Tag: troubles

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personal

Water, water, everywhere…

Fairly self-evident

I’d just settled down in front of my computer after being busy with nonsense all morning to actually get some work done when a tenant franticly called me.

She had water dripping down from her ceiling at a fairly fast clip so I ran upstairs to see what the matter was.

That was the start of another two-day odyssey with water, plumbers, and workmen.

We needed to get into the apartment above her, but I had the keys to that. Or so I thought. It turns out that the owner either changed one of the locks or keys and I only had one of the three locks on the door.

Damn mortise lock again.

The start of the damage above the initial apartment. It got *much* worse – see the video below.

The unit owner was in Asia though and it was 3AM there. But this was an emergency.

Her: What do you mean, you don’t have the key?
Me: I feel that that’s fairly self-evident. I don’t have the keys.
Her: I gave you them. I rely on you to keep them for me.
Me: Yes, and I have the keys you gave me. They don’t work on the lock. Again, I don’t have the keys to your unit.

After a lotta back-and-forth, finally ran out to get a locksmith who got us in some two hours later.

But that was just getting into the apartment above.

The next step was getting a plumber in post 5PM and the same day.

That was another adventure, and he finally got to us after 7PM.

I’d already shut off water to the building but, by that time, a ton of water had already pooled.

The plumber found out that, just like my own kitchen sink, the pipe had snapped off in the unit two floors above the initial apartment.

The unit sandwiched between the two units – the unit right above the initial unit which I couldn’t gain entry to – was absolutely wrecked.

Spoke to the owner – still in Asia – who was grateful that I got to it when I did.

Still, I feel that, once she gets back, she’ll be unprepared for the amount of work that the unit will need to get clean and safe again.

As for me, I finally got to sit down and get to my own work the next day.

I could use a lot less excitement in my life, TBH.

Just a tiny bit of the damage that the broken pipe wrought.

Location: a playground with the kid, desperately trying to get work done
Mood: (trying to get) busy
Music: don’t wanna see behind your walls. You build them up so tall (Spotify)
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Accidents, sciatica, herniated discs, and bird poop

Feet not toes

Her: Do you think you’re perfect, Logan?!
Me: Nah – I know I have a ton of flaws.
Her: I’m so glad you can admit when you’re wrong.
Me: Wait, no. I said I was flawed, very flawed, which I am. But I’m also usually right.
Her: (sighs, rolls eyes)

The Firecracker and I have had a pretty annoying string of luck lately.

About two or three months ago, I started doing something called Toes-To-Bar, which is pretty much exactly what it sounds like – you hang by your hands and bring your toes up to touch the bar.

It looks like this:

Except, I was doing it completely straight-legged.

Got up to as much as 15 of them before I ended up herniating a disc and it was either because of jits or, more likely, this exercise that led me to that injury.

Anywho, I let myself rest up over my cruise and came back feeling much better.

So much better that I did some toes-to-bar – just three.

Welp, that was a grave mistake.

Ended up not even being able to get outta bed the next morning.

Went to see the doc just in case it was something like cancer, though, because – with my luck – it’s not an impossibility.

Took 20 mins to get to the doc, who saw me and said, “You’re 51? And you spar and go to the gym five days a week with a herniated disc? Doesn’t sound like cancer, sounds like you have sciatica.”

The total exam took less than seven minutes.

In any case, never knew what that was and looked it up; sounded exactly like what I had.

Yay.

The Firecracker hasn’t been faring much better.

Her main mode of transportation around Manhattan is her trusty scooter – which died the other day.

So, she borrowed mine and promptly wiped out on it and had a whole bevy of minor and a-bit-more-than-minor-but-still-not-major, injuries.

To add insult to injury – pun intended – another pigeon promptly pooped on her injured arm.

Her: Cm’on!

I shouldn’t have laughed but I did.

And then a week later, a pigeon pooped on my head.

Me: This isn’t our best month.

Still, all things considered, it’s not all bad.

We’ll both probably be on our feet again – literally and figuratively – in the next few months.

The aftermath of the bird and her arm/wrist.

To be clear: Feet, not toes.

Me: What do you think about my doing toes-to-bar like this [with bent knees]?
Her: I think that’s a terrible idea, Logan.
Me: Thank you for your contribution.

Location: at home, doing my really boring PT and missing jits and kali
Mood: seven outta 10 pain so…grumpy
Music: where you go, that’s where I wanna be (Spotify)
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The most expensive grapefruit ever

It always pays to be prepared

Speaking of the law, I don’t often talk about the law (or martial arts) in this blog because it’s always supposed to be a personal blog, about my personal life.

But I’m always surprised how much my professional life/lives bleed into my personal one.

Case in point, the kid was punished for something he said he didn’t do.

So, I took time outta my day, gathered evidence, witnesses, etc, and appeared before the person accusing the kid of wrongdoing.

The issue happened at his school, not the gym, but I liked this shot of him doing his thing.

Was able to prove that he didn’t do what they accused him of, and he got an apology from an adult.

Him: But, Mr. Lo, I want to talk about your behaviour.
Me: (laughing) Wait, my behaviour?
Him: Yes. We had people there that said you were belligerent and abusive to my staff.
Me: Oh my! Well, good thing I have a recording of the entire episode – which I brought with me today. Here you go (hand him my phone).
Him: (takes my phone and then watches it) You recorded it?!
Me: (nodding) As you can see, I neither raised my voice a single time, nor did I attack your staff personally in any way with ad hominem attacks. I just told them they made a bad call, which we both agree is the truth.
Him: (after watching half) OK, I’ve seen enough. I’m glad you recorded it.
Me: Me too. I’ll send a copy to your email for your records.

And I did.

It always pays to be prepared, IMHO.

Unfortunately, you can’t prepare for everything.

OK, so one thing I read about my garbage disposal was to not put in very fibrous things – like woody stems and the like.

The other day, I had this HUUUUGE grapefruit and, without thinking, stuffed all the rinds and the interior skins down the disposal.

Ten minutes later, water came pouring outta my dishwasher.

Four days, one $80 brass elbow, one tube of plumber’s putty, two snakes, two bottles of drano, two general contractors, a professional plumber, and $1,100 later, I have a working sink again.

That was the most expensive goddamn grapefruit I’ve ever had in my life.

FTS.

I will say, though, that one good thing came out of this whole adventure, which is that the above is the pipe that leads into my wall.

You can see that it was so old – at least 40 years old – that the threads completely rusted off.

The plumber said it was wholly unrelated to the reason why he was there but that it was gonna snap off in the next year, what with alla the vibrations from the garbage disposal.

So, it was good he was there to catch it.

Oh, I bought a dashboard cam to record things as well.

Like I said, it pays to be prepared.

The people that shot the above video would agree with me, I think.

Location: in front of my disaster of a kitchen post plumber
Mood: poor
Music: I say hey, hey, hey, hey, F__ That S___ (Spotify)
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Travelogue: Bermuda 2024 Pt 2 – Dressing up, Teppanyaki, BRATTY, and the Beach

In Bermuda and my head

Finally emerged on day three still feeling pretty off but less like death warmed over so I ventured out with everyone to brekkie.

Him: Wow.
Me: What?
Him: I’ve never seen you eat so little before. And you never eat this much bread.
Me: Mommy told me that, when your stomach hurts, you have to eat BRATTY foods, which are Bread, Rice, Applesauce, Tea, Toast, and Yoghurt.

And that, my non-nauseated friends, is a list of alla the foods I’d been eating up to that point.

It’s good that I was feeling better because the Firecracker booked us all a table at teppanyaki for dinner, so we went to that.

The chef we got was a nice guy, and the food was delicious, but he was obviously still in training because he messed up the egg tricks three times.

Still, it was good, and the kids were entertained.

And I, for one, was certainly happy to have something other than bread and carbs.

Afterward, the Firecracker and I separated to do our own things.

Now, a guy was supposed to play the Rolling Stones at a bar that the Firecracker and I hit up earlier.

I didn’t have any tequila, mezcal, or anything beyond soda water so my bar experience was pretty different than it usually is.

The kid was super excited to have a small, private concert.

Unfortunately, the guy never showed.

Me: It happens. (shrugging) Whaddyagonna do?
Him: (nodding, shrugging) Yeah, whaddyagonna do?

But there was another band that was playing the Beatles, so we went to that.

The Firecracker was able to join us, so that part was pretty nice.

We also got to dress up all snazzy, like.

The next day, we arrived in Bermuda, but – like I said – there was that new hurricane developing so we were told that we only had from 9AM to 4:45PM to be in Bermuda.

So, we made the most of it and headed to Horseshoe Beach for the pink beaches.

Because the Firecracker and I had been to Bermuda (many times) before, we just hopped the bus to get there.

The last time I’d been on the bus was a decade earlier with Alison.

The last time I was in Bermuda, I was so irritated because I just wanted to remember her, but the idiot driving wouldn’t stop prattling on about nonsense.

It still makes me mad thinking about it.

This time, though, I sat with Alison’s son in the back while the Firecracker sat in another row with her son. So, I finally had my time with my thoughts and our son.

Me: Mommy and I once walked this exact route.
Him: Really?! This far!?
Me: It wasn’t my smartest idea, but mommy was nice enough to support me.

I won’t bring up Alison again in this because it fucks with my head.

In any case, after a spell, we finally arrived at the beach. The boy was underwhelmed but enjoyed being in the water.

Me? I was in and out of my head a lot for a bit.

But I did get to show the kids where I liked to go on the beach – years ago, I saw a tree growing outta rock there and found it again.

It was doing well and, somehow, that made me feel better.

We didn’t get too much time there but that’s fine.

I was just happy to be able to sit and read for a few minutes. And be in my head for a bit.

We made it back to the ship with hours to spare and stopped by the dockyard for a bit before the kid and chilled out on our balcony and had lunch together.

It was a good day, all things considered.

Location: back in the hood
Mood: less gross
Music: Suffer in the morning, but that taste is all I wanted, me and tequila (Spotify)
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Travelogue: Bermuda 2024 Pt 1 – The Grossness

Mezcal is not my friend either

Since both the Firecracker and I like cruising, we were keeping our eyes out for any last-minute trips that worked with our schedule since we didn’t get a chance to bring the kids anywhere over the summer.

Well, we came across the MSC Meraviglia, which left just from Brooklyn.

Interestingly, it was the very same ship we saw when we were on Governors Island, last.

Unfortunately, all the mezcal from the previous night hit me HARD the next morning.

It turns out that mezcal affects me even worse than tequila and I woke up feeling like death.

And that’s when I started my hourly trips to the bathroom.

Imagine your worst trip to the tiniest room times 16.

And then place at least half of those trips took place in very questionable public bathrooms.

Literally, every hour, on the hour, I had to scramble – heavy with luggage and feeling as weak as water in the rain – to find a bathroom and do my (very gross) duty.

Her: Listen, you gotta rally. They’re not gonna let you on the ship if you look like you’re sick and they won’t believe it’s alcohol poisoning.
Me: I’m not unaware. (pause) Annnnnd, I gotta go again.

Somehow, we made it onto the ferry where I tried my level best not to leave my DNA.

I was resolutely unsuccessful, although I did manage to leave it in the proper area within the bathroom.

The boy, however, was completely unfazed and still pretty excited for his second cruise.

Managed to put on a stoic face long enough to make it onto the ship where I entered my room, despite being told it wouldn’t be ready for another three hours.

Attendant: I’m sorry sir, your room isn’t ready yet.
Me: Is it possible for you to just clean around me? I just want to nap on the couch.
Him: OK, sir.

I was hoping he wasn’t gonna narc and he didn’t.

The Firecracker took care of both kids the first two days as I just stayed in the bed and went to the bathroom.

Again, every hour, on the hour for 48 hours.

She did manage to enjoy herself without me, which I found shocking.

I literally ate nuthin but bread and water those first 48 hours.

Boy: I’ve never seen you eat this many carbs.
Me: (eating another roll) This is how papa’s gonna be for a while.

This is pretty much all I ate for the first two days. It was carbtastic!

Well, I did try to have some French onion soup.

That was ill-advised.

Now, I thought that I did a pretty good job hiding how rotten I felt.

Me: (weakly but proudly) I don’t think anyone could tell.
Her: (laughing) Are you kidding me? The waiter immediately asked, once you left, “Is your husband feeling ok?”
Me: And there I thought I was doing some Oscar quality work. (shaking head) I’m a terrible liar.

The next night, I felt ok enough to hit up a show…

…or two…

…but it was a struggle.

I’ll write more tomorrow but not mention the unpleasantness.

Until then, enjoy the Firecracker almost killing the second performer; prior to this, the kid was the star of the show – the emcee selected him to talk about his trip to the ship and, man, did he have a lot to say – but I didn’t record it because I was laughing so much.

Shame really…

I’ll end with a sunny shot of the Firecracker.

Still felt like death while taking it.

Location: back in the hood
Mood: less gross
Music: Sick of rainy weather but I know we’ll be fine (Spotify)
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One of the more annoying

But wait…there’s more

Holy. Cow.

Man, did I have an annoying past coupla days – where to begin?

I have a metal gate, which leads to two blue metal doors that then lead to my apartment.

Used to paint them every few years but the last time I painted them was a decade ago in 2014 for reasons I’m sure you can guess.

All three were getting pretty worn and rusty so, I decided to paint them with the help of my buddy Wally.

He actually did the heavy lifting and took off the rust and some of the flaking paint and we both painted.

Initially, I just wanted to paint the clearly rusted and chipped areas.

To this end, I got paint mixed that matched the paint on my doors and gate.

This isn’t my pad, it was actually Teddy Roosevelt’s but that’s essentially the same as my pad.

Unfortunately, because of sunlight hitting different areas of the doors and gates, the colours were all off.

It looked worse after painting because all the colours were all slightly off – so then we had to paint EVERYTHING.

So, the small project went from two hours to…four days.

The Firecracker ended up having to help out for several hours across two days.

It gets worse though.

Teddy’s pad again – you can visit yourself when you come to NYC by heading to 28 East 20th Street, NYC.

While painting the gate, I had to remove the lock and I found out that two screws rusted through, which meant that that I had to manually remove them with pliers.

That took over an hour as I went a 1/4 turn each time for these 3.5 inch screws.

Then, when I brought them to the hardware store, the guy told me.

Him: Those are specialized screws. We don’t carry them here; you gotta go to a locksmith.
Me: Goddammit.

So, off I went to find one but then he said.

Him: We don’t have these screws, you have to buy the whole lock again.
Me: Goddammit! How much is that?
Him: $80.
Me: Jesus Christ!

Ended up buying it online for $45. For two screws.

It took two days to get to me, so we had to find different – and novel – ways to lock the gate for those two nights.

Because I was worried about the kid, didn’t sleep a wink.

Not my apartment nor my gate – just a pic of a street in NYC. But that is the type of garbage cans we’re required to have moving forward.

But wait…there’s more!

In the middle of alla this, Wally tried to install a garbage disposal for me AND – because I run the building – I also had to replace alla the garbage cans for the building.

Welp, the replacement garbage cans never arrived and Wally didn’t get it all right the first time (which is no real fault of his own) which meant that we ended up getting water everywhere and had to dismantle the whole thing.

The garbage and garbage disposal are much more involved stories, which I’ll save for the next entry, but it meant that for three days:

    • I had no locks on my door.
    • No working kitchen sink.
      • This meant that the kid and I had to eat out for every single meal for two days.
    • Paint and plumbing supplies everywhere.
    • Garbage and garbage bags everywhere.
    • No garbage cans for myself or anyone in my building.

To say that I was irritated is the same as saying that water’s wet.

I’ll wrap this up in the next entry.

I need a drink.

Location: early this morning, the courthouse, telling someone she’s an awful person for cutting the line
Mood: So. Irritated. Man.
Music: gonna build castles from the rubble (Spotify)
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Bad letters

Needing a drink

Her: What’s wrong?
Me: I got a letter from the city.
Her: And…?
Me: That’s never a good thing. (opening it) Annnnd…it definitely isn’t.

Looks like it’s gonna be bread and water for me and the kid for the forseeable future.

That’s not entirely true.

He’s back at his grandparents, my in-laws, for the last couple of weeks of summer.

So, he’s probably eating like a prince.

Which is not to say that things are that bad around here.

Her: The kids are away and the weather’s beautiful, you wanna go for a walk?
Me: [After that letter] I could use a drink.
Her: What about The Wallace?
Me: That works for me.

So, off we went.

The place was perfect; we were early enough that there were only a few people there.

The waitress was sweet and comped us some fries.

Me: So much for me trying to avoid carbs.
Her: Just don’t eat them.
Me: We both know that’s not gonna happen.

And then afterward, we took a leisurely stroll back.

I’ll start with the bread and water tomorrow.

Location: at H Mart, looking for kombucha with the Firecracker
Mood: pensive
Music: No time to stress; leave it all behind (Spotify)
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Pier 72, 11 years, Kossar’s

A kindness I’d never forgotten

Almost exactly 11 years ago, on August 6th, 2013, I went with Alison to a cafe a few blocks south of me called Pier 72.

We went there a couple of times but, really, hardly ever went there because it was a bit older than other joints in the area, but the food was good, the people nice, and the prices pretty cheap.

I don’t think we went there again after that; well, she didn’t, for reasons you already know.

I did because, when she was sick and losing all that weight from the chemo, she turned to me one day and said, randomly, “I could eat a patty melt.”

So, I asked her what that was and she told me.

Then I ran to Pier 72 because it was certain it would have it.

I was wrong.

Him: Sorry, we don’t sell that here.
Me: Please. It looks like this (shows him a picture). My wife…she’s…sick. She hasn’t eaten in days and I’m worried she’ll die. I can pay whatever you’d like for it.
Him: (gently) It looks like a cheeseburger on a sliced bread. I can do that for you.
Me: Yes. Please. I mean, thank you. I’ll pay whatever you think is fair.
Him: (shaking his head) It’s a cheeseburger on toast with onions. Just pay what we charge for a burger. Don’t worry about it. We’ll make it for her.

Went there a few times after that, always getting a patty melt and maybe a Reuben for me. Alison only ate a little each time.

It was a kindness I’d never forgotten. It was one of the only things Alison would agree to eat.

They shut down after COVID.

For years afterward, it was empty.

But, one day recently, the joint opened as a Kossar’s Bagel and Bialys.

The kid’s been asking to go for ages, and I finally brought him the other day.

We couldn’t sit where Alison and I last sat when it was Pier 72 because that became the cream cheese display.

So, we sat across from it and I looked at the corner of where we sat, almost exactly 11 years earlier and I could hear her voice in my head.

Something about the fact that I was sitting there with her son but not her hurt me in ways I can’t fully express nor explain.

Then the boy’s voice cut through my thoughts.

Him: I love the everything bagel! Can we come back here again?
Me: (distracted) Oh…sure. Of course.
Him: What’s wrong? You look like you’re crying.
Me: (clearing throat) Oh, it’s the summer. Allergies, you know…
Him: I’m sorry you have allergies, papa.
Me: It’s ok. I’m always ok when you’re around.
Him: Yay! Me too!

Location: at H Mart, looking for kombucha with the Firecracker
Mood: pensive
Music: You’re the movie in my mind to which I know every line (Spotify)
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My collection can’t be beat

The McKenzie Method

Me: (after dropping something) Sorry, I can’t get it up.
Her: (bursts out laughing) Do you…
Me: (sighing and holding up hand) I heard it when I said it.

My collection of injuries seems to be growing every single day.

About a year ago, I started getting these weird wrist pains. They’d come and then go, no real rhyme or reason.

For the past month, my wrist has been bugging me non-stop; I don’t go to the gym anymore without a wrist brace on.

This is just an old pic of mine after some party.

Then, about a week ago, I started getting these shooting pains in my lower back.

Him: Are you ok? What happened?!
Me: That’s the thing – nothing happened. No major event. It just started hurting one day.

A buddy of mine is a doctor, and I mentioned it to him. He asked me a few questions, which I answered.

Him: Sounds like you have a herniated disk.
Me: What?! You’re kidding. What do I do?
Him: (shrugging) Wait and try not to injure it more. It takes about two years to resolve itself.

The Firecracker started digging around and found something called The McKenzie Method for back pain.

Essentially, it’s about seven exercises that you do every 2-3 hours; it takes about 15 minutes to do from start to finish.

Man, I hate it.

But I hate feeling like an old man more so…this is what I’m doing for the foreseeable future.

Blargh.

Her: (to a friend) I’m glad that Biden dropped out. I can’t vote for him again. He’s older than Logan.
Me: That was uncalled for.

Location: my floor, doing these $@#$@#$ exercises
Mood: grumpy
Music:  I just keep pretending I’m okay (Spotify)
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I’m sure she knows

Honest and for true

This entry is out of order; back to the regular nuthin in the next entry.

The Firecracker’s dad came into town this weekend and we met up with him on Saturday for a kid’s birthday party.

It was fine for the most part but then a parent snapped at my kid when he tried to break a piñata with his foot when it fell down – like an 8 year old kid understands why whacking a piece of cardboard with a stick is ok but kicking it isn’t – and destroyed him in front of all the other kids.

It pretty much set the mood for the rest of the weekend for us.

He’d never cried at a birthday party before and, of course, it had to happen during the weekend of Mother’s Day and his mom’s birthday.

Obviously, there’s no way for the other parent to have known that.

But I hoped that, as a parent, she woulda known that people’s brains don’t fully develop until they’re 25. She was yelling at a kid for being a happy and excited kid.

At least he was and then he very much not.

If it wasn’t for the fact that she couldn’t have known and that she was a mom, I woulda been arrested.

Still, he was fine after a spell because I raised him to be resilient, but – man – I was steamed.

Him: She said I did it on purpose, but I didn’t. I was trying to help. (sadly) I’m the worst kid.
Me: Don’t ever say that. She doesn’t know you at all. You’re the best kid mom or I could ever ask for.
Him: Really?
Me: Honest and for true.

We then went to have dinner with the Firecracker’s family at a local taco joint that I’d been to before and then called it a night.

The next morning, despite it being Mother’s Day, the Firecracker got up bright and early to make her family and us a killer brekkie with a baked blueberry and apple oatmeal dish and a baked fritatta with feta and bacon.

The oatmeal bar

My kid liked it so much, he asked for seconds of everything and also asked for more the next day.

God, I love that kid – he’s just like me where we eat our feelings.

We all chatted at my place for hours until we had to meet up with the ABFF for dinner and to remember Alison.

The Firecracker and her kid came along.

The ABFF, her sister, and kids were beyond great.

We ordered a crap ton of Chinese food and, just like in years past, we decorated balloons for Alison.

This was probably the worst birthday/Mother’s Day yet for the kid because he feels the loss now.

Being humiliated and yelled at a birthday party probably didn’t help matters.

It was the hardest one for me for a while because it hit the kid so hard.

Him: (looking up at the ballon) How do we know she’ll get it?
Me: We hope.
Him: (nodding) I hope she knows I miss her.
Me: She knows. I’m sure she knows

Location: home, fulla dumplings and other carbs
Mood: livid
Music: I try to say goodbye and I choke (Spotify)
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