Playing with Beauty and the Beast

Attending the high school play this year, Beauty and the Beast, was a traumatic event because the children (!) involved in the production were the very same children whom I had co-directed in The Pirates of Penzance, Jr. and My Son Pinocchio only a few years ago.

And there they all were, nearly grown-up, with real acting skills and singing chops and costumes with real sets. It was simply heart-breaking.

Because I wasn't part of it. I was simply audience.

I really miss being involved in the school plays. The smells of the theater; the lights; the props; the weeks of preparation followed by the nerve-wracking Dress Rehearsal followed by the even more nerve-wracking Opening Night followed by the relaxing Post Opening Night followed by the Poignant Final Performance followed by the crazy Cast Party.

Followed by a wave of depression coming off of a very emotional experience.

Mary didn't get involved in the musical this year; she had enough fun in the Fall Play.  I would've liked to have been involved in some way, but there was no need -- they had plenty of volunteers. And Mary was far too busy with more academic and artistic endeavors.

I did get a chance to congratulate some of the actors I knew. They had all grown up so much! The hardest part was remembering that it had been year since they had seen me or worked with me, and my time with them was so short, that it would be a miracle if they even remembered me. Some of them I had also worked with on the Robotics team, and that was gratifying because they still remembered me. The others looked at me with an odd expression on their face like, Now where have I seen him before?

Mary had lots of friends in the play, though, so she had fun telling them all how wonderful they were. And many of them remembered Cheryl from when she was helping with Band and Orchestra. So for them it was old home week.

When Mary graduates in May, that'll be the last opportunity to do anything with the high school groups for a while.

Life is going to be very weird next Fall.

Spring at Last! (We hope it Lasts)

Welcome to Spring!

Spring is here. We think. At least it finally got above freezing for awhile. See? The warm weather came rolling in, and right behind it, the rain.

Oh, well. I'll take warm rain over cold wind any day.

And now that Spring is here, it's time to think about windows and curtains and drapes and things. Because when the warm weather comes, it's time to open the windows and let the light come shining in! Unless you're tired of the light and want to keep things dark (like when watching movies). Or if, like me, you are paranoid about people peeking through your windows to see what you're up to.

Cheryl has been working on curtains!

Bedroom Window Open for Business

She put some really nice ones in the Suite Bedroom.

Bedroom Window Closed but still Well Lit

And even when the curtains are closed, it's still nicely lit.

Den Window Closed and Not Well Lit

It's a bit more difficult to light things up in the den because the window is underneath the deck, and that shades things a bit much. So when the curtain is closed, it is quite dark.

Kitchenette

But that's OK. Because we have lots of lights in the kitchenette!

Den Lounge Area

We also have a nice futon to lounge around on. With blankets and pillows. And a shelf unit full of board games. And a stereo.

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WORKING ON ADAM'S CAR

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Things have been crazy at work, so I didn't get a chance to work on the car much until Saturday.

The Shop is Open for Business!

First order of business is hanging the shingle. Or in this case, putting my sign on top of the car so everyone knows I'm in a car-working mood!

Tray O' Tools

All my tools were downstairs and I didn't feel like lugging up all my sockets one at a time, which was the major tool I was expecting to use. So I just brought up the entire tray.

A Floor is where we keep our Tools

Along with a few other tools. Without a tray. Because I didn't have a tray to bring them up in.

Wheel + Drive Axle

The patient just refused to give up his drive axle. Something about a really tight hub axle nut, requiring 250 foot-pounds of force to get it to turn. Unfortunately, I only weigh around 150 (give or take a few bowls of ice cream).

Wheel + Drive Axle + Strut + Brake Assembly

After a full day of work, the only thing I managed to accomplish was getting the wheel and the strut and the brake assembly disconnected from the car. But I could not get the wheel disconnected from the axle. Which is a critical issue, as I have to get the axle out of the way so I can replace the steering knuckle. Which is broken.

It was extremely frustrating.

And it got worse.

Because NOBODY has replacement steering knuckles for 2001 Pontiac Grand Ams. Oh, they have plenty of them for the Grand Prix, but none for the Grand Am. This is irritating. What is the deal?  Did someone buy them all up just so I couldn't find one when I need it??

Not even the local junkyards have them.

It's a conspiracy.

{Proof of the conspiracy: I finally found a site online, GM Parts Online, where I can get the part -- for $250!! That's insane!}

I finally found one on eBay for $20. Used. Ordered it. It'll be here Friday. Maybe.

And it's guaranteed not to fit.

(And that assumes I'm able to get the hub axle nut off. Anyone have 250 foot-pounds I can borrow???)

Grace

I didn't know Gracie. I knew her mother, Mrs Rice, and she's a very nice lady who lives in South Bend, Indiana. Mrs Rice and her husband raised eight children in a very small house in South Bend; and even though they dealt with a lot of adversity in life, they never wavered in their faith and their service to God and their dedication to raising their children the right way.

It's kind of funny - the kind of funny that makes you stop and think seriously about how things work in the world - how three of Mrs Rice's daughters came to be at this church in Seattle at the same time that Cheryl and I were there, and how we all got to be such good friends, and then how Cheryl and I moved away to the hinterlands of the midwest, only an hour or so away from South Bend; and how we were able to get to know Mrs Rice when we came down to visit her daughters when they happened to be visiting their mom. And we so thoroughly enjoyed visiting with this good Christian lady, as she opened her home to us and shared her family with us and told us stories of her children when they growing up (the more embarrassing, the better!) and let us be a part of that family.

Over the past thirteen years, we've gone down whenever we could; we've had our kids playing with her grandkids; we've had barbecues together; we've gone to church together; we've been there for some very good times, and we've been there for some not-so-good times. We've laughed and prayed and sang and cried with her.

This past weekend, we were down there again. For a funeral. The funeral of Mrs Rice's youngest daughter, Grace, who was born the same year as Cheryl, but had quite a different life. Because Gracie had a lot of challenges. Mental, emotional, physical - she had them all. Even more so, though, her parents had challenges; Grace wasn't the only child with hardships, and Mr and Mrs Rice were of the belief that one took care of one's family, regardless of the circumstance. They were - and Mrs Rice still is - the kind of people who rise to the challenges they are given, and overcome them through their commitment to Christ.

I admire Mrs Rice for her strong desire to do what is right, and her ability to keep going no matter what happens, no matter how weary it makes her. Many a time we've been at her house, enjoying her company (and her stories), and after a really fine dinner, we'll sit in her living room and start chatting, and she'll lean back in her chair and nod off for a few minutes. And we're so happy that she's so comfortable with us that it does't matter; we're just like family, no big deal. And then she'll wake up and start telling stories again. And we really don't want to leave.

She's an amazing person, and from all accounts, Gracie was an amazing person, too. Stubborn, like her mother. Cantankerous, willful, emotional - but she loved Jesus. Even with all her limitations, she knew her Lord and Savior - because Mr and Mrs Rice made sure she did. They taught her about God from her youth, and when it got to the point where she couldn't live at home anymore, they found her a place where that education continued.  And when the time came that Gracie's body was done with this earth, all those people who had been a part of Gracie's life, her education, her fellowship, her spiritual family, they all gathered together and talked and sang and prayed and celebrated the soul that was now in the loving hands of her Father.

We felt privileged to share in this time with this wonderful group of people. It was good to get together with our friends, the ones who still live so far away on the west coast, but it was even better share in the love and grief and comfort and sorrow and rejoicing of this extended family of believers, reminding one another that ours is a short time on this earth, and we have so much to look forward to when it's over.

* *

Sunday afternoon was spent in the company of my old Writer's Group as we celebrated the (self-)publication of a long-awaited Fantasy Book by my good friend, "S G Devries" (Steve). It's his first novel, and it's one that we as a Writer's Group thoroughly enjoyed reviewing over the past five or six years. He did ten drafts of the thing! I think the last version I read was nearly three years ago. But it was always hilarious. It got to the point back when we were meeting that we would beg him to bring new chapters because his writing style is so hilarious. So don't even attempt to read any of it unless you are prepared to laugh your head off.

I didn't realize until about six months ago, when Steve and I got together to see a movie (because we both like movies) that he is also a craftsman.  In fact, his first actual published book was an incredible How-To book on Building a Working BullDozer (toy-size, of course!) with real wooden caterpillar treads and a working shovel. Totally blew me away. And made me realize what a lazy bum I have become.  And what a renaissance man he is!

Then there's Suzie Finkbeiner, a local Christian novelist (and the founder of our little Writer's Group) who is putting out yet another book this week.  She actually has a series of books about the Dust Bowl which you should not read unless you like to get deeply involved in the faith struggles of people who are dealing with Life. She is an incredible writer, working on your emotions kind of like the way Max Lucado does, only the characters are the type of people you come into contact with every day, in ordinary life situations, each with their own history and baggage and issues.

I haven't had time to write anything now for a couple years -- I mean, anything more than occasional updates on this blog. Some days it feels like I never will finish any of the seventy-odd stories I have lying around on hard drives around the house. Just not enough time. Writers have to be solitary in order to succeed. I can't stand being away from people for very long.  I get too lonely.

I'm going to drive Cheryl crazy when the kids are all finally out of the house.

The Price of Ice

The sleet started coming down heavy around three o'clock, and it was nerve-wracking to try and drive through it, even though the distance from the office to the house is five miles.

For the most part, the other drivers were being careful, keeping the speeds down and the distances up, no one in a rush, no one careening around the slowpokes to get a headstart on the next accident.

Even so, it was stressful. There is no advantage when driving an all-wheel-drive car on ice; the tires slide regardless of whether the engine is directly connected to them.

So I breathed a big sigh of relief when I finally got home, thinking it was all over and now I could kick back and relax for awhile, take my shoes off and turn off my brain and stop thinking about stressful things like work.

Then the phone rang.

Cheryl answered it, and from the look on her face I could tell it was not pleasant news. Then I heard Adam's voice. And remembered that he wasn't home yet.

Funny how little things like that, little equations like, "Son not home yet + icy roads + unexpected phone call" can get your blood pressure going.

Yes, he was calling for help.

Seems he and his car had run afoul of the Laws of Physics (or PhysICE). Icy roads + curve = slide into curb.

Add a little extra speed / momentum, and the equation multiplies into (Icy roads + curve) * (amount of speed in excess of that strictly required to maintain control) = broken wheel.

Seeing your son's car in the middle of the road with a police car behind it, lights flashing, and then observing that the two front wheels don't exactly line up anymore -- well, that's not something I'd care to repeat. Although it could've been worse.  Thankfully, he was less than a mile from home; the police officer was very understanding (and arrived very quickly); and the tow truck arrived within ten or fifteen minutes. All in all, it wasn't the way I would've hoped to spend a Friday afternoon, but we didn't make out too bad.

Adam got a bit more experience in winter driving, and I got another weekend project!

It was tricky getting the car up onto the tow truck because the left front tire was hanging on by the lower support arm (with a little help from the still-attached brake line). The tow-guy had to put a slider underneath the wheel so he could drag it up the ramp; then, back at the house, he had to borrow my trolley jack to get it back down (because the wheel was so bent over that the slider wouldn't stay in place). 

Then it was a bit dicey to get the car the rest of the way into the garage -- after the tow-guy had left -- because the front end of the car was still sticking out about two feet shy of being able to close the garage door. And even with the trolley jack under the front frame, I couldn't budget it.

Thankfully (again) the rest of the family was available for shoving duty, so they all came out to the garage and put their backs into it and we finally got the poor car far enough into the garage that we could shut the door and keep out the cold.

(And then it was time for dinner!)

Afterwards, I came back out to the garage and took a look at the damage. Not really too bad. The strut looks OK. The brake line is good. The drive shaft boot doesn't look damaged, even though it got pulled out of the transmission. Nothing looks bent; looks more like the strut support and the wheel had a disagreement and decided to part ways.

Owing to the slight angle that the car had when coming down from the tow-truck, and the fact that we couldn't effectively turn it, it didn't line up in the garage the way I wanted it. So it is too close to Ruby for comfort.

But I'm thinking I need to get a set of four dollies so I can move my cars around in the garage, even when they don't have wheels or tires installed. I've got a lot of body & frame work to do on these Subarus (and on Adam's car as well), so it'll be a worthwhile investment.

Meanwhile, this weekend is already full of other activities. I won't be able to get around to the car repairs until Monday or Tuesday, at the earliest.

But that's OK, too, since Adam is (again, thankfully!) on Spring Break this coming week.

If it was going to happen, this is probably the best time of all.

Pi & Ides

Yesterday was Pi Day, for all you nerds out there. And for all you pie-lovers, it was Pie Day. So everyone broke out their slide rules and their funny t-shirts from geek.com and had a blast.

I was thinking perhaps, with all these busy bakers in the house (like the one who spent the last few days making cookies), we might end up with a few apple or peach or pecan pies, but I was mistaken.

I suppose that's a bit pedestrian these days.

Instead, we had chicken pot pie. For dinner. From Costco. For two reasons: (1) it was hilariously unexpected (since everyone else was doing dessert pies); and (2) certain people were tired of baking and needed a nice little break.

So we had wonderful, salty, hot-out-of-the-oven, burn-your-tongue-off, cute-as-a-button little pot pies.

With cookies for dessert.

And then we watched one of the last few remaining episodes of Bones. Which is rapidly coming to a close. And just about time, too. The plots have been getting rather thin. But the kids grew up watching the show, so it's only right they get to see it through to its conclusion. After all, they got to see the end of House.

* *

Tonight was the Ides of March, so Cheryl, being rather literary in nature (comes from being an English major, I suppose), decided to have Caesar Salad. It was quite yummy!

Last night, we went out shopping and she happened to find a lot of clearance items in the Italian section of the grocery store. Chocolate, mostly. So we had Italian chocolates tonight for dessert.

(I can feel my waistband expanding...)

Then we watched another exciting episode of Endeavour, in which our hero is nearly killed by a ferocious Bengal tiger. In a hedgerow maze. Guarding a mother and her child. But the evil (?) tiger is vanquished by the Police Chief Superintendent! Who served in the British Army in India! And knew all about tigers! Because one of his best friends was killed by a tiger! Which he then had to shoot! (Although the other cops didn't believe him, so this was kind of a vindication of the fact that, yes, he actually knows how to shoot and kill a tiger.)

It was a very tense episode. But very good.

Sadly, we only have one episode left to go....

Morse & Murdoch

It's gotten to be a bit of a habit, really. Sitting on the couches after dinner, watching Netflix (for Murdoch) or Amazon Prime (for Morse/Endeavour). Murder mysteries, you know. Highly addictive.

We got started some time ago, so long ago that I don't remember (then again, I don't remember much anymore these days). We had started watching Inspector Morse, a BBC show about this Oxford detective. The show ran from 1987 through 2000. In 2012, they started a prequel show, Endeavour, which takes place twenty or thirty years before the original Morse, with the same characters (only younger, of course).

Then Cheryl found this other show, The Murdoch Mysteries, which is set in Toronto (Canada) in the lat 1890s. We got started watching that a few months back. It got so bad that we were whining like addicts when an evening came along and we didn't have enough time to catch an episode. Pathetic.

But all good things must come to an end. Netflix ran out of Murdoch. We're on our last season of Endeavour. What are we going to do with ourselves when it's all over?

* *

Deb went back to school after a week of Spring Break, taking her car along for the ride. She got back Saturday night and, on Sunday, purchased a parking pass so Security wouldn't tow it away. She's very happy to (finally) have her car on campus. She's got this independence streak a mile long. Can't imagine where she gets it from. Certainly not her parents.

Then our houseguest left for a business trip, leaving room for all three of the "outside" cars in the driveway: mine, Mary's, and Adam's.  I must say, it looks very odd to see the driveway not crammed full of cars, so crammed that we have to shuffle them around every night to get the order correct for the departure sequence in the morning [Mary first, then me, then Lex, then Cheryl, then Adam]. Things would be a lot easier if there was space in the garage for some of those cars, but I'm still dealing with Ruby and Serenity, my two forlorn project cars, and they aren't quite ready to leave the 'hospital' yet.

Mary's spring break is coming up, and I'm supposed to be getting ready for the Big Operation: a Differential Transplant. Sapphire [Mary's car] has an issue with the center differential (which is actually part of the back end of the transmission) so I'm going to pull the whole thing off Ruby and put it in Sapphire.  Then (hopefully) fix up the differential and re-install it into Ruby (given some time and money).

I've been watching YouTube videos on how to do it.  Looks like fun!

There's also a few cars which need some brake work. Like all of them. But Mary's is probably the worst because it brakes unevenly. Adam's is so tight, you barely have to tap it and the brakes are grabbing.  Mine are the opposite: you have to push a ways down to get 'em working. But I'm used to it.

Spring break is coming up soon. I'm trying to get a week off from work, but things are getting crazy and I'm not sure how much time I'll actually get. Did I say things are 'getting' crazy? Actually, they've been crazy since April, when I got back to GE.  Programs behind schedule, over-budget, never enough time or people to get the job done, everyone working long hours and not getting paid enough for it. I'm getting tired of it. But there's bills to pay. You know the drill.

* *

Snow started up again last night -- and we were so hoping winter was almost over! But there wasn't much, just a couple inches. Not even worth putting boots on. And it was so cold outside that it was just powder, brushed right off the cars like dust.

So we didn't get much of anything, but the weatherman says the Northeast is going to get hit hard, all that old air and moisture swirling together and rolling up the coast. Makes me wonder how my old friends over in Long Island are handling it. Well, they've handled hurricanes and snowstorms and other things, they'll probably just shrug and carry on. What else can they do?

Around here, we're just thankful that there hasn't been that much of a winter this year. Not sure if it's "global warming" or just a normal cyclical thing (I tend to favor the cyclical thing just because it annoys my children), but my back is enjoying the respite from shoveling. Last year was a bit worse than this year, and my back ached for a long time afterward. And the year before that - ooh! that was a bad one. For my back, I mean.

There is a snowblower around here somewhere, but since I get so little exercise during the winter months outside of working my jaw-bone, I figure the shoveling is good for me so don't even bother with the thing. Besides, it's loud and fuming and tosses the snow up into the air where it lands in my face (especially when the wind is blowing the wrong direction) and needs that icky gas & oil mix, which is a pain. So I try not to use it if I don't have to. And so long as my back holds out, I don't have to.

But this two inches ... sheesh! Hardly worth the trouble of brooming off the sidewalk.

* *

Mary got it into her head to make cookies this week, so we've been stuffing ourselves silly with 'em. Peanut-butter and coconut (from Grandma Green's dough) and some kind of fluffy chocolate with powdered sugar concoction. Can't remember what they're called, but they are sinfully delicious. They go great with a glass of cold milk, too. Now I'm making myself hungry.

Pardon me while I take a break for awhile....