Macbeth at The Rose

“To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.” 
― William Shakespeare, Macbeth

The Immortal Bard is a favorite at our house.

So when we learned that Macbeth was playing at The Rose (a miniature version of the Globe Theater situated way out in the middle of the Michigan woods), we immediately purchased tickets to see it.

It's the second time we've been to the lovely Rose, and won't be the last. It is an amazing theater, open to the elements, beautifully crafted and delightful to be in.  So long as you remember to bring a pillow or stadium seat. Otherwise, those wooden benches can be hard on the derriere.

The Pigeon Creek Shakespeare Company put on a rousing show, giving us all the drama and tragedy of the epic Scottish Play in a brief but wonderful Sunday afternoon performance.

After which, we stopped by a local roadside stand for some refreshing ice cream.

“Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.” 
― William Shakespeare, Macbeth

Happy 21st Anniversary!

Twenty-one years have come and gone since the day we walked down the aisle in our wedding clothes. I can still remember it like it was yesterday. But how can that be? So many things have happened in the meantime. We've gone from an apartment in Everett, Washington to a house in Grand Rapids, Michigan. We started with just two of us, and now there are six. We had a Toyota Corolla and a Plymouth Voyager. Now we have two Subarus, a Pontiac, and a Dodge Caravan. We've had good times and bad, endured unemployment and over-employment, rebuilt basements, rebuilt bathrooms, gone on amazing trips to Yellowstone and Yosemite, camped among the bugs (with screaming children), luxuriated in hotels, flown in airplanes. So many adventures over the course of those twenty-one years.

Yet when it comes down to it, there's twenty-one years of being with the most amazing woman I've ever known. The most blessed day of my life was the day she said, "I do", and joined me in holy matrimony. No matter what has happened in our lives, she has been my rock, my strength, and most important, my brains. She has such great wisdom, such strong faith. She's adventurous, talented, stylish, cultured, and comes up with the most excruciating puns! (A skill which the children seem to have inherited...)

And she's still so beautiful.

How blessed can one man be?

A/C Fix

Here in the land of Michigan, the summers are hot and the winters are cold.  August and September are normally the hottest months of the year. The humidity is nigh on to unbreathable. People flock to the Lake so they can cool off, swim, relax, enjoy the non-roasting life.

Except this year.

It's been a relatively cool summer.  The temperature hasn't been in the nineties yet (that I recall) and the humidity has been very breathable.  Almost pleasant. So if there is any year for the A/C to go out, this is the year for it.

So it did.

We were sitting in the house a few nights ago and realized that the A/C was on but there was no cool air flowing through the house.  The air was flowing; it just wasn't cool.  Being an old A/C man from way back, I immediately suspected the A/C system had gone "on the fritz".  (See how clever I am? Making these leaps of logic?) Then Cheryl reminded me that the lights had been oddly flickering over the past few days. Dimming for a second or two and then brightening again.

Uh-oh. That's not good. Typically that means a motor is not starting. And since the air was flowing, that meant the fan was working but not the compressor.

Compressors are expensive. Very expensive. Dollar signs started dancing in our heads.

I went downstairs and checked the condenser coils.  Dry as a bone. If there had been a leak in the coils (due to rust), all the coolant might've already dissipated, and the compressor could've locked up like a motor without oil.

I went outside to check the compressor. Activated the relay manually to try to kick on the compressor. No go.  It wouldn't start.

Rats. Must be locked up. More dollar signs dancing in my head.

Here's where things got fun.  The next day at church, I had a chat with Brian S., who works HVAC. He reminded me that it might not be the compressor; it's also possible that the starting capacitor had gone bad.

Starting capacitors cost a lot less than compressors.

Brian kindly offered to come over and take a look at it that very afternoon, and while he was there, we tested the circuit and found, much to my delight, that it was the starting capacitor.  And it just so happened that Brian had a spare one that he carried around in his truck. Which he let me borrow until I could get to the store on Monday to purchase one.

For your future reference, here's two pictures of starting capacitors. The one on the left is the bad one; the right-hand side has the good one. Can you tell the difference? The bad one is swollen up. The electrolytic substance inside has evidently shorted out, which causes out-gassing with subsequent swelling of the case. The good one is flat on top.

BAD	GOOD

The A/C felt extra good that afternoon (and it was, indeed, very warm outside, just the kind of day here A/C comes in handy).

Aluminum Overcast

No one should be at the office on a Saturday, but I was.  There's lots of tests we need to run, software to debug, and a schedule / deadline that is rapidly approaching. But the thought of being there galls me.  What's happened to my summer?  It's practically all gone, and what have I to show for it?

Nothing, that's what.

So I decided to take the opportunity to do something a little out of the ordinary today. The airport, only a mile or so away, was hosting a World War 2-era B-17 bomber, the "Aluminum Overcast", and it was only $10 for a walk-through tour.  So during a break in the software testing, I drove over to the airport and took the tour.

(I could've taken the aerial tour, but that was $450, which is a bit beyond the budget for such entertainments this century.)

The tour was a lot of fun, but even more fun was running into an old buddy of mine in line, and yakking it up for a while about 'the good old days'. I hadn't seen him in at least a couple years, but he's one of those guys where the gap in time doesn't mean anything. We just picked up where we'd left off.

That made my day. Now I'm (almost) ready to go back to work!

A Moment in Time, with Grease and Oil

 It's hard to find time these days to work on the engine which is sitting in my little shop as there are too many more pressing needs around the house and at the office.  The summer is rapidly coming to a close and we haven't done anything as a family that would consititute a 'vacation'; I've been too caught up with work every weekend and the kids are struggling to get all their homework done and Cheryl has lots of projects in her queue, and it seems like everyone's schedules are nuts. Most days I come home from the office completely exhausted, ready to plop down in the comfy chair and forget my troubles with a can of Coke, a bowl of chips and an episode or two of 'Bones'.

Every once in a while, though, a moment presents itself when there is just enough energy left in the old bones to get me out to the shop.  And I go out there, and I pick up a wrench or a socket or a screwdriver or something and, for a few glorious moments, it is possible to create the illusion that actual progress is being made.

Tonight I put the timing belt on and then the timing belt covers and then the intake thingie, and there was much rejoicing.  Actual hardware was placed on actual hardware, bolts were tightened, belts were adjusted, and a little hope was created.  Hope that one day soon this little engine will be placed back in the car where it belongs, and I'll finally be able to drive it again.

Hope is a good thing.

Every once in a while, we get an opportunity to take part in a cultural event here in the city. It's all the more special when someone we know and love is involved in it.

Dr. James Sawyer is one of the High School Band Directors here in town. He's also one of the nicest guys you'd ever want to meet. And he plays some mean Jazz.

Tonight, he was playing with the Grand Rapids Jazz Orchestra down at the Zoo. And we got to go see him!  It was an awesome show. We didn't even mind the mosquitoes so much (although one wonders if they were there for the jazz or for the 'refreshments').

They had an amazing singer, too. Edye Evans Hyde is her name, and she lit up the evening with some soulful renditions of some jazz classics.

A Grand Time to Get to School (or Work)

The summer is almost over and it's time to think about going back to school. (And getting jobs.) And the person who needs to get to school is Adam, since he's going to college. (And getting a job.)  He'll need a car. To get to school. (And work.)

So we got on craigslist to see what we could find in the local area.  Took a couple weeks, but we located a nice little Pontiac Grand Am SE for only nine hundred dollars. Which is quite affordable for a young college student. (Assuming he gets a job to pay for it.)

It's got 200k miles on it. Not too bad. One of the CV axles has a cracked boot. But the guy who sold us the car threw in a CV axle (with boots) from another wreck. The rear bumper is cracked with one light missing. But the guy who sold us the car threw in a bumper (blue) from another wreck. There front right fender is dented and there's a bit of rust here and there (and the guy who sold us the car didn't throw in anything for those items).

Yeah. It ain't a Masarati. Motorista wouldn't put it on her top 10 (or within a mile of it). But it runs. It'll get you from point A to point B. It'll get son #1 from home to college (and to work) and back again.

I wonder what son #2 thinks? (He's driving the red Subaru...)

Walking in the Water

We started walking in the mornings because the kids were worried about getting out of shape. Or, rather, worried about me getting out of shape. They're teenagers.  By definition, they're in good shape. Young.  Hale. Hearty.  On the other hand, I'm old and falling apart.

Oh, I'm in shape, of course.  Because round is a shape, right?

So the conversation goes like this:

"Dad, you need to walk more.  You're getting fat."

"It's not fat.  It's middle-age spread."

"If that's a spread, it's definitely got high-fat content."

"I'll start riding my bike to work. It'll burn off in no time."

"Dad, you haven't touched your bike all summer. You haven't exercised at all. You sit at a desk all day, eating snacks. It's starting to show."

Sigh.

"OK, so we'll walk."

And we do.  Every morning (or nearly so).  Bright and early at seven o'clock, we head out the door, taking turns on being the "Leader", going around the neighborhood to see what can be seen.  Sometimes we don't see anyone else.  Sometimes we see lots of other early-risers.  Most mornings we see bunny rabbits and squirrels and other random animals.

This morning, we saw the sprinklers on.  Some of us avoided them. Some of us walked right on through.

Thanks, Mary!