Stardate 65317.5

Yes, I'm a Star Trek fan, get over it!....okay, wait. I'm not on of those fans, but I still love the shows, so....yes. Moving on.

Alright, not much really. I honestly have no news. I have finished with the insulation in the floor today. I hope to have a floor by this evening. Not much else. Really, really, really busy. Right now I feel like Captain Hook with the tick tock of the crocodile haunting my wake. There is a giant count down looming above me and I cannot escape it. My personal out-of-apartment deadline is Thursday, as in the day after tomorrow. I don't think I will make it, but once the floor is down I become a moving machine. I promise to have pictures and a detailed how-to post on my van renovations thus far. Give me till next week and you won't be disappointed.

Speaking of disappointment, I might add that I may have to sit out of school next semester due to financial difficulties. At first this really saddened me because I was going to present my thesis and graduate, but now I am thinking of all the wonderful possibilities. Looking for that silver lining is a wonderful skill. Develop it. Use it.

More later. Keep warm or keep cool, depending on your location. (It is hot here today.) Best of luck with your adventures. Ciao.

Going Pooless.

I have decided to go Pooless......This is what my roommate, Em, said to me the other day. Now, if you have a mind like mine, the mind of a disgusting eight year old boy, then you probably took the word "poo" and changed it into "poop." That's me, an 8 year old boy, trapped in a 23 year old female body; a fascinating combination between Peter Pan and Jane Eyre. The result is hardly as romantic as it sounds. I'm just clumsy. Back on topic.

To put your minds at ease, Em did not mean poop, but rather shampoo. The No Poo movement has been going on for some time and I have decided to hop on board. The person who really introduced this concept to both me and Em was our friend Kay. She has some of the curliest, most beautiful hair I have ever seen. So naturally I wanted to follow her lead, though my hair is board straight. I figured it was worth a try.

I don't do a lot to my hair. I don't blow dry it, straighten it, curl it, or put any kind of daily product in it. I just wash it about twice a week and brush it. My hair is approximately 35" long and very easy to take care of. This is not a big switch for me, but it is for Kay and Em. So I have done my research and looked into shampoo alternatives.

The first step is to stop washing your hair as much. If you are like me and you only wash your hair twice a week, or even just once a week in the winter, then you are probably fine. If you wash your hair everyday with harsh commercial detergents you could start by diluting your shampoo and opting to rinse daily rather than wash.

The goal is to rinse dirt and sweat out of your hair and allow your hair to balance its own oils. This may take some time. Em's scalp releases lots of oils in response to daily washes that strip the oils from her hair. She is going through a transition period where her hair is a little bit oilier than normal, but she is just letting it sit. After a while, her scalp will stop producing the extra oils and everything will balance out. Remember that oils help keep your hair shiny, protected, thick, and constantly growing. Dry hair falls out and stops growing. I am not really experiencing problems with oils, but then again, this is not a huge transition for me.

The next step for me was to experiment with shampoo and conditioner replacements. Em and I did a little bit of research and found some simple recipes that work.

Shampoo - 1c water to 1tbs baking soda. The more baking soda, the higher the oil stripping properties. I used only one tbs of baking soda and found that it worked just fine for my hair. I made a tincture of lemongrass and chamomile and mixed a little bit into the shampoo. I also used a few drops of tea tree oil. To use the shampoo wet your hair with warm water. Make sure your hair is wet through. Take the shampoo (I use a squirty bottle) and apply it directly to your scalp. Allow it to sit for a few minutes and then begin to massage your scalp. The key is to clean your scalp. The impurities in the rest of your hair will rinse out. I try to let it sit for 3 minutes and massage for 2. Some sites recommend a full 15 minutes, but I find that 5 minutes is more than sufficient. Gently rinse and and follow with a conditioner.

Conditioner - 1 part apple cider vinegar to 3 parts water. I actually did 1 part vinegar, two parts water. My hair is long, so the ends need a little more help sometimes. This time I made a tincture with rosemary and lavender and mixed it in. After washing hair with shampoo, massage the conditioner solution into the ends of the hair. For me, this is the last two feet of my hair. If your hair is shorter, there won't be quite as much to condition. In some cases there is no reason to condition at all. Your hair will restore a natural conditioned balance to your hair in a matter of hours if it is only a few inches long. Gently massage the conditioner in for approximately 2 to 3 minutes and rinse with warm water. I also like to follow with a cold water rinse on my scalp to combat hair loss and promote shine.

I have found that this combination works beautifully. My hair is shiny, soft, clean, and it smells really good. I am looking into a leave in conditioner for the last three inches of my hair, but this is not necessary unless you have really long hair. I would also like to look into environment friendly hair washing methods and ingredients for camping. In the past I have used cornmeal while camping, but nothing feels quite as good as a water wash on the scalp. More pictures and recipes to come.

I promise to post more on the van and the garage sale, but this is the last week before eviction so things are crazy. More posts about the van next week.

Communion with the Energizer Bunny

This weekend was tough. Things did not go exactly according to plan. Last Thursday my roommate and I walked out of the house to go to church like the good girls we are. When I tried to start my van absolutely nothing happened. I'm not kidding. Nothing. No sound, no cough, nada. Okay, the battery was dead. No big deal. I would just get a jump after church. So we went to service in the roommate's car and then a friend followed us home and gave me a jump. That was a fiasco in itself. I had never had to give Mr. Miyagi a jump before. It was an unusual experience getting the cars lined up the right way. I fell and bruised my left knee quite badly attempting to push Mr. Miyagi into position.

So we finally got the vehicles in a configuration that worked (my battery is located under the floor behind the driver seat). She gave me a jump, the van started. We let it charge for a while and then unhooked the cables. I tried to start it again, just to be sure. Nothing. Nada. By this time it was too dark and too late at night to really do anything, so it all had to wait until Saturday morning at which time I unhooked the battery and took it to an auto part store where it was tested and confirmed irreversibly dead. Okay, so I just bought a new one and put it on.

I am making light of this whole taking off and putting on of the battery, but it was my first time to ever attempt such a feat. It was really quite an adventure. Don't laugh. I am learning as I go. Stop laughing. You know who you are and I know who you are. So with a good deal of effort and some help from my trusty sidekick *grin* the battery replacement was accomplished and construction could go forward, or at least it would have if the power saw had arrived on time. As it was, not construction was accomplished on Saturday as planned. Still, it was a job well done.

Now please send prayers that it actually was just an old useless battery and not a bad alternator draining it lifeless. We shall see.

Meeting Mr. Miyagi

This is an entry from my journal on the day that I got my beautiful van.

September 19, 2011

Today I got a van. I have been scouring Craigslist.com for more than a month, checking and following up on leads 2 to 3 times a day. It has been quite a feat. I have researched minivans with great gas mileage and only 4 cylinders. I manufactured this massive shopping guide for me, my Mom, and my Dad. I cross referenced my guide and research lists with classifieds in (omit names of various urban communities). It has been exhausting. When I first saw it, I knew that it was for me. It has character. It is a classic. My van is a 1985 Toyota van wagon. Faded brown paint, rusty red interior, dusty, old, and absolutely beautiful. She is freedom for me, freedom on wheels. Or maybe it is a he. I shall have to see when I finally shake hands with my new home. Either way, I knew this was the one. I don’t believe in love at first sight, but I do believe in intuition and mine has never failed me. I knew this was mine. I knew it. You couldn’t argue with me. Even my logical brain that told me to not get attached, to keep my options open didn’t make sense. My gut feeling was quite strong.
I sent the email out immediately. I wanted to see the van and the owner could not possibly deny me. She was located in (omit name of urban area). If you have never shopped on Craigslist in (omit), you should know that it moves fast. You find a posting for a decent car and two hours later it has already been sold. The masses scour this site and drop everything to act immediately on a good deal. So when I did not hear back from the owner for a week, I had to come to terms with the fact that she had sold it and had not yet removed the ad. It just didn’t feel right. Every time I would go back to look for good minivans, I would stop by the ad, dreading the day when the owner would finally delete it. When I could no longer gaze longingly on the pictures of its faded caramel beauty. It couldn’t be true. It just had to be mine. And then we got the email. I dispatched my father immediately, as he lives in same area, and I live in (omit). Armed with a $350 down payment because it was Sunday and he couldn’t get the full price of the van from an ATM, my father went down to look at the van. I waited all day for the prognosis. He certainly took his time with it. It was just like waiting for Christmas morning. He took in its dinged up and faded exterior, he examined the clean but worn interior. Then he started up the engine, it rumbled begrudgingly in the way that old cars do, and then settled into an exquisite purr that my father described as the song of a reliable vehicle. He took her around the block, he took her on the highway. The gears shifted, not quite like silk or butter, but with the ease of years of practice. He looked under the hood, under the driver’s seat (because that’s where the engine happens to be located), and under the floor boards (the battery). Everything was in order. Normally he would argue the price down a few hundred dollars, but he happily promised to pay the full $1000 for 1985 Toyota in excellent condition. I think, perhaps, that he fell in love with it as well. But it doesn’t matter, she is mine, or maybe he. When I got the news I was in Walgreens, buying some drinks to complement the pizza my roommate had purchased us for lunch. I squealed. My father had to pull the phone from his ear. People all over Walgreens stopped and stared at me. I paid for my drinks and ran outside. My roommate, who very sweetly had been waiting with baited breath alongside me all morning, knew immediately what I meant when I pointed to the phone and started jumping up and down. She got out of the car and we did that thing where you cross your arms and spin around in circles. Right there in the parking lot, right there in the rain. I did a happy dance. A very happy dance, comparable to the time I won $900 at a casino with just one bet at a slot machine. I probably looked like an epileptic chicken, but I don’t care. The news was too good to stand still and risk spontaneous internal combustion.
My father returned this morning with the remaining cash and my baby brother in tow. By baby I mean 20 years old and going into the army this winter. They dropped off the cash and picked up my new home. I happened to call my father, not really so much by accident since I have been calling every 20 minutes since yesterday, just as he was starting up. The starting cough, grumble, and hum was like music to my ears over hundreds of miles of cellphone air space. I shall not see my van for two weeks when I drive my poor dying little Hyundai to (omit) to leave behind and pick it up. My father has sent the pictures, the sweet dear. I am afraid I shall be bugging my little brother daily for new pictures. Poor boy, he will oblige me, my sweet brother. Anyway, I have a van. I have a home. Soon I shall have my freedom, mounted on axles and wheels. I cannot wait.

So there it is. I have since met my van and determined that it is a he. I named him Mr. Miyagi and drove him home. He has been with me for two weeks now and I could not be happier.

The Rundown

Hello. My name is Momo, or at least that is one of my nicknames and it is the name I am putting here. Sorry, privacy online is kind of a big deal. Let’s see. I am 23 years old, I am female, and I am a college student. When I can get my hands on a job it is usually temporary or contract work, so no official job title as yet, though I have aspirations to teach and write.

So here is the story. When I was a kid, smaller kid than I am right now, my family moved around from place to place. My mother is something of a gypsy. I loved the life, the never living in one place for too long. Then I grew up (by grow up I mean taller) and went away to college. I have lived in the same town for five years now and I am practically itching to get a move on again. In five years I have lived in three apartments. My lease ends soon and I have decided to make my home on the road. I used to drive a tiny two door Hyundai, but my mechanic told me the engine had to be rebuilt or replaced, which would have cost more than buying a new car. So, I scraped together some cash, thanks Mom and Dad, and bought a brand new (new to me) minivan. I am trying desperately to finish the inside of it with insulation, floor, walls, and ceiling, organize a massive garage sale, and move out of my apartment by November 1^st. It is a race to the deadline. I am also completely booked up for the final weekend in October, so the next two weekends are it.

Here is the schedule:

This Week:
Clean out storage
Gather all garage sale stuff in one place in the house
Clean my closet
Borrow power saw
Purchase frame and rib materials

This weekend:
Put in the frame and ribs
Wash and organize all garage sale materials
Call to borrow racks and tables for the garage sale
Print and hang flyers for the garage sale

Next Week:
Price all garage sale stuff
Organize and begin packing my stuff
Select storage building and start paper work
Price and begin purchasing insulation materials

Next Weekend:
Garage Sale!!!
Install insulation, walls, floor, and ceiling

Final Week before Eviction:
Get storage room
Move into storage room
Move into van with the cat
Help my roommate move into her new apartment
Clean out the apartment
Turn off utilities
Find a cat sitter for the weekend

Final Weekend:
Party!!!!!

Okay, that is all. Hopefully I can incorporate some costumes and midterm preparation in there somewhere. Crazy and way too fast paced I know, but fun. When I know something is right for me I don’t wait, I just push ahead until I get it. There is a slim chance that I have an extra month, which would be awesome, but the chances are slim. Wish me luck.

Farewells and Fresh Beginnings

"What spirit is so empty and blind, that it cannot recognize the fact that the foot is more noble than the shoe, and skin more beautiful than the garment with which it is clothed?" Michelangelo

These words comfort me now in a time of great personal need. The time has come to say farewell to a beloved pair of shoes. Don't get me wrong. I am not a shoe fanatic. I own four pair; one summer, one winter, one dressy black, one dressy brown. That's it. Those are all I require. They last me a long time. I buy nice shoes and I take care of them. As a result, I have become quite attached. My mom says I was like this as a little girl. I remember owning a pair of purple, green, and orange plaid slippers and wearing them until my toes stuck out the front. They moved to Africa one day while I was at a neighbor's house. I was, of course devastated, but I was comforted by the fact that my angel costume and burger king crown would be there to keep them company.

Now it is time to say farewell to faithful old companions. Their smooth clay red leather worn and stained, the soles warped and riddle with holes, the cork blackened and smooth from use. They are indeed beautiful. I shall miss my summer shoes, but I look forward to new acquaintances. I no longer believe that all shoes go to Africa. They go in the trash, but I haven't the heart. These shall receive a proper burial after five years of devoted service. I embrace the nobility of the flesh rather than that of the shoe.

It seems an odd way to begin a story, a farewell to shoes; but it is appropriate somehow. The loss of old shoes necessitates the acquisition of new shoes. The transition is uncomfortable and awkward, but the slate is clean and someday I can look down at my new shoes and see miles written lovingly into their soles.

Test Blog

Don't judge me. I've never had a blog before. So here they come, the dreaded words; testing, testing, 1, 2, 3.