A two-minute tour of the Duquesne Incline:
Friday, May 08, 2009
Sunday, May 03, 2009
Potbird's reason for squatting
As suspected, Potbird's on a mission. If you look closely at the picture below, you can see offspring. Plus, it turns out there's an egg underneath her. How do I know? Because like a dorkus I accidentally hit the pot with my head as I was mowing the lawn, frightening the bejeebus out of her and forcing her to fly away. While she was debating what to do next, I took a peek in the pot and saw both Thing 1, as well as a Thing 2 still in the oven.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
The ties that bind...update
I'll bet some of you out there think I make the stories for this blog up just for my own amusement. Well, sure I do, but sometimes I can't help but hit the nail so squarely on the head it's scary. Only a couple minutes after writing last night's post, it was time to get the squirts to bed. This of course meant time for them to come up with any trick they could in order to delay the process. Last night's distraction was for Natalie to gather her collection of nail polish bottles (really? an eight-year-old has a nail polish collection? I'm surprised she hasn't installed a stripper pole in the playroom) and organize them in the new bathroom cabinet. As I walked up the stairs I heard, "Dad! The crystal gem fell off the top of this bottle. Can you glue it?"
"Sure honey, let me check inventory on 'crystal gem adhesives' first. Meanwhile, give me the bottle and I will put it on the mantel so it doesn't get lost."
"Sure honey, let me check inventory on 'crystal gem adhesives' first. Meanwhile, give me the bottle and I will put it on the mantel so it doesn't get lost."
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
The ties that bind
Funny thing about being a dad. For some reason kids think that you can fix absolutely ANYTHING with glue. Princess tiara get stepped on? Just glue it back together. Barbie head keeps falling off? Just glue it in place. Hole ripped in that special bumblebee pillow? Glue it closed, of course. Sometimes I think my kids could break wind and expect me to glue it back together.
Of course, any expert will tell you that gluing the gangly neck of a top-heavy giraffe carved from stale Play-Doh back together is about as effective as trying to get the Large Hadron Collider to run on used cooking oil and chicken droppings. Sure, there's a glue out there for every substance known to man (and even a website devoted to gluing things to other things), but who really has the wherewithal to collect 147,000 different kinds of adhesives?
Over the past few years of owning children, I've found an easy solution to this problem of what to do with their broken crap.
Don't fix it.
Actually, there's more to this fiendish plan. Allow me to explain.
Let's say your daughter spends the entire morning constructing an exact, to-scale replica of the Chrysler Building out of toothpicks and Irish Spring with individually-painted Teddy Grahams representing the pedestrians of New York City milling about the base. And let's say that perhaps the structural integrity of her creation is about equal to that of a Jenga game perched atop a bobble-head. All of a sudden, the radio tower at the top of the building comes loose, dropping to the kitchen floor like last night's macaroni. Be prepared for the scream of horror. The tears. The distraught waif proclaiming that she worked all day building this special just for mommy, and life just isn't worth living now. What do you do? What...do...you...do???
First course of action is not to panic. Give your daughter plenty of praise regarding how beautiful her construction is, even if it truly looks more like Smokey The Bear than the Chrysler Building. Then tell her that you think this is something that is easily fixable, and that you've had radio towers break on you ALL the time, especially back when you used to have that hobby of building Chrysler Buildings for homeless people back in Connecticut. Tell her you've got a plan, one that may involve a trip to the local adhesives store the next day. Take her construction project, and place it safely on the mantle, or a high bookshelf...anywhere higher than the normal sight-line of a five-year-old. Then, let your child continue on with her day in blissful innocence, knowing she will have completely forgotten about it by lunchtime. It helps to place a shiny object in front of her as well.
Six months from now, when you're cleaning up the mantel and come across that dusty model of the Chrysler Building with the rotten globs that used to be Teddy Graham pedestrians surrounding it, rest assured it can be tossed with the knowledge that your child will never remember it existed. She's already built a bigger, better structure, an exact replica of the U.S.S Constitution. And that mermaid on the bow, the one she carved out of the sole of an old pair of Crocs? Yeah, it just fell off.
Of course, any expert will tell you that gluing the gangly neck of a top-heavy giraffe carved from stale Play-Doh back together is about as effective as trying to get the Large Hadron Collider to run on used cooking oil and chicken droppings. Sure, there's a glue out there for every substance known to man (and even a website devoted to gluing things to other things), but who really has the wherewithal to collect 147,000 different kinds of adhesives?
Over the past few years of owning children, I've found an easy solution to this problem of what to do with their broken crap.
Don't fix it.
Actually, there's more to this fiendish plan. Allow me to explain.
Let's say your daughter spends the entire morning constructing an exact, to-scale replica of the Chrysler Building out of toothpicks and Irish Spring with individually-painted Teddy Grahams representing the pedestrians of New York City milling about the base. And let's say that perhaps the structural integrity of her creation is about equal to that of a Jenga game perched atop a bobble-head. All of a sudden, the radio tower at the top of the building comes loose, dropping to the kitchen floor like last night's macaroni. Be prepared for the scream of horror. The tears. The distraught waif proclaiming that she worked all day building this special just for mommy, and life just isn't worth living now. What do you do? What...do...you...do???
First course of action is not to panic. Give your daughter plenty of praise regarding how beautiful her construction is, even if it truly looks more like Smokey The Bear than the Chrysler Building. Then tell her that you think this is something that is easily fixable, and that you've had radio towers break on you ALL the time, especially back when you used to have that hobby of building Chrysler Buildings for homeless people back in Connecticut. Tell her you've got a plan, one that may involve a trip to the local adhesives store the next day. Take her construction project, and place it safely on the mantle, or a high bookshelf...anywhere higher than the normal sight-line of a five-year-old. Then, let your child continue on with her day in blissful innocence, knowing she will have completely forgotten about it by lunchtime. It helps to place a shiny object in front of her as well.
Six months from now, when you're cleaning up the mantel and come across that dusty model of the Chrysler Building with the rotten globs that used to be Teddy Graham pedestrians surrounding it, rest assured it can be tossed with the knowledge that your child will never remember it existed. She's already built a bigger, better structure, an exact replica of the U.S.S Constitution. And that mermaid on the bow, the one she carved out of the sole of an old pair of Crocs? Yeah, it just fell off.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Someone call an ornithologist!
Will someone please explain this to me? Three weeks ago we discovered a bird residing in a hanging flower pot outside our front door. I call her our Pot Bird. In those three weeks, we've never seen her leave the pot, even to obtain food. She's definitely alive and well. We've only gone within a couple feet of her, trying not to bother her, but she's not terribly afraid of us. Are there any ornithologists out there who can tell me a)what kind of bird this is, b)when we should expect her to leave and c)whether we should clean up the guest bedroom in preparation for a visit from her family once the eggs hatch (I'm assuming there are eggs, I have not seen them)?
Friday, April 24, 2009
Thus ends week one
Wow, that was a quick week. It ended on a fine note...happy hour yesterday with thirty or so of my former coworkers forcing Sam Adams White Ale down my accepting gullet. This evening spent reading Unemployment Compensation Benefits paperwork from Uncle Sam. I can't decide which made my head spin more. But some personal thanks to those diehards who made sure I never went thirsty and also made sure I didn't end up sleeping in the gutter with the hotpants-and-stilletos-wearing homeless guy.
The clean-out of the office went smoothly. It took about two hours, and perhaps it was poor timing that I chose "bring you child to work day" to do it. At least one kid was overheard saying, "Mommy, why is that man taking all the things out of his office?"
"Because, little Timmy, he's demonstrating that if you get good grades, go to college, and work real hard you too can be on unemployment."
14 years of crap is now sitting on my dining room table, including several gems:
>An original Palm Pilot
>My Timex Sinclair 1000
>My framed certificate proving my attendance at Mead Paper Knowledge, a course held in Escanaba, Michigan designed to teach you everything you can do with paper including rolling it up and smoking the contents inside.
>A folder full of newsletters from the early years at my company, circa 1995, when there were were only about two dozen of us. Looking though it made me realize that from that era, four are still at the company, one's an accessory to attempted murder, and two are deceased.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Day 1: a day of firsts
I guess it's good that it rained all day today. Last Friday, when I lost my job, it was beautiful and sunny outside. Great day for blowing off work, taking a bike ride, or mowing the lawn. But today, the weather was miserable, and that fit in well with my to-do list. Rather than be distracted by the sunshine, I was able to focus on a few important tasks:
1. Going back to bed.
2. Going to the gym for the first time in two years.
3. dusting off the resume.
These were three things I have not done in years. For example, typically I annoy the crap out of my wife every morning by setting the alarm for some obscene hour simply because it seems like a good time to get up and get things done. After all, if I wake up early I've found that I can put an entire coat of paint on the bathroom wall before the kids get up in the morning, whereas once they are awake they become enough of a distraction to make that same coat of paint take about three weeks to apply. But today was different. Today I woke up without the alarm at my normal time, but after a quick performance of my morning constitutional I crawled back into bed. That lasted approximately three minutes before Jessica bellowed from down the hall that it was time for her to be seen. Well, it was the thought that counts.
Later that morning, I took on a new responsibility, that of dropping Jessica off at preschool. There were all the moms, with their pitying looks of sorrow on their faces, looking at me as if I was a tiny kitten that had just gotten one ear entrapped in a box fan. Hmm...I may have to work that in the future, I'm just not sure how without getting in trouble with my lovely wife.
After dropoff, the administrator at the Temple roped me into helping him return some tables we'd borrowed for a fund raising event over the weekend. As I stood in the rain under cover of the van's open tailgate, waiting for him to come outside, I had an odd feeling. It was the feeling that I didn't have to BE ANYWHERE right now. Woah. That's new.
From there it was off to the gym. Health clubs take on a whole different attitude in between rush hours. Gone are the corporate yes-men getting in their morning exercise before donning their blue shirts and ties. Gone are the doctors who have been there since 5am swimming. No, after the rush hour ends, the gym becomes inhabited with a completely different clientele. Old people. Lots, and lots of old people. Frankly, that's not a bad thing. With my scrawny frame these people look at me as if I'm some sort of greek Olympiad. At least, that's what I will keep thinking to myself.
The afternoon was spent attempting to summarize the last 14 years of efforts into two pages of text. I started by digging out my old resume. It blew my mind to see that the last resume was written before including an email address on it was accepted practice.
Tomorrow's events should be just as entertaining for me. On the list of firsts will be my first cell phone purchase in 14 years (I've always carried a company phone), my first visit to a career center, and an afternoon spent shoveling out a decade and a half of stuff from my office drawers. And it's going to rain again tomorrow. Perfect.
1. Going back to bed.
2. Going to the gym for the first time in two years.
3. dusting off the resume.
These were three things I have not done in years. For example, typically I annoy the crap out of my wife every morning by setting the alarm for some obscene hour simply because it seems like a good time to get up and get things done. After all, if I wake up early I've found that I can put an entire coat of paint on the bathroom wall before the kids get up in the morning, whereas once they are awake they become enough of a distraction to make that same coat of paint take about three weeks to apply. But today was different. Today I woke up without the alarm at my normal time, but after a quick performance of my morning constitutional I crawled back into bed. That lasted approximately three minutes before Jessica bellowed from down the hall that it was time for her to be seen. Well, it was the thought that counts.
Later that morning, I took on a new responsibility, that of dropping Jessica off at preschool. There were all the moms, with their pitying looks of sorrow on their faces, looking at me as if I was a tiny kitten that had just gotten one ear entrapped in a box fan. Hmm...I may have to work that in the future, I'm just not sure how without getting in trouble with my lovely wife.
After dropoff, the administrator at the Temple roped me into helping him return some tables we'd borrowed for a fund raising event over the weekend. As I stood in the rain under cover of the van's open tailgate, waiting for him to come outside, I had an odd feeling. It was the feeling that I didn't have to BE ANYWHERE right now. Woah. That's new.
From there it was off to the gym. Health clubs take on a whole different attitude in between rush hours. Gone are the corporate yes-men getting in their morning exercise before donning their blue shirts and ties. Gone are the doctors who have been there since 5am swimming. No, after the rush hour ends, the gym becomes inhabited with a completely different clientele. Old people. Lots, and lots of old people. Frankly, that's not a bad thing. With my scrawny frame these people look at me as if I'm some sort of greek Olympiad. At least, that's what I will keep thinking to myself.
The afternoon was spent attempting to summarize the last 14 years of efforts into two pages of text. I started by digging out my old resume. It blew my mind to see that the last resume was written before including an email address on it was accepted practice.
Tomorrow's events should be just as entertaining for me. On the list of firsts will be my first cell phone purchase in 14 years (I've always carried a company phone), my first visit to a career center, and an afternoon spent shoveling out a decade and a half of stuff from my office drawers. And it's going to rain again tomorrow. Perfect.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
A New Chapter
This evening marks a new chapter in my my life. Only a few minutes ago, I completed submitting my application for Unemployment Compensation Benefits. Yes, I have become another statistic in this economy, an unemployed husband and dad. I received that special folder from HR this past Friday telling me that my 14 years with the same employer have come to an end. Not with fanfare, not with a military flyover, but with a nice severance package and a slight hope that if business picks up, perhaps I might get a call to come back.
I'd seen this coming for a while now. The economy sucks, the industry sucks. I can't fault my former company for this. Everyone's heard the same stories over and over on the news lately. As cutbacks approached, I put myself in my boss' shoes many times and usually came up with the same conclusion he did. So there I was. On the deck in the middle of a Friday afternoon, enjoying an Oktoberfest. Ironic, since October is when the benefits run out.
Perhaps I'm an idiot. Perhaps I'm in shock. But the fact is, I'm a bit giddy about this. While I haven't done a lick of job hunting in 14 years, and the last copy of my resume is so yellowed that it resembles the Gettysburg Address, I'm frankly excited by this opportunity. I've got a chance to go out and find that new life, form new goals, and take on new opportunities. Since it's only been a day, I'm going to ignore all those horror stories about people getting laid off throughout the country and being unable to find jobs, and I'm going to go with the expectation that one way or another I will manage a successful outcome to this new adventure. And guess what. You're coming along for the ride.
Like I said, this is a new chapter in life and parenthood, and it's certainly a good excuse for some meaningful blogfodder. No, you're not going to see anything flaming my former company or coworkers here, I've got too much respect for the folks there and not enough stupidity to do something like that. Instead, I think this will be a good opportunity to map out the adventure, perhaps clue some folks in on what it's like to be free from The Man for (hopefully just a few) months, and get reconnected with my wife, kids, and life outside the office. Oh, and if you're hiring, let me know. I work for food.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Our newest squatter
We came home yesterday to discover this (click the pic to zoom in)
Apparently to some, a hanging flower basket on the porch might seem like a good place to make a nest. We didn't dare disturb the little bugger, but she did not budge despite the ruckus my kids made over this. Yes, she's alive, and I assume there are eggs underneath her. I wonder what's going to come first...the hatching of the eggs or the sprouting of the perennials in that basket? Either way our front porch is making for some unique entertainment.
Apparently to some, a hanging flower basket on the porch might seem like a good place to make a nest. We didn't dare disturb the little bugger, but she did not budge despite the ruckus my kids made over this. Yes, she's alive, and I assume there are eggs underneath her. I wonder what's going to come first...the hatching of the eggs or the sprouting of the perennials in that basket? Either way our front porch is making for some unique entertainment.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Planned Obsolescence
It seems the honeymoon is over for my beloved new Subaru. Why you ask? Is it falling apart on me? No, it's running perfectly. Does the gas mileage suck? Well, sure, but I knew that going in. Did I accidentally drive it into the side of a UPS Truck? No, still on the straight and narrow. So what's wrong?
I learned yesterday that the Subaru's iPod interface is obsolete. Tragic, right? Can you believe? I'm not sure how I'm going to get through my days here.
A little back story. When we went shopping for a new car, one of the criteria on my list was to have relatively advanced iPod integration, allowing me to control the iPod through the stereo. The Subaru came with a dealer-installed kit allowing me to control the iPod utilizing the "satellite" functions on the radio. Lousy interface, but it accomplished the task. I should also point out that I knew, going in, that my 5-year-old iPod was not compatible with this setup, and that my wife would have to surrender her beloved iPod nano for the cause. Some day I will tell her that I stole it from her. But that's another story.
So, speaking of other stories, this week I received a surprise birthday gift, from my daughters, of a shiny new iPod Touch. Yay! Fun. Now, bear in mind that the only member of the family allowed to purchase technology is myself, so in actuality I purchased it and gave it to my wife so she could wrap it up so the kids could surprise daddy. But of course, before I did that, I made sure to load it up with all my tunes pics, etc so it would be ready to go right out of the box. I am a sneaky one, to be sure.
The evening before my birthday, I perused the day's mail and found the latest piece of advertising propaganda from Subaru. There it was on page 11. An "Alert" stating that Apple has changed it's charging mechanisms and, while the newer iPods would still work with the subaru integration kit, they won't charge through it.
Honey! Time to trade in the new car!
In other car-related news, I thought I'd share an interesting tale of road hazards. The other day I was on a business trip to Columbus, driving the aforementioned Subaru. It was 6am, still dark out, and a coworker and I were zipping down the highway still waking up. All of sudden a large object appeared in the headlights, and I panic-swerved but hit it head-on at 70 mph. Luckily, it was a just a large piece of plastic sheeting, about the thickness of dry-cleaning plastic. When I ran over it I never saw it exit behind the car, but after the sudden moment of panic passed we didn't think about it again.
Later that day we got back into the car to head home from our destination. As soon as we pulled out of our parking space we knew something was amiss. Our first thought was a flat tire, due to the loud thunking sound. So I immediately stopped, and we got out to check. All the tires appeared fine. Thinking that this was extremely odd, I got in to pull forward while my coworker watched from the outside. He immediately knew what was wrong. "Remember that piece of plastic?" he asked. "It's balled up and wedged in between your wheel and the brake drum. I got out to look, and there it was, wound up in a tight ball and wedged in next to the brake caliper. Every time the wheel turned it jammed itself up tighter against the brake. It came out easily enough after I backed up a few inches, but moral of the story...if you run over something and you don't see it in your rearview mirror, you might want to get out and check.
I learned yesterday that the Subaru's iPod interface is obsolete. Tragic, right? Can you believe? I'm not sure how I'm going to get through my days here.
A little back story. When we went shopping for a new car, one of the criteria on my list was to have relatively advanced iPod integration, allowing me to control the iPod through the stereo. The Subaru came with a dealer-installed kit allowing me to control the iPod utilizing the "satellite" functions on the radio. Lousy interface, but it accomplished the task. I should also point out that I knew, going in, that my 5-year-old iPod was not compatible with this setup, and that my wife would have to surrender her beloved iPod nano for the cause. Some day I will tell her that I stole it from her. But that's another story.
So, speaking of other stories, this week I received a surprise birthday gift, from my daughters, of a shiny new iPod Touch. Yay! Fun. Now, bear in mind that the only member of the family allowed to purchase technology is myself, so in actuality I purchased it and gave it to my wife so she could wrap it up so the kids could surprise daddy. But of course, before I did that, I made sure to load it up with all my tunes pics, etc so it would be ready to go right out of the box. I am a sneaky one, to be sure.
The evening before my birthday, I perused the day's mail and found the latest piece of advertising propaganda from Subaru. There it was on page 11. An "Alert" stating that Apple has changed it's charging mechanisms and, while the newer iPods would still work with the subaru integration kit, they won't charge through it.
Honey! Time to trade in the new car!
In other car-related news, I thought I'd share an interesting tale of road hazards. The other day I was on a business trip to Columbus, driving the aforementioned Subaru. It was 6am, still dark out, and a coworker and I were zipping down the highway still waking up. All of sudden a large object appeared in the headlights, and I panic-swerved but hit it head-on at 70 mph. Luckily, it was a just a large piece of plastic sheeting, about the thickness of dry-cleaning plastic. When I ran over it I never saw it exit behind the car, but after the sudden moment of panic passed we didn't think about it again.
Later that day we got back into the car to head home from our destination. As soon as we pulled out of our parking space we knew something was amiss. Our first thought was a flat tire, due to the loud thunking sound. So I immediately stopped, and we got out to check. All the tires appeared fine. Thinking that this was extremely odd, I got in to pull forward while my coworker watched from the outside. He immediately knew what was wrong. "Remember that piece of plastic?" he asked. "It's balled up and wedged in between your wheel and the brake drum. I got out to look, and there it was, wound up in a tight ball and wedged in next to the brake caliper. Every time the wheel turned it jammed itself up tighter against the brake. It came out easily enough after I backed up a few inches, but moral of the story...if you run over something and you don't see it in your rearview mirror, you might want to get out and check.
The Festering Craphole is Complete
Only six short months into my two week bathroom renovation project, I'm finally done. The festering craphole is no more. The cabinets are painted and installed, the Kissie Fish is hung on the wall, and we're ready for our new undersea-themed throne room to be taken over by those two aquatic creatures in the house that don't yet know how to brush their teeth without getting toothpaste on the ceiling.
Except for some assistance with floor demolition and electrical wiring from dear old dad, this project was a solo one. Though we decided not to touch the tub, I ripped out everything else and installed a new floor, wainscoting, sink, toilet, and cabinets. The three pieces of cabinetry I built myself, using ideas garnered from an article I found in Workbench Magazine.
Throughout the painting, tiling, plumbing and cabinetry process, I learned a few things that I thought I would share with my adoring public...
A two week project will likely take more than two weeks. This goes without saying I know, but i'll say it nonetheless.
Mouse hunting can easily add an additional week to the length of the project.
Avoid getting input on color schemes from your young daughters. That is, unless you like orange and green walls with purple fixtures.
Store-bought seashells can easily be passed off as ones you supposedly obtained scouring the shores of Cape Cod in hopes of making your daughters happy.
Pedestal sinks are easier to install than regular ones, but you can save yourself some grief by installing the faucet on the sink BEFORE you attach the sink to the wall.
You can buy one of every plumbing part Home Depot has to offer in one trip, and you will STILL need to go back there for one more thing before you're done.
Toilets and sinks are apparently designed to leak after the first two attempts to install, but will work fine afterwards.
When putting that little magnet catch on the back of the medicine cabinet door, make absolutely sure you don't run the screw right through the mirror.
General Finishes makes a polyacrylic clearcoat that you can put on painted furniture, making the furniture virtually indestructible. I would like to paint every surface of my house and car with this stuff. I'd drink it if I could.
If your daughters want to help, let them. Just avoid the final painting stage. Give them a screw to twist, or a clamp to squeeze. One little project to do will give them a huge amount of pride in their creation, and it will also enable them to take credit for the entire project once it's done.
Custom cut glass is not expensive and easily obtainable. The same is true for custom mirrors. This is especially useful to know when you have to replace the one you broke while installing the magnet catch on your medicine door.
Except for some assistance with floor demolition and electrical wiring from dear old dad, this project was a solo one. Though we decided not to touch the tub, I ripped out everything else and installed a new floor, wainscoting, sink, toilet, and cabinets. The three pieces of cabinetry I built myself, using ideas garnered from an article I found in Workbench Magazine.
Throughout the painting, tiling, plumbing and cabinetry process, I learned a few things that I thought I would share with my adoring public...
A two week project will likely take more than two weeks. This goes without saying I know, but i'll say it nonetheless.
Mouse hunting can easily add an additional week to the length of the project.
Avoid getting input on color schemes from your young daughters. That is, unless you like orange and green walls with purple fixtures.
Store-bought seashells can easily be passed off as ones you supposedly obtained scouring the shores of Cape Cod in hopes of making your daughters happy.
Pedestal sinks are easier to install than regular ones, but you can save yourself some grief by installing the faucet on the sink BEFORE you attach the sink to the wall.
You can buy one of every plumbing part Home Depot has to offer in one trip, and you will STILL need to go back there for one more thing before you're done.
Toilets and sinks are apparently designed to leak after the first two attempts to install, but will work fine afterwards.
When putting that little magnet catch on the back of the medicine cabinet door, make absolutely sure you don't run the screw right through the mirror.
General Finishes makes a polyacrylic clearcoat that you can put on painted furniture, making the furniture virtually indestructible. I would like to paint every surface of my house and car with this stuff. I'd drink it if I could.
If your daughters want to help, let them. Just avoid the final painting stage. Give them a screw to twist, or a clamp to squeeze. One little project to do will give them a huge amount of pride in their creation, and it will also enable them to take credit for the entire project once it's done.
Custom cut glass is not expensive and easily obtainable. The same is true for custom mirrors. This is especially useful to know when you have to replace the one you broke while installing the magnet catch on your medicine door.
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
Fine Woodworking's Box contest
I dream of one day having the time, patience, and skill to do something like some of these folks did. The winner received a Steel City Table Saw with a granite top. That'd be easy to get into the basement.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
The Festering Craphole, Month #7
I had high hopes. I really did. I even have a draft post entitled "The Festering Craphole is Complete". But still, here it is, the SIXTH month into my little two-month long bathroom redo which I stared at the beginning of October, and the kids are still trashing the guest bathroom instead of their own.
Sure, we all know what "they" say...that your average home project will take twice as long and cost twice as long as it should. But we're approaching the SEVENTH month into my project of redoing the kids' bath. It was supposed to be done before the spring thaw (folks standing in the freezing Fargo floodwaters, yes I realize I still have time based on your temperature gauge).
So what's taking so long? Well, life, of course. You know, the daily grind, sick kids, trying to keep my job in this down economy...the usual thing. But this weekend I had the highest of high hopes. All that's left is to paint and install a couple of cabinets I made, hang some towel racks and a ceramic fish, and it's time for the big reveal. No brainer, right?
But then LIFE happened again.
You'll notice I'm writing this on a Saturday morning before 7am. I'm currently waiting for the coffee maker to finish it's job of supplying me with fresh Columbian that I can take with me on my drive to Lowes. This weekend I have three projects that trump the bathroom. First, the garage door opener decided to go into retirement. Second, I've got a hillside that needs some repair before the weeds move in. And third, the real kicker, is the faucet in the guest bathroom is now broken. Yes, yet another plumbing job. As fast as I can build the new bathroom, that's how fast the others are falling apart. Only two weeks ago I was ripping piping out of the powder room sink to remove a ten-year-old clog that had finally gotten the best of us. Before that, I was re-seating a leaking toilet in the master bath. I won't even mention that the vinyl floor in the guest bathroom is bubbling up, a result of dried out adhesive. Or that the paint is peeling. No, those are projects for another day. Or another seven months.
Well since I still don't have a big reveal, here's a teaser. It's the shelf unit I built to go where a window used to be in the kids bathroom, completely unsanded and unpainted, but at least it's proof I've gotten SOMEWHERE.
Sure, we all know what "they" say...that your average home project will take twice as long and cost twice as long as it should. But we're approaching the SEVENTH month into my project of redoing the kids' bath. It was supposed to be done before the spring thaw (folks standing in the freezing Fargo floodwaters, yes I realize I still have time based on your temperature gauge).
So what's taking so long? Well, life, of course. You know, the daily grind, sick kids, trying to keep my job in this down economy...the usual thing. But this weekend I had the highest of high hopes. All that's left is to paint and install a couple of cabinets I made, hang some towel racks and a ceramic fish, and it's time for the big reveal. No brainer, right?
But then LIFE happened again.
You'll notice I'm writing this on a Saturday morning before 7am. I'm currently waiting for the coffee maker to finish it's job of supplying me with fresh Columbian that I can take with me on my drive to Lowes. This weekend I have three projects that trump the bathroom. First, the garage door opener decided to go into retirement. Second, I've got a hillside that needs some repair before the weeds move in. And third, the real kicker, is the faucet in the guest bathroom is now broken. Yes, yet another plumbing job. As fast as I can build the new bathroom, that's how fast the others are falling apart. Only two weeks ago I was ripping piping out of the powder room sink to remove a ten-year-old clog that had finally gotten the best of us. Before that, I was re-seating a leaking toilet in the master bath. I won't even mention that the vinyl floor in the guest bathroom is bubbling up, a result of dried out adhesive. Or that the paint is peeling. No, those are projects for another day. Or another seven months.
Well since I still don't have a big reveal, here's a teaser. It's the shelf unit I built to go where a window used to be in the kids bathroom, completely unsanded and unpainted, but at least it's proof I've gotten SOMEWHERE.
Monday, March 23, 2009
The real reason sheep are nervous
(Kid friendly despite the implications of the title...)
Imagine what'll happen once PETA gets wind of this.
Imagine what'll happen once PETA gets wind of this.
Friday, March 20, 2009
I've seen the recession...it's name is Facebook
I'm convinced that this recession (depression?) we're in has been caused almost single-handedly by the good folks running Facebook. It has to be. Have you seen Facebook lately? It's like no one works anymore. Everyone's either busy updating their status with information about their latest bowel movements, Answering the the latest quiz about the type of invertebrate they are, or whining and moaning about how far our nation has digressed as a result of the new Facebook user interface.
Have we all gone insane? I mean seriously, while the hardworking lads in India are researching solutions to our planet's greatest scientific problems, my fellow Americans are taking the "Which Facebook Quiz Should You Take" quiz. Seriously.
I'm also convinced that Facebook is nothing but a front for the CIA and Homeland Security to gather information about each and every one of us. Think about it. By letting people know that my porn name is Magnum Delmar, the Feds can now deduce my dog's name and the street where I grew up. By listing the states I've visited, spies can now track my travel habits and determine where I'm planning on delivering my next batch of yellow cake. By answering the question about my worst fear in life, they can bury me alive and cover my face with tarantulas until I admit that I'm a terrorist plotting to do evil against my local township. These quizzes take us only a few steps away from providing the world with my mother's maiden name, my social security records, and the list of communist defectors I once got high with. I've never clicked, nor do I plan to click, one of those "allow this application to access my profile" buttons. Call it paranoia but what, exactly, are you planning to access? Why does a digital snowball need to know the list of people I dated in High School? Who are you working for??!! TELL ME???!!!!
And don't get me started about Twitter.
Have we all gone insane? I mean seriously, while the hardworking lads in India are researching solutions to our planet's greatest scientific problems, my fellow Americans are taking the "Which Facebook Quiz Should You Take" quiz. Seriously.
I'm also convinced that Facebook is nothing but a front for the CIA and Homeland Security to gather information about each and every one of us. Think about it. By letting people know that my porn name is Magnum Delmar, the Feds can now deduce my dog's name and the street where I grew up. By listing the states I've visited, spies can now track my travel habits and determine where I'm planning on delivering my next batch of yellow cake. By answering the question about my worst fear in life, they can bury me alive and cover my face with tarantulas until I admit that I'm a terrorist plotting to do evil against my local township. These quizzes take us only a few steps away from providing the world with my mother's maiden name, my social security records, and the list of communist defectors I once got high with. I've never clicked, nor do I plan to click, one of those "allow this application to access my profile" buttons. Call it paranoia but what, exactly, are you planning to access? Why does a digital snowball need to know the list of people I dated in High School? Who are you working for??!! TELL ME???!!!!
And don't get me started about Twitter.
A couple of fine examples of why society is doomed
First, there’s the latest fad in the automotive pimping industry, the Whistle tip (or as I like to call it, the Wizzleteat). Make sure to pay attention to the test drive at the end:
Then, there’s the neighborhood in Mobile, Alabama (where else?) that's convinced of the existence of a leprechaun. Don’t expect to see it in the video…it will disappear if a light is shone on it. I especially like the antique leprechaun whistle, made of high quality PVC. I bet it would sound swell attached to the muffler of my Supra.
I take it back. We're not doomed. We're already dead.
Then, there’s the neighborhood in Mobile, Alabama (where else?) that's convinced of the existence of a leprechaun. Don’t expect to see it in the video…it will disappear if a light is shone on it. I especially like the antique leprechaun whistle, made of high quality PVC. I bet it would sound swell attached to the muffler of my Supra.
I take it back. We're not doomed. We're already dead.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Planning to have kids? Better rework that budget.
Some advice for all you expectant parents out there. I'm sure you're giddy with anticipation over the prospect of a new little one in your life. someone to love, to care for and, most importantly, to pay for. I'm sure you've got the nursery all ready, the pantry stocked with Enfamil and various jars of pureed vegetables, and the budget for the next several years solidified and ready for the little one to invade your life. You're ready to be Supermom and Superdad, right? We laugh at you, you silly young waifs. Here's a few things I bet you never thought of for that budget.
Birthday parties.
No, I'm not talking about your little one's birthday party. That's enough of a financial drain in itself, what with the required passage through the worlds of Build-A-Bear, MyGym, and giant backyard BBQ's. I'm talking about the friends' birthdays. As your child enters toddlerhood and begins to attend preschool, it's a requirement that she invite each and every classmate to her birthday party. Likewise, she's obligated to attend each one of their birthday parties. Each birthday party will out-do the last, and don't think for a MOMENT that you're not required to do the same. So plan on about twenty bucks a kid for presents. Plan to spend each and every weekend being dragged by your toddler to Build-A-Bear to go through the same ursine manufacturing process you did the previous week until she's amassed a quantity of stuffed bears no human should have to tend to. My advice to you? Train your child to become a pariah, loathed by each and every one of her classmates. It's cheaper in the long run, and scars will heal. Who knows, your socially awkward child might grow up to write a blog or something.
Paper
Kids love to draw. Expect that your printer will never be in proper working order. Expect that the paper tray will always be found on the floor under your desk after your kid has ransacked it in an effort to obtain clean media for her latest bit of artistry. Plan on about a ream of paper,per month, per kid. With the economy the way it is, save money by swiping paper from the office, since chances are good your company won't be around in the next fiscal quarter anyway. Oh, also consider space allocations in your home, as every flat surface in the house will eventually be piled high with your child's artwork. There's the stuff she makes at home, the stuff she makes in preschool, the stuff she scribbles on the back of the Denny's menu...none of it can be thrown away as it's all entirely too special and important and your child will still be healing from the wounds of not being invited to her classmates' birthday parties so don't injure her pride further by throwing something out. That sheet of 8-1/2" x 11" with the two messy crayon circles on it? Better get it out of the trash right now and put it up on the fridge before she notices what you tried to do. As if to demonstrate my point, Jessica just walked up to me asking, "Dad? Can I have a piece of paper?" I'd tell her to check the recycling bin, but if she does she'll find the pile of her drawings I threw out the other day and call me an evil ogre for doing so.
Prescriptions
Another advantage to making your child the preschool outcast is that it will enable her to avoid physical contact with other children. If your child is unlucky enough to have a friend or two, then plan for the worst. By the 3rd day of the first school year, she will have her first ear infection. The following week will bring a case of strep. After that, another ear infection, with diarrhea. And just in time for your upcoming vacation, she will pass all those diseases over to you, knocking you flat on your back for the rest of the month. Get to know your local pharmacist. You'll be there often. I should also mention that you should plan to add an extra closet to the kids' bathroom dedicated to the storage of Childrens' Tylenol, Vaporub, and humidifiers in the shape of Hello Kitty. As I write this, my wife is picking up Jessica's latest prescription, this time for an ear infection with pus on her tonsils.
Camp
This one has been discussed by many a blogger in the recent past, but it's worth mentioning again. As a dutiful helicopter parent (a term I just learned last night), you will need to make a multitude of decisions about how to get your child out of the house when school is done for the summer. But telling your child to simply go play outside is NOT an option. There are evil things in your neighborhood. A skeevy man with thick glasses and beady eyes is camped out at the end of your street at this very moment, waiting for a lone toddler to wander just a little too far from his front door, so the child can be swept up and shipped to an overseas white slavery ring. There are packs of wild dogs roaming your neighborhood right now, on the hunt for an afternoon snack. And since chances are good little Timmy has some syrup from this morning's breakfast still on his new outfit from Childrens' Place, if the wild dogs don't get him the swarm of bees will. Where was I going with this? Oh yeah, camp. Start writing checks now. There's preschool camp. Bible camp. Art camp. soccer camp. Acting camp. Piano camp. Attitude Adjustment camp. Band-Aids and Booboos camp. Learn to be a Vegetarian camp. Send your child to all of them, for if you skip even one, come fall your child will be even more of the social pariah than she already is, having missed out on an opportunity to learn how not to fend for herself over the summer. Oh and of course, don't you dare try to schedule your own child for camp independently of the scheduling of the other children in her class. If your son's best friend is going to Paint Your Own Pottery camp, you'd better damned well send your son there at the same time, even if he thinks painting your own pottery is for sissies.
Birthday parties.
No, I'm not talking about your little one's birthday party. That's enough of a financial drain in itself, what with the required passage through the worlds of Build-A-Bear, MyGym, and giant backyard BBQ's. I'm talking about the friends' birthdays. As your child enters toddlerhood and begins to attend preschool, it's a requirement that she invite each and every classmate to her birthday party. Likewise, she's obligated to attend each one of their birthday parties. Each birthday party will out-do the last, and don't think for a MOMENT that you're not required to do the same. So plan on about twenty bucks a kid for presents. Plan to spend each and every weekend being dragged by your toddler to Build-A-Bear to go through the same ursine manufacturing process you did the previous week until she's amassed a quantity of stuffed bears no human should have to tend to. My advice to you? Train your child to become a pariah, loathed by each and every one of her classmates. It's cheaper in the long run, and scars will heal. Who knows, your socially awkward child might grow up to write a blog or something.
Paper
Kids love to draw. Expect that your printer will never be in proper working order. Expect that the paper tray will always be found on the floor under your desk after your kid has ransacked it in an effort to obtain clean media for her latest bit of artistry. Plan on about a ream of paper,per month, per kid. With the economy the way it is, save money by swiping paper from the office, since chances are good your company won't be around in the next fiscal quarter anyway. Oh, also consider space allocations in your home, as every flat surface in the house will eventually be piled high with your child's artwork. There's the stuff she makes at home, the stuff she makes in preschool, the stuff she scribbles on the back of the Denny's menu...none of it can be thrown away as it's all entirely too special and important and your child will still be healing from the wounds of not being invited to her classmates' birthday parties so don't injure her pride further by throwing something out. That sheet of 8-1/2" x 11" with the two messy crayon circles on it? Better get it out of the trash right now and put it up on the fridge before she notices what you tried to do. As if to demonstrate my point, Jessica just walked up to me asking, "Dad? Can I have a piece of paper?" I'd tell her to check the recycling bin, but if she does she'll find the pile of her drawings I threw out the other day and call me an evil ogre for doing so.
Prescriptions
Another advantage to making your child the preschool outcast is that it will enable her to avoid physical contact with other children. If your child is unlucky enough to have a friend or two, then plan for the worst. By the 3rd day of the first school year, she will have her first ear infection. The following week will bring a case of strep. After that, another ear infection, with diarrhea. And just in time for your upcoming vacation, she will pass all those diseases over to you, knocking you flat on your back for the rest of the month. Get to know your local pharmacist. You'll be there often. I should also mention that you should plan to add an extra closet to the kids' bathroom dedicated to the storage of Childrens' Tylenol, Vaporub, and humidifiers in the shape of Hello Kitty. As I write this, my wife is picking up Jessica's latest prescription, this time for an ear infection with pus on her tonsils.
Camp
This one has been discussed by many a blogger in the recent past, but it's worth mentioning again. As a dutiful helicopter parent (a term I just learned last night), you will need to make a multitude of decisions about how to get your child out of the house when school is done for the summer. But telling your child to simply go play outside is NOT an option. There are evil things in your neighborhood. A skeevy man with thick glasses and beady eyes is camped out at the end of your street at this very moment, waiting for a lone toddler to wander just a little too far from his front door, so the child can be swept up and shipped to an overseas white slavery ring. There are packs of wild dogs roaming your neighborhood right now, on the hunt for an afternoon snack. And since chances are good little Timmy has some syrup from this morning's breakfast still on his new outfit from Childrens' Place, if the wild dogs don't get him the swarm of bees will. Where was I going with this? Oh yeah, camp. Start writing checks now. There's preschool camp. Bible camp. Art camp. soccer camp. Acting camp. Piano camp. Attitude Adjustment camp. Band-Aids and Booboos camp. Learn to be a Vegetarian camp. Send your child to all of them, for if you skip even one, come fall your child will be even more of the social pariah than she already is, having missed out on an opportunity to learn how not to fend for herself over the summer. Oh and of course, don't you dare try to schedule your own child for camp independently of the scheduling of the other children in her class. If your son's best friend is going to Paint Your Own Pottery camp, you'd better damned well send your son there at the same time, even if he thinks painting your own pottery is for sissies.
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
This is Apple Support, what are you wearing?
I’m working at home on our iMac today. For the past several weeks the little scroll ball on the Wireless Mouse has given me trouble, refusing to scroll in any direction except up. I finally got tired of ignoring the issue and called Apple support. After saying the words "Wireless Mouse to the voice recognition system without it being recognized, I finally got myself transferred to a human, who forwarded me to a guy with a southern drawl (and, no, not southern India, more like Alabama). He asked me an interesting question.
“Sir, what kinda pants are ya wearing right now?”
I told him blue jeans.
“Perfect. Sir, I wantcha to take the mouse hold it upside down on yer blue jeans and rub it around on your pant leg so the ball spins real fast.”
I did.
“Is it workin’ now?”
Yup, sure was.
Best support call ever.
“Sir, what kinda pants are ya wearing right now?”
I told him blue jeans.
“Perfect. Sir, I wantcha to take the mouse hold it upside down on yer blue jeans and rub it around on your pant leg so the ball spins real fast.”
I did.
“Is it workin’ now?”
Yup, sure was.
Best support call ever.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
A rich man
This weekend my wife and I had the pleasure of seeing the one and only Chaim Topol perform as Tevye in Fiddler On The Roof at the Benedum. Fiddler came out in 1971. At the time Topol was 36 years old, starring as a man much older and beaten down by the hard life in Anatevka. Now in his seventies, Topol is every bit the part of Tevye he was back then, with the same talent, the same voice, the same humor, and perhaps less makeup.
For many Jews, just seeing the movie is a required right of passage. Fiddler is to Judaism what It's a Wonderful Life is to Christmas (note that I said Christmas, not Christianity. Fiddler is that much more important). I myself has seen it perhaps 4 times, and I believe my wife has seen it around 40 times. Sunrise, Sunset and If I Were A Rich Man roll off our tongues more easily than the Sabbath prayers. We were both very excited to have the opportunity to see Topol himself perform, and we weren't disappointed.
The show was phenomenal. Billed as his "farewell", from the moment he walked on stage to the final standing ovation, there was a palpable feeling in the air that the audience was witnessing something special. Tears formed during his closing bow and standing ovation. For those of you not Jewish, imagine Jimmy Stewart coming back from the dead to perform It's a Wonderful Life on Broadway. Now imagine Terry Bradshaw performing as he did in the 70's, winning the next four Superbowls. Then, imagine Washington himself coming back to cross the Delaware one more time. Toss in a little bit of Jesus walking on water, and none of that put together even comes close to the feeling of seeing Topol point to the sky and say, "I know, I know. We are Your chosen people. But, once in a while, can't You choose someone else?" It truly was a religious experience.
The show itself stuck very closely to the movie. There was very little left out of the stage play. The sets were fantastic, revolving from Tevye's modest home to the town center, to the train station, to Motel's tailor shop smoothly and effortlessly. And all the supporting characters did impeccable jobs representing the characters of the movie closely. I could only imagine what was on their minds: "holy crap! I'm doing Fiddler with Topol!"
I enjoy the theatre, but I'm not a huge theatre buff. However I must say this was the most enjoyable and fulfilling show I've ever seen. Maybe because I have that special connection to the show that so many members of our tribe have. Maybe because it was Topol himself. Or maybe because, just once, thanks to my lovely wife we don't have to say, years down the road, "aw, we should have seen Fiddler with Topol back when..."
Because As the good book says, when a poor man eats a chicken, one of them is sick. Well, it doesn't say that exactly, but somewhere there is something about a chicken.
Lazar Wolf: How is it going with you, Reb Tevye?
Tevye: How should it go?
Lazar Wolf: You are right.
Tevye: And you?
Lazar Wolf: The same.
Tevye: I'm sorry to hear that.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Worst sound bite ever
Back in high school, my one brief moment of popularity came when I joined a small group of friends and rented a helicopter as transportation to the Senior Prom. For a very brief time, all those high school bullies whose fists I was so well acquainted with were actually impressed by me. My moment of pride was damped slightly after I was interviewed by the local news team, and the ONLY part they put on the air was me exclaiming, "It was cheap! It was cheap!"
My buddies are STILL giving me crap for that.
Well, today I outdid even that glorious statement.
During lunch today I walked into a local sandwich shop, and Channel 4 Action News was there waiting for someone dumb enough to grant an interview. The guy with the mic asked me if I’d be willing. I asked what the subject was. He said they were interviewing people about concerns related to the big peanut butter recall. I told him I’d be willing to fake my way through it, and I believe I did. We talked on camera for close to 5 minutes, and I thought I came off fairly intelligent and well-versed on the subject.
I saw myself this evening on the 5pm news. This time my sound bite was far, far worse. I ended up with about a half second of air time. And check out what I said. While I can't find the actual video, here's the transcript. I'm towards the end.
Are you KIDDING ME??? What the hell does that even MEAN???????? And look at that participle, just dangling off the end there. What the hell!!!????
And by the way, I'm a shopper FROM McCandless, not IN McCandless!
I'm never doing an on camera interview again.
My buddies are STILL giving me crap for that.
Well, today I outdid even that glorious statement.
During lunch today I walked into a local sandwich shop, and Channel 4 Action News was there waiting for someone dumb enough to grant an interview. The guy with the mic asked me if I’d be willing. I asked what the subject was. He said they were interviewing people about concerns related to the big peanut butter recall. I told him I’d be willing to fake my way through it, and I believe I did. We talked on camera for close to 5 minutes, and I thought I came off fairly intelligent and well-versed on the subject.
I saw myself this evening on the 5pm news. This time my sound bite was far, far worse. I ended up with about a half second of air time. And check out what I said. While I can't find the actual video, here's the transcript. I'm towards the end.
I put a lot of faith into making sure I'm up on the news and finding out what we need to pay attention to.
Are you KIDDING ME??? What the hell does that even MEAN???????? And look at that participle, just dangling off the end there. What the hell!!!????
And by the way, I'm a shopper FROM McCandless, not IN McCandless!
I'm never doing an on camera interview again.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
A couple of interesting tidbits
While I work on my next piece of fish-wrapping for this blog, I thought I'd post a couple of interesting items I came across today in an effort to keep traffic to the site and ensure folks know I haven't vanished off the face of the blogosphere just yet.
Electric Bandaids
An interesting article about a company attempting to bring the electric bandage to market. According to the story, it's well known that a little jolt of electric current helps wounds heal. Personally, I think the scientists are headed down the wrong path here. What they really need to be doing is figure out a way of embedding mommy's kiss into these things. However, I wonder if they will come out in Dora and Spongebob versions?
World's Cutest Autism Therapy
Yet another Carnegie Mellon spinoff has created a toy robot called the Beatbot, designed to aid therapists in autism therapy. Check this thing out, it's totally adorable, and yet strangely Big Brotherish given it contains a camera that watches how you react to it. Make sure to click the link at the end of the article to watch the video, I dare you to look away. I want one of these.
My wife has been Shrunky Dunk!
My wife is currently aiding my offspring with the process of cooking Shrinky Dinks. Apparently, in the directions, they seem to have dangled a participle or two. The directions state, "Watch as the plastic begins to curl, move about and then flatten."
Which explains why my wife was scurrying around the floor trying to squeeze under the door.
Electric Bandaids
An interesting article about a company attempting to bring the electric bandage to market. According to the story, it's well known that a little jolt of electric current helps wounds heal. Personally, I think the scientists are headed down the wrong path here. What they really need to be doing is figure out a way of embedding mommy's kiss into these things. However, I wonder if they will come out in Dora and Spongebob versions?
World's Cutest Autism Therapy
Yet another Carnegie Mellon spinoff has created a toy robot called the Beatbot, designed to aid therapists in autism therapy. Check this thing out, it's totally adorable, and yet strangely Big Brotherish given it contains a camera that watches how you react to it. Make sure to click the link at the end of the article to watch the video, I dare you to look away. I want one of these.
My wife has been Shrunky Dunk!
My wife is currently aiding my offspring with the process of cooking Shrinky Dinks. Apparently, in the directions, they seem to have dangled a participle or two. The directions state, "Watch as the plastic begins to curl, move about and then flatten."
Which explains why my wife was scurrying around the floor trying to squeeze under the door.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Gutting the festing craphole...day 109
Remind me again why I take on home improvement projects that involve plumbing? I hate plumbing. With every fiber of my being, I hate plumbing. I don't even like that computer game where you attach lines of pipe together to get water flowing from point A to point B.
However the latest story about my effort to redo my daughters' bathroom doesn't involve plumbing. It involves mirrors.
You may have caught on to the fact that I have two daughters. Sharing a bathroom during their formative years will most likely prove to be a challenge of design, storage, and copper-piping fortitude. In fact, most people ask me one simple question when I tell them that I'm installing a pedestal sink in the bathroom: "where are they going to put the tampons?" My answer is, "Don't know, don't care, and certainly not in my workshop."
Okay, so perhaps I care a little. That's why I decided that instead of buying a prefabricated, wall-mounted medicine cabinet, I would take the time and effort to build a custom-designed cabinet that's almost a foot deep. Plenty of storage for feminine articles. I came across a design (for the entire bathroom, actually) in Workbench Magazine, and decided to copy it.
The simple design of the cabinet door involved carving a rabbet out of the back of the frame, serving as a place to drop in a mirror and a backboard. The mirror and backer would then be held in my a couple of little turn-buttons inside the door. I didn't like that idea. I had visions of one of the girls messing with the turn-buttons and causing the mirror to fall out, recreating that scene from Die Hard when gunmen shoot out the glass of the computer room, causing a barefoot John McClane to drag his bloodied feet out the door to safety. Not a good idea, I thought. Instead I made a groove in the door frame, assembling the frame permanently around the mirror.
Not the wisest idea either, I found out later.
Installation of the medicine cabinet went fabulously. It fit nicely into the hole I carved for it, and was square and level. The glass shelves I ordered even fit correctly.
The final step was to attach the magnetic catch to hold the door closed. As I screwed the little metal plate onto the back of the door I heard a high-pitched "plink" sound. High-pitched plink sounds are never good. You know how when Wile E. Coyote accidentally launches himself off a cliff and, for a brief moment, there's complete silence and the laws of gravity are suspended? This "plink" sound was somewhat reminiscent of that moment when Wile E. Coyote looks down and discovers he's about to plummet. I quickly swung the door around and saw a 6-inch crack going up the mirror, a result of putting the screw in just the wrong place.
Awesome. My permanently-mounted mirror has a crack in it. That will do wonders for resale value.
Well, I'm saving the rebuilding of this door for another day. Meanwhile, I've got other stuff to do.
I finally got around to installing the sink this weekend. And have a recommendation for anyone who attempts to install a pedestal sink. Attach the faucet and drain to the sink before attaching the sink to the wall. It will make your life much easier and your knuckles will thank you.
The sink install only involved two trips to Home Depot. On the first, I walked in with a photo of my existing setup and asked the guy to give me every piece of piping I'd need to get the sink installed without a second trip to Home Depot. The second trip to Home Depot involved getting an additional 4" piece of PVC pipe which I needed once I discovered I had everything except the additional inches of piping 4 necessary to connect the underside of the sink to the trap. Once I had everything and after only 3 episodes of detaching and reattaching all the connections to stop leaks, It was done. I'd call that a successful sink installation.
The next step is the toilet, but before I get there I must deal with yet another distraction. It seems our roof is not adequately insulated or vented, and we've got an ice dam problem. That ain't good.
At least the kids think it's cool to look at. Kind of like how they enjoy looking at their oddly shaped faces in the cracked mirror.
However the latest story about my effort to redo my daughters' bathroom doesn't involve plumbing. It involves mirrors.
You may have caught on to the fact that I have two daughters. Sharing a bathroom during their formative years will most likely prove to be a challenge of design, storage, and copper-piping fortitude. In fact, most people ask me one simple question when I tell them that I'm installing a pedestal sink in the bathroom: "where are they going to put the tampons?" My answer is, "Don't know, don't care, and certainly not in my workshop."
Okay, so perhaps I care a little. That's why I decided that instead of buying a prefabricated, wall-mounted medicine cabinet, I would take the time and effort to build a custom-designed cabinet that's almost a foot deep. Plenty of storage for feminine articles. I came across a design (for the entire bathroom, actually) in Workbench Magazine, and decided to copy it.
The simple design of the cabinet door involved carving a rabbet out of the back of the frame, serving as a place to drop in a mirror and a backboard. The mirror and backer would then be held in my a couple of little turn-buttons inside the door. I didn't like that idea. I had visions of one of the girls messing with the turn-buttons and causing the mirror to fall out, recreating that scene from Die Hard when gunmen shoot out the glass of the computer room, causing a barefoot John McClane to drag his bloodied feet out the door to safety. Not a good idea, I thought. Instead I made a groove in the door frame, assembling the frame permanently around the mirror.
Not the wisest idea either, I found out later.
Installation of the medicine cabinet went fabulously. It fit nicely into the hole I carved for it, and was square and level. The glass shelves I ordered even fit correctly.
The final step was to attach the magnetic catch to hold the door closed. As I screwed the little metal plate onto the back of the door I heard a high-pitched "plink" sound. High-pitched plink sounds are never good. You know how when Wile E. Coyote accidentally launches himself off a cliff and, for a brief moment, there's complete silence and the laws of gravity are suspended? This "plink" sound was somewhat reminiscent of that moment when Wile E. Coyote looks down and discovers he's about to plummet. I quickly swung the door around and saw a 6-inch crack going up the mirror, a result of putting the screw in just the wrong place.
Awesome. My permanently-mounted mirror has a crack in it. That will do wonders for resale value.
Well, I'm saving the rebuilding of this door for another day. Meanwhile, I've got other stuff to do.
I finally got around to installing the sink this weekend. And have a recommendation for anyone who attempts to install a pedestal sink. Attach the faucet and drain to the sink before attaching the sink to the wall. It will make your life much easier and your knuckles will thank you.
The sink install only involved two trips to Home Depot. On the first, I walked in with a photo of my existing setup and asked the guy to give me every piece of piping I'd need to get the sink installed without a second trip to Home Depot. The second trip to Home Depot involved getting an additional 4" piece of PVC pipe which I needed once I discovered I had everything except the additional inches of piping 4 necessary to connect the underside of the sink to the trap. Once I had everything and after only 3 episodes of detaching and reattaching all the connections to stop leaks, It was done. I'd call that a successful sink installation.
The next step is the toilet, but before I get there I must deal with yet another distraction. It seems our roof is not adequately insulated or vented, and we've got an ice dam problem. That ain't good.
At least the kids think it's cool to look at. Kind of like how they enjoy looking at their oddly shaped faces in the cracked mirror.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Fatgirl slim and Smalley Smalls
Not sure what to make of this, but what kind of dad would I be not to post it? I especially like the polka dot socks.
Okay, now zoom into that picture and check out the beautiful of our two innocents in the background, upper right corner. Where'd those two go????
Okay, now zoom into that picture and check out the beautiful of our two innocents in the background, upper right corner. Where'd those two go????
88+86+43=217
Well, those two crazy nutbag buddies of mine made it to the game, and tailgating was successful. Most of the time was spent hanging out with two equally nutty guys who came in from Toronto for the game. It was interesting to hear two Canadian's takes on Football, Obama and Sarah Palin, and I couldn't help but point out how impressed I was with their knowledge given 90 percent of the people in Heinz Field Gold Lot 1 had no idea who runs the government of Canada (yes, myself included). I was also strangely impressed by the fact that they brought ACTUAL Canadian bacon to put on their hamburgers.
I should also make a correction to my previous post, which is to point out that they in fact did NOT buy season tickets to the Bills in order to gain the rights to buy playoff tickets. No, instead one of them is on the waiting list for season tickets to the Steelers. Ah, much less nutty.
So after all that planning, it was mission accomplished. I met my friends for a fun tailgate, and they got to freeze their keesters off all night watching Ben and Troy take charge. Dear god...I'm assimilating....please help me....
I should also make a correction to my previous post, which is to point out that they in fact did NOT buy season tickets to the Bills in order to gain the rights to buy playoff tickets. No, instead one of them is on the waiting list for season tickets to the Steelers. Ah, much less nutty.
So after all that planning, it was mission accomplished. I met my friends for a fun tailgate, and they got to freeze their keesters off all night watching Ben and Troy take charge. Dear god...I'm assimilating....please help me....
Sunday, January 18, 2009
They may be nutbags, but at least they aren't women
I should add one thing to my last post. While I'm meeting up with my two nutso friends for this Steelers game, my wife is hooking up with a gaggle of her girlfriends to go downtown to see Menopause, The Musical (yes, ironic I know). The past three days I've done virtually nothing but listen to my wife's side of perhaps two dozen phone conversations, hearing about plans being arranged, rearranged, and rearranged again. Will parking be an issue? So-and-so doesn't like the dinner idea. This person can't make it because she's in labor. She doesn't drive in snow. there was an earthquake. somehow the evening plans went from 14 people meeting for dinner and a show to about 8 or 10 disparate smaller groups of women perhaps meeting at the theater before the show.
I can't help but be amused that two guys...GUYS...mind you...managed to plan this event well before football season ever started, and are going to manage to see this game successfully despite having to drive over 450 miles, in snow, to see the game.
It's been said, by the way, that because of the proximity of the showing of Menopause, The Musical to Heinz field, somewhere over the Ohio river there is likely to be a cloud of testosterone interacting with a cloud of estrogen and perhaps causing a massive weather event culminating in the destruction of all humanity for hundreds of miles around Pittsburgh. Make sure to watch the game tonight, as you won't want to miss that!
Ah, delicious irony.
I can't help but be amused that two guys...GUYS...mind you...managed to plan this event well before football season ever started, and are going to manage to see this game successfully despite having to drive over 450 miles, in snow, to see the game.
It's been said, by the way, that because of the proximity of the showing of Menopause, The Musical to Heinz field, somewhere over the Ohio river there is likely to be a cloud of testosterone interacting with a cloud of estrogen and perhaps causing a massive weather event culminating in the destruction of all humanity for hundreds of miles around Pittsburgh. Make sure to watch the game tonight, as you won't want to miss that!
Ah, delicious irony.
My nutbag friends
I've said it before, I'm no sports aficionado. I don't know my two point conversion from my seventh inning stretch. But with the final game of the NFL playoffs today (yeah yeah, go Steelers) I find myself sucked into the plans two of my buddies have to spread money, love and sporting insanity across Route 80 for approximately 450 miles.
To protect their identities, I will refer to these friends of mine as Nutbag#1 and Nutbag#2. Living in Connecticut, the two of them decided this year to splurge on season tickets to the Buffalo Bills (approximately 400 miles away) in an effort to get on the elite list of folks who get to spend oodles of money on Playoff tickets. It seems their plans worked out for them, and they are currently driving west en route to Heinz Field in Pittsburgh for the Steelers/Ravens game this evening.
I have no idea how much season tickets to the Bills cost, but let's imagine for a moment that they are $500 each. So that's $500, plus $200 each for tickets to today's game. Plus $150 for parking (they decided to go for the gusto and get a parking pass in Gold Lot #1 next to the stadium entrance). Plus perhaps $250 worth of provisions for tailgating. Plus gas money to drive 0ver 900 miles in the next 48 hours. Plus the hotel room (unless they decide to crash at our house).
Now, let's add to this the fact that Pittsburgh had 6 inches of snow last night, and the snowstorm is currently headed east, across route 80. In other words, they are driving straight into it. I should have created a gambling pool to wager on whether or not they make it here for game time....if they make it here at all.
So how am I sucked in? Well, first they had me comunicate with friends and coworkers to find out about an active tailgate game. Then they had me meet up with some guy in an alley in downtown Pittsburgh yesterday, to slip $150 out of the window of my car in return for a gold slip of paper allowing my friends the privilege of parking their car (I believe I've made it to the FBI's watch list for that one). And of course, I am to meet them somewhere downtown to help them navigate their way around Heinz Field when they get here (like I know).
So all you Pittsburghers who are firmly solidified in the nuttiness that is Steelers fanaticism, rest assured you are not alone. Oh look, it's snowing again.
To protect their identities, I will refer to these friends of mine as Nutbag#1 and Nutbag#2. Living in Connecticut, the two of them decided this year to splurge on season tickets to the Buffalo Bills (approximately 400 miles away) in an effort to get on the elite list of folks who get to spend oodles of money on Playoff tickets. It seems their plans worked out for them, and they are currently driving west en route to Heinz Field in Pittsburgh for the Steelers/Ravens game this evening.
I have no idea how much season tickets to the Bills cost, but let's imagine for a moment that they are $500 each. So that's $500, plus $200 each for tickets to today's game. Plus $150 for parking (they decided to go for the gusto and get a parking pass in Gold Lot #1 next to the stadium entrance). Plus perhaps $250 worth of provisions for tailgating. Plus gas money to drive 0ver 900 miles in the next 48 hours. Plus the hotel room (unless they decide to crash at our house).
Now, let's add to this the fact that Pittsburgh had 6 inches of snow last night, and the snowstorm is currently headed east, across route 80. In other words, they are driving straight into it. I should have created a gambling pool to wager on whether or not they make it here for game time....if they make it here at all.
So how am I sucked in? Well, first they had me comunicate with friends and coworkers to find out about an active tailgate game. Then they had me meet up with some guy in an alley in downtown Pittsburgh yesterday, to slip $150 out of the window of my car in return for a gold slip of paper allowing my friends the privilege of parking their car (I believe I've made it to the FBI's watch list for that one). And of course, I am to meet them somewhere downtown to help them navigate their way around Heinz Field when they get here (like I know).
So all you Pittsburghers who are firmly solidified in the nuttiness that is Steelers fanaticism, rest assured you are not alone. Oh look, it's snowing again.
Friday, January 16, 2009
No wonder the economy's gone bust
Alright, I've got a bone to pick with Dick's Sporting Goods.
Ignoring for a moment the fact that it's approximately no degrees here in Pittsburgh today, this week marks the first snowfall of any substance this winter. Until now, the winter landscape consisted primarily of dead grass and that mud bog next to the front mailbox where my wife's minivan tires seemed to miss the driveway by about a foot while pulling out. But this week we had ACTUAL snow. Sure, it was only about 3 or 4 inches, but that's enough to make it worth pulling out the old sled.
Except that we don't own a decent sled.
With global warming being the controversial and somehow prevalent phenomenon that it is, I didn't do much to prepare for winter this year. I didn't gas up the snowblower until this past tuesday. I never replaced the ratty old sled with the gouge in the underside which causes it to turn left into the bushes immediately after takeoff. But during our first snow day, our neighbor and his kids came over to our house, and we discovered that with just the right amount of iciness, this week's snowfall created the ultimate sledding conditions in our backyard. We found that with just the right angle we could careen down our back yard hillside, across one neighbor's yard, across another's, down that neighbor's side yard, and into the street about 400 yards away at a speed of 30mph. Sweet. And this was with my neighbor's cheap plastic sled.
So today I decided to stop at Dick's Sporting Goods to pick one up myself. But lo and behold, there wasn't a sled to be found. I asked an attendant, who told me that they sold out of sleds almost a month ago.
WHAT???
Why on earth do retail stores do this? Go to a clothing store right now, and there won't be a sweater to be found, except perhaps in the clearance section. Don't they realize that people buy sweaters when they are COLD? Don't the grasp the idea that sleds should be purchased during WINTER? I blame the retails for the state of the economy we're in. Americans want to save gas, and all that's available are Hummers. We want warm flannel nighties for those chilly Saturday nights, and all we can get are Speedos. We're thrilled to finally have snow, and yet for some reason all we can buy are water skiis.
Pitt
Ignoring for a moment the fact that it's approximately no degrees here in Pittsburgh today, this week marks the first snowfall of any substance this winter. Until now, the winter landscape consisted primarily of dead grass and that mud bog next to the front mailbox where my wife's minivan tires seemed to miss the driveway by about a foot while pulling out. But this week we had ACTUAL snow. Sure, it was only about 3 or 4 inches, but that's enough to make it worth pulling out the old sled.
Except that we don't own a decent sled.
With global warming being the controversial and somehow prevalent phenomenon that it is, I didn't do much to prepare for winter this year. I didn't gas up the snowblower until this past tuesday. I never replaced the ratty old sled with the gouge in the underside which causes it to turn left into the bushes immediately after takeoff. But during our first snow day, our neighbor and his kids came over to our house, and we discovered that with just the right amount of iciness, this week's snowfall created the ultimate sledding conditions in our backyard. We found that with just the right angle we could careen down our back yard hillside, across one neighbor's yard, across another's, down that neighbor's side yard, and into the street about 400 yards away at a speed of 30mph. Sweet. And this was with my neighbor's cheap plastic sled.
So today I decided to stop at Dick's Sporting Goods to pick one up myself. But lo and behold, there wasn't a sled to be found. I asked an attendant, who told me that they sold out of sleds almost a month ago.
WHAT???
Why on earth do retail stores do this? Go to a clothing store right now, and there won't be a sweater to be found, except perhaps in the clearance section. Don't they realize that people buy sweaters when they are COLD? Don't the grasp the idea that sleds should be purchased during WINTER? I blame the retails for the state of the economy we're in. Americans want to save gas, and all that's available are Hummers. We want warm flannel nighties for those chilly Saturday nights, and all we can get are Speedos. We're thrilled to finally have snow, and yet for some reason all we can buy are water skiis.
Pitt
Thursday, January 08, 2009
Keep your garbage disposal in good condition
You know, if you let it go too long, having a broken garbage disposal in your kitchen sink can lead to a lot of problems down the road. All sorts of odd things can grow in the sink.
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
Ask the Smart Dad...
I found this in a pile on my desk. It's a picture my daughter drew two years ago in Kindergarten. Don't ask why it's a negative image...that's my scanner acting wonky. What's important is the message. "I will ask MY SMART DAD before taking any unknown substance."
Note the light bulb of brilliancy and the corporate logo shirt. She knows me well. And she knows she'll get a straight answer from me. While I don't recall being asked recently by my daughter if she could snort any white powder or down a bottle of skull-and-crossbones-flavored Gogurt, I'm ready for anything.
"Dad, what's this stuff?"
"That's Oxalic acid, dear. I use it to clean bird poop off the deck."
"Do you think it might taste good on ice cream?"
"Dunno. Never tried."
Note the light bulb of brilliancy and the corporate logo shirt. She knows me well. And she knows she'll get a straight answer from me. While I don't recall being asked recently by my daughter if she could snort any white powder or down a bottle of skull-and-crossbones-flavored Gogurt, I'm ready for anything.
"Dad, what's this stuff?"
"That's Oxalic acid, dear. I use it to clean bird poop off the deck."
"Do you think it might taste good on ice cream?"
"Dunno. Never tried."
Saturday, January 03, 2009
So much for that goal of mine...
Much like you yourself are doing right this very moment, I spent a good portion of my free time this holiday break surfing the internet and reading stuff online when I could have actually been productive. In fact, I did a lot of things to avoid being productive. Oh sure, I had grand plans for the time off. I was going to finish the bathroom by the end of the year, so our kids could be brushing their teeth, showering and pooping in their grand new space while we could spend the next several days disinfecting the guest bathroom that they've now trashed. But as usual, the real world got in the way. Holiday parties, movies with the kids, and mornings sleeping in got the best of me.
While I certainly made SOME progress on the bathroom redo, along with the regular vacation distractions I my progress was also hampered by a family of mice that decided to make the wall behind the bathroom its home for the winter. Several evenings were spent trapping and disposing of the little critters and/or coordinating a plan of attack. The good news is that these were perhaps the stupidest mice around, and big fans of peanut butter. I'd place a trap each evening, and the next day I'd be getting rid of a little bugger. Seven days, seven mice. You'd think after two or three family members met their demise they'd avoid that scary thing that smelled of peanuts and find food elsewhere.
Despite my time spent hunting, I managed to finish the walls and begin building a medicine cabinet. Since I have two young daughters that will eventually have MASSIVE bathroom storage needs, I was looking for more than the typical wall-mount medicine cabinet the depth of a box of spaghetti. Instead, I wanted something as cavernous as a Ford Expedition. After a couple of visits to Home Depot I determined that I would be on my own to devise something. Fine by me. Conveniently the wall in which this cabinet is to be installed is a "plumber's wall", meaning it's over a foot deep and backs up to the other bathroom, so there's plenty of space to install whatever I want. I started with the reciprocating saw, tearing out a hole in the wall to make way for the cabinet. It was at this point I made one major mistake. I didn't quite realize the amount of vibration that the saw would cause, and during the tear out I managed to shake the wall so violently I caused a collection of glass candles in the guest bathroom on the opposite side of the wall to fall and shatter...in the toilet. I spent the next hour picking out shards of glass from there, thanking all that was holy that whomever last pooped in there had remembered to flush.
So far I've built the box that will make up the cabinet, and even surprised myself with the fact that it fit into the hole perfectly with the first try. I'm now working on the door, hoping against hope that I don't accidentally drop a trim router on the mirror as I do.
Speaking of routers, this project marks the first official use of my new router table. Dad and I built this into my table saw during his last visit, and it marks the introduction of a whole new set of opportunities to spend time in the workshop, as well as opportunities to spend money at my local Rockler store.
While I certainly made SOME progress on the bathroom redo, along with the regular vacation distractions I my progress was also hampered by a family of mice that decided to make the wall behind the bathroom its home for the winter. Several evenings were spent trapping and disposing of the little critters and/or coordinating a plan of attack. The good news is that these were perhaps the stupidest mice around, and big fans of peanut butter. I'd place a trap each evening, and the next day I'd be getting rid of a little bugger. Seven days, seven mice. You'd think after two or three family members met their demise they'd avoid that scary thing that smelled of peanuts and find food elsewhere.
Despite my time spent hunting, I managed to finish the walls and begin building a medicine cabinet. Since I have two young daughters that will eventually have MASSIVE bathroom storage needs, I was looking for more than the typical wall-mount medicine cabinet the depth of a box of spaghetti. Instead, I wanted something as cavernous as a Ford Expedition. After a couple of visits to Home Depot I determined that I would be on my own to devise something. Fine by me. Conveniently the wall in which this cabinet is to be installed is a "plumber's wall", meaning it's over a foot deep and backs up to the other bathroom, so there's plenty of space to install whatever I want. I started with the reciprocating saw, tearing out a hole in the wall to make way for the cabinet. It was at this point I made one major mistake. I didn't quite realize the amount of vibration that the saw would cause, and during the tear out I managed to shake the wall so violently I caused a collection of glass candles in the guest bathroom on the opposite side of the wall to fall and shatter...in the toilet. I spent the next hour picking out shards of glass from there, thanking all that was holy that whomever last pooped in there had remembered to flush.
So far I've built the box that will make up the cabinet, and even surprised myself with the fact that it fit into the hole perfectly with the first try. I'm now working on the door, hoping against hope that I don't accidentally drop a trim router on the mirror as I do.
Speaking of routers, this project marks the first official use of my new router table. Dad and I built this into my table saw during his last visit, and it marks the introduction of a whole new set of opportunities to spend time in the workshop, as well as opportunities to spend money at my local Rockler store.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Spongebob Science
When I'm looking for a fascinating show on science, I tend to shy away from classics such as NOVA, Mythbusters, or Bill Nye The Science Guy. No, for truly interesting demonstrations of science, I go to Spongebob.
Think about it for a second. In a simple half hour of animated wonder, you can discover fascinating creatures such as a squirrel that can wear SCUBA gear. Or a sponge that makes its home in a rare breed of pineapple that grows at the bottom of the ocean. And even more importantly, it's a land where fire can actually burn under water. Now THIS is science that our kids need to know. Thank god the show is on 24/7. I've told my kids in no uncertain terms that, if they want to be brilliant geniuses when they grow up and solve all the world's problems, they need to pay close attention to each and every fact-filled episode of that amorphous, yellow, porous demonstration of science at its finest and not miss a single moment. Even if it means watching the same episodes over and over again until all the knowledge has sunk in.
They seemed to be taking my advice to heart.
Okay don't get me wrong. Spongebob Squarepants is a brilliant show. Where else can you find a crab that apparently provides foodstuffs made of his own flesh and blood, a pet snail that meows like a cat, or a tiny plankton with dreams of conquering the burger industry? And Patrick? God, I love Patrick.
However, the one thing about the show that really gets my bunches in knots is the fact that simple scientific principles of underwater living are ignored during the writing process. I'm no scientist, nor am I a professional screen writer, but every time I watch the show I notice that approximately fifteen seconds into each episode, the writers fail to remember that their characters are sea creatures.
Here are some simple examples:
1. Spongebob is a professional bubble-blower. He blows fantastically complex bubbles. Under water.
2. In virtually every episode, a character falls to the ground in some sort of classic Wile-E-Coyote way. As opposed to taking advantage of, say, buoyancy.
3. Flames.
4. In at least one episode the gang hangs out at the beach, by a body of water. Forgetting they are IN a body of water.
I think the moment where I'd finally had enough of this was during an episode where Patrick somehow manages to form an intensely strong sense of smell. Sandy the squirrel walked past Patrick, and he held his nose because Sandy had a bit of a foul stench of wet squirrel to her tail, which was sticking out the back of her airtight scuba suit. Patrick proceeded to spray her down with air freshener, and she coughed and choked from the spray. So let's list what's wrong here. Sandy has an airtight suit on, but her tail sticks out. Her tail is fluffy and bushy, not wet and matted. Patrick sprays her with air freshener while she's wearing an airtight suit, yet she coughs and chokes at the fumes. Come on, people, we're better than this!
When I watch Spongebob, I can't help but feel the same way as when I watch a Bond flick, wanting to yell at the villian, "just stop talking and shoot Bond already! Forget the laser to his crotch! Likewise while watching Spongebob, I can't help but shout, "Float you idiot, float!"
Think about it for a second. In a simple half hour of animated wonder, you can discover fascinating creatures such as a squirrel that can wear SCUBA gear. Or a sponge that makes its home in a rare breed of pineapple that grows at the bottom of the ocean. And even more importantly, it's a land where fire can actually burn under water. Now THIS is science that our kids need to know. Thank god the show is on 24/7. I've told my kids in no uncertain terms that, if they want to be brilliant geniuses when they grow up and solve all the world's problems, they need to pay close attention to each and every fact-filled episode of that amorphous, yellow, porous demonstration of science at its finest and not miss a single moment. Even if it means watching the same episodes over and over again until all the knowledge has sunk in.
They seemed to be taking my advice to heart.
Okay don't get me wrong. Spongebob Squarepants is a brilliant show. Where else can you find a crab that apparently provides foodstuffs made of his own flesh and blood, a pet snail that meows like a cat, or a tiny plankton with dreams of conquering the burger industry? And Patrick? God, I love Patrick.
However, the one thing about the show that really gets my bunches in knots is the fact that simple scientific principles of underwater living are ignored during the writing process. I'm no scientist, nor am I a professional screen writer, but every time I watch the show I notice that approximately fifteen seconds into each episode, the writers fail to remember that their characters are sea creatures.
Here are some simple examples:
1. Spongebob is a professional bubble-blower. He blows fantastically complex bubbles. Under water.
2. In virtually every episode, a character falls to the ground in some sort of classic Wile-E-Coyote way. As opposed to taking advantage of, say, buoyancy.
3. Flames.
4. In at least one episode the gang hangs out at the beach, by a body of water. Forgetting they are IN a body of water.
I think the moment where I'd finally had enough of this was during an episode where Patrick somehow manages to form an intensely strong sense of smell. Sandy the squirrel walked past Patrick, and he held his nose because Sandy had a bit of a foul stench of wet squirrel to her tail, which was sticking out the back of her airtight scuba suit. Patrick proceeded to spray her down with air freshener, and she coughed and choked from the spray. So let's list what's wrong here. Sandy has an airtight suit on, but her tail sticks out. Her tail is fluffy and bushy, not wet and matted. Patrick sprays her with air freshener while she's wearing an airtight suit, yet she coughs and chokes at the fumes. Come on, people, we're better than this!
When I watch Spongebob, I can't help but feel the same way as when I watch a Bond flick, wanting to yell at the villian, "just stop talking and shoot Bond already! Forget the laser to his crotch! Likewise while watching Spongebob, I can't help but shout, "Float you idiot, float!"
Sunday, December 21, 2008
The stuff you find on your computer when you clean your hard drive
Found this on my computer this morning. No idea where it came from, but I love it.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Holiday cheer for the morning
A classic from last year. Straight No Chaser doing 12 Days of Xmas...sort of...
And A Charlie Brown Christmas, performed by the cast of Scrubs:
And A Charlie Brown Christmas, performed by the cast of Scrubs:
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Status update: The festering Craphole (day 73)
Believe it or not I've made significant progress on our little bathroom renovation, and today was quite the banner day. This afternoon's efforts consisted of wainscoting, painting, and only two trips to Home Depot.
As is usually the case with us, the design of this room as evolved somewhat organically. Unlike those HGTV design shows, where the hottie designer of the week presents his or her client with a to-scale 3D color drawing of the entire redo, we've been sort of winging it. We knew we wanted something in the way of an oceanic theme. I knew I was going to do wainscoting on the walls, primarily because I didn't want to have to deal with patching the numerous holes. So we decided to delve into the world of faux finishes, painting the upper half of the walls in sort of an ocean blue. After finding and installing a floor tile that looked sort of like sand, we then had to decide what color make the wainscoting. Despite our daughters' pleas to make it seaweed green, we went against the theme and painted it a simple warm beige. We told the kids to imagine a sand dune.
By the way, if anyone can offer up the steering wheel from a sailing ship, we'll gladly take it off your hands to use as a towel rack.
Then came time to figure out what to do about a sink. Before we embarked on this project, I had envisioned a pedestal sink. However, I have never installed a pedestal sink, so at the last minute I wimped out and decided to put a typical vanity cabinet in. Went to Home Depot, decided on something, brought it home, lugged it upstairs, unboxed it , slid it into place, and promptly reversed the process after realizing how ugly it looked. So, we're back to the pedestal idea. Oh well, I can read directions I guess. And on the bright side, a pedestal sink means less surface area to collect toothpaste spittle.
A note about tiling a bathroom floor. I've determined that I could make a lot of money inventing something to easily cut that round hole for the toilet drain. currently the process involves a miter saw with a carbide bit (because I was too cheap to rent a wetsaw to cut 6 tiles), which effectively cuts the tiles but creates a ton of sparks and makes the house smell like a machine shop for a week. Then, you take a pair of "nibblers", which are essentially pliers used to break little pieces of tile off until you get the right shape, hopefully without shattering the tile in the process. After three hours of nibbling and two failed attempts resulting in shattered tiles, I had a reasonably carved circle...and a hand that was no longer able to grip objects for two days.
Here's the progress so far. If you zoom in on the second picture you'll notice artwork on the lower half of the walls done by a certain 5-year-old. She specifically asked if I could install the wainscoting AROUND her artwork so it wouldn't be covered.
As is usually the case with us, the design of this room as evolved somewhat organically. Unlike those HGTV design shows, where the hottie designer of the week presents his or her client with a to-scale 3D color drawing of the entire redo, we've been sort of winging it. We knew we wanted something in the way of an oceanic theme. I knew I was going to do wainscoting on the walls, primarily because I didn't want to have to deal with patching the numerous holes. So we decided to delve into the world of faux finishes, painting the upper half of the walls in sort of an ocean blue. After finding and installing a floor tile that looked sort of like sand, we then had to decide what color make the wainscoting. Despite our daughters' pleas to make it seaweed green, we went against the theme and painted it a simple warm beige. We told the kids to imagine a sand dune.
By the way, if anyone can offer up the steering wheel from a sailing ship, we'll gladly take it off your hands to use as a towel rack.
Then came time to figure out what to do about a sink. Before we embarked on this project, I had envisioned a pedestal sink. However, I have never installed a pedestal sink, so at the last minute I wimped out and decided to put a typical vanity cabinet in. Went to Home Depot, decided on something, brought it home, lugged it upstairs, unboxed it , slid it into place, and promptly reversed the process after realizing how ugly it looked. So, we're back to the pedestal idea. Oh well, I can read directions I guess. And on the bright side, a pedestal sink means less surface area to collect toothpaste spittle.
A note about tiling a bathroom floor. I've determined that I could make a lot of money inventing something to easily cut that round hole for the toilet drain. currently the process involves a miter saw with a carbide bit (because I was too cheap to rent a wetsaw to cut 6 tiles), which effectively cuts the tiles but creates a ton of sparks and makes the house smell like a machine shop for a week. Then, you take a pair of "nibblers", which are essentially pliers used to break little pieces of tile off until you get the right shape, hopefully without shattering the tile in the process. After three hours of nibbling and two failed attempts resulting in shattered tiles, I had a reasonably carved circle...and a hand that was no longer able to grip objects for two days.
Here's the progress so far. If you zoom in on the second picture you'll notice artwork on the lower half of the walls done by a certain 5-year-old. She specifically asked if I could install the wainscoting AROUND her artwork so it wouldn't be covered.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Frustration-Free Packaging
God bless you, Amazon...you heard our pleas.
I've written over the years (as has a multitude of others, about the evils of childrens' toy packaging and the frustration and waste involved. Well hallelujah, Amazon has finally seen the light. they are now offering something called "Frustration-Free Packaging" for many of their childrens' toys. They work with the manufacturers (such as Fisher-Price, the kings of the wire-tied playthings) to sell the same packages you see in the plastic display boxes, but in simpler non-display shipping boxes. Pop open the box, slide it out, and little jimmy can be jamming his Millennium Falcon into Hyperdrive before dad's had the chance to find his wire cutters. It's a great day.
Holy crap, did I really write that original post in 2005???
I've written over the years (as has a multitude of others, about the evils of childrens' toy packaging and the frustration and waste involved. Well hallelujah, Amazon has finally seen the light. they are now offering something called "Frustration-Free Packaging" for many of their childrens' toys. They work with the manufacturers (such as Fisher-Price, the kings of the wire-tied playthings) to sell the same packages you see in the plastic display boxes, but in simpler non-display shipping boxes. Pop open the box, slide it out, and little jimmy can be jamming his Millennium Falcon into Hyperdrive before dad's had the chance to find his wire cutters. It's a great day.
Holy crap, did I really write that original post in 2005???
The "I don't get kids" files, chapter 947
Lunchtime today started of in a typical fashion. Our 8-year-old, when asked what she wanted for lunch, of course requested pasta. She always requests pasta. If given the opportunity to construct her own food pyramid, it would list spaghetti at the top, wish various forms of penne, linguine, and elbows taking up the "grains" slot, ravioli in the meat and dairy slot, and of course tomato sauce in the fruits and veggies. As an alternative, we suggested trying a can of wedding soup, explaining that it was chicken soup with pasta and meatballs in it. What could possibly be bad about that, right? She agreed, so on went the stove. Five minutes later, when a bowl of piping hot wedding soup was placed in front of her, she feigned stomach poisoning and exclaimed that this isn't what she really wanted, and no one ever listens to her, and the rest of us get to eat whatever we want but she's forced to eat nothing but gruel all day long. When we pointed out that she hadn't even tried the soup yet, she begrudgingly allowed the spoon to touch the outside of her lips, slumped back in her chair, and whimpered that it "isn't the best in the world" and thus refused to eat it.
Okay, that's one end of the spectrum. Our five-year-old decided to explore the other end.
Take a look at the picture below.
Notice, next to the "reduced fat" label on the box of Ritz Crackers, is a concoction somewhat resembling Bruchetta: a cracker, topped with tomato, fresh basil, mozzarella, and perhaps a little pepper. Jessica declared that THIS is what she wanted for lunch.
HOWEVER...
After looking at the box, she INSISTED that this was not a slice of mozzarella but rather a slice of BANANA. And the little black spots? Raisins. We replied with, "so you want a cracker with tomato, lettuce, a banana, and raisins?"
"Yes, that's what I want."
So as you can see, we made it.
And she loved it.
I just don't get these two.
Okay, that's one end of the spectrum. Our five-year-old decided to explore the other end.
Take a look at the picture below.
Notice, next to the "reduced fat" label on the box of Ritz Crackers, is a concoction somewhat resembling Bruchetta: a cracker, topped with tomato, fresh basil, mozzarella, and perhaps a little pepper. Jessica declared that THIS is what she wanted for lunch.
HOWEVER...
After looking at the box, she INSISTED that this was not a slice of mozzarella but rather a slice of BANANA. And the little black spots? Raisins. We replied with, "so you want a cracker with tomato, lettuce, a banana, and raisins?"
"Yes, that's what I want."
So as you can see, we made it.
And she loved it.
I just don't get these two.
Sunday, December 07, 2008
Thursday, December 04, 2008
Wakeup calls
Our children may be getting on in years, but one thing has stuck with them since their days of infancy. They can regularly wake us up in the middle of the night for no good frickin' reason. With Jessica, our 5-year-old, it's usually either a bad dream or an environmental issue. Here's how the dream sequence goes:
"Ahhhh.....!!! Mommmmyyyyy!!!!
(Mommy leaps out of bed and dashes down the hall. Dad pretends he slept through the racket with a classic roll-and-grunt maneuver)
"What is it honey?" Mommy comes to a stop in front of daughter's bed, her heart pounding through her chest.
"Mommy, I had a bad dream!"
"Well, tell me about it."
"Um. Um. Zeebee Zee (her stuffed zebra), um, she was eating a carrot."
"And?"
"That's all."
For example of an environmental issue, let's discuss missing socks. About once a week she will wake us because one of the socks she had on her feet has slipped off during the night and disappeared into the depths of her covers. This, understandably, is a situation requiring severe panic.
"Waaaahhhh! Moooooooom!!!!!"
"What is it honey?" Mommy comes to a stop in front of daughter's bed, heart pounding as before.
"I...sniff...can't....sniff....find....sniff....my.....sock...."
"Are your feet cold?"
"no.....sniff"
"Do you need the sock right now?"
"YES! It's my fuzzy sock!"
Mommy then proceeds to strip the bed entirely, only to have Jessica inform her that, oh wait, she didn't wear socks to bed tonight.
If the younger chooses not to wake us on any given night, chances are good the elder sibling will. Usually she knows enough that mom will be PISSED if she's woken up yet again, so she will stealthily tiptoe into our room, put her nose to my nose, and lightly clear her throat. The end result is usually the launching of her father into the ceiling fan. This typically happens on Saturday mornings, the one day dad gets to sleep in a little. We repeatedly tell her how, back in our day, weekends were for sneaking downstairs and watching cartoons all morning without waking the parents. That hasn't sunk in yet.
"Echem. Dad"?
"Holy crap WHAT WHAT WHAT!!!??"
"I got myself dressed. Can I go downstairs?"
"Ask me again and I sell you to an Albanian slave labor camp."
"So that's a yes?"
Wednesday, December 03, 2008
Sure I was born a few miles from ESPN, but....
I'm a sports moron. And anyone who knows me is aware of this fact. Ask me who won the game last night, and I will answer with the final score after my daughter beat me in Scrabble. As a general rule of thumb, if there's a sporting event held on a weekly basis and shown on TV, I have no clue that it's happening. I can't tell you who the Giants played last week. I heard the Phillies won the" series last season, but never saw a single game. I have no idea what it means to be in the pocket", what A-Rod's real name is, or what the hell NASCAR stands for.
And I just don't care.
Sure, this got me beaten up regularly in school. I think my parents tried to help me out a bit by suggesting I join the golf team in high school, but that seemed to just get me beaten up more severely. And these days, during lunch at the office when the guys start bitching about the latest draft pick, I tend to focus a little more closely on my Chunky Soup in hopes no one calls on me for an opinion. I like to think that all the brain power spent memorizing RBI's and batting averages from the pages of Sports Illustrated could be better spent on more productive pursuits, like how to most efficiently utilize the extra space in the kitchen pantry the next time the wife finds a sale on couscous.
Over the years, however, I have realized that it takes a little bit of effort on my part to not be considered entirely socially inept. As the saying goes, "when in Rome, watch the game." 15 years of living in Pittsburgh has made me painfully aware that there is really only one sport I need to follow in order to be accepted by my neighbors. That sport, of course, is football. And to make it a little easier, it's only important to know about the Pittsburgh Steelers. So, on any given Sunday (heh, how's that for a sports reference?), I will turn the Steelers game on in the background while I rearrange my sock drawer. I might even glance at the TV once in a while.
But watching the game is a recent change in my habits. I remember back when my wife and I were still dating, she and I went to a restaurant for dinner and ended up waiting at the bar for our table. A townie sitting next to me said something to the affect of, "Ey man, y'inz see that game last night n'at?" I turned to him, gave him a smile, and proceeded to provide the guy with complete details of the game from the night before, right down to how I thought the quarterback's passing game was slightly off, and that the wide receiver should never have dropped that pass from the 30. He patted me on the back with a "ubetcha" sort of comment, and then we were off to our table. Hilary stared at me, fully aware of my disinterest in commercial sports, and wondering how on earth I knew what to say to this man. "Easy," I told her. "Every morning I listen to news radio on the way into work, and pay attention to the morning sports report for exactly this reason. Same reason we keep a fire extinguisher in the house...to use in case of emergency." I believe Hilary gave me the same look that Linda Kozlowski gave Paul Hogan in Crocodile Dundee when he fought off muggers with the classic line, "That's not a knife....THIS is a knife."
Many of my friends are aware of my sporting deficit. My high school buddies, who keep me on their discussion emails each day after a game just to see what stupid comment I can come up with, felt it incredibly pathetic that I only own one piece of sporting apparel, a black mock-T with a Baltimore Ravens logo on it which I got as a gag gift (there's a strange rivalry between fans of the Steelers and fans of the Ravens, and according to the county charter all Ravens fans should be put to death immediately). I didn't get the joke. So one of my buddies actually bought and mailed me a Troy Palamalu jersey. Cool. I loved that Muppets sketch.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)