J Segal Design- Design a Life

Condolence cards. I've gotten a few. Mostly from people who I'd probably know if I saw them. Bob's friends. And I must admit I've had a shitty attitude toward them. I even ripped one in half immediately upon reading. So I started stacking them, unopened, on the counter as they arrive at the old place. My past resides there, and so does my grief. Or so I tell myself. My “Letter To The World” is a pile of unopened mail in a half-empty house. If they really knew the pain and terror of losing the totality of what Bob was in my life, if they wanted to make some gesture of condolence, they'd enclose a check. That's my jerk response. So to prove how right I am, and how little anyone cares, I opened today's set. Inside was a check. A generous one at that. I began to weep. In my anger, in my grief, I had sold humanity short. I had been a jerk. Bob and I used to have a joke about people who reject help “on principal,” in movies or tv. “Take the money!”...

So I spent the night at the old place last night. The plan was to come here and pack some stuff, maybe do a little laundry, then head home. But there's still cable here so I spent the big Friday night watching Bill Maher. Woohoo. Even treated my van to a warm, dry garage stall, so it's still clean from it's wash. Did ya catch what I said back there? I called the new place home. The apartment is my place now. When asked, I give that address, sure. But when I think of home, that's the place now. It caught me by surprise the first time I did it. The old place is good. Don't get me wrong. Really good. And thick with memories of amazing times. But lately my meta- experience of it, my experience of the experience of the place, is all about how rewarding it will be to the lives of the new owners. Looking back at the love, the joy, the pain, the security, the hope- 16 of the 26-almost-27 years with my partner, Bob, who died in January, it all happened here. This...

I have a confession. I love to eat, so I love to cook. That’s not the confession. I confess that when I cook, in my head I’m hosting a cooking show. I always perform the voice-over narration in my head, explaining my ingredients and techniques. I’ve been cooking for one lately, so I’ve developed a running theme this season of Simple, Healthy Meals for One. See, I hate leftovers. Plus I’m trying to spend less money, and avoid carbs, so fresh ingredients and no processed foods if I can avoid it. Another confession. I post food pics on my Instagram. Yup, I’m that guy. I like to artfully arrange the food on a crisp, white plate. A little garnish, and “click.” Ready for prime time. Good episode. I may not be the best looking or most popular host, but my food definitely has star power. Hope you can tune in sometime.

So I gotta make peace with my new place. See, we had a fight. I stormed out 2 days ago and haven’t made it back. Things didn’t go well and I bailed. Its early in our relationship, so I’m still having that “what have I done?” feeling. Renter’s remorse. That’s a thing, right? Nothing there yet to bind me. Hell, I didn’t even have a coffee pot yet. So I bailed. The van is starting to fill up with odds and ends. Coffee pot, shower curtain, towels, soap. Two jugs of store-bought water. Nothing signifying trust. Nothing really taken away from the old place. Not yet. I had internet service installed and spent 8 hours waiting for a red light to turn green. Tech support had no record of me and no real solutions. My solution was to run, regroup and start fresh later. Two day later and I don’t wanna go. It occurs to me that I have no plan. Except the floor plan I drew while freezing and trying to open my Instagram. Graph paper and a tape measure have a way of revealing just how unworka...

January 10, 2018, aka, Christmas. So I just sold the home I designed, Bob paid for, and I built. And I couldn’t be happier, all things considered. It occurs to me that I’ve been polite and accommodating in selling this amazingly special home at a bargain price, sharing the story of Bob’s stroke, and gleefully walking away. I’m clearly sacrificing a lot. But don’t pity me; I couldn’t be more grateful for the life I’m walking away from. Bob and I always had a rule that he didn’t have to buy me a Christmas present. Ever. Friends of ours were shocked. Why not? Because every day with Bob was like Christmas to me. From day one he always provided me with that which I needed, or even really, really wanted. Bob was just a great provider. I always saw my role as facilitator. I’d spit-shine Bob, send him out into the world and create a home and life for us to enjoy. My only regret is that he didn’t quite get to the point where he could relax and enjoy it. But he was slowing down, ...

J SEGAL DESIGN- DESIGN A LIFE Share INTRODUCING... I'm Jeff, aka J Segal, artist, designer, furniture maker, home builder and general creative type. In August, 2017 the reset button got pressed on my life. My partner, Bob, of 26 years had a major stroke, leaving me in charge of his care and "closing up shop" on our life together. I haven't had a real job in a decade, Bob worked hard and busted his hump to pay the bills, while I built our dream house, served him gourmet meals, and made art while absorbing way too much YouTube philosophy. Everyone around me just expected me to cower in my home until the sheriff came to put me out. But one day I saw an appraiser photographing my house and I decided I'm not going to sit around waiting to be homeless. I'm not going down that way. The intent of this blog, moving forward, is to document the rebuilding of my life starting from about as close to zero as I ...