Monday 25 July 2016

Divorce: a Waste Audit 4 - Biscuit Knows the Way Home


Fisher Price work horse c.1972, love note, "Jerry" shoelace



Biscuit knows the way home; we're almost there.

My sister had the school, the castle and a farm set. The farmer and the tractor still exist, but poor Biscuit has had the bun.

I'm now almost entirely moved from the "old house" to the "new house". Where will the drop be? The switcheroo, the transfer, the relinquishing or reassuming of parenting duties - I'm not yet sure what we're calling it.

When my son was an infant there were two recurring fantasies I occasionally indulged in: the first was that I would have an accident - just a little accident - just a night or two in hospital, to rest. Someone taking care of me.

The second - and more frequent - was that my husband would leave me. Not that I wanted him to - not at all, not even a bit - but I knew that way I'd at least get a break. But I wasn't complaining - I knew he was doing his best and overall he was an excellent husband: beyond-smart, kooky and loyal. He took good care of us in his own above average way, and I was proud to call him my husband. The fantasy always concluded with us back together again, anyway, so I figured it was harmless.

I truly believed, and still do, that any two people can learn to get along, if they want to. How it wasn't possible for us, though I believe we both wanted to, is still a mystery I am trying to sort out. But it's less important, the "why", as the "How Now, Brown Cow?"

There's a lot to work out.

50-50 parenting sucks. Being away from my kids sucks. I miss their voices in the house. I miss stolen moments of connection, always knowing their whereabouts, and their inspiration.

Scheduling drop-offs and pick-ups sucks. Formal emails suck. Lawyers fees suck especially suckish suck suck suck when it all could have been so much different.

Scheduling after-school stuff and doctors' appointments around a stupid, clumsy emaily form scheduler thingy thing sucks, and not being at every appointment sucks, too.


The several hours' thaw we go through every time the kids and I are reunited: the cold shoulder, disconnection and pain in various combinations each time, and for varying lengths of time - hours or days, depending. That sucks the most.

Other than that, everything else is OK. Biscuit is plodding along, taking me where I should be. Good people are riding with me - some closer than others, or coming in and out of view, but everybody wishing me well, and that helps a whole lot.

Meanwhile, it's my last night in this house, alone before the show, so I'd better get to work or I'll be up for the dawn. See you there, I hope: the Big Good-bye. It'll be fun.

July 28, 29, 30 

Divorce: a Waste Audit - a fond farewell to 20 years of marriage and a Kitsilano old-timer, through nine months of waste

3642 W.10th Ave
Vancouver, BC
V6R 2G3
(six more days 'til I give up the keys)

4-9 PM
Admission by donation to the Foundation for Prader-Willi Research
20 Years, Recycled - used birthday candles, paraffin wax seal, Ikea mirror c.1999, dead spider, eggs

Divorce: a Waste Audit 1 - the New Owner Wants to See the Property
Divorce: a Waste Audit 2 - Garage
Divorce: a Waste Audit 3 - the Show
To the New Owner: Knobs, Garden, Garage

Saturday 2 July 2016

Divorce: a Waste Audit 3 - the Art Show

Division of Assets - broken crayons, chicken pot pie packaging
From the chaos of divorce, Master Recycler Leah Price creates intelligent, offbeat art from the unwanted, unloved, discarded trash of life; a good-bye to 3642 West Tenth Avenue and hello to unlimited possibilities.

Thursday, July 28 
Friday, July 29
Saturday July 30

4-9 PM

3642 West Tenth Avenue

Vancouver, BC

Refreshments will be served

Thought-provoking pieces made entirely from the waste created by one family over six months, during a relentless and slow implosion.
Not Sorry - discontinued medication, excess crayons, broken shoebox

Friday 1 July 2016

Divorce: a Waste Audit 2 - Garage


Hello,

I have an old garage that is being removed to make room for something to keep a car in. It was built somewhere between 1929 and 1960. It is unpainted on the inside, with ancient, flaking, yellow and brown paint on the other. The roof is rotting, but the siding and wood floor are still good. I'll be keeping the door, window and some of the siding - possibly the whole North facade.

Is the wood something you or anyone else might be interested in having? It would have to be removed before the end of July.

Sincerely,

Leah Price


Sadly, he's knocking the garage down right away. I can't blame him - he's right that it's not fit to park a car in. But it is an absolute thing of beauty: the graceful way it slowly crumbles to the earth. The look on his face when I told him this... was I joking or insane?



It took me years to realize it, but I even love the ferns growing out of the roof, the wooden floor the skunks live beneath and the cobwebs. I love the rain pouring in, the paint peeling off, the chunks of roof - thick with wet, soft moss - slowly rotting. The ancient, brittle string still dangling from bent nails in the walls - what used to grow here, on the shady side of the garage, long before the hydrangea? Clematis, perhaps.



For years my husband's uninsured car lived here, thick with dirt and paw prints. When talk of separation began, I started photographing the wonky little building - anticipating the day his car would be gone and mine would be parked in its place. That's how the story would end, I thought; my garage would go on, quietly rotting, until it fell down completely - I only hoped my car wouldn't be in it when it happened.



Part of the sale agreement was that, when the garage was demolished, I could take the "Beaumont" badge, put there two owners before me, the portion of wall behind it, and any plants that would have to go. Mr. Cheung has kindly offered me the whole garage, so I am trying now to find it a home.



A friend wants some siding for an artist friend of his, but so far no one else is interested. If you have use for any of the wood, please let me know - there's plenty to go around.



I signed a lease this week, so it's official: I have a place to live. There's a huge - I mean huge - sunny back yard with an existing, jumbled up veggie garden I'm dying to get my hands on. But there's no shady spot to relax. What if I moved the whole North facade of the old garage to use for this, wouldn't that be cool? The old strings climbing with clematis, and the big lace cap hydrangea - which will surely be removed in the demolition - in its usual place beside the door. The view from my new kitchen window - a little piece of home.



More likely, I'll take the window and the door - and one last picture. The end of the story: a pile of splintered wood where there was once a building, an empty space where there was once a view from the house that was once my home. It's time to go, old garage - I'll smile when I think of you.