After years of bitching and procrastinating, I rented a tiny cabin in Ashland last week, 240 square feet of former garage remodeled into a free standing bedroom suite. It's completely overbuilt to meet Ashland ridiculously strict building codes,I mean all new insulation, windows, drywall, plumbing, electrical - I've lived in suburban houses that had fewer outlets. It's going to be a stretch financially, but I can make it work if I'm careful, The owners are coming back next June, so I didn't have to make a long term commitment. It's cute, snug, and all mine. We have rented a space in town once in the last twelve years and we didn't move in until January. This is the first time since 1996 that I won't be commuting over the pass in December.
The landlord rented to me on the understanding that one person will be living there. I talked him through my situation, explained why I was looking for an apartment in town (I used the term "respite from the commute;" he actually used the phrase "pied à terre.") Sequoia will stay with me from time to time, but he can't live there. It's my space; I signed papers to that effect. It feels - - decadent. I left my parents' home two weeks after graduating high school and never had enough money to live by myself. I always lived with roommates and have been living with Sequoia since I was 23. I'm 50 years old and am living alone for the first time in my life. It may take me awhile to adjust.
The place is cute, cozy, quiet and I can walk to work. I love the lifestyle, but it hasn't done any favors for my insomnia, which was already particularly bad this summer. This big transition caused the sleep train to completely jump the tracks. I haven't slept more than a couple of hours all week long and only dozed for a few minutes at dawn last night. It is always thus when I'm in a new space. I came out to the Colestin tonight so looking forward to sleeping and yet here I am typing at 1:00 again. Perhaps this is my new normal.
As I branch out from the Colestin, I find myself branching out from Hamfist as well. I got to play another Green Show tonight with a completely different set of folks. Two OSF actresses and I sang back up vocals for the One Night Band, a baker's dozen of male actors and theatre technicians banging guitars and living out their rock star fantasy. Who am I kidding, I was living out a fantasy of my own. Throughout the process, the men called us the Ladies (pronounced "Ladeez") and were most deferential. It was a bit of a throwback, but I ain't complaining; I got to wail behind Jesse singing "You Cant Always Get What You Want" to a huge crowd and I walked away with $30 in my pockets, which is more cash than I've ever cleared from any Hamfist show. It was a stone cold gas. Next week I'm playing a set with another new set of musicians called the Bathtub Gin Serenaders. We're playing jug band jazz and ragtime from the teens, 20s and 30s. It's challenging material and we're new to each other so it's still rough around the edges (hell, it's rough in the middle, too) but I love their song choices. We're playing a set for the Elks, so the stakes are very low, but still, it's a little nervewracking.
Hamfist is playing Stillwater again in October. Those guys are my heart, my family, my priority, and I'm grateful for every minute we get to play together. Still, I'm enjoying exploring other avenues, challenging myself, pushing the limits. It feeds something in me; I admit, I have a low tolerance for boredom. It can be a roller coaster. When it's good it's really, really good, but when its bad it's devastating. I take it all too seriously, I take it all to heart. I guess that's my blessing and my curse.
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