I noticed some cracking/blistering plaster in the living room (just inside the entry hall) from a water leak last week and took a day off of work to spend several hours crouching on rafters in cramped, dusty crawl spaces and on a ladder outside in order to clean, paint, seal and shoot full of foam any possible gap I could identify. It rained today. It's still leaking. Bloody hell. I'm going to give it one more shot this weekend to see if I can identify and seal the leak; if that fails, I'll have to admit defeat and call a roofer. Ouch.
It has been brought to my attention that the fact that I properly flagged the most recent photo of my dining room according to Flickr's guidelines means that most people (not being members of Flickr or not having relaxed the default settings) cannot actually see the photo. Please accept my most humble apologies and see if this one works better.
I've had the Lois Greenfield prints (the small prints in the left photo) on my dining room wall since I moved into my house, and I've had to politely decline credit for them when an assortment of visitors have asked if they were my work (I wish). Thus, I spent a few hours last weekend measuring and marking and hanging new prints of my own work (from my *other* portfolio, just to clarify that the full-size photo may not be entirely work safe).
Posted at 11:49:00 PM. |
| Permalink
to this post.
Friday, December 19
Cathartic Sacrifice
There is something in the sudden awareness of an approaching wave of snow, showered off the street in perfect parabolic arcs by a city plow, reminiscent, in its way, of the movie staple of the car splashing water from a puddle onto a hapless pedestrian, that leads one first to swear and then to laugh at the absurdity as the efforts of an hour of snow shoveling are reburied under three inches of greyish muck.
So I have to shovel again when I get home tonight . . .
Posted at 11:19:00 PM. |
| Permalink
to this post.
Monday, July 14
I'm Not Dead Yet
The only solace I take from my posting sluggishness (which is a symptom, really, of my GenX heritage and not my fault; honest) is that most of my other GenX compatriots post even less frequently than I do (like May, *cough* Jamie and Tim *cough*). There is some small degree of pride in being at the top of the "slacker dog pile."
The family of my former next-door neighbors held an estate sale this weekend, and in the process offered a fish-tank-like view of an interesting subculture of humanity. In they filtered, in groups of two and three (and six, in the case of some entire families), parking illegally for a city-block radius, marching like zombies across adjacent lawns and congregating in pensive-looking pods as they carefully weighed the true value of a 20-year-old television and collections of crocheted couch covers before offering a low bid. The subculture was further broken down into sub-subcultures, a trifecta of scavengers, if you will. The vast majority of the audience consisted of older (read, "retired" for those of you waiting to pounce on generation gaps) people, a clique that tended to peruse and not buy (possibly because of the difficulty they'd have transporting anything over ten pounds the distance to their cars), although they did wander, and wandering in this case included "peeking into my backyard" and other acts of nosiness. Following (or, more likely, leading, as they tended to walk faster) came the garage-sale families. Piling out of minivans, tots and bored teenagers in tow, they carted off anything not bolted down, valuable or not. Finally came the creepy single guys in paint-splattered jeans and bad facial hair; these made a beeline for the garage, where the well-worn tools accumulated over a lifetime vanished one-by-one into someone else's shop.
While a fairly unique disturbance in my quiet neighborhood, the actual impact (other than parking) was relatively minor. I politely put off my mowing on the first day (under the mistaken assumption that the three-day event was a Saturday-only sale), but the unfortunate fact that I only have two days off per week meant I had to do the mowing on Sunday; this, I've come to understand, is something of a faux pas, as having to cross the street to avoid a man pushing a lawnmower is apparently too much work, and walking right next to the running machine and giving the man dirty looks is the preferred stigma. Also, I've learned, from the trash along my sidewalk, that Wendy's is apparently the official sponsor of estate sale scavenging.
My sarcasm aside, there was a weird creepiness to the whole event. My green ways would protest in earnest at the idea of just throwing everything away (and the notion that descendants, especially in a family with few children, as in this case, should "absorb" the contents, is clearly unfeasible given that my house is almost full already), but still, this was the aggregation of two peoples' lives, the things they bought for themselves and each other or received as gifts from friends and loved ones, put on display to be bartered for by perfect strangers on routine circuits. How weird must it be to spend your weekends shuffling through the detritus of the dead, looking for cheap used potholders and 70s-era clocks? It's a hobby I do not judge or begrudge, but one I find a bit eerie.
- Note to John McCain (as if he hasn't already heard it ad infinitum): Don't schedule fundraisers with supporters who compare rape to the weather ("As long as it's inevitable, you might as well lie back and enjoy it." My god.).
- My next-door neighbors of the last four years (technically my only next-door neighbors, given my corner-lot status) are reluctantly moving in with their children after a stroke incident, something I was very sorry to hear given how friendly and upbeat they've always been. The family has been clearing out the house into moving trucks over the last few days, and an estate sale is scheduled for later this month. Given the dismal housing market, the family has decided to keep the house and rent it out. This means that I will now officially have an entirely different set of neighbors (on all sides) from the those present when I bought my house.
- As an addendum to the above, I learned from the adult children cleaning out the house that apparently either the wireless control for my garage door or the wireless keypad for my security system sets off the side doorbell of their house . . . and has been doing so since I moved in. Every time I come and go. For some odd reason, my elderly neighbors decided not to mention it to me, and instead have been treated to a few bars of a Dixie song of some sort day and night for years. I offered to try to track down the interference, but the adult children laughed and said they're just going to disconnect the doorbell instead.
- As a further addendum, I'm really starting to worry about my memory. My mother is suitably distressed that my neurological dysfunction has obscured or obfuscated a sizable portion of my childhood and my friends are routinely frustrated when I forget not just names and dates but entire conversations. One of the tricks of poor memory retention is not knowing you're forgetting the things you're forgetting, but when the adult children cleaning out the house next door ask what you were taking pictures of in the backyard a few nights ago, and you don't remember even being in the backyard with photographic equipment, you start to be concerned (the alternative is there was someone else in my backyard, which is equally disturbing). I'm hoping he just misinterpreted the cordless drill I was using to fix a bird feeder as a cell phone or camera of some sort.
- Omaha revalued thousands of houses last year (leading to massive criticism in the paper and a new business niche for attorneys offering to challenge valuation increases of up to 50% for some homeowners). Mine jumped about 40%, although I thought it reasonable given that my house had been undervalued given what I paid. Still, a higher value means higher property taxes, which showed up in the form of an increase in my mortgage payment of $130 a month starting this month. Ouch.
- For those of you who haven't seen me online lately: maybe I've been ignoring you, and maybe Adium hasn't wanted to connect to the Yahoo servers for about three days, a problem I originally thought was a server issue that would correct itself and only today discovered is a glitch in Adium itself (corrected with the new version). Whether I've been offline for technical reasons or actually ignoring you is up to your imagination to decide.
My status for some noticeable amount of time has been "AWOL" (an acronym that leads inexorably into the question of whether one can, in fact, be "AWL," as well). I have been entangled, perhaps even embroiled (if the plot is devious enough), in a variety of sundry events, including an out-of-state trip, a family visit and a tornado scare. Each should receive a post in turn, all of which would have been completed previously but for my inexcusable inability to process photos from said events to my standards in a reasonable amount of time. The joys of being exacting.
In the meantime, the photo to the left shows the current view from my front step (that's not a bush in the center; it's the top of a toppled tree shown more clearly from a different angle here). I have some minor tree damage in my backyard, but nothing matching this.
This "water in the basement" thing is becoming something of an annoying recurrence. The weather is supposed to be nice this weekend, so I imagine some new silicone caulking and gutter cleaning is in order, along with some surveying to see if pouring a small patch of concrete "sidewalk" along the northwest corner will (a) fix the problem and (b) not be a tremendous hassle. It probably wouldn't be *quite* the annoyance (since I don't have carpet in the basement and the water just puddles until I push it into the not-quite-as-low-as-the-lowest-spot-in-the-floor drain), except that my first warning of it every time is when I stumble into the basement to take my shower and step on the soaking wet and very cold door mat at the foot of the stairs (that and the fact that years of this have pretty severely damaged the plaster walls it "flows under" to get from the wall behind my furnace all the way to the lowest point of the floor).
To cheer me up in advance (as if he knew my basement was going to be wet today . . .), Cris sent me this.
Posted at 11:18:00 AM. |
| Permalink
to this post.
Monday, March 31
Monday Madness
My basement apparently harbors fantasies of being a swimming pool. I stepped in yet another puddle this morning, this time from leaks from the torrential rains and not the broken water pipe. Yay!
Also, I'm dearly hoping this is a hoax. 'Cause, really, parents shouldn't be that dumb.
The bedroom project is nearing completion. The paint is long since dry, resplendent now with its shimmering highlights and metallic copper accents, reflecting a hybrid Frank Lloyd Wright/Stargate Atlantis/Myst theme seen only in the surroundings of bachelors with some degree of creativity and spending money, certainly nothing ever seen in a room requiring the input of two people. Most of the furniture is moved back in (including, thankfully, my bed, sparing me from the discomfort of my spare beds that in most situations I reserve only for visiting guests). The old computer desk is still partially assembled and the Dell is still running, mostly because I haven't finished migrating files but partially because I still need it for a handful of applications (mostly Photoshop-related) that the iMac is not yet capable of handling. Once it's gone I should be able to move the dresser into its place and be done (sans wall decorations, which may require some re-evaluation given the new color scheme).
The iMac itself has been a mixed blessing. The culmination of a year-and-a-half of saving and a good dose of longing, it sits in blissful pretentiousness, ignoring the sullen glares of the Dell. At the same time, it has frustrated me just a little bit. I don't like the Mighty Mouse (the lack of context for the right-click has annoyed the hell out of me) and the smaller keyboard will take some adjusting after using the same (very big) ergonomic keyboard for (and I'm not joking here) 12 years (it's a hell of a keyboard, even if it's a faint yellow instead of white now and some of the keys have been worn blank). I haven't yet figured out why Apple (the industry standard for incorporating design and convenience into their products) doesn't make an ergonomic keyboard, or why the grand march forward toward larger screen space (this is a 24" monitor, after all, which dwarfs even the 20" screens at work) is mirrored by a gradual shrinking of the keyboard to laptop size. The keyboard layout is similarly unfamiliar for the time being (in particular, I'm used to the backspace key being at the upper right edge, and frequently use the edge as context to find it, which on the Mac keyboard lands me on the DVD eject button, not to mention the additional "modifier" keys that Tim advises me will become lifeblood in the near future). The other major frustration, unforeseen in my switch plans, is that the "easiness" of the Mac (one of its selling points) comes at the expense of tool sets I take for granted; iWeb, for example, a program for making Web pages, has no option to actually edit HTML (and won't open my old HTML pages), instead supplying a series of pre-made templates awaiting text, a fabulous program for people with no HTML experience but a worthless one for those of us who just want to open our previous recipe pages and update the text and pictures. Firefox also has some odd limitations (the bookmarks, for example, while fully draggable and editable as-is in Windows, are locked on the Mac version until you actually open the bookmark editor). It's as though the programs were made "idiot proof," at the expense of convenience.
I have no doubt that a month from now I'll have either adjusted to the new settings or found alternate Mac programs that do what I want them to do. And I'll probably have a new Logitech Revolution mouse (especially if any of my readers are feeling generous . . .).
But being frustrated with the house. Today was better than yesterday. Tomorrow is still a toss-up. Any project that involves actually mixing and pouring new concrete in the basement is likely to have some degree of frustration built in. I'll have house pictures and updates as soon as the projects are finished (which will not be today).
Posted at 11:23:00 PM. |
| Permalink
to this post.
Tuesday, October 9
Weekend Update
Although the term "weekend" is at times vague, encompassing, on those rare, happy occasions, as many as three days (and not always those beginning with an "S"), I'm using it in a looser context here, referring to a time period stretching closer to five days. It seems an overabundance of accrued leave is a bad thing in the modern work world, and thus my house received (and will continue to receive in sporadic chunks throughout this month) extra attention beginning last Wednesday.
I'm continually amused at my vast underestimation of the time investments required for projects I've never undertaken before. I accomplished but a fraction of what I had expected, leading me to believe that either my expectations are unrealistic or I'm simply lazy. I did, however, sand, prime and repaint my garage door, put a layer of fibered aluminum roof coating on the garage roof (which has still not completely fixed the target leak, to my consternation), reorganize a few of my kitchen cupboards and paint the registers and socket covers on the main floor. I took some time out to fraternize to greater and lesser extents, meeting one new person, consoling another friend through a difficult time and going on safari with the twins. I also rented "1408," which was not nearly as scary as promised. I will at some undisclosed point in the future have "before and after" photos of the house, preferably when I've accomplished enough for the changes to be more noticeable.
For those who follow the adventurous exploits of the Wonder Twins, Kyle's new catchphrase is a very gravity-laden rendition of "it's very dark!", applied on a regular basis to everything from the space beneath her crib to holes in the backyard to the inside of the "cave" we made from blankets and furniture. The admonition is given more as a statement of fact rather than any hint of concern, and is at times accompanied with a smile. The twins have also developed a love affair with sidewalk chalk, going so far as to carry it around the backyard even when no concrete is in sight, and Alec in particular has a similar crush now on crayons, which she has secreted away all over the house to challenge the inevitable moments when Lisa relieves her of her current implements.
Lane's family interaction has been somewhat curtailed by her constant hyperventilation over the distant-yet-concrete release of Spore.
As a token of humor to reward those of you who slog through my writings, I also present a (very) rare glimpse of me with facial hair (of a sort; that's almost a week's worth of not shaving, which on most men would be something more than stubble . . .).
I've noticed lately that the bird feeder holding sunflower seeds has been emptying about three times as fast as the others. This would explain why . . .
Posted at 12:44:00 PM. |
| Permalink
to this post.
Sunday, July 8
Highs and Lows
Lane and I saw Transformers today, which, I'm happy to say for the sake of my childhood memories, was good (although John Turturro's character was annoying as hell, and it amuses me that this is the current primary picture for the movie on IMDB). I have a box of Transformers somewhere in my basement, kept carefully from the 80s, so I have some passing familiarity with the concept, if not quite the same vested interest as die hard fans; thus, I got most of the inside jokes inserted in the movie that the majority of the audience missed, and I was also happy to hear (not see, mind you) that they hired the guy who did the voice of the leader of the good Transformers in the 80s cartoon to do the voice of the same character in this movie (it's a *very* distinctive voice, and for fans it feels familiar). The ending, of course, set up a sequel, and I imagine it did well enough to warrant one. Lane enjoyed it as well, although she rolled her eyes nearly hard enough to fall over when I pointed out the poster for the fetid stain upon entertainment that is the upcoming Bratz movie.
The twins are developing language at a rapid rate. Kyle in particular is now regularly stringing words together into short-but-complete sentences. "I'm so tall!" when riding on my shoulders, "I'll be okay!" after a choking on a mouthful of pool water, "I say more!" when she wants me to swing her around in the air again, "Where did Alec go?" and, my personal favorite, "Come on, Jay. Let's go swing!" Alec is almost constantly pointing at things and saying "What's that?" and then mimicking the response.
The twins have also shown a notable divergence in their manipulation tactics. Kyle has chosen the "brute force" route, employing crying, screaming and insistence to achieve her goals. Alec, on the other hand, in displays of almost eerie effectiveness for a two-year-old, has already adopted pouting and puppy-dog-eyes (and she's damn good at it). We're talking sighing, burying her head in your shoulder and just sitting there looking sad for *10 minutes* without even the hint of a smile. Of course she snaps right out of it when she gets what she wants, or a suitable alternative, but I fear Scott and Lisa are going to have their hands full.
The only other note of the weekend concerns an interesting discovery at my homestead. I suppose I was bound to be subject to the random act of theft eventually (I've lived here 8 years, after all, and it's pretty much impossible to completely burglar-proof everything). I realize I'm supposed to feel victimized and outraged by the personal intrusion. I find myself oddly amused and confounded instead, though, as the stolen property in question wasn't my new $100 fire pit or $50 patio chairs or $25 copper torches. No, it was a set of cheap, black plastic solar-powered sidewalk lights I bought for $20 two years ago from Wal-Mart (lights that have seen far better days). Which were right next to the copper torches (two of the lights were within two feet of the torches). And it wasn't all eight lights, but rather 5-1/2 (they left the base of one and two other complete ones). It seems like the oddest thing to steal, unless you're specifically out looking for a set of sidewalk lights (and even then, there are *much* nicer lights along my block). I suppose if you're going to be robbed, that's the best way to do it . . .
My Corner of Solitude is coming along nicely, with new patio and backyard additions (I'm afraid the overcast day didn't help the photos, but I was too lazy to hose off the bird droppings again when the sun came out the next day).
It only took me about two days of actual work (scattered in 4-hour segments over a month) to finish the gazebo area (that involved tearing out and resodding the old, and long-since overgrown, flower beds, tearing out the grass inside the ring and leveling it, putting down the center and edging stones, filling in the rest of the ring with slate gravel, assembling and painting the gazebo, repainting the old bird bath and putting everything together). It looks much nicer than the overgrown and neglected corner that came with the house.
And let me tell you, getting that 8-foot pole (that now holds the bird feeders) home in my car was fun . . .
I'm debating whether or not to spend an ungodly amount of money on a DSLR camera; consequently, it's not surprising that I've been taking more pictures the last couple of days.
There are some pros and cons to making the jump. On the pro side, eventually my photography should improve, the camera is more adaptable and expandable, my low-light and motion photography should become *much* better and the camera just feels better (I spent 15 minutes playing with one at Target the other night). On the con side, not only is the initial expenditure quite expensive (at least $200 more than the newest version of my current camera), but the entire venture becomes very expensive very quickly (as multiple $200+ lenses, flashes and other accessories add up in no time). In addition, DSLRs don't do video, something I'm accustomed to with my S2, and I've read that the learning curve to get back to where you are with a point-and-shoot is somewhere around 3 months/5,000 pictures (because you have to learn how ISO and aperture and F-stops and the like interact with each other and with the scene, whereas a point-and-shoot handles most of that automatically). I haven't decided either way yet, although I ordered a couple of books on DSLR photography to read up on the subject. We'll see.
It may be a moot point at the moment anyway, as the nice little letter from the Douglas County Assessor's Office I received today confirmed that the valuation of my house jumped $40,000 this year. That seems like a lot, and it's a bit of a sticker shock, but it actually brings it inline with what I paid for it, and thanks to the Assessor's Web site I discovered that my entire neighborhood jumped, with most of my neighbors experiencing $50,000 and even $65,000 jumps, so I got off "light." I know several people who are protesting theirs (this was a citywide thing), but really, it's a fair assessment. I don't mind paying my fair share. This will definitely jump my taxes, although at this point I don't know how much. It did introduce me to the above-linked Assessor's site, which I had not seen before; it turns out you can punch in any Omaha property owner's address or last name and see not only the valuation but also the floor plan, the sales history, the year it was built, the construction and what it looks like, so you can imagine how I entertained myself for an hour today (I know you're curious, mom, so just punch in my last name). You can even put in just a street and browse all the residents who live along it, so it was easy to check up on my neighbors.
My left eyebrow has been twitching randomly (a few times a day) for a couple of weeks now. Two people have assumed I'm winking at them. Yay for vague body signals.
"Don't You Forget About Me" Calls Sent to Cris ("DYFAMCSCs"): 2
I unloaded my old washer and dryer. I've discovered that apparently the key word on Craig's List is "free." Even after I listed all the problems I've had with the set, I still had three responses within 5 hours and one of them picked up the set on Tuesday evening. I'm happy. It's better than putting them in a landfill.
Over the four days from Saturday to Tuesday I finished hooking up my washer and dryer, ran an entirely new dryer vent line, sealed the window the vent line uses, sealed off the old dryer vent line inside and out, unloaded my old washer and dryer, patched a hole in my roof, patched a hole in my gutter, installed an illuminated address plaque above my garage door, unpacked and put away my Christmas presents, cleaned the basement, swept the garage and went for a couple of walks. It would appear that escaping reality is good for my productivity.
I'm amused that Carrie Underwood currently has two music videos in Yahoo! Music's Top 100, "Before He Cheats" (a song about graphically defacing a cheating boyfriend's car during a vengeful rage) and "Jesus, Take the Wheel." There seems to be a disconnect there, but perhaps I simply lack an understanding of modern country music.
Posted at 12:12:00 PM. |
| Permalink
to this post.
Thursday, January 4
How Not To Buy Furniture
I'm sure I'll receive flak for buying furniture at Wal-Mart. I know, I know. But I like the style and even though it's cheap it will last until I can afford nicer furniture. Now, on with the show.
9:30 p.m.: Borrow Lisa's Jeep with a promise to return it by the time she gets off work at 11 p.m. 9:50 p.m.: Arrive at the biggest Wal-Mart in the area. Discover they're not even carrying that line of furniture anymore. 10:15 p.m.: Arrive at the next closest Wal-Mart. Note that you now have 45 minutes and you're all the way across town. 10:20 p.m.: Discover this Wal-Mart has all the pieces except the desk. Ask the guy at the electronics counter for help buying four pieces (including a dresser). Listen to him page for help. 10:30 p.m.: Ask him to page again. 10:35 p.m.: Decide to skip it because you're running out of time, but note that the dresser is on sale and decide to buy that piece without help. Retrieve a shopping cart. Buy the dresser and a nightstand. 10:40 p.m.: Decide since you've already purchased two pieces to make a second trip for the other two. Wait an extra three minutes because the checker closes the cash drawer without giving you your change, necessitating a call for a manager. 10:45 p.m.: Get challenged by two different Wal-Mart employees on your way out because they're suspicious that they've just seen you leave with a similar shopping cart of items (sure, *now* you notice me). Not only produce the receipt to the somewhat hostile second one, but spend a minute explaining why you're making a second trip. ("Well, you see, it's like this. You guys are incompetent.") 11:03 p.m.: Arrive back at the firm to give Lisa her Jeep, still full of furniture. Follower her back to her house so you can "re-borrow" the Jeep. 11:30 p.m.: Arrive at a *third* Wal-Mart. Find the desk (and, in fact, all of the other pieces; I should have just gone there first). Buy the desk. 11:50 p.m.: Arrive home. Realize some of the pieces are *really* heavy. Manage to unload everything by yourself. 12:30 a.m.: Return Lisa's Jeep. Retrieve your car. 1 a.m.: Arrive home. Finally eat supper.
All of the pieces are still in boxes in the basement, and are likely to remain so for awhile. Since they're "engineered wood" (read: wood fibers and glue, aka cheap furniture), they offgas formaldehyde, which is not only toxic but also permeates your clothing. I've read you can seal them with a good sealant to encapsulate the gasses, but to do that I need some nice weather so I can lay all the pieces outside to dry.
This is impressive. How long before you can do this, Tim?
I caught up with the entire season of "The Office" last night. In retrospect, staying up until 6 a.m. to watch them all was probably a bad idea, but it's like crack. Or Count Chocula. Which is like less unhealthy crack.
The "Angela" character on the show reminded me of a woman I overheard in conversation at a restaurant on Sunday night (yes, I eavesdropped; shame on me). The "So, tell me about your life" questions implied a first date of some sort, one brought crashing down by a violation of one of the cardinal first date rules: no talking politics or religion. A mutual disdain for atheists (yes, how ironic that I was sitting right behind them) started them on the right foot, but theological differences proved a pitfall. I can honestly say this was the first time I'd heard, in person, someone use the sentence "Do you know what it is that bothers me about people like you?" (If you're curious, what bothers her is people who don't go to the same church every weekend, because they're not submitting themselves to an established authority and thus are going to Hell. It's all about the membership card, you know.) I'd wager my as-of-yet-theoretical Christmas bonus that Date Number Two failed to transubstantiate.
I have heat! It's not entirely finished (some venting lines to permanently attach and a new programmable thermostat to install), but there is, in fact, a brand new piece of machinery standing defiant where the petulant scrap heap previously squatted. Still, that old furnace had a hell of a lifespan; if the inspection tag that was tied to it is to be believed, it was over 40 years old, double its projected life. I'll have pictures up later to amuse people with its quaint construction (it didn't burn buffalo chips or anything, but the filter system should be good for a laugh).
The Christmas presents I ordered in October have been back ordered again. My family may be getting little boxes saying "Quantum Christmas Present: Until opened you both have and do not have a gift. Open at your own peril!" I see Target is carrying the gifts I ordered now, and I could cancel the online order, but because I got a promotional discount on each gift it would cost me almost $100 more to buy them in the store. I'm really not that attached to the whole "December 25th deadline" thing. Besides, if I'm going to spend $100 on something, I have other things picked out, like a really cool towel rack or a voice-activated R2 unit, or, given the "responsible adult" image I'm expected to maintain, a furnace.
