Hey, people. Apologies for the lack of updates. I wish I could say it's because we're all too busy counting stacks of money or hanging out in the solid gold jacuzzi, but this is false.
I've just been enjoying summer, working hard, and diffusing the odd occasional (figurative) bomb.
Boom
Well, when I last wrote in any kind of a serious way, it was about the ceiling leaking again. It started happening while we were watching 4th of July fireworks, and it got worse overnight. An investigative team was sent upstairs and we quickly determined that the neighbor's troublesome water heater was acting up again. Last time, it was spewing water. But on this occasion, the water heater was sporting an obvious bulge on the side.
"Is that bad?"
Um, yeah. A bulging water heater could blow at any moment, rocketing through the ceiling and destroying everything in its path. We filed out of the building into the alley and called the landlord to tell him that the building was about to explode. (Insert Three Stooges sound effects.)
The landlord came over with a whole crew the next day. The problem was taken care of and the day ended with a 20-person cookout on the roof. It was a lovely evening of good food, a cooing baby learning to walk while everyone cheered, dogs chasing each other playfully, good conversation, and the heartwarming if not nerdy feeling that maybe Renard has become a cultural experiment, too. A girl on the third floor pointed out that in the years before we moved here, no one knew anything of other tenants aside from petty arguments over parking spaces and misbehaving pets. But this summer has seen a few all-building cookouts and we've been getting along fine. I was realizing that the building is becoming better, not just structurally.
It was a fuzzy feeling that didn't last long.
Blackout drunks in love
We have (had?) a young couple in the building. Apparently their romance has officially run its course, and one person decided that the best way to end a relationship is to eschew honesty and take the easier option - making up a bunch of colorful fairy tales about a romance that never happened, involving someone who lives at Renard. Since their hours of sobriety are few and far between, this lie became absolute truth to both of these kids, and the resulting fallout was not pretty.
No amount of talking and cool-out time resolved anything, so one person partially moved out. I snapped into protective mom-like ninja mode, stormed upstairs, and made it very clear to the other person that for messing with our family, their time in this building is up, and that it's time to move. We'll see what happens.
But wait! It gets better.
Adjoining storefront haunted by bad vibes
When the ladies of the cake shop in our adjoining storefront announced they were moving to D.C., we all had some mixed feelings. They were good neighbors who were blissfully quiet and stayed to themselves, something we (foolishly) didn't value at the time. But at the same time, possibilities opened to us. We toyed with the idea of renting it out and starting a cafe, knocking down the wall and expanding our space, moving business there and keeping Renard Proper as our quiet living quarters, or turning the whole thing into a design/printing shop and charging membership to neighborhood artists.
The space sat vacant for about a month when I walked into a situation that I figured would temporarily benefit a lot of people. The landlord needed the space filled in any way possible, and some friends of mine were looking for a space to host the sleeping area for a moped rally one weekend in July. They were expecting 150 people at the rally, but 60 were out-of-towners who needed a big space to pitch tents and sleep after rides. I was assured there would be no noise and no partying. The landlord was desperate to fill it, and they worked out a pretty great deal - $300 for four days.
The moped kids held up their end of the bargain - they were quiet, clean, respectful, and fun. I was glad to help and thought the weekend was a success... until Michelle and Jeremiah noticed that one of their mannequins was missing from the basement. We ended up finding it in the space next door with all its fingers broken off. Annoying, but not a complete tragedy - I guess we were all just disappointed that while we've fully expected to be broken into at least once in this space, the safety of our house was first broken by people I indirectly know, who were only there because I was helping them.
Moral: never help anyone ever.
And there was no breathing room after that. The moped kids left abruptly a day before they were expected to leave, and word circulated that "the new tenant" booted them out so she could paint the space. And then we lived through many tense days of this new tenant interacting with us only to force Brad into helping with the plumbing in her basement or to complain about the state of the courtyard. Specifically, she hates our recycling system. She thinks it's going to attract rats. She doesn't like the table on the porch. Granted, it's an ugly table that is slowly caving in on itself, but it's where we drink our coffee in the morning, play cards with neighbors (before their relationship imploded), entertain guests... so for a while, things were kind of ugly. It didn't help that her "apology" was little more than marching into my house and announcing "Everyone hates me when they first meet me." Ugh.
Weeks have passed and we've mostly gotten through the growing pains. I think we've made it abundantly clear that we've worked too hard on our space to be pushed around.
Love rules
But it's not all bad news, especially for Michelle and Jeremiah.
There was an incident at the July Critical Mass ride. Perhaps you read about it in the paper. If not, let the photos speak for themselves. I dare you not to get misty-eyed:
They continued the bike ride and then came back to a big engagement party at Renard that raged until dawn.
New neighbor
Our neighbors in the building next door had a baby! She was due June 23, and we enjoyed a day or two of the nervous father-to-be shouting updates off the roof. It was a home birth, and I believe it was something like 39 hours of labor. Yikes. And the baby wasn't born until July 11.
A few of us went over to their place about a week later. We hung out with the baby, drank some tea, ate frozen peaches, and talked about life. It was the perfect summer day.
Little things
The garden is going really well. We're a little worried because it's been such an unusually chilly summer and it's not looking like our vegetables will grow fully. I'm still excited because I'm working out plans to turn the little patio area behind the gallery reception desk into a green house. More on that soon.
Beach wrestling is now recognized at the official sport of Renard.
We're developing plans for the basement bathroom (at long last), but the upstairs bathroom is still incomplete. It's a little annoying and I fear that houseblindness has settled in. At least I make it a habit of buying slate every time I hit Home Depot. Piece by piece, it's all coming together. So the kitchen is very close to being finished.
I promise to stop slacking on updates.
