Hinges

Posted on by Sarah A. Hoyt

There are hinge moments in life. Things happen and after that life is never ever the same.

Some of those we are deeply conscious of: weddings, funerals, the birth of a child. There is a moment of sundering realization when you realize not only have you become someone else, and your preoccupations in life will now be quite different, but you’re also aware that there’s no going back.

Weirdly I’m really bad at those. At realizing such things, I mean. The only one I was absolutely sure of was when I held first son, then just less than a day old. I was startlingly, suddenly, aware that this creature would command my attention and was damn well entitled to my protection and undivided loyalty for the next eighteen years. (Yes, it’s cute that I thought it would be 18 years, and not that for the rest of my life the better part of my heart would be running around in someone else’s chest. The illusions of youth, I guess.)

Other than that, I have an habit of traipsing unawares past the point of no return, and leaving a pleasant or at least not unendurable way of life behind without ever realizing it. Even stuff like marrying overseas, I think rationally I knew would change everything, but I truly had no clue it would change me, or that changing me would be necessary to acculturate to my own home, or that the old adage of never going home again applied. And sure, I had many issues with the country itself — not as many as I have now, because now I see it from outside — and its unavigable bureaucracy was 99 of them. But of course I also have family there, and I didn’t realize how many of them I was seeing for the last time on my wedding day, because they died between that and the next visit when I was supposed to meet them, or moved away themselves and our paths never crossed again.

Would I have done it differently, if that had happened? Well, I wouldn’t. But I’d be more aware of the price I was paying and that sometimes five years or more go by between visits, and in that space I lose people like grandma without ever a chance to say goodbye. I’d have taken exactly the same step, of course, and maybe not knowing the price is better, because you don’t linger in pain at a moment of joy. Other such moments: when we moved away from Charlotte. I wasn’t even sure we’d like Colorado, much less that we’d only return (so far at least) to see our local friends once and that 20 years later for a few hours. And that some would have died, or moved away.) And now, of course, the move from Colorado. It is entirely possible I’ve gone to Pete’s Kitchen, on Colfax, for the last time in my life. I don’t know. We keep meaning to visit, but this summer has proved unexpectedly fraught, and I promised to visit my father in the fall. Also my brother isn’t doing well.

There are other hinges you don’t even know are occurring or are in your future. Like, your car of 30 years throws a fit on the highway, and suddenly the engine (and therefore the car) is scrap, and a fixture of your life is gone. Or your kid brings home his childhood friend who is now something more. (I love the Little Pickle, and the change is for the better, but ooh, boy, is it a change.) Or, though it’s not happened to me — knocks on head — there’s some sort of accident or incident and afterwards things are never, ever the same.

Then there are the hinges of fate you sleep walk through. But maybe that’s just me? To this day, and it’s been 33 years, I can’t tell you how or why I thought I could be published and middling successful and this would not affect my day to day life. I never expected stupid things like the neighbors knowing what I did for a living without my telling them (much less their crazy assumptions about writers. Castle has a lot to answer for) or the washer repairman spazzing when he saw my name and I confirmed I was indeed THAT Sarah A. Hoyt, or– a dozen such incidents. I’ve in fact taken to avoiding the neighbors all together and letting Dan be the social director, because he can tapdance more skillfully than I can.

The blog…. the blog was a total different ball of wax, since it started out being just a writing promo thing (I’m nto good at that, you might have noticed.) But the only way I could remain engaged enough to write everyday was to talk about things that matter to me: politics, culture, social issues, and odd stuff like this. And all of that made me far more of a public persona (even as small as this blog is) than I ever intended to be. It comes with some good and a lot of bad, as people not only make assumptions, but people who are, of necessity or temperament, in the political closet tend to avoid me or worse.

It is what it is. The hinge was always there, and I was always bound to open it, I think. And as with me living my natal clump of dirt behind, I’d have done the same, exactly the same way, it I’d known. Only it would have made the whole thing more unpleasant knowing what I was sacrificing.

I suppose there are also false hinges: things you think will change your life forever and then don’t. I don’t think I’ve experienced any of those. Or if I did I no longer remember them. It occurs to me something like winning the lottery might be one of those. I mean, yes, Dan would probably retire, but I doubt much of anything else would change. Oh, yeah, I probably wouldn’t do fundraisers, since those are psychologically difficult. Other than that? I’d write. And Dan would work (Okay, he’d work at things he likes more, but….) We’d visit the kids and their spouses when we have time. And…. that’s about it. Maybe I’d pay my much abused assistant a little more. That’s about it. Not a hinge, though it looks like one from here.

So what is this all about? Well…. I have a couple of tests — one that promises to be distinctly unpleasant — scheduled for tomorrow. Weirdly, the mildest diagnosis possible will result in immediate surgery. But that surgery should fix the problem once and for all. And other than a couple of days to recover, it’s not a hinge.

The second mildest diagnosis is also “We don’t know.” In which case it’s also not a hinge and I stay on fairly high dose maintenance anti-biotics which I seem to be tolerating well enough.

Anything else…. Well…. there’s a panoply of horrors there, and a vista of a future where my life is consumed by health issues (or ended by them, of course, one must say though not pleasant to contemplate.)

Is that likely? Eh. Right now they have absolutely no idea what’s going on, so not only is anything possible, but it’s hard to hazard a guess.

This disturbs me because I’m in the middle of a dozen things and very busy. (Whether I’m very busy to distract from this test which I knew was in my future, I’ll leave as an exercise for the reader.) I am, of course, running my fundraiser (and a more lackadaisacal one I can hardly imagine), and I’m refinishing our bedside tables. Look, we bought them when the kids were little, and they’re pressboard. We were, you see, going to buy good ones in a few years, but there were always other needs. And those d*mn things bubble up if you spill water on them, which given they’re bedside tables is kind of inevitable. We were going to replace them ten years ago, but have you seen the price of bedside tables? So…. So I’m doing what I do to pressboard crappy furniture. What? No, not setting them on fire. There is a perversity in me that means I must make them as fancy as humanly possible. So I’m marbelizing the tops (the epoxy finish at least will ensure that water spills are no longer a problem.) REALISTICALLY marbelizing. Cream/brown marble. And then painting the body of the thing to look like more convincing wood than the wretched paper veneer ever did. (Incidentally I didn’t realize how much I missed refinishing. I haven’t done it at all for almost 20 years.) And because insanity is a thing, I’m also creating a headboard to go with it. Do you want to know? No you don’t. The Little Pickle and Dan are divided on whether to be impressed of have me committed.

I’m also in the middle of Orphans of the Stars (I REALLY need a better title.) and almost done with Rhodes to Hell, and have another half dozen books waiting to be finished. Oh, and we’re moving in a month or so, though Dan is trying to contract as much of it out as possible to keep me writing. (Look, chilluns, it’s a family thing. The kids required us to move, so a move is happening. Oh, it will hopefully also contribute to a better, or at least easier time after. And a better lifestyle to keep our aging bodies in shape. BUT until it’s done, it’s mostly a time and funds sink.)

If the diagnosis is bad, all of those threads will be cut, middair. I might — in fact probably will — do them/continue with them, but everything will be slow and stupid, and hard to finish. And I’ll have trouble remembering why painting the headboard was so much fun, after all. And then things will change. Though finishing the books, particularly the Elly ones will be the highest priority, since I’m convinced if I die with them locked in my head, I’ll end up IN THEM. And I don’t want to be an Ellyan. They’re more complex and bizarre than we are.

Yesterday I told Dan I’d much rather not do the tests. Because he knows me very well, he said in complete calm seriousness, “Fine. Then call them and cancel.”

And part of me very much wants to do that. Even if it’s the worst, if I don’t know I can go on for quite a long while before it brings me to ground, and wouldn’t it be better not to know.

But of course I can’t. If I know even if it’s the worst, there’s a chance it can be stopped in its tracks, in which case I owe doing so to Dan, who really doesn’t want to be left alone, to my kids, who now and then still need me, to the pickles ditto, and even to my dad, who would stand a good chance to lose both children before his number is up.

So, no, I won’t cancel. The door will swing open. The hinge will creak ominously.

Is it a real hinge? Will I walk through the door and be changed forever? I don’t know. No one does. Maybe it’s nothing, and two days of discomfort, and the door will swing closed again and life will go on as usual. (Do I put purple on the headboard grapes? Seems needed, but just a touch, over the blue and the black.)

Or perhaps nothing will ever be the same.

The hinge is creaking, the door is opening, and there is not much I can gain by worrying about it. I’ll just try to meet what’s on the other side with a minimum of fuss, and get as much done as I may.

On the other side.

According to Hoyt 2026 Fundraiser, Day 13

(I will keep this up through day 17, because people have asked due to pay schedules.)

If you wish to donate: There is a Give Send Go fundraiser for this specific fundraiser set up. Here is a Paypal Me Link if you prefer that. (Yes, I know. Paypal, but for now, they’re behaving.) If you have a monthly donation setup to the permanent Give Send Go, that is still working and thank you! There are also two substacks you can subscribe to. One is on the side bar of the blog, the other is supposed to be a newsletter, as well as giving you chapters of the current work in progress if you become a paid subscriber. It takes cards. For snail mail: Sarah Hoyt 304 S Jones Blvd #6771 Las Vegas, NV 89107

And if you want to read the whole appeal, it’s here: Toss A Coin To Your Blogger, Oh Readers of Plenty.

119 thoughts on “Hinges”

  1. As regards medical stuff, I completely understand the fog and whatnot.  I am 9 years and a month Cancer-free from a nasty thing.  The doctors told me not to look it up on the internet and I wish I had listened to them.  The pictures and stories and predictions were horrible — and utterly wrong.  Hold on tight to those praying for you and yours and accept our quoting Numbers 6:24-26 at you repeatedly:

    The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you; the Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace. And also, remember that in Psalm 91:14, God is said to promise:

    Because he holds fast to me in love, I will deliver him;     I will protect him, because he knows my name. Thanks again, Ms. Sarah and get well soon.

    Best, John Bailey

    Liked by 1 person

  2. The thing about “hinges” is that if we think about them too much, we can get thinking about “what we should have done differently” and worry about making the wrong choices in the future.

    Still, take care Sarah. 😊

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  3. You mean all published authors aren’t millionaires who can pressure the mayor to let you play cop when you’re bored? Television lied to me? Why would it do that? Next you’ll tell the Robinson’s weren’t launched to Alpha Centauri back in 1997.

    Sorry, not enough sleep, plus mother in hospital fir heart surgery, plus ulcer discovered so sh needed surgery for that.

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      1. Vascular, with complications that took a week to figure out, then they found the ulcer.

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    4. Prayer flag raised, Bryan. Anything heart related is “mildly interesting.” MomRed had a pacemaker put in a few years ago, and observed that “minor heart surgery” is a contradiction in terms for the patient.

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      1. My cardiologist says “You’ll need a pacemaker sooner or later”, though he’s holding out for a decade or two. OTOH, that started a decade ago. Hmm. So far, so good, though the various reports are “mildly interesting”. At least they haven’t gotten worse. Yet…

        Prayers offered for all.

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      2. An uncle went in for minor heart surgery, and his blood pressure suddenly dropped, and they could not save him

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  5. So many points of change in a life, I understand quite well. Many twists & turns led me to where I am today, some seem almost unreal when I look back. One small change put me in another place where I met the love of my life unexpectedly. Taking a job offer led me down a different path than expected, never know what lies ahead.

    Hoping whatever tests you are facing help you get to where you feel healthier. Prayers, take care.

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  6. Prayers Sarah. Praying that whatever is happening is something curable.

    My upcoming hinge is curable, but long recovery. I know hubby is worried, he keeps making jokes. Me? I keep getting reassured it is now standard? Standard does not make the risk any less real. Yes, I trust the doctor and the team. I don’t trust the complications the heart team doesn’t have any control over. I don’t have any choice (well, I could die, I guess that is a choice; NOT).

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  8. Weirdly, I am also facing a hinge diagnosis that will force me to transition my beloved ministry to new leadership. Husband and best friend are of the opinion that this is the only way Himself could get me to slow down. I maintain that I would have obeyed a well-worded postcard, without all the drama. They laugh…

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    1. A rabbi I know says that his illness worked better than his wife’s threats to finally get him to slow down and take some time to rest and renew his ministry. Note that that’s not how he felt at the time.

      Mrs. Rabbi still threatens to thump him with a jar of gefilte fish if he doesn’t stop trying to do all the things, all at once. :) I don’t think he’s curable, but I keep that sort of thought to myself.

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      1. If she wants a truly effective threat, she should threaten to open the jar of gefilte fish.

        Seriously, do even the people who grew up in that culture actually like the stuff? Or do they merely tolerate it and pretend they like it? I mean, there are always going to be some weirdos who like weird things*, but what about the majority: do they like it?

        * When I first watched UHF, and saw the main character (played by Weird Al Yankovic) eating his “favorite” snack, a Twinkie-wiener sandwich with Cheez Wiz topping, I thought it was something that Weird Al had made up to make his character extra-goofy. Only to find out that no, he put that in because it’s Weird Al’s favorite snack in real life. And suddenly I understood where he got his nickname from: being called “Weird” Al wasn’t just something that he had chosen as a stage name.

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        1. My wife is Jewish, and she does. The problem is that I really don’t, and we haven’t found “single serve gefilte fish”.

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          1. Okay, funny story. I searched for “gefilte fish” and, reading the Wikipedia article, thought “Actually, that doesn’t sound too bad”. Which made me wonder which fish preparation method I was confusing it with (turns out it was lutefisk I was thinking of). I couldn’t remember the name lutefisk, so I searched for “preserved fish”. And there was a Wikipedia article, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Preserved_Fish.

            Turns out that “Preserved Fish” was someone’s name. He was, according to Wikipedia, “an American businessman who was a prominent New York City shipping merchant in the early 19th century. He was an early broker of the New York Stock & Exchange Board.” His first name, “Preserved”, was often given to babies by Quaker families, and refers to being “preserved from sin”, i.e. what most Christians would call “saved”.

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            1. Ah. Gampa Pete was Danish, but the only culinary affront was his preference for kale. Grandma made him cook it in the garage. Lingonberries showed up at Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners. Those, I like, but they’re hard to find at retail on the Left Coast. (Mulls an order from Amazon…)

              He did like akavit. Tried it once years after he died, and gave it a hard nope. Caraway seed is not one of my favorite flavors.

              On the gripping hand, my BIL is of Norwegian descent, and SIL has had to try lutefisk. I’ve not had the experience, and prefer to keep it that way.

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        2. Haven’t had any in decades (relatives are Jewish, but a looong ways away and seldom visited), but I don’t recall minding it. OTOH, I can’t stand beets in any form, and consider Kimchee a good way to clear a house.

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          1. Kimchi… (urk…) In the student-family apartments on campus many years ago, we had Korean downstairs neighbors (the nicest people ever) who fermented their own kimchi in a big cooler in their bathroom. Kept it in the shower, apparently, for the warm temperatures. The smell was…well, powerful is an understatement. I don’t know how they dealt with it, because it made our eyes water and nostrils sting upstairs. They served us their homemade kimchi a couple times, and it’s an odd flavor, but I would’ve liked it…except for the negative association of living with that stench for almost two years.

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          2. I like eating kimchi*, but have never been around it while it’s being cooked. Perhaps I should consider myself lucky in that respect.

            * One day when I was living in Dallas, I was driving home to southern Dallas from visiting a friend who lived in northwestern Dallas. It was around 6 PM and I was getting hungry, so I pulled off of Loop 12 (formal name: TX-12 Loop S) at a random stop I’d never taken before, to look for a restaurant. Noticed the signs around me were all in Korean. Great, I thought, I’ve had Korean food before and I liked it, so I pulled up in front of a random restaurant. The menu was in Korean and English (with the Korean more prominent, so it felt like the menu items had English subtitles), and when the waitress brought out the menu, she also placed four little bowls of appetizers on my table. I don’t remember what three of them were, but the fourth one was kimchi, as one might expect in a Korean restaurant. I polished off the kimchi so fast that when the waitress came by to take my order, she brought out a second little bowl of kimchi for me (unprompted, she just saw my empty bowl and brought out a new one). And she had a smile on her face when she did so, which I figured was because she had rarely seen a Western guy so obviously enjoying kimchi.

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  9. I’m selfishly scared and wishing you well. You’re doing the right thing, I think. Dang, still sucks though.

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  12. Best wishes, Sarah. Don’t make it too scarring an experience for your helpful medical professionals.

    And would it be gauche to note that, if you had mentioned prospects of immediate surgery a couple of weeks ago, your fundraiser might be doing a little better?

    Yeah, it probably would be. I’d better not say anything.

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            1. Could be like a gopher, pulling them down under …

              WPDE did manage to dupe a nice picture, which indeed attempts to address lack of daisies.

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  13. I would have to confess that when I first saw the title, my reaction was “Oh, good, a solution to the problems I’ve been having!” But when I came to my senses, I realized that the blog post would more likely be about what it turned out to be.

    For the record: I’m trying to make a model of a “computer easel” that combines a laptop and a portable monitor and keyboard and mouse in one convenient package. The design for both the model and the final thing requires “friction hinges”, but the only ones I could find are large and expensive or actual laptop or 2-in-1 tablet and expensive (and I need one set of each kind) or 3D-printable but weird and questionable. I wish I could use bendy metal that stays in place, but that’s going to fatigue and crack over time!

    In any case, get better, and I hope I can find a solution to my own conundrum! (A result of not being satisfied by what’s available, so I inevitably have to improvise my own solution, because I just can’t be like everyone else and be normal …. not that I can think of anyone else like that! ;-) ….)

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  15. I hit the tip jar a few days ago, so that might help a little.

    Prayers raised for a clear answer, be it good, less good, or “don’t buy green bananas.”

    Last summer was a hinge, one I saw coming, but didn’t realize how great the change would be. It is one thing to think, “Now I will be in charge of these things,” and another to discover that not only are you in charge, but now you have to look farther ahead and plan for a lot more care and expense, and less other-work time. I am much better off than some, like a coworker*, but the weight of the change still staggered me when it finally all descended.

    *Let’s just say, necromancers would make a fortune raising intestate people from the dead, so their survivors could kill them again for the mess they leave behind.

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    1. Em and I just got all that stuff done for ourselves. POA, Medical, wills, living trust for assets, etc.

      If something happens, we’re more prepared.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. We just did this ourselves. If you got them done before you turned 65, you did them faster than us. We got them done before I was 70, but not the other half.

        At best we save the probate court money. Everything is in both our names or survivorships. Now if we were to drive off a cliff together, things would have gotten more complicated.

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          1. No cliffs, young lady!

            Oh, you probably meant Arrangements. Best to do those in your current state of residence, as inheritance laws differ,

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            1. Actually, if you change states, you have to redo, or add codicils for the new state residences to cover the legal bases.

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              1. True, but that usually means two sets of shysters Fine Legal Professionals, and it’s good to limit the contagion if one can.

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        3. We have beneficiaries set for the sundry financial goodies, but CasaRC needs a will to ensure the proceeds go to whom we wish.

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          1. We know if our son survives us, he will take care of any animals left behind. But we need a caretaker will for animals from all 3 of us to cover the bases. Zero chances we won’t have at least a cat, or two.

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              1. We’re hoping our kids take the cats, though older son has informed us he does NOT want Indy. Indy scares him a little. My assistant says she’ll take them all….

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              2. I suspect a separate fund is what we’ll need to do too.

                Problem is, not needed if son survives us. Pets are his regardless.

                Anymore, almost a requirement if adopting through rescues or breeders, if elderly (which we qualify as). Cats, not a problem. Cat distribution system (i.e. no one else involved) is our normal path. Dogs, OTOH, yes, through a rescue.

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    2. Texas now has a PDF form you can download and fill out without needing a lawyer if you’re doing one of the “standard” wills, like “everything goes to my spouse, but if my spouse pre-deceases me, everything gets split evenly between my kids”. When our last child (both in the sense of “most recent”, and in the sense of “last child we’re planning to have unless God surprises us”) was born, I filled out the PDF, got my signature witnessed and notarized, and left a (witnessed and notarized) copy of it on file with a couple different people.

      I’m in the prime of health and expect to live at least another 40 years (and given how long my grandparents lived, another 50 is not unlikely). But there’s no excuse for NOT making a will when it’s that easy and cost-free (only had to pay for the notary, no lawyer’s fees).

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      1. That’s where we live. We went with a “living trust” so that we can essentially skip probate and avoid estate taxes. That required a lawyer.

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        1. In Oregon, living trusts do not avoid estate taxes. Not sure how non-living-non-revokable trusts work, especially those from out of state.

          I’d say ask my aunt how that went. But you’d have to wait until you join her (she was pissed, she thought they’d gotten around that, state came when uncle died). Their children had to fork out a large portion (sliding scale) to the state, when she died three years after him. Don’t know if it was enough to trigger federal. But state? Definitely.

          The trusts do give a vehicle for “decedent’s trust”, for up to initial $1 million which can be utilized by the survivor. No taxes due until survivor passes, and they have their own trust of $1 million. The final survivor, deals with the estate taxes due for each of the $1 million trust.

          These days? A house can put you over. House plus any life insurance payouts to spouse.

          Life insurance payout itself isn’t taxable to the recipient. But once gotten, it is part of the recipient’s estate.

          Since the insurance payouts these days are not required by either of us to survive, we changed the insurance payouts directly to the one child. We only have life insurances because each have a 50% disability home care riders. Which per (multiple) agents have stated, not available anymore. Worth weight in gold, even if never needed.

          Or why we are voting (should it get to the ballot) to eliminate the Oregon Death tax. Even with the house, we wouldn’t trigger it. But still it is unfair and predatory. Pay taxes on what one has already paid taxes on.

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          1. Since we’re doing Arrangements, we had two living trusts – to split the assets into less-than-a-million chunks. With me as the survivor, though, all that is unified again.

            I really don’t want the current OR government to get a cut. Or any government. Oregon Death Tax Delenda Est! See IP 51, https://notaxor.com/petitions/end-the-death-tax/

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          2. Since we’re doing Arrangements, we had two living trusts – to split the assets into less-than-a-million chunks. With me as the survivor, though, all that is unified again.

            I really don’t want the current OR government to get a cut. Or any government. Oregon Death Tax Delenda Est! See IP 51, https://notaxor.com/petitions/end-the-death-tax/

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            1. Mrf. WPDE seems to like my posts, doubling and tripling. I also get some ‘you already posted that!’ messages, so the program is catching some of them.

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  17. It’s scary, to find out for sure. But putting it off doesn’t help. Even the worst possibility, the sooner caught, the better the options, the easier the treatment.

    (((Hugs)))

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      1. I hear this.

        Little over a year ago. Nice to know not all in my head. Yes, something, multiple something’s going on. Here is the list. Here is your pharmacy. Seriously, went from two relatively minor, to 13, the rest major, but early stages (not counting OTC recommended supplements, okay then).

        To now, what will be 14 months later, facing no option open-heart surgery. Wait? What? Where did that freight truck come from? In addition, the medication has stopped all the symptoms. Problem is the biggie did not have symptoms, for me.

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        1. Fictionally, seems they do.

          Last night watched Wagner’s Rheingold all the way through. Haven’t done anything that concentrated in a couple years.

          Alberich has a most wonderful curse on the ring. Threatening god(s) is Lèse-majesté to the max.

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          1. I think I first saw this in Mad magazine:

            “Listen, my children, and you shall hear

            “A singing commercial for Rheingold beer….”

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  19. You already know all the things I’d say. So take them as read. I don’t think we’re done yet. Everybody works. Everybody fights.

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  21. I understand what you mean about hinges and walking by them without realizing it. In general, I think it’s better not to realize it. I’m thinking of my cousin, who died about ten days after my wedding. I got back from my honeymoon, and got the news. I keep thinking about dancing with him at the wedding, what we talked about, and what I might have said if I’d known it was the last time I saw him. There are things I’d have done differently, but all-in-all, I think it was better that I could just enjoy that time with him without the sensation of “THIS IS THE LAST TIME! EVERYTHING YOU EVER WANT TO SAY MUST BE SAID NOW!”

    Like the others here, I’ll be praying!

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  22. I don’t know about hinges. I feel more like doors slammed in my face. The worst one being my mother’s terminal illness which required 24/7 care for most of a decade… meaning I couldn’t work.

    It did lead to self-publishing out of desperation. I just can’t seem to ever scrape together enough reserves for breathing room to write enough, fast enough, to be self-sustaining.

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        1. Not on your level, but the past two months have been one darn thing after another, so… yeah.

          Work drastically cut hours, I’m trying to put the time to use doing more edits now that I seem to have (knock on wood) kicked the ear infection. But my allergies keep trying to drag the infection back.

          One day at a time.

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  25. Oh dear. WordPress (DE) has a new bug. Every time I submit a comment, it says I’ve done a duplicate. Happened on both Pale Moon and Firefox.

    Re-reiterating: Prayers sent.

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  26. I’m dealing with too many hinges right now.

    Health (I have to lose weight and keep my blood sugar low so I don’t need insulin or heroic measures).
    Employment (keeping my current crappy State of California job vs. a possible start-up that I would have to move across the country to work for).
    Writing (because of the health and employment, I have little energy to write and I can’t use the methods to get myself more energy before).

    But if you hear a banging noise, that’s me. Blowing the doors off their hinges…

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  28. Prayers up!

    I’ve always thought I would respond well to a nicely written postcard. Likewise, I have believed I could be trusted with major lottery winnings.

    The Author, however, seems to think a brick to the back of the head and enough money to scrape by is more appropriate for me. Ah well, plot twists are always more entertaining when they happen to OTHER characters I suppose.

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      1. Regarding lottery winnings.

        The problem is, as we state in this household “Someone else won our lottery!”

        Followed by: “Might help if we bought a ticket.”

        Comes from the joke:

        “Church leader”, priest, rabbi, minister, pick one, “Says in prayers: God there is so much good the church could do for the world if we’d just win the X trillion lotteries!” Time goes on. Prayer repeated. One day the light shines on the altar. God: “You have to buy the lottery to win it!”

        Gotta play to win.

        Don’t know the last time any of us bought a ticket. Hubby used to pool money at work at the location he was assigned, when the lotteries hit stratosphere. Not only his company co-workers, but the workers at the site assigned (i.e. multiple companies). Never won a penny.

        We don’t even go to the casinos. Hubby used to when he played a charity tournament down south. Part of the tournament packet was a casino card. Play out the card and whatever won, leave. Cost? $0 For a few years hubby was also playing son’s casino card (son also played golf). Both were playing regardless. Then there was the year they came home with dad pouting. The year son was legally able to play his own card. Then the brat had the audacity to actually walk away with money.

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  31. Well, I’m glad you’re not burning the tables. The toxic fumes from doing that would give you even more issues. (Reminds me, though, that I need to very soon repair the good set of bookshelves in the wife’s office, before she puts them out on the curb. They’d be at least $1K to replace these days.)

    I’ll be keeping you in my thoughts and prayers, if not the budget, for the next few weeks. (More than usual, anyway – the “hope Sarah is doing okay, for certain values” is pretty much a daily thing.)

    Liked by 1 person

    2. Pair of S&H Green Stamp tables, got them just before S&H disappeared. Press board all the way. Don’t know what hard surface used. Water does not penetrate. Have had them for over 45 years. Easy to clean. No damage what-so-ever. Not replaceable.

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      1. That long ago, it was probably real laminate, not paper or plastic.

        Properly made pressboard is about as strong as, say, white oak – and about the same price. But it’s ugly, no interesting grain structure at all. Which is why you either laminate it or marbleize it like Sarah is doing.

        But when it is the cheap stuff, it inevitably bows under compression if it is of any length. For some reason, roaches also love it – I still need to get our kitchen cupboards and countertops replaced with decent stuff. (I already replaced all of the drawers as a stopgap – made them from furniture grade pine and birch plywood, with a triple coat of polyurethane. I’ll find some other use for those when I make the other parts, so that they match; they are still in fantastic shape while the rest slowly crumbles around them…)

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  32. Hinge, the internet. I know of you, your books, and your life. All vicariously. In some ways better than close meatspace friends. It creates twists we haven’t evolved enough to process.
    Good luck, please keep us unknowns as up to date as you are comfortable with.

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  33. I’ve had a few (un)”hinge” moments in my life (to be discussed over face-to-face sammiches and a beer).

    And yes, I do occasionally ponder those “what if” moments…..but they come rarely. And then I continue forward with life.

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  34. We hope we aren’t looking at a hinge, but we’re home early because the RV broke. Slide out won’t slide out all the way. One night on the way home none of thr slide outs slide out, which made the evening interesting. (“Crawling into bed,” became quite literal).

    We’re waiting now for word from the RV garage. They think they have the proper part, so we’ll hope for the best. But it does not help reflecting that of our four RVs, two have been totaled by mechanical failure and No. 4 is in the shop. (For the record, No. 1 was bought cheap and used, and 2 and four have both lasted at least five years, usually with six months on the road per year).

    Meanwhile, we figure Himself wants us here for so e reason and perhaps some day we’ll know what it was.

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  36. I had what I guess you could call a hinge moment, medically, about 18 years ago. Had to go through a big bad surgery that literally only 5 people in the world knew how to do. Long story short, some things went wrong after the surgery and I ended up in the hospital for a month longer than expected…but I did get home in time to have Christmas with the kids.

    Lemme tell you, I hear you on the stress of not knowing, and maybe not wanting to know. The lead-up to finding out exactly what was wrong and then going into the surgery was pretty stressful. There was a chance that I wouldn’t come back alive and my kids would have to grow up without me–a very small chance, but it weighed.

    It had some permanent aftereffects, but not debilitating ones. So the door I went through opened into a room that’s a bit less comfortable to live in and move around in…I’m not as fast and flexible as I was before, physically or mentally…but the alternative was pretty clear, as I knew that I’d be crippled in one aspect or both down the road (i.e., by now) if I hadn’t gone through that door.

    So nothing has been quite the same since, but it also hasn’t been THAT different. I’m still fully functional and capable, which is a blessing. Life goes on, and I’m still an active participant in it. A blessing. So here’s hoping and praying that if this is a hinge point, it’s at least no worse than the one I went through. And maybe there’s a possibility that it clears up something that’s been slowing you down? A Sarah Hoyt with no speed limit…do we dare imagine what that’s like? :)

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