(no subject)
Well, it's been a while. By which I mean forever. And now that I'm in a catching-up kind of mood and have the day off, it's time for the deluge.
Things in general have been going pretty well here. I'm finally starting to break through the veil of self-interest and pettiness that's been keeping me from forming real relationships with my coworkers/roommates, and that's felt pretty alright. I'm also starting to feel secure in my abilities as a crew chief--some of our long-term volunteers have told me I'm the best they've ever had. That's right, I can build shit AND teach other people how to build shit. I've gotten to know my way around this city, and I've gotten into a routine that involves a certain amount of space for zany adventures and learning experiences but also leaves enough time for me to cook and craft and read. Basically, I'm loving life. I've got a lot of other things to say, but I'll hide them behind these cute little links so you don't feel overly intimidated by them.
Spoiler: I'm not the one getting the cuddles.
One day, over a month ago, my boss told me she was taking me and Laura, one of my coworkers, on an adventure. We took a long drive out past the city limits, past the pecan groves, and past a placid clump of cows in a pasture. We arrived at a lovely place called Serignea. The name is pronounced like serenade minus the 'd.' Even its name is reminiscent of serenity and peace. We learned that this house was to be our project, and we would take volunteers there the next week. We spent some time planning and then went home for the weekend.
The next Monday, I met my first group of volunteers and got to tell them a story. The story went like this:
Mr. Serignea grew up in this home. His father built it himself, with the help of other families in the neighborhood. Mr. Serignea never spent time out of New Orleans, not even when Hurricane Betsy struck. However, when Katrina was approaching, he decided to evacuate to Baton Rouge because he knew he was getting older and would be unable to take care of himself in event of a catastrophic flood.
Though he took all precautions, he was still unlucky. As the evacuation stretched to weeks and months, his health began to fail. The assisted living home was filled beyond capacity, and he recieved subpar care. He had a series of debilitating infections, and was forced to remain in Baton Rouge even after residents were allowed back in to the city. Luckily, he met a sweet lady friend, and her care and companionship helped him through his illnesses. During his very last surgery, the doctors were afraid he wouldn't make it. However, he awoke from the anasthesia to see his lady friend waiting beside his bed. He made a slow and steady recovery, and on Valentine's Day 2009, the old bachelor got married for the first time.
Mrs. Serignea has never seen the house, but she hopes to move there to continue taking care of her new husband. Mr. Serignea is still quite sick, but he is feeling well enough to begin work on a set of new cabinets for the house. Rumors say he is quite a skilled woodworker. He also has plans to begin a garden in his newly enlarged backyard; his neighbors were unable to salvage their house. After it was bulldozed they gifted the land to Mr. Serignea so it would stay in trusted hands.
I love this house, I love this story, and I love working with volunteers out here. In the city, you still can't tell that it's fall. But out in the country there are trees changing colors and there's enough room to see the endless blue sky. There's a hawk who hangs out nearby, and watches me every time I go out to the backyard.
I'm hoping we'll have most of the major work done on this house by mid-January, so we can put the finishing touches on it and move the Serigneas in by the first anniversary. So far it's promising; the walls were already done when I inherited the work, and flooring was a dream. We've gotten held up on doors (do you have any idea how fucking hard it is to install doors in these houses?!) and some custom trim projects but I think most of the work will be smooth sailing from here. I like these last stages; the trim makes everything come together. This place is starting to look less like a broken shell of a house, and more like it can be someone's home.
Well. After all of that I've lost stamina. Maybe I can update you on some exciting adventures outside of work later? I'll be honest and admit that it probably won't happen.
Things in general have been going pretty well here. I'm finally starting to break through the veil of self-interest and pettiness that's been keeping me from forming real relationships with my coworkers/roommates, and that's felt pretty alright. I'm also starting to feel secure in my abilities as a crew chief--some of our long-term volunteers have told me I'm the best they've ever had. That's right, I can build shit AND teach other people how to build shit. I've gotten to know my way around this city, and I've gotten into a routine that involves a certain amount of space for zany adventures and learning experiences but also leaves enough time for me to cook and craft and read. Basically, I'm loving life. I've got a lot of other things to say, but I'll hide them behind these cute little links so you don't feel overly intimidated by them.
Spoiler: I'm not the one getting the cuddles.
One day, over a month ago, my boss told me she was taking me and Laura, one of my coworkers, on an adventure. We took a long drive out past the city limits, past the pecan groves, and past a placid clump of cows in a pasture. We arrived at a lovely place called Serignea. The name is pronounced like serenade minus the 'd.' Even its name is reminiscent of serenity and peace. We learned that this house was to be our project, and we would take volunteers there the next week. We spent some time planning and then went home for the weekend.
The next Monday, I met my first group of volunteers and got to tell them a story. The story went like this:
Mr. Serignea grew up in this home. His father built it himself, with the help of other families in the neighborhood. Mr. Serignea never spent time out of New Orleans, not even when Hurricane Betsy struck. However, when Katrina was approaching, he decided to evacuate to Baton Rouge because he knew he was getting older and would be unable to take care of himself in event of a catastrophic flood.
Though he took all precautions, he was still unlucky. As the evacuation stretched to weeks and months, his health began to fail. The assisted living home was filled beyond capacity, and he recieved subpar care. He had a series of debilitating infections, and was forced to remain in Baton Rouge even after residents were allowed back in to the city. Luckily, he met a sweet lady friend, and her care and companionship helped him through his illnesses. During his very last surgery, the doctors were afraid he wouldn't make it. However, he awoke from the anasthesia to see his lady friend waiting beside his bed. He made a slow and steady recovery, and on Valentine's Day 2009, the old bachelor got married for the first time.
Mrs. Serignea has never seen the house, but she hopes to move there to continue taking care of her new husband. Mr. Serignea is still quite sick, but he is feeling well enough to begin work on a set of new cabinets for the house. Rumors say he is quite a skilled woodworker. He also has plans to begin a garden in his newly enlarged backyard; his neighbors were unable to salvage their house. After it was bulldozed they gifted the land to Mr. Serignea so it would stay in trusted hands.
I love this house, I love this story, and I love working with volunteers out here. In the city, you still can't tell that it's fall. But out in the country there are trees changing colors and there's enough room to see the endless blue sky. There's a hawk who hangs out nearby, and watches me every time I go out to the backyard.
I'm hoping we'll have most of the major work done on this house by mid-January, so we can put the finishing touches on it and move the Serigneas in by the first anniversary. So far it's promising; the walls were already done when I inherited the work, and flooring was a dream. We've gotten held up on doors (do you have any idea how fucking hard it is to install doors in these houses?!) and some custom trim projects but I think most of the work will be smooth sailing from here. I like these last stages; the trim makes everything come together. This place is starting to look less like a broken shell of a house, and more like it can be someone's home.
Well. After all of that I've lost stamina. Maybe I can update you on some exciting adventures outside of work later? I'll be honest and admit that it probably won't happen.