not least because programming for mobile is kindof a bitch. Right now I’m a little bit beyond “Hello World” and about aeons before making a duck that won’t run into the side of the pool. (A digital duck, people. I’m not God, or a mother duck. Geez.)

And, if you were going to ask, yes, this is avoidance behavior. Shut up.

How about you, gentle readers? are you learning anything new? Let me know in the comments. Ciao for now!

Word count: 3,776 (ເ)

MuckFest revisited

I wanted to blog about this on Sunday (or even Saturday), while it was fresh in my mind, but I didn’t. And then I didn’t on Monday. Or Tuesday. I really wish I had, because things have gone a little fuzzy at this point. I’ll try to do it justice, though.

The forecast for the day was high of 54°, 80% chance of rain. The obstacle course involves getting extremely muddy, and often wet. I was sublimating my stress about the possibility of hypothermia as well as I could, and everyone who talked to me about it made sure to tell me that they “may be skipping all the mud this year,” to which I replied, “feel free; I know I will be.” However, when we actually got to the course, it was a lot warmer than I’d expected and rain seemed unlikely. Everyone was arriving in plenty of time and everyone was happy to be there—what could possibly be better?

I’ll tell you!

The last group of people trickled in, and I could see at a distance that they were wearing bright green t-shirts. To myself, I thought, “Aha!!!” I had hope burgeoning in my breast. Perhaps, someone had come up with a way for us to see each other at a distance. Squinting, I could see that there was some kind of printing on them, at which point, I thought, “uh oh…” because my snails art has historically been legen… wait for it… dary. I felt a stab of jealousy that someone had usurped my throne. However, when they came within viewing range I saw that the art was faithful in its rendition, but just different enough that it was a clear homage, not an original Conley. I squealed and greedily grabbed my shirt, but then, from the depths of a duffel, emerged the true headliner of the day: heavy-duty, unbelievably pro-looking eyestalks.

How could this be.

My friends, who are amazing, had all been working overtime to produce team t-shirts and eyestalks, because they knew I hadn’t mustered the will to make anything this year. I was (and am) incredibly touched, for reals. It’s an amazing feeling to know that if you drop the ball, someone is there to pick it up. So, Steph, Carlie, Shad, Chris, Dan, and anyone else who helped that I don’t know about, thank you so much, it really means the world to me, sincerely. *big wet sloppy kisses*

Though I could gush more, I think I’ll move on to try to describe the race.

This year has been very rainy, so they delivered on their promise of mud better than they have in other years past. There was a long “mud river” on an extended downhill stretch that I found to be delightful, and I kept making references to Artax and the Swamp of Sadness (in case you didn’t catch it, Racing Snails is from The Neverending Story, too). There was a later part in which the mud came up to the upper thigh (and the water, above the waist) that was more Swamp of Sadness-y, but why take the risk? Anytime you can reference Artax, do so, sez I. I thought that this year’s obstacles were more fun and challenging and less focused on getting wet than it has been in the past, so that was really nice, considering the temperature of the day.

Which is not to say that there weren’t “get wet” obstacles. Most of us skipped the one that was just “jump off a high place into a deep pool of freezing-ass water” with no regrets at all. That’s the only one I skipped, though, and kudos to me, because rope ladders freak me out for no good reason.

As we neared the finish line, the clouds started rolling in and the temperature started dropping. There was an obstacle that required riding a zip line to the end and then plunging into water for the last few feet—there was no way to avoid it. Sadly, we hit that obstacle just as the sun went behind the clouds, so those of us who participated spent the rest of the race several degrees colder than we’d been up to that point. After that, there were three more obstacles in quick succession, then the merciful finish line.

Sadly, the tribulations didn’t end there. The worst part of the course came after the race was over, this year, and it was brutal.

We were already wet and cold, and covered in mud from head to toe. Our only option for getting clean was this communal shower area that consisted of hoses with spray nozzles hooked up to the Devil’s ice machine. I tried stripping down to my sports bra to rinse off, but at that point I realized that I’d left my towel over in the base camp, and the wind had started blowing. When I got back to the base for my towel, I had given up on the idea of getting clean and was focusing on not freezing solid.

I managed to change clothes somewhat successfully in the changing tent. I somehow managed to lose my sports bra, but I think I’ll live. When I took my clothes off, you pretty much couldn’t tell; I was a uniform brown color. I hated putting clothes on over that. Plus, I was still cold. We stayed a bit longer for the free lunch and getting swag, but my teeth didn’t stop chattering until I was back in the car with the heater blasting.

When Branden and I got home, I rinsed our mucky clothes on the driveway with my garden hose. Then, we stripped directly into the washing machine. We showered, soaping and shampooing twice, until finally we felt un-mud-golemed, if somewhat exfoliated. We washed our clothes twice, too—and unfortunately, it looks like the stains are never coming out of the beautiful shirts. Sad, but it was so great to have them anyway.

I was surprised by how human I felt. In previous years, all I had wanted to do post-MuckFest is watch TV until I fell asleep (moments later), but this time, I felt… pretty fine. It wasn’t until about 6:30 that my eyes started to feel tired. We hit the sack pretty early and slept like rocks.

Sunday, I was sore. My right elbow felt overextended and both my forearms were complaining. I was comparing bruises and scrapes with my brothers at Sam’s #3 and plotting next year’s shirt and fundraising incentives in my head. Okay, MuckFest 2016, bring it on!

Muck Festival

The time has come once again for the annual recognition of my MS. I try not to do it more often than that, because why would I? It’s kind of a bummer. Of course, this year’s festival is happening a mere eight months after last year’s, so… there’s that. But you see, this skullduggery caused me to short-circuit on the fundraising front, and the shirt-design front, and the team-building front… basically on all fronts except for the actual signing-up-for-it front. Much to my surprise, my team, the Racing Snails, has still raised over one thousand dollars, no thanks to me. Great job, team!

If it weren’t for climate change, having the MuckFest in May would probably be a good idea. However, those of you in Colorado will know that this year has been… a bit schizophrenic, weather-wise. Eighty degree days in February, snow in May, eighty degrees again, and then this Saturday in Larkspur (when/where the event is held) will be fifty-four degrees and raining (eighty percent likelihood). So, hilariously cold. But we Snails shall prevail! We are mighty! We are… crazy! And we will probably be popsicles! So… pray for us!

For anyone reading this who doesn’t already know, the MuckFest is a mud obstacle course that raises money for the National MS Society, and I’ve participated three times so far. Every year, it’s fun and challenging and epic. Last year, we raised enough money to win the use of a GoPro camera (in addition to the GoPro camera my teammate already owns, so two GoPro cameras, ah ah ah). We made an excellent video chronicling the various obstacles, which is certainly boring to everyone but us. I hope that they don’t decide to schedule the next MuckFest to be in four months or two months or two days or yesterday, because I’d very much like to make shirts for next time, as well as actually fundraise.

Prepping for the race is always stressful. It’s that thing where no matter how prepared I am, I always am sure that I’m forgetting something. I am the one who organizes where we meet. I am the one who sends out the email reminding people of what they need to bring and when they need to get there. And I end up feeling responsible if not everyone has as much fun as I would like—but, because I’m crazy, I don’t get to take the credit if they do have as much fun as I would like. The last few days have been exhausting, completely unrelated to the MuckFest, and I’m nervous about tomorrow. I just hope that everything goes smoothly and no one freezes to death.

So, dear readers, please support my team by visiting my page and clicking “Donate Now”, near the top right corner. Any size donation is wildly appreciated! And feel free to come spectate and cheer us on! Our wave begins at 9:30am. Hope to see some of you there!

Finding my voice!

I return to the world of blogging full of motivation and enthusiasm. Sadly, I’m a tad light on content right at the moment. However, I will find some, and all my readers will be full of milk and honey and other forms of happiness!

On this, the last day of 2014, I’m thinking about Christmas with my family over the years and how our traditions have grown and changed, as our family has grown and changed.

For as long as I can remember—possibly for as long as I’ve been alive—my whole family has had Christmas stockings that were hand-knitted by my dad’s mom. (I suspect my dad and his brother had theirs before they can remember.) They were decorated with reindeer, Santas, trees, snowflakes—many Christmas/winter images. They also had each of our names knitted along the top rim of the stocking. Allow me to emphasize that: every bit of the ornamentation was knitted. Nothing was glued, nothing was stitched, nothing was painted. It must have been an incredible amount of work.

They were such an institution in our household that I remember being baffled at other kids not having elaborate, handmade, personalized stockings.

Christmas in my house has always been so full of love and acceptance and warmth. My older brother could rarely visit home (starving college student followed by starving actor), but he would always make it home for Christmas. And yes, we gave presents and we’d usually all “get a haul,” but especially once we became adults, that wasn’t the point. We loved being together.

Sitcoms and movies make family holidays look like a chore full of drama and no small amount of racism. That humor has always been lost on me. There may be stress related to Christmas shopping or Christmas travel, but come Christmas day, no one ever got out of their pajamas, metaphorically speaking. And usually, we never got out of our physical pajamas, either.

Our family has grown in the intervening years: All three of us kids are married and my younger brother now has a son of his own. Our Christmases include spouses and, very occasionally, in-laws. And the spouses and grub, who are just as much family as the native Lymans (obviously), are nonetheless lacking in handmade personalized Santa/tree/reindeer/snowflake stockings. My grandma just turned 90 this last Christmas, and her days of knitting have passed, unfortunately.

This is a true sadness.

So, one of my goals for 2015 is to start (and hopefully complete?) knitting stockings for the three spouses plus baby.

Our mantel is getting crowded.

The more, the merrier.

Do any of you have Christmas traditions you want to share? Comment below!