Forehead and Forearms vs. Fridge (Or I Lose)

Eight years ago, I bought a used fridge from Craigslist when I moved into my apartment. I nearly had to sandblast it to remove years of grease and curry powder from every square inch of it, but I got a good deal — and a good workout in the process.

A few years later, I painted it with stainless steel paint to hide its glaring whiteness. In the process of pulling the handles off to paint the appliance, one of the handles sprang back and hit me in the face.

Hard.

I had a massive contusion on my forehead for weeks. (I had to buy a ridiculous hat from H&M to hide it.)

That fridge served me well for years (minus the forehead assault), but it has been on its way out for the last year or so. I refuse to buy a new fridge for a place I’m renting on principle so I started scouring Craigslist for a replacement.

After a month, I found a candidate… in Compton.

Yes, Dr. Dre’s City of Compton.

Apparently, the guy had been trying to sell it for a long time, but everyone bailed on him when he told him where he lived.

People are idiots.

I mean, maybe I’M an idiot for driving 21 miles to go into a stranger’s garage with him, but considering the deal I got on a stainless steel fridge I’d say I won.

The only catch?

I didn’t have anyone to help me haul it home.

I didn’t think that was going to be a big deal because I moved my last fridge by myself. I figured I’d just rent a truck with a ramp and a dolly again and I’d be fine.

Yeah, not so much…

I didn’t realize how heavy the fridge was because the guy who sold it to me put it in the truck for me. Maybe the grimacing and the sweat on his brow should have tipped me off, but he was kind of small, so I didn’t really think too much about it until it was my turn to haul the thing solo.

I struggled to tip it on its end to roll it, but I finally managed. I held it at the edge of the ramp preparing to roll it down, and I grimaced in pain as the weight of the enormous appliance rested on my forearms.

OMIGOD, it hurt.

Once I was sure I had the wheels aligned properly on the ramp, I started the slow descent to the street. By this point, my arms were aching, and I was grateful my legs had the strength to keep the fridge (and me) from flying uncontrollably into the street.

I survived that ordeal and made it across the sidewalk, but I was absolutely out of breath. It turns out stainless steel weighs A LOT more than whatever my last fridge was made out of (clouds and cotton candy?!?).

Totally spent and in pain, I looked at the two small steps standing between me and my building. They weren’t that big. They should not have been daunting, but my forearms were already aching. I couldn’t face steps alone.

So I started my SOS texts.

I generally try to avoid damsel in distressing it, but this situation was out of my hands.

My friend Lauren offered to come over because she is amazing. While I was waiting for her to arrive, my neighbor Mel came upon me sitting on the steps, looking a bit bruised and pathetic.

It turns out his grandfather had owned a moving company back east and he offered to help as well.

Long story short (too late), Lauren and Mel bailed me out of a situation wisdom probably could have prevented in the first place, but now I have a fabulous fridge.

(I bought them gift cards to the bougie pet store up the street because I know when I’m indebted to incredible people, and they both have rescue dogs who deserve pampering.)

So, anyway, here’s the appliance that almost killed me and my arms:

Welcome home, fridge. Thank you for hosting my bacon and my beer.

Welcome home, fridge. Thank you for hosting my bacon and my beer. You’re worth it.

Now I’m adoring it while icing my arms because moving it all but kind of killed me.

Repurposing an already indispensable item = winning.

Winning with wine pacs.

If you can handle gore, this is why I need the ice:

Fridge > forearms

Fridge > forearms

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I swear the only abusive relationship I’m in is with a large appliance.

It’s actually a little worse today than it was when I took these photos last night, but I’ll spare you those pics

Instead, I’ll conclude with this: both fridges did damage to my forehead and my forearms, but I’m grateful for cold food… and the angels who helped me haul the pretty new one into my place.

My crew rules.

The Birthday Girl is Almost Speechless (Or Thank You Thank You Thank You!)

My birthday was nearly a month ago, but the gratitude I feel for the love and generosity displayed by everyone in my life lingers still.

I have so many people to thank and so much to say about all of it that I almost don’t know where to start.

My friends actually humored my ridiculous need to celebrate for an entire week, so I should probably start there.

My first party involved food trucks and an outdoor screening of Blazing Saddles in Griffith Park. (A portion of the event’s proceeds went toward animal rescue, which was an added bonus.)

People were really into the food.

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(Especially the kind that was impaled with skewers.)

And the beer…

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Obviously.

Later in the week, I hit up Bludso’s Barbecue with my friend Katy who happens to have been born on August 3rd as well.

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All I have to say about this situation is #texasforever

I finally finished the alphabet book I started at her son’s Elephant-Themed Baby Shower, and I gave it to her as a birthday gift.

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It only took like 18 months. (Sorry, Finnie!)

After stuffing my face with meat for days, I jumped in a kayak with Elena.

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We didn’t even capsize.

For my final party, I planned a picnic for the polo matches in the Pacific Palisades. I painted a whole bunch of horses and glued them on top of miniature mason jars because it seemed like the proper thing to do for polo.

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Ziggy totally tried to get some of our pony-topped carnitas action.

I also made ginger mint juleps and poured them in jars.

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Adult sippy cups! #duh

Not only did a lot of friends tell me they were pregnant (yay, more baby showers!), but they even brought their cute kids to the party.

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Including My August 3rd Birthday Buddy, Connor!

You may remember Connor from the Owl Baby Shower That Never Happened Story. His mom is so adorable that she also brought horseshoe cookies.

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I mean…

Between matches we got to stomp the divots Pretty Woman-style and play with the ponies up close.

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Ryan was way into it.

In between making new friends, some people even watched polo.

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Well, maybe only Mike did.

Kidding. I watched too. (Only I don’t have any photos of that.)

I’m so grateful to everyone who spent time with me in various ways over the week. My favorite thing about parties is bringing everyone I adore together, and birthdays are the perfect excuse!

On my actual birthday, I kept things kind of low-key. I hung around after church to talk to an artist who was making a piece to promote the Labor Day creative retreat I registered to attend.

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Awesome, right?

Hearing the story behind his art was a great way to celebrate a new year of my life that will be focused on my own projects…

and this brings me to my final thank you.

Monday morning I received an e-mail informing me that someone at church anonymously paid for half of my registration fee to attend the creative retreat. When I read the message, my eyes filled with tears of astonishment and gratitude. As I pack my bags for the mountains today, I’m still in awe that someone believes in me enough to support my creativity.

I cannot properly express how much it means to me. I’m inspired, grateful, and absolutely filled with love. Since that amazing person prefers to remain anonymous, I felt the best way to recognize his or her generosity would be by writing about it here. So thank you, thank you, thank you. I won’t let you down. I promise.

Thank you thank you thank you to everyone amazing in my life. I’m so lucky to know you. You make my life better. All of you.