Tag Archives: Brian Bent

All Dried Up

12 May

My last post was written in an attempt to convey the fact that I feel as if I am running on borrowed time.  Not the type of “borrowed time” that means short on life, but more the type of situation where there are so many things happening, nay converging, that when I get a moment I feel as if it’s borrowed from a future still pending.  In my own estimation, I fell short of success in conveying that concept…not only did I not take the proper initiative to dissect where I was coming from, but the thought itself is an abstract and abstracts are hard for me to process.  Hence the lazy output of my previous writing.  To be plain, my last post is downright boring.  A cop out at best.  I thank you for reading through it, and I especially thank those of you who, with loving hearts, were able to decipher through my blasé code and find the real Rivka in the mix.  You are my kindred spirits!

So I have some catching up to do…

First, the excitement of the day:  My husband, my daughter, and I are heading to France in June.  Brian (hubby) has been asked to play music at a festival in Biarritz, FR called, “Wheels and Waves.”  He is also being recruited to that country to have an art show at a gallery in the same town, galerie 13 avril de biarritz.  When he was asked to participate he said, “yes, but my wife must come along too.”  So Brian and I are having an all expenses paid trip to France, and we decided we needed our daughter to be party to the endeavor as she is fluent in the language and we are not.  Well simultaneous to the french connection came an offer from Japan.  Again, my beloved said, “I will go but not without my wife.”  So we return from France only to turn around and three days later take off for Japan.  Only this time, Esther will not be with us as she only knows how to eat Japanese, not speak it!

Which brings me to the second item of ‘new and exciting’ in the Bent (but not broken) world of Rivka B.  Upon our return from Japan, two days after our return to be exact, I will be starting a new job.  A full time job.  And though I am not quite yet at liberty to discuss the details of the position, or the employer, I am very much looking forward to this new opportunity, challenge, endeavor, direction.  I assure you, more to come on this subject later…like mid-summer, later!

Third, but not last, as result of many, many (would it be too redundant to include about a thousand more “many’s?”), circumstances and prayers (“prayers” should be in caps for emphasis!), our Bent family is graduating from the ministry we were called to thirteen years ago.  Yep, 13 years ago my husband and I knew without a doubt we were called to start an outreach ministry called, the Hotrod Church for Sinners (hotrodchurch.com).  It has been, what I like to call, a catalyst ministry–a first step, if you will, toward a life of faith (we have also  been blessed with several people who utilize it for their additional steps of faith as well).  We have met in the same pizza/bar restaurant since its inception–free of charge.  And have reached out to the people in society who feel, for whatever reason, unrecognized by the traditional church.  The ministry has become so much more than that.  It has been an extension of our family.  It is funny, I was briefly looking through the photos taken at the hospital while my son was in ICU (from the brain tumor surgery) and I thought to myself, “what a diverse and colorful bunch of people we had supporting us, what a beautiful ‘family of friends’ we have been given–many as result of the Hotrod Church.”  Now I like to joke (often), that the sinner part of the title is held by ‘yours truly’, though that part of the name came about more as a nod to the fact that we all know we are sinners and therefore don’t need to be told.  At any rate, our last service in our little pizza restaurant will be Sunday, May 26.  We are secure in the ending of this chapter, and we are excited for the next set of adventures our Lord in Heaven has for us…watch out homelessness, Brian’s got you on his radar! 🙂

Lastly (for now), is the present condition of my (our) son Cole.  The good news, he is successfully living on his own.  In fact, I will be surprised if he ever decides to come back home.  This, in and of itself, is very positive, and I have to keep reminding myself of this truth.  You see it is very difficult for my maternal eye to not fixate upon the things that aren’t so great–because it is in my nature to want to “fix” these things.  Cole’s dependency upon narcotics and the cocktail of medications he receives, greatly disturbs my soul.  Every day, I wait with anticipation to hear from him…when I do, I am thankful to have another day of assurance that he is alive.  I have come to realize that this is my lot, the lot of being the mother.  I will never have the ability to see my son through any other eyes than the maternal vision which was handed me at the time of his birth.  I will always want the closest thing to perfection when evaluating his health and welfare.  I will always utilize my critical eye with his circumstance because I am hoping for the best, most fulfilling life for my son.  But what I have realized is that my maternal eye, and all that the concept encompasses, is not necessarily what he considers as “best.”  And to that epiphany, I am learning to yield.  So I am reminded, moment by moment, that he is making it…his way.  And for today, that is a good and healthy place for him to be.  It is his process, and I will take part as I am allowed, the challenge being not to take over! 😉

Well I will close within this theme.  After all, it is Mother’s Day in the U.S.A.  And though I had hoped to be given a quiver of 10, I have been blessed with my two natural born, who just by themselves make the quiver seem quite full!  Yet in addition to the two, I have been blessed with many nieces and nephews (some of them technically cousins), young ladies who consider me a parental role model, children of longtime friends who humor me with their approval, and a  few stragglers still grasping for any loving handout that comes their way…all of which bless my soul to play a part in their lives.  Moreover, who make me realize that if my quiver of ten had in fact been given me, I would lack the capacity of mind for the dozens more I have been given in their stead.

P.s. I am sharing a piece of Hotrod Church history with the following video clip, including the fact our son is playing the drums while he was on leave from his military assignment…obviously pre-surgery.

…peace out and peace be with you…

Frankie Goes to Hollywood

23 Oct

My title should actually be, “Relax…”; However, with that title I begin singing the song by Frankie Goes to Hollywood…”Relax, don’t do it, when you wanna get to it. Relax…”  I’m not exactly sure if the lyrics have sexual connotations (though I’m leaning toward a definite ‘yes’ on that one), which is why I utilize the ellipsis instead of finishing out the lyrics.  But the theme of “Relax” is where I’m at, though ironically instead of heading north to Hollywood, we headed south to San Diego.  We being my most benign partner in crime, my beloved, Brian.  He bears the title of benign because he is my anchor to following the laws of the ‘establishment’.  For you see, I do not imbibe alcoholic beverages, nor do I utilize mind altering prescription/non-prescription pharmaceuticals (drugs–for you street smart folk).  Therefore my “high” in life comes from the perpetuation of “breaking the rules”–or bending them at the very least.

My Brian does not do those things willingly.  And if he does, perchance override the system, his conscience hounds him mercilessly into the wee hours of the night.  Not so for me.  I am happy to trespass, go through a ‘do not enter’ door, run a red light when no one is around, ride my bicycle on the sidewalk when the sign says, “no bikes allowed”, and drop the moniker of my cousin, for personal benefit, though she is not the songbird one would think she is, etc..  And much to the dismay of my loving husband, I do not lose one wink of sleep as a result of my shenanigans.

So here we are, the grateful recipients of a private shelter, gratis and courtesy my prima, Suzanne Vega.  I will refrain from sharing a photo of her home, as I am sensitive to protect her loving abode from the bombardment of more hooligans, such as myself, looking for a free-ride of a vacation. 😉

We packed our bicycles (my Raleigh 1973 and his 5 dollar who knows what it is) into our 1956 Ford Customline vehicle and headed south.  We had intended to also bring along our 1930’s kookbox surfboards (modeled after a Tom Blake), but Brian strained his back, thus we decided the ‘water-loggers’ would better serve his recovery if left behind.  Now it was our intent to have a full two weeks respite from regular life, and by ‘leaving our nest’ our two not-so-little ones would also enjoy a break from the watchful eyes of their parents.  However, given how our vacation began–we were skeptical to the reality of the ‘two week’ dream.

The short of the story is as follows (skip if human feces, and the discussion of it, causes you a problem)…

For some reason, our plumbing likes to fail only on a Sunday.  Sometimes it will choose a different day of the week, but only if out of town guests are due to arrive on another day.  So on Sunday October 14th, our main sewer line decided to back up.  Brian and I were alerted to the situation at 6a.m when our daughter came running into our room to proclaim, “my shower is not draining and the toilet is overflowing.”  Since this exact issue caught us off guard two months prior, I was keenly aware that her news carried with it the undeniable truth that all of our toilets and showers (two to be exact), sinks and the like, were now ‘out of commission’.  And being it was Sunday, I knew our faithful plumber (and good friend) was also not available.  I did put a call into him, just to give him the heads-up of the situation, and ironically he and his wife were in San Diego for a weekend getaway…not courtesy my cousin.  There it is…fate.  It was fate my plumbing, my plumber, and my vacation plans were intertwined with each other.  For when he came on Monday, to clean out our line, he told me the stories of where he and his wife found enjoyment in the southern city–exact locations my husband and I intended to visit in the upcoming weeks.

Back to my story…

What to do in the event my bowels decided to move, as is customary for me after my morning brew (of coffee)?  Well being the intelligent woman I am, I borrowed from my experience with the portable head on our sailboat, and I covered my loo with a plastic bag which was, yes GROSS, but a better alternative to the non-flushing option my husband utilized after ribbing me of my ingenious efforts.  In fact, I do believe his exact apology came in the form of a cry from the bathroom…and it sounded like this, “GET ME A BAG…please!” 🙂 🙂 🙂  Those little emoticons showcase the laughter emanating from my being as I handed him the bag and he “ate face” in his own stubborn toilet-y mess.  Not exactly the best overall tone in which to launch an intimate, and relaxing, vacation–but it is how we started.  I promise, I don’t make this stuff up…life hands it to me in the bag! hahahahahaahahaha (oh that was bad)

San Diego at last, albeit the relaxing part is a work in progress.

Our first week was a trial in error, with our bicycles and extended family helping to keep us accountable to our ‘vacating’ frame of mind.  We were blessed with agreeable weather and the legs to pedal us forward.  The plumbing has been superb which proves complimentary to my freshly ground, morning cup-o-joe.  Brian and I are very much in synch when it comes to our interests in architecture, history, design, and culture (well I’m more of a culture buff than he, though he lends me his listening ear as I explain the “Dia de los muertos” influence and tradition, seen more rampantly here in the border-near town of San Diego).  Although his knowledge of history gives my cultural education a run for its money.  In other words, we are complimentary one to the other and enjoy tooling around investigating ‘new to us’ finds and locales.  So far our children are faring well…minus a trip to the doctor for my daughter’s ailing kidneys for which her brother foot the bill, and an emotional hiccup for my son who was grateful to have the nurturing comfort of his loving sister.  Given the circumstances of the last two mentioned, it is a wonder I am still here…on vacation.  I say “I” because my husband has found himself in the middle of an employment opportunity, right here in Little Italy, San Diego.  He has been commissioned to design and build a new office space for a creative firm.  Being we were already down this way, he took the position.  We trekked back home yesterday so he could gather his tools and such, paint a few paintings, and then head back down.  The timing was perfect because I needed to re-group as I ended up being plagued with a horrible migraine headache, which required my being home for a few moments to get it under control.  I dropped him off at the location this morning and returned to my little bungalow away from home…alone.

Today relaxing means to me, the opportunity to be quiet.  Do a load of laundry.  Clean the borrowed bathroom.  Remove the full trash bags and replace them with empty ones.  Eat lunch utilizing the leftovers from my cousins ‘main house’, and sit in silence as I write this blog post.  Relaxing to Brian means, creating and spending his time engaging his artistically fabulous gifts.  What a good life! 🙂

More on the second week of our journey next time.  La vie c’est grand…

%d bloggers like this: