Desiree

My mother died this morning in her sleep.  I cannot say I grieve her because she was such a distant presence already.  You can call this cold, but then you haven't been keeping up.

Last year I realized the way the world was, I didn't stand a fairy fart's chance in a traffic jam. I cannot escape the street and pain on my own. 

My teeth are shot, it's getting scary and I can't even just have them pulled.  How I am coping is lots of teatree oil.

That's one.

The housing sitch.  I could find housing under 500k that I can accept.  Less?  No.  the whole business about being around 100k or so in debt won't help either. 

Now back to last year and I remembered that I predicted today, way back in my youth.  I noted and knew the age of her and the age of me and it is indeed now. Which is fucking chilling really.  She also went as I said, stroke in the night.

Whew. 

So I siezed upon the idea, maybe her estate isn't depleted.  Even if it's just her house, I bet she would NEVER do an equity loan.  Mom's way too stingy that way.  Canny with money too. So she's always crying poverty and that she's going into debt and will be worthless at the end.

House will sell for at least a million, maybe more depending in this housing market.  It's a lovely little house well kept. 

Half that would rescue me.

My brother is unlikely to be involved. He is doing really well for himself and been disconnected since 1981 from us all. I suppose carola will contact him, he's got a damn billboard. HEHEHEH

So yeah, I figure with her massive family of descendants and most living on the blue collar edge, she has plenty of motivation, outside of her own needs, to want the whole thing.

So while I do grieve the family that wasn't, I more fear the family that is. Did I get included in the first place and if so, is the executor a trustable person?  None of this is known to me.

I sit there on this weird precipice of despair and relief, just hanging like a sword over King Damocles.  I still don't think anyone lives in the little read float house, but if I could still get it I cannot say.  It's often they take a thing off for a few months as "sold" just to warm it up.

I could maybe still get it.  It was such a perfect everything.

I can't get past feeling like I'm walking past home every time I go through that area.  Seriously feels like where I belong and what it takes for me to heal and get launched.  I still feel like there's big things waiting for me here.

But you know, 100k or so debt and homeless and hiding from the CRA isn't much of a leg to stand on.

I was trying to explain it to the employment counselor that working as an intern, apprentice, or just volunteering, to get experience and contacts and such, was a valid focus.

Could you imagine if halfway through that I'm suddenly able to take real employment while also not being on welfare and also having a fucking cool as hell house? With a small Relic style jetboat or similar so I can pop over to downtown or false creek or even up the fraser.  Betcha traffic is lighter that way.  anyway, it's all daydreams that sustained me all winter and now, as winter sneaks up, they are back.

I started repainting my winter wheels. They're just steel and they've gotten way too rusty.  I like the work.  It makes me feel more real. More respectable. I mean, maybe I'll work for the body shop. It's right next door.  I've been out here demonstrating abilities, I guess, LOL  I hope the welder isn't fucked by the moisture. That's the part of this bus that's got me the most distressed, all the corrosion and mold getting to everything, even my sweet smart car.  I mean, I can't fix her windshield frame because lifting and replacing the window is past me. But the grinding and an epoxy patch is in my abilities.  Modern epoxies are a godsend for small repairs. You used to have to weld it.  I can only weld the simple stuff.  Steel.  Maybe copper but?  I should experiment with some of this salvaged aluminum to see if it's just a case of lowering the voltage.... 

So yeah, I am also making cotton pants from weaving.  My first pair are looking a bit raggedy but still splendid at 10yrs but it seems time to  make another.  The other cotton is a bit too flamboyant and has fit issues besides.  See, if I could unfold my cutting table, laying things out would be easier. Also, I should make a set of legs for myself.

Ok, talking about the hope helped. 

But yeah, questions.  Is there an estate?  If so, am I willed anything?  If so, is the executor a disinterested third party willing to follow the law?

How long will it take?

How will they get ahold of me? Do they know how? 

Will my sister be honest with me?  Like is the price of fraud too high, or is she unable to get clever?

Sister is a paralegal accountant. this is her professional zone and she is very well experienced.  Now perhaps she rose beyond this level and forgot things. Or it was so far distant from this specifically as to make her amatuer. I dunno but it's money and law, see? 

I have a card of a charity lawyer and I think he will find me extremely interesting. 

I mean, if there's a million bucks possibly coming at me, I am extremely interesting.  LOL  I mean, to my mind, maybe she had the house paid and a million still socked away. She used to say repeatedly that she could live on the interest from a million dollars.  So that's 2 mil from house and savings and 2 siblings.  that does not necessarily follow 50/50 of course.  there's also grandkids andgreat grandkids and I have to simply wait and see what comes.  anyway, my wish was for 750k and that's still my target.  I need no more. That covers my immediate rescue and at least five years living frugally. From there I have so much confidence I can break into IATSE and theatre.  Plus with the hernia and teeth repaired and the crises handled, the idea of adding more volunteer theatres or other art stuff gets feasible. I think I could find it in me  to 4 out of 7 days to be honest, 6hour days anway, no breaks.  If it wasn't arduous work.  I've built up a lot of stamina.

So it's where I"m at this year. Less miserable than when the house sold during august, the very damn month I heard whispered at me in my fever dream. Feckin' 'ell.

I can't and haven't been able to shake the thought that it was bought by my sister or mother, though. Never could from as soon as I saw it sold and I was for a long time cagey about it in fear of just that. Like I do not want to rent it from you, I want it to be mine. Mine. My autonomous little raft kingdom. 

I would say moveable but these days that's getting tricky.  I would need to spend too much for the modest budget I've been seeing in my head. I'd have to make it off grid and buy a boat that could tow it safely and legally and then go back and forth from the floating house as if I lived on a fucking acreage and I want to walk up the road to the grocery store with my little wagon and pick out some fruit and stop for coffee and maybe play the flute on lonsdale. 

I know my life dream, it's modest and it's real and it's here, not in some mooring out on the river or the islands. I want a life where the car spends no more time driving than it has been.

New batteries in the bus and get its problems fixed or if I move out to the house right away, sell it to a boat yard for the excellent engine which is most excellent. 

Fix my teeth crowns or titanium posts.

Float house with modern boat legal for local transit.

Vet attention for everyone including freddy's nails and he gets a bigger cage.

Get the car back up to perfect, it's not far off.

pay the debts

Get nipples tattooed, maybe a whole chest piece of windmills instead? I do love the idea and may have the perfect print.

Ohhh, I could finally replace my worn out klompen!

find a way to have a public gallery display of my things as if I too am an excellent and professional artist too.

I mean, I'm worse than some crafters, better than lots of artists, and cover more skills than anyone I know.  Anyone.  I know there's folks in history like this, but fuckin eh, it's normal enough to me but i literally cannot list it all at any one time. I think I sent it to the counsellor and she was telling me she's never seen anyone with a broader skillset. 

so anyway, I do indeed have a ton to offer and the desire to do so, and this time the girly bullshit won't be underfoot hampering me at every turn. I migth even learn to stfu about the trans stuff, LOL  Ways around mentioning might become more natural.  or I might make connections with the queer community.  

Being destitute and homeless hampers that, you know. Nobody wants to touch it with a ten foot pole and I don't blame them. Those who would, I wouldn't trust!   Only an employer relationship could work in this instance.   And they'd have to submit payroll. and the CRA would take it from there. And so I would be working volunteer anyway.

With all the above settled and me a real human again, I could walk in with my head up being me, offering my skills, showing my abilities, earning a place. Like I've been doing all year from the theatre here. I won that trophy, I did.  I wonder if I'd have a home in time to put the trophy up at all before the AGM? Heh I returned it because I was afraid of getting towed or even just the moisture/hot/cold cycles here damaging it. Not without adding a little gold to it.  It lacked any gold.  I did a very little, tastefully.  Not gauche, just a gracing. 

I"ve been practicing kind speech about my mother. I promised if she got me that house, I would speak well of her, put up her portrait, etc.  And I still mean it. So for now, I'm just going ahead and editing myself. The time for bitching is past. 

As long as she lived, it felt like she might hear it and feel shame. So it felt righteous and pointed.  But to a ghost it's pointless. A ghost is just a person bereft of all there is. She's going to stick around till I'm settled, then I can help her cross over. 

She is here. Ok, signing off to examine this.