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captainsblogThe past few days were typical of how this whole year went- moments of sheer annoyance interspersed with beauty, joy and hope. There were two shittinesses reported here about Thursday- a bad client and a bad scheduling job for a car repair. By this time Saturday, both were largely redeemed.
I had to make the last 2017 Rochester voyage in snow and without snow tires. Fortunately, the white stuff held off until about the final mile and I stayed in for about five hours with a mix of appointments. The last ended quickly, the office was near empty, so I left early and had time to stop at my office here to see what the final business day brought in my absence.
It brought near tears for the kindness of someone who's not a client but definitely a friend- a court official who has mentored me through the first case of a kind I've ever done, successfully, in 2017. I emailed him earlier in the month to see if he was going to make a year-end distribution from the funds my client sends him. On Tuesday, I got my answer- sorry, been out of town, I will get the checks done before the end of the year- which I took to mean, maybe, write them Wednesday, mail them Thursday, maybe get mine next week sometime. No. On my desk on Friday was a check, which his wife hand-delivered to me when I was out- and it was for more than was expected, making up for a good chunk of the loss I took the day before.
Some people just make you smile- and encourage you to do the same to make other people do it:)
----
The tire fire of Thursday was turned into a short and successful trip back to the car place yesterday. They called me ahead of time to let me know they were in, they got my car in within minutes, and they not only no-charged my state inspection, they knocked 60 bucks off the bill for the inconvenience. The only other unexpected part of it was I had to go back today for a quick adjustment: custom wheels (which I apparently have- who knew?) have to be driven at least 24 hours or 25 miles before their lug nuts can be properly set. I was over on Transit anyway for my last workout of the year, so it was easy enough to stop in, and for the first and hopefully last time in my life, I got to say, Hi, I'm here to have my nuts tightened.
The rest of this last day has been mostly in and mostly quiet. Ebony's cone is back on, as she is still battling some kind of reaction/infection, and we're trying a home remedy for it. To help, we've bandaged the area, and she's fighting us tooth and claw about trying to rip it off. I also replaced our birdfeeder, which has been pretty There I Fixed It for months with a pie tin and an upside-down lid holding it together- and I'm listening to the final hours of the Bills' 2017 regular season, hoping now knowing it won't be the end of the season altogether.
----
And so that gets us to these final few hours of this year. Let's begin with the good things from it, mostly recounted here at one time or another:
I promoted a concert. Through some connections and coincidences, I got to arrange a local performance by Jen Chapin, an awesome musician in her own right and, oh, just the daughter of one of my longtime musical heroes. We brought her to the Williamsville Meeting House on a chilly Saturday night in March, and I got to meet her and her opening act (local performer Sonny Mayo) through the effort. Friends and family joined me for this amazing experience.
I met a Doctor. Well, only briefly, and there were many more stories and memories from attending my first-ever Who-centric convention in Baltimore later in March. Despite Siri trying to detour me to Ohio and my hostess/guest getting sick after the Saturday portion of the event, I got to meet both Seven and the Third Doctor's companion, the latter more up close and personal after she fell in lurve with a little kid in the row in front of us; I ended the trip with Sunday coffee with a number of writers for the show and its spinoffs; and was home before anyone even noticed the TARDIS in the driveway.
I stopped being a Methodist. At least for now, and until the denomination again allows me be a participant while still maintaining my vow to "resist evil, injustice and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves." The church itself put me in that awkward position when its top judicial body voted to suspend a newly elected LGBT bishop, because, incompatible:P That's not the Jesus I once knew, and until He comes back and shakes the shit out of the southern-jurisdiction crackers who ratted out the episcopal choice of a region clear across the country, I'm outta there.
I joined with other faiths for what we all care about. In May, a consortium of churches, synagogues and mosques sponsored an "Abraham Walk" to recognize the things that unite rather than divide. I joined it and then broke bread in an Islamic Fellowship Hall that could have been Methodist except for the much better food.
My sporting experiences were minor, not major. For the first time in ages, I did not get to Citi Field, or any venue where the Mets or any major-league professional sport team played a game. Instead, I visited our own city's AAA park for an early-season contest, Binghamton's AA stadium for my first time ever (and my sister's first baseball game anywhere), and made several trips to Rochester's, including one in August on the night they homaged the city's Garbage Plates.
Work broke the records and ran the gamuts. Although there were some slow moments at times, too many of them in the past few weeks, I was ridiculously busy for weeks at a time, especially at midyear. I dealt with the death of one client mid-case, did my first appeal in years, and when all was sorted, I filed 39 bankruptcy cases in the 52 weeks of 2017. In contrast? In 2012, I filed five.
Emily became a real grownup. In May, she began a new job in Rochester- ending one I'd helped get her right out of RIT, and she got it with no help or even input from us at all except confirming a reference or two for her. Once that happened, she needed to own the car we let her begin driving when I got the Smart car last December, and she took it over her own self as of May. Then, just within the past month or so, we learned that she and Cameron are moving on to new opportunities in Virginia. He's already made the move, and she will join him at the beginning of February. We are heading to Rochester next week for her 26th birthday, perhaps the last one we will see her for in person for some time, and it is an occasion of pride and accomplishment.
I went back in time. First weekend in August, I broke a boycott- of every reunion every school of mine had ever put on. This one was my high school's 40th. As the Big Good Moments of the year went, this one ranks low- as did the turnout, the amenities, the connections (not) made on account of it. An outside event planner put it on, and they did a piss-poor job of publicizing and encouraging attendance at it. But I did get to reconnect with a couple of my oldest friends, plus a few I've connected with through Facebook in recent years. I'm glad I did it, if only to discourage me from ever feeling the need to do it again for the sake of doing it.
We went solar. Our town started publicizing a major effort to get residents to go green, and we followed our friend Ann, one of the early adopters, down the road of applying, approving, installing and (as of just Friday) inspecting. We now have a whole array that will replace most of our electric bill with an installation loan for the next several years, but then the benefit will be permanent for us and, even in this past few frigid days, we've seen how much sun comes to us and will now stay with us.
I made a plan for The Room Where It Happens. I'd been on the Hamilton mailing list for a while, never getting a whiff of the actual seats- until Lin-Manuel changed the game. We were told to sign up our mobile phones for a text- and the scalpers got caught with their burners down. Two reasonable-priced seats for March came into my phone, and while I originally planned them as a gift to the kids, it's now likely at least Cameron will not be able to attend, so I'm hoping to be able to find a way to get Emily back north to NYC for that matinee in a little over two months.
And there's your Toppish Ten. There wasn't all that much bad or ugly in our own lives; Eleanor's been off work since early October, but that disability has brought out even more amazing artistic abilities for her that are being recognized by some very talented people. I could rant about The Year of the Cheeto, but November moments in Virginia, and December results in even Alabama, hold forth much hope for the votes as the calendar turns in a few hours.
The weather's cold, there's one more idiot on the Supreme Court, and gods only know what Twitter will bring us from Trumpemort three hours into 2018. But with just three hours of 2017 left, I pronounce it forgiven of its sins, appreciative of its accomplishments, and will be dead asleep when the year turns.
I had to make the last 2017 Rochester voyage in snow and without snow tires. Fortunately, the white stuff held off until about the final mile and I stayed in for about five hours with a mix of appointments. The last ended quickly, the office was near empty, so I left early and had time to stop at my office here to see what the final business day brought in my absence.
It brought near tears for the kindness of someone who's not a client but definitely a friend- a court official who has mentored me through the first case of a kind I've ever done, successfully, in 2017. I emailed him earlier in the month to see if he was going to make a year-end distribution from the funds my client sends him. On Tuesday, I got my answer- sorry, been out of town, I will get the checks done before the end of the year- which I took to mean, maybe, write them Wednesday, mail them Thursday, maybe get mine next week sometime. No. On my desk on Friday was a check, which his wife hand-delivered to me when I was out- and it was for more than was expected, making up for a good chunk of the loss I took the day before.
Some people just make you smile- and encourage you to do the same to make other people do it:)
----
The tire fire of Thursday was turned into a short and successful trip back to the car place yesterday. They called me ahead of time to let me know they were in, they got my car in within minutes, and they not only no-charged my state inspection, they knocked 60 bucks off the bill for the inconvenience. The only other unexpected part of it was I had to go back today for a quick adjustment: custom wheels (which I apparently have- who knew?) have to be driven at least 24 hours or 25 miles before their lug nuts can be properly set. I was over on Transit anyway for my last workout of the year, so it was easy enough to stop in, and for the first and hopefully last time in my life, I got to say, Hi, I'm here to have my nuts tightened.
The rest of this last day has been mostly in and mostly quiet. Ebony's cone is back on, as she is still battling some kind of reaction/infection, and we're trying a home remedy for it. To help, we've bandaged the area, and she's fighting us tooth and claw about trying to rip it off. I also replaced our birdfeeder, which has been pretty There I Fixed It for months with a pie tin and an upside-down lid holding it together- and I'm listening to the final hours of the Bills' 2017 regular season,
----
And so that gets us to these final few hours of this year. Let's begin with the good things from it, mostly recounted here at one time or another:
I promoted a concert. Through some connections and coincidences, I got to arrange a local performance by Jen Chapin, an awesome musician in her own right and, oh, just the daughter of one of my longtime musical heroes. We brought her to the Williamsville Meeting House on a chilly Saturday night in March, and I got to meet her and her opening act (local performer Sonny Mayo) through the effort. Friends and family joined me for this amazing experience.
I met a Doctor. Well, only briefly, and there were many more stories and memories from attending my first-ever Who-centric convention in Baltimore later in March. Despite Siri trying to detour me to Ohio and my hostess/guest getting sick after the Saturday portion of the event, I got to meet both Seven and the Third Doctor's companion, the latter more up close and personal after she fell in lurve with a little kid in the row in front of us; I ended the trip with Sunday coffee with a number of writers for the show and its spinoffs; and was home before anyone even noticed the TARDIS in the driveway.
I stopped being a Methodist. At least for now, and until the denomination again allows me be a participant while still maintaining my vow to "resist evil, injustice and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves." The church itself put me in that awkward position when its top judicial body voted to suspend a newly elected LGBT bishop, because, incompatible:P That's not the Jesus I once knew, and until He comes back and shakes the shit out of the southern-jurisdiction crackers who ratted out the episcopal choice of a region clear across the country, I'm outta there.
I joined with other faiths for what we all care about. In May, a consortium of churches, synagogues and mosques sponsored an "Abraham Walk" to recognize the things that unite rather than divide. I joined it and then broke bread in an Islamic Fellowship Hall that could have been Methodist except for the much better food.
My sporting experiences were minor, not major. For the first time in ages, I did not get to Citi Field, or any venue where the Mets or any major-league professional sport team played a game. Instead, I visited our own city's AAA park for an early-season contest, Binghamton's AA stadium for my first time ever (and my sister's first baseball game anywhere), and made several trips to Rochester's, including one in August on the night they homaged the city's Garbage Plates.
Work broke the records and ran the gamuts. Although there were some slow moments at times, too many of them in the past few weeks, I was ridiculously busy for weeks at a time, especially at midyear. I dealt with the death of one client mid-case, did my first appeal in years, and when all was sorted, I filed 39 bankruptcy cases in the 52 weeks of 2017. In contrast? In 2012, I filed five.
Emily became a real grownup. In May, she began a new job in Rochester- ending one I'd helped get her right out of RIT, and she got it with no help or even input from us at all except confirming a reference or two for her. Once that happened, she needed to own the car we let her begin driving when I got the Smart car last December, and she took it over her own self as of May. Then, just within the past month or so, we learned that she and Cameron are moving on to new opportunities in Virginia. He's already made the move, and she will join him at the beginning of February. We are heading to Rochester next week for her 26th birthday, perhaps the last one we will see her for in person for some time, and it is an occasion of pride and accomplishment.
I went back in time. First weekend in August, I broke a boycott- of every reunion every school of mine had ever put on. This one was my high school's 40th. As the Big Good Moments of the year went, this one ranks low- as did the turnout, the amenities, the connections (not) made on account of it. An outside event planner put it on, and they did a piss-poor job of publicizing and encouraging attendance at it. But I did get to reconnect with a couple of my oldest friends, plus a few I've connected with through Facebook in recent years. I'm glad I did it, if only to discourage me from ever feeling the need to do it again for the sake of doing it.
We went solar. Our town started publicizing a major effort to get residents to go green, and we followed our friend Ann, one of the early adopters, down the road of applying, approving, installing and (as of just Friday) inspecting. We now have a whole array that will replace most of our electric bill with an installation loan for the next several years, but then the benefit will be permanent for us and, even in this past few frigid days, we've seen how much sun comes to us and will now stay with us.
I made a plan for The Room Where It Happens. I'd been on the Hamilton mailing list for a while, never getting a whiff of the actual seats- until Lin-Manuel changed the game. We were told to sign up our mobile phones for a text- and the scalpers got caught with their burners down. Two reasonable-priced seats for March came into my phone, and while I originally planned them as a gift to the kids, it's now likely at least Cameron will not be able to attend, so I'm hoping to be able to find a way to get Emily back north to NYC for that matinee in a little over two months.
And there's your Toppish Ten. There wasn't all that much bad or ugly in our own lives; Eleanor's been off work since early October, but that disability has brought out even more amazing artistic abilities for her that are being recognized by some very talented people. I could rant about The Year of the Cheeto, but November moments in Virginia, and December results in even Alabama, hold forth much hope for the votes as the calendar turns in a few hours.
The weather's cold, there's one more idiot on the Supreme Court, and gods only know what Twitter will bring us from Trumpemort three hours into 2018. But with just three hours of 2017 left, I pronounce it forgiven of its sins, appreciative of its accomplishments, and will be dead asleep when the year turns.
no subject
Date: 2018-01-01 02:14 am (UTC)I love that you stopped being a Methodist over LGBTQ rights. Thank you for that.