hey friends and family:

nick here. i signed up the girls and myself for a ripper of a ride on June 5 this year. i kinda swore to never return to the very poorly organized and heavily-trafficked mayhem that is the Ride for Heart in Toronto, but this year is different.

we lost our cousin Jake this past december, to a heart attack at just 25 years of age. he was healthy and generous and a great example of a human being. the planet is lesser without him. because jake had a big heart and is greatly missed, i am returning to the Ride for Heart to help raise funds in his name. typical filipino style – i’ve enlisted the participation of my entire family. i’m towing ruby for 50k, and julie is riding with jett or her big girl two-wheeler for 25k.

please feel free to peruse my donation page, or the donation pages for julie and jett. we are going big and then going home, and all assistance is greatly appreciated. greatly.

thank you again. here’s to jake and big hearts…

nick.

So, http://jesandian.com/?p=287

Nothing I’ve ever done has garnered the attention that this photo has. At this writing, the photo has almost 6,000 views and has been added to multiple groups on Flickr.

And here’s the kicker

Its popularity is driven by the hair under Jes’ arm. Did you notice that? There are people who are extremely serious about how ‘sexy’ a look this is. I like that about the world. There are people who are driven to the point of excitement by the seemingly mundane. The Internet brings that to the surface in other humans and allows me to revel in them the way they revel in my wife’s armpits.

Sewing blogs are really catching my interest these days, particularly Grosgrain with her “Embellishknits” redone/repurposed sweaters and Casey’s Elegant Musings with her vintage style adventures.

I’ve also found BurdaStyle, which isn’t a blog, but is a community site that these blogs have often referenced. The cool part is that BurdaStyle has a trove of instructional posts and how-to’s which makes me feel like I can actually start knowing what I’m doing. I’ve been scanning the patterns over and over, trying to decide what I want to make. I downloaded one pattern so far, and will post on it after I give the gift for which I downloaded it (Philly Secret Santa post after this weekend!).

To top it off, I compulsively bought a book of patterns in Japanese from Etsy, called Drape Drape 2. Most of the patterns are really flowing and recommended for jersey knits, so I’ve been buying up old jersey sheet sets from thrift shops so I can start making oogobs of comfy clothes. I can only pray that Ian won’t get too upset with the mess I’m making in the back room. Well, that and pray that I don’t get as bad as my mom and sister are on Ravelry. ;)

So. Sew. Casey’s Elegant Musings is hosting a Sew-along, making a swing dress. I think I am going to give this a try. Not only does it show how to make a muslin version of a pattern first, which is a technique I think will help me make my own patterns later, I’d (hopefully) come out at the other end with a sweet set of swing threads. I have not done a complicated pattern in quite some time, and I am a little nervous. I feel like I still haven’t figured out the nuances of using my sewing machine competently. Now, I realize that I probably won’t keep pace with the schedule Casey’s set for her sew-along, but I’m hoping to start getting a better grasp of this hobby of mine. And as I’ve learned from Google Readership, these posts can exist almost in perpetuity.

My brother and nephew

On December 6th 2010, at 8:06am, we lost my brother Jacob. With a history of heart complications, we suspect he died of a heart attack.

I wanted this post to be an eloquent eulogy to Jacob, but find that stating the facts has left me drained and numb. Jacob died on Monday. Jacob is gone physically from our lives. He’s not coming back from the pizza shop to give me big hugs. He’s not laughing at all of us in our silly dramas and defenses. He’s not sharpening knives, growing (and killing) bonsai trees, eating candy like some people pop pills. He’s not at my sister’s watching our little nephew or teaching him his laughing samurai ways. He’s gone.

I do not know what to do right now. There is nothing I can do to change anything, but I just want to kick and scream on a Rumpelstilskin level and crack the earth beneath my feet in frustration. I want to cry quietly in a corner somewhere. I want to hug all of my family all at once and never let go. I want to be with Jacob, bullshitting about the world, explaining ourselves away into contented understanding. We would always be laughing. Always thinking. Always interested in the world. I want to hear Ian and Jacob teasing each other and watching MacGyver. I want the chance to go back and savor each of these experiences all the more, and to make at least one more effort to spend time with him. To jump into snow with him in nothing more than our skivvies. To be closer to him. To be a better sister to him.

Operation SnowLove from Joseph Hansbrough on Vimeo.

I love you Jacob. You were a thoughtful, spacey, ardent, funny, insightful, and artistic man, who brought comfort and sanity to those around you. You were an easy-going, fun-loving, entertaining, energetic, enthusiastic boy who I will always remember taking care of and watching grow. I wish you had had more opportunities to embark on the adventures you wanted so much to enjoy. I wish you had been able to have all the things you wished for. I am so glad you were here. With us. Being you. You are amazing. And we are all better for having known you.

Love you.

So, as any self-respecting Americans will do when faced with financial adversity, we got ready to head West! Ian was sure he’d find more work in the Los Angeles area, and I had just learned about a loan repayment program for my line of work that would suit our move. My over-planning brain ran wild, and I started researching credentialing requirements and found some job leads in Arizona, New Mexico, and California. We even went so far as to visit LA and Arizona so we could get a feel for the areas and to follow up on some job opportunities. Friends were preparing to welcome us on the west coast with open arms, people were looking forward to working with me, and life seemed about to change by January.

Ian looking over LA from Runyon Canyon

I will be honest. I was excited. Though I am in a very good place in my life right now, I have a dash of wanderlust in me that has been itching for a while. I am thrilled that others can settle in the world and cultivate community and local identity, but I have not seen myself in this light for years. When I decided I wasn’t going to be able to be a hermit, I saw myself as becoming a worldly, cosmopolitan adventurer of the world. And Ian sounded ready, and the Southwest is an amazing place. I wanted some desert, some sunshine, and some mesas. I was ready to go.

Except. The credentialing process proved to be time-consuming and full of small, but game-changing, nuances as to whether I could get licensed or not. And each state has different requirements (yay state rights!), which made the process even longer and more confusing. Over six months later, I still have to get more paperwork and hours done before I can apply to ONE of these states in which I was looking to work. And the flourish of employers expressing interest had dropped down to a select few. And while I was pulling my hair out trying to figure out a bureaucratic confluence of paperwork, Ian interviewed for a job. In DC. Wait, what? But DC is on the East Coast!?! I thought we were going to slowly cook ourselves happy in the oven of Arizona? Surrounded by cacti and mesquite? Or explore all of the amazing Asian food options in California? I mean, as soon as this paperwork says we can, right?

When we started planning our move, it was with the understanding that it would happen if it was meant to happen. That if God agreed that the move was the best thing for us to do, we’d have minimal issues making it happen. So, though my sails were deflated, I had to read the signs in front of me. This job in DC was an excellent opportunity for Ian and he really wanted to get it. So, perhaps my frantic goal for heading west this year is misguided. Or just untimely maybe. Either way, I have to be able to let it go and stop the overplanning, darnit!
As things have worked out, Ian has gotten this new job and we’re staying put. He’s even made a video to help announce this exciting new chapter in his career.
As for me? The disappointment is there, sure, but I have to say that it feels a lot better not having to do all of that blasted paperwork.

Neither of us have ever seen it and I thought would be fun if Jes and I put our preconceptions on record.

I’ll go first.

Jack Black the panda is an outcast from the other pandas because of his unpandalike desire to be a Kung Fu master. He meets a master who sees potential in him and who trains him. Master’s old enemies are jealous of Jack Black panda’s skills and take the master. JBP must prove to himself that he has what it takes to save master. I also think there’s a girl panda interest too.
Basically Karate Kid with pandas.

Here is Jessica’s notion:

Panda is the Chosen One, sought out by powers that be to defeat the ultimate scourge. Panda is a schlub who doesn’t look like he can do the job. Powers that be train Panda in the range of styles, taught by the namesake animals. He looks like a failure until he finds some motivating and compelling reason to fight. He finds his inner Chosen One when his teachers and loved ones are at risk. He saves the day.

The movie is just beginning now.

UPDATE:
Jes was far closer to the facts of the movie, something she attributes to seeing more of the movie trailers than I did. Incredibly imaginative film.

Ian accompanied me on a walk around the neighborhood and down by the Stony Run Trail. It was fun to nerd out on all of the different kinds of moss and lichens around, and it really helped me slow down to enjoy my surroundings. I brought home one chunk of moss with an earthworm in it, because I couldn’t manage to coax it out. We also watched different colonies of ants in trees and dirt and taking wing to start new colonies. Like I said, it was fun to nerd out.

I went a tad overboard on my trek. Not only did I come home with stones that were too big, I came home with so many small samples of different plants, bark, and mosses that I couldn’t fit them all into the jar. Even when I made the arrangement in the jar sideways to get more planting space, I had far more samples than I had terrain.

I do not have any other large glass jars or dishes to make into terrariums right now, so I instead improvised with a casserole dish. I intend on finding other more appropriate placements for these plants later, but I had been concerned about the mosses’ welfare out in plain air. While trying to find a way to keep the plants moist, Ian made the excellent suggestion of using the left over window plastic that we just took off our winterized windows. Following Ian’s thoughtful suggestions, I made a small tent of plastic with double-sided tape, plastic, and a found (and quite straight) stick in the middle of the temporary terrarium.

Depending on how well this temporary terrarium goes, I may decide to keep it or find a similar approach to setting up the more permanent fixture. Perhaps a glass bowl over a fun platter. Perhaps a compelling dish with the same tipi effect with plastic. In the meantime, I will be monitoring these mossy landscapes to see if they will survive my absentmindedness. I have been known to bite off more planting than I can chew during the spring months.

Almost ten years ago I became certified in audio engineering and took the first job I could find. I was hired quickly and easily at a place in Bethesda, Maryland called Potomac Talking Books. The company recorded narrated books and magazines for the Library of Congress. I enjoyed written materials and loved anything to do with tape  and sound so the job was a great placement for me. My duties were to sit outside the recording booth (a metal pod that was just large enough to hold a voice actor and a book), monitor their narration and read along a copy of the material, listening for mistakes. When mistakes were made, I’d rewind the reel-to-reel recorder in front of me to the sentence before the mistake, and punch in (hit record at a precise moment). A light would go on when the recording began and the narrator would expertly begin reading with matched tone again. I became an expert at rewindstopplayrecording. It was automatic. Instinctual. I took great pride in this ability.

But I’m not good at reading and listening

After the recording was complete, the stack of (sometimes a dozen or more) reels were sent into the QC department where they were pored over by a team of glassed-nosed übernerds for pronunciation, background noise, poor punch-ins, and mistakes that were overlooked.

I overlooked a lot of mistakes.

As good as I was at instinctually working the tape machine I was really bad at this job. QC would make a list of the mistakes that had to be corrected in re-recording sessions and the actors would make the corrections at the beginning of their next scheduled session. The actors hated re-recordings because they didn’t get paid the same as the initial recordings ($50 per 88 minute side). The actors started hating me, their broken failsafe. A month later I left the job and started working behind a desk at an insurance company.

I told you that to tell you this

While working there I met an actor named Mark Ashby who was an absolute narration prodigy. He would do an 88 minute side in 90 minutes. In essence, he’d sit down in the studio and make more than anyone else in the place. He was fantastic and efficient. As a result he was asked to read a lot of different materials. Including material that was wholly inappropriate for his voice. Like Ebony magazine featuring an interview with rapper Raekwon.

I heard about this recording and, during my lunch break and without permission, went into the tape library, grabbed the tape, spooled it up and bussed it out to my Minidisc recorder. I stole government property between mouthfuls of Boston Market. I was never caught and I think the statute of limitations has expired so, without further ado, please enjoy one of the gems of my iTunes Library: Mark Ashby reads Raekwon.

He’s in quite a state: laying there with a collapsed lung, tired, in pain, and getting a lot of tests done. But he’s okay. By okay, I mean alive, talking, and stable.

My whole day has been spent alternating between thinking he’s okay and thinking that he’s not. And I find myself frustrated with the whole arrangement of things.

A month ago, my brother was dropped from my parents’ insurance plan. Now he gets into an accident that involves a helicopter, multiple days in the hospital, multiple tests. He has no job right now.

This is not okay.

But he’s alive. Thank goodness. And he’s relatively whole, and will likely come home soon. The guy is a trooper, and tries to be pleasant to everyone and probably should have kicked us out a while ago today. He was tired when I saw him, and that was before anyone else got there. Damn it if he shouldn’t have just blown up at us without regards to propriety, and sent us home. This kind of stress shouldn’t get trussed up to save others. This sucks.

And now I find myself doing the same thing. I feel so at ends right now. I need a place to vent, and I never update this bloody site. But really. I mean, come on. It feels foolish to think that what I write here matters. I cannot write too much in order to protect my private life from my work; I cannot write anything worth reading if it’s not personal. When I delve into feelings, I find myself just bitching. When I try to be witty, it all falls flat. This is nonsense.

And as I write this entry, with the hope that it is honest to my feelings, I find myself tucking all of these things up and getting ready to go back to work tomorrow, to support my godsister tomorrow at her high school play, to have a play date with my cousin for both of our sakes, to go to a family event on Sunday. After all that’s done, I find I am trying to figure out how Ian and I can contribute to whatever costs my brother will incur from this hospital “adventure”, even though I already am flirting with burnout and am dealing with a severely compromised budget as it is.

No matter how much I wish for my brother to feel better and to take care of himself, I really find this entire situation to be ridiculous. After all,  I cannot figure out a reasonable way to do it for myself.