Up for auction

I wake up in a half groggy still dreaming haze as the amethyst sky hints at a sun somewhere beneath the snow laden early morning clouds. Bare trees sway with black bark fully exposed mimicking the veins over a diagram of a heart.
I ache with that feeling of getting sick, ball in throat and muscles calling out for a good stretch and rest.
But I cannot rest. Even laying here I think about my blessed half day off and how much work needs done in just a few hours. The bones and skin of a new greenhouse are on ground covered in frozen rain as I wait a little longer for the sun to peer out and burn the ice off.

I am overall uneasy about my shitty little apartment. I had dreams of it burning down and a week later the absolute auction signs went up.
I'm not sure who would purchase this liability. Nothing has been tended to in years. Rent checks get cashed but the roof continues to leak and I think he paid some kids to stomp around up there with black paint cans because after the "roofers" were done, water poured continuously in my kitchen, even when it didn't rain.
Another auction signs went up by a call center I worked a temp gig at. I thought of those women who valued their decent paying call center jobs as though selling heaters and collect able coins was a great career. And I'm not sure if they actually did but every caller got the most sincere -I care- attitude about their complaint from the other end of the phone. I input names into a data base, I can type 55 wpm and do numbers in excel without looking. The company bought us BBQ and even invited the temps down to lunch. I thought for a minute that it might not be a bad place to work.

Seems like the whole town is for auction bit by bit.

So my habitat where I live as cheap as I can is crumbling around me. But my sense of self continues to fortify.

I have been enjoying the dichotomy of my two jobs. I'm trying to bank up enough money to feel comfortable enough to have kids. I feel as though I've waited well past that young and dumb stage where you just figure it out as now I look at the numbers and it doesn't seem possible. Being able to afford health insurance is indeed step one.

I have settled into wine making at my new spot with a force unknown to myself. It's challenging and physical and expanding my mathematical skills and problem solving. I also have changed the dynamic of who I work with, an exercise which I love greatly. I don't like when people pick on each other, even if they say it's in fun, I think people are always more sensative than they let on. Each joke has an element of truth and I don't think that culture makes for a very cohesive work environment. Once I figured this out, I turned a cold shoulder to those remarks and the whole atmosphere has shifted and lightened. I like it. I feel like I'm thriving.
At the restaurant I have weaseled into an odd position of making everything run smoothly without taking credit. I bumped my pay more than server pay and I get to play in the kitchen, ease the tension between chefs and work on sauces, wait a few tables, tend bar, and help everyone. It's challenging in a different way but I feel like part of something dynamic and fun.

Ok. The greenhouse assembly can be put off no longer. Back to work.

I am steady. I am stable. I am calm.

I have stabilized. My breathing has returned to a normal, long full pulls of oxygen, filling entire lungs, belly, stinging the nose with the Ohio chill all the way through my blood and releasing into this beautiful calm.

Sometimes things are so fucked up for so long that they become normal. It's odd how getting beat up all the time can seem so everyday that when it stops happening, you wonder what's wrong. I guess that's why bones fuse together. The body has an amazing way of adapting to it's environment, no matter what it takes, and protecting itself in spite of the circumstances.

It took forever to stop checking my phone in the middle of the night. No one emails or calls me anymore. I have days off now. I have free time. When I leave work, I get to actually leave work. And I have plenty of money to buy things that I needed like glasses and a new car. I got one that's really good on gas so I don't burn through money and can save and plan for the future. I feel stable enough now, doing something I actually like for people who respect me.

After getting burned by two different wine people in quick succession, I thought -fuck wine.

And granted, it's a fickle business what's pretty catered to the upper class. But it is a craft and one that I've developed into appreciating the process of more than the final product. And when hunting for new jobs, I hated most of my other possibilities. As much as I love cooking, I do not want to be a cook. And day jobs with all the sitting around bore me terribly.

The transition was odd. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. I hit the ground running, caring for tanks like it was old hat but admittedly, I'm in completely new territory where I have nooooooo idea what I'm doing. I know Ohio grapes and some about east coast grapes, but Italian and Californian are completely foreign to me. You have to feed wine? Really? Why wouldn't it just ferment on it's merry little way and then give you a fun wrestling match with high acidity like Ohio grapes do? Why do you have to add tannins to already tannic varieties?

I have no idea what I'm doing.

So I  try to rely on my nose.

I've picked up a few things over the years, but I have no idea what to do with my sensory warning signs. But the great part about this new place is that I don't have to worry about it. I just get to sample tanks and be a little alarm when things are wrong. Then the other guys work through all the logistics and give me numbers of things to add to make the tank happy again.

I get to play with the most state of the art equipment out there. Punch down? Not necessary when all the red tanks are equipped with pumps that will recirculate the clear juice over the cap at intervals that the winemaker can program. I kinda miss sweating over all the tanks 3x a day. The pumps are whatever is the most gentle for the wine. The pressings are at low bars to not hurt the wine, and the whole production room is a stage for the customers to walk through, ask questions, engage in the process, and henceforth, buy more wine.

The things that I have picked up over the years of being an apprentice to a master as well as being a puppet to an unseen "god" have accumulated to my person like a ball of silly putty rolled across the floor. I am trying to sort it all out, look at each piece and try to make sense of it all. This new spectrum requires more reading to find out new terms and weigh them out in my own option such as sur lie, not that my learning about the methods will make them change, but just for my own questioning, hungry brain.

But my suggestions are heard and my muscle memory of certain tasks saves time and streamlines
production greatly. My boss is quick to say how he appreciates me and is trying to keep me happy and engaged. I am production room only with no one working under me. It's confining and freeing all at once. I just hope that they have enough to keep me busy year round.

But ever in motion, I have a greenhouse on the way, 30x72 feet for growing through the winter months as much as can be done in these harsh Ohio winters. I have 3 beers in the fermenters and my cider. meads and wines from last year are ready. I am making more music than I ever have and even went to an outdoor art and wine fest to perform this past month, which is something I never could have done at my old job. I am rounding out the end of yoga teacher training soon. I had today off to catch up on inventory with my mom. My serving job has been steady enough to hold me over through the transition and now I'm just wondering what's going to happen next. It's a nice kind of worry though, more eager than fear.

I cannot fathom how something I was clinging to so tightly that I was devastated when it was taken away from me actually was hurting and holding me back.

I work in a wonderland now.

It's weird how life takes your plans of what you think should happen and then turns them totally upside down like a basket of laundry you don't know if it's dirty or you should fold it or wash it again for good measure.

I thought I hated wine. When you get burned from two different places with one similarity so rapid fire, it's easy to think -fuck this shit, I'm trying something else.
After trying to wait tables, contemplating being chained to a kitchen, and bein put through the ringer with general job applications, I reluctantly turned back to the wine industry as now, that's what I know. It's what I'm good at. It challenges me and excites me, keeps moving in different ways and... Well, maybe I'll get a Saturday night off and won't be chained to a desk.

After weighing out my options, I set my sights high, aimed for the big fish in the area, the one I was always jealous of but never considered jumping ship and going for. Fuck it. Nothing to lose. Went for it. After weeks of terrible limbo....


I got it.


This is wine making Mecca.

I drive in to work and every day I think holy fuck. I can't believe I work here.

Top of the line equipment all the way down to awesome people to work with. Holy fuck. I can't believe I work here.
Harvest is going great. I have a winemaker who values my opinion and has the money to back any purchase. I have customers integrated through a production room with peep holes showing every aspect of the wine making. Wines are priced high and customers flow. It is  so weird. I can't believe I work here.

This is one of the smoothest harvests ever. I have an awesome team and the weight isn't all on me and no one blames me or assumes I'm an idiot. I am learning a ton, but also lending them a bit of my experience with our pain in the ass grapes I have dealt with for 5 previous harvest seasons.


I still drink beer at night, but damn am I happy for some good wine now.

Keep your feet moving.

The rain mists outside my bedroom window, floating in and kissing my cheek when the wind changes for a brief moment, not enough to get up and close the window. I dreamt of the rain turning into a light dusting of snow, fatal to the growing season in mid-August as I scrambled around assessing the damages.
I feel scorned today. The stars must not be aligned in my favor or god(s) don't like me right now etc. I am not sure what I did or what to do now.

Usually I'm so sure of myself. No call backs from jobs has me in limbo, standing uncomfortably off balance and not sure how to remedy it. My one month cushion is gone now and I am applying at odd jobs I never thought I would apply for.

In the end, I really just wish I had a big piece of land and a workable business model. I am not scared of labor. Scared of laboring in vain, yes.

Going to visit one farm a week to ask them questions on their model, problems, and solutions they found. Going to fill my pantry and freezer with garden produce. Going to build a pig pen. Keep my feet moving, I guess.

Just hope I'm going in the right direction.

Reworking water drops

I feel like I was running as fast as I could for so long, beyond the point of exhaustion into muscle memory, heart pumping, legs twitching, muscles aching and then I smashed into a brick wall, like a raindrop hitting a hard surface, transforming from one droplet of water into hundreds. Resting in a hundred little droplets, dazed, I'm slowly reabsorbing, picking up different debris along the way as I gather into a completely different drop of water.

This weight of stress is off of me now. I sleep a lot. I meander most days, not sure what to do with myself. Half-assed looking for jobs. Not sure what industry to pursue let alone where and why. My computer is helping by not loading craigslist. Sigh.

So now I'm off to shower, refocus, and head out to my third night at my new job. A new craft is to be learned, honed, and perfected. I still feel the sting of the last job like a fresh wound, which soon will heal, but in the meantime it's nice to be busy.

Always and never

Sometimes when you find the most wonderful people in your life, it's hard to let them go.

Not sure why the knife is twisting right now, but just experiencing loss after loss today.

I don't understand finality. Or perhaps I understand but don't like the concept. I imagine no one likes being told what to do. And my parents told me to avoid using the word always and never eg I never want to have kids.
Seems like life is a lot more fluid then that.

So breakup are hard. Leaving a job is hard. Losing a friend is hard.

I guess today is a new day. Let's see what happens.

The end of a chapter

Today I lost my job. 

There's something terribly disheartening about losing something I put so much of myself into. I guess I should have seen it coming when they wanted to rip up my strawberry patch leading up to the front door. Or when they stopped talking to me months ago. I kept trying to figure different things out but wouldn't get a response. 

I am sad for all the customers I collected that I will no longer see. I will miss my staff I carefully groomed. I liked being outside in the vines tending the crop and then coming in and working on the wine and serving and playing with food and chocolate pairings. I liked building events up until they became giant behemoths of creative minds and ideas all with wine glasses in hand. I liked putting out Tuesday night recipe ideas like grilled peaches and chicken that went well with certain wines, getting people excited about 4 ingredient cooking over an open flame. 

I am devastated. 

I don't know where to go from here. 

Last night I dreamed of a tornado. I was driving in a city, working with this local shop for some idea I had or consultation when I finished and got in my car, turned on the radio and got the news too late to head towards the basement. The tornado was coming right at me, like it was walking up the street. I ran into a building and tried to get to the stairs when all the windows shattered and I was consumed in black fury and white light. I remember thinking I should be terrified but I wasn't. I was just tired and sick of running. 

And then I woke up

Side effects may include...

I avoid medicine. Medical procedures. Medical establishments, workers, topics, all of it. I run. I don't have a doctor. Unless you count the stat care doctor. I don't imagine that counts but I convince myself it does.
So when all my hobbies involve rusty metal and dirt and my tetnus shot was 11 years old when a vineyard razor blade went into my hand, I started thinking about getting a tetnus shot.

"Started thinking" is not an understament. It took 6 months for the process to sink in.  The wound healed. My jaw didn't lock up and progress into a terrible back breaking convulsion so I figured I was fine.
Until bro-captain-medschool came home and told me I could die every time I picked up a rusty something or other or put my  hands to the dirt. Believe me, three loads of scrap metal and there are a ton of rusty spring thingies around that made cat scratches all up and down my arms.

So ok. Predicament. I have an involuntary, irrational aversion to all things medical. No idea why or where and if I could talk myself out of it of course I would. Like I enjoy collapsing or crying hysterically while some poor nurse takes my blood pressure. Stitches required straight jackets for young jane and as I got older I got more talkative in convincing my way out of med procedures.

Novicane does not work on my clan. Always a fun time in the dentist chair when they think you're full of shit, screaming because the horses dose they injected you with isn't doing anything. Trust gets shot pretty quick.
But I know I need this shot, no insurance means I'm going to the clinic and that means I avoids having homeless people look down on me as I shake and sob over a needle.

There was a pregnant woman in the card aisle. I thought damn, if only I could be they brave as having an impending surgical medicinal date growing inside me.

I told myself it was just a beer run. With an extra stop.

I did the best I ever had. No fainting. No crying. Just a little meditation and imagining my emotions as a garden hose that I could shut off.

Worked for me

Got the shot. No crying. Promptly wen home and started going through wicked side effects. Nausea and headaches and my left arm going numb and feeling terrible.

It's been a couple days. My arm still feels like I sat on it and the prickly numbness  is there. I remember my last tetnus shot hurting worse than the sawblade to the thumb injury that merited it. The doctor told me she wouldn't remove the sawblade until after I got the shot and still I sat there and thought about it for awhile. I eventually got it in the opposite arm and saw splinter pulled out of the other thumb. Then I got on my bike and while riding home, ended up curling the tetnus shot up and having to ride with one bandaged hand and a throbbing, punching pain.

So I'm wondering what comes first, the fear or the side effects. And if these drugs really are being rejected by my body or my mind.
And I hope I can feel my left hand again soon. Maybe it's time to get a real doctor instead of these bandaid treatments in emergency mode.

Sandor Kraut

I hate socks. The first thing I do when I get home from a long day on my feet is plop down and promptly remove my shoes and socks. That's the sign of relaxation for me. Feet are overused and under appreciated. The minute the cool night air hits them and starts to evaporate the sweat, that's when the good part of the day starts.
Crack a beer. Remove socks. Sit down. And take a deep breath.
So that's the point in my night now. The socks are off. Tonight I enjoy a birthday beer, a nice rye IPA while the rain pours off the now gutter less roof in buckets. I enjoy my newly super cleaned tiny living quarters. The broom still looms close to the couch as a warning to the dust bunnies as I find myself cleaning more frequently and thoroughly as my domesile shrank.  (Perhaps I don't want that huge house in the hills?)

I have a 6am departure time for Asheville tomorrow morning.  It's well past midnight and the coffee from a long night of prepping for "vacation" along with a new release party had me running like a mad woman.
But now the socks are off.

I can't wait to go visit my uncle in the mountains and see a new city. The anticipation of even hearng the cadence of Sandor Katz is invigorating , as though the books I have clung to are now getting voices of their own.
 I find a very primal lust for learning at the core of myself. I can even watch some master at something I am not interested in, but in mastering an art, I become in awe and want to pry apart and examine what makes someone so and all the delicate intricacies of it.
I have a day of riding ahead of me tomorrow. And I should get some sleep. But as I stretch my toes and ponder articulation, I can't close my eyes. There's too much excitement in the air.

Alcohol withdrawal

Alcohol has become integrated with my life in a pretty significant way. It's in my family time with my sister. It's at my apartment with my boyfriend when I get home. It's on the bar and in the tanks at work. I think yoga is the only place that it is not at least present. So when an opportunity came up to get it out of my life for 21 days, I jumped at the chance.

I love bets. Especially when the stakes are high and the odds are against me.

Last Wednesday was no tv day so Jason and I were sitting on the couch splitting a 6 pack of good beer after he finished off the 12 pack of shitty beers and my friend sent me an update- "21 days sober!"
Jason proclaimed that was easy. But seeing as how he drinks more days than he does not, I said not so easy that he could do it. The slightly intoxicated retort I got back was that I couldn't do it between whiskey video game night, beer drinking music making, football, and my wine tasting job.
I love a challenge and seeing as how that same night he bet that I couldn't make hummus with an immersion blender, a bet I indeed won handily but might have just got tricked into making hummus, I  delighted in the challenge
21 days no alcohol? Done.
I bet I would last longer than he would, a bet that I didn't want to wager our normal 6 pack of good beer or even a case. Seeing as how he was pretty mad for my accepting a free trip to Florida with a friend when we never take vacations, I set my sights on a plane ticket to see my best friend in Oregon. Seeing as how his best friend is in Oregon as well and we have never carved out the time or money to visit them, seemed like a wager that everyone would win. Well, everyone except the person paying for two plane tickets.

So day 7 is upon me without a drop of alcohol. My kitchen floor is scrubbed and my tiny apt seems much bigger without the army of dead soldiers on every surface. I took the recycling out and haven't filled up that corner of kitchen yet with the usual bottles and cans. Just one Gatorade bottle and some cardboard from pizza boxes.
The first few days were easy. I started waking up without a weird taste in my mouth. I drank tons of water and only had a twinge of regret when the filter was finished and I didn't get to taste our field blend red from 2013. I tried it last week. It is very good. My boss bottled it up and looked at me shocked when I turned down the sample and then immediately stared at my stomach looking for a baby bump. I told him about the bet and he still looked puzzled.

The hardest day was day 5. I would consider myself a moderate drinker, about 3 drinks in a day. I guess they call anything over one for a woman binge drinking. So I'm not sure exactly what I was going through on day 5 when I had the most splitting headache and slept for 14 hours. Felt like a gas leak or seasonal allergies. My head was pressurized and moving my eyes hurt.
I'm just going to say it was that brutal -15 degree cold that hit me. The dogs would pee really fast and we would both run back inside before they got frostbite on their paws. The wind whipped straight through the building and even with the baseboard heaters on high, I was still in a hat and coat with 4 blankets and quilts. The pipes froze for the drain and the hot water. I cooked a ham in my gas oven all day just to stave off the cold.

So I have two more weeks left. Lets see if I maintain this amount of elation for this exercise in self study. I like things that push me to think about different aspect of my life or to question why I do things. And right now I feel good. I do miss the calming effect of beer, but I have beefed up my arsenal of herbal teas and am trying new blends everyday. And this shows me that I could go nine months without neeeeding to drink when that time comes. I just won't hang out with my sister except for yoga.

I have a pit bull in my lap that's needy as a dog can be. I am recording every dollar I spend to really get serious about saving and tracking my spending  patterns. And I'm still house shopping, checking out what neighborhoods look the best and trying to find where I belong. With no beer but some damn good tea so far 2014 is cold, but off to an exciting start

Wouldn't it be nice

I miss having friends that don't just want to sleep with me.