28th Anniversary

This is just a weird year (as you all know).

I've been in the state of Texas since June -- we actually arrived on Mom's birthday, which was quite the surprise for her! -- and we were living quite happily in Plano until Cheryl had to go back to Grand Rapids just the other day because school is going to start soon and she needs to be ready to start work.

And she had planned a fun weekend with her sister up in Hannibal, MO ("Sisters' Weekend 2020").

So here it is, August 22nd, our 28th Anniversary, and she's up there and I'm down here, and I miss her muchly. It's been beyond fun to spend these last few weeks down here, just the two of us, living in a teeny-weeny apartment like two newlyweds, driving out to Tuscola every weekend to help out around the farm, yapping it up along the drive, trying to figure out these weird, wacky Dallas highways (which are stacked up endlessly to the sky).

Oh, how I miss her!

Today was a regular workday, though -- around the farm, I mean -- and Dad and I spent most of it nailing 2x4s in-between the studs so there'd be something to nail to when it comes time to put up the siding. I had a bit of difficulty with the nailing, because I'm not a "nail" kind of guy. I'm much more screwy -- in fact, I prefer screws because that way, you can back out your mistakes and try again, without destroying the board in the process! (I make lots of mistakes.)

After that was done, Dad and Mom worked together to put up the siding while I helped Jan with the laundry drain ditch. That was a lot of work! Swinging the mattox, pushing the shovel, trying to get the heavy, wet clay out of the ground so the laundry water would go down the trench instead of pooling up by the back of the tool shed (and stinking to high heaven!).

We finally quit in time for dinner, which was hearty; and then Jan and I headed over to Kohl's in town to pick me up some shirts and things because I'd forgotten to bring a nice shirt for Sunday. I had originally been planning on only picking up one, but being with Jan always inspires me to get more, so I actually picked out three, along with some unmentionables. I've decided to keep a set of extra clothes (a full set of everything, including socks, shoes, shirts, and pants) at The Farm so I won't have to remember to bring them every week. After all, my plan is to keep doing this until the end of the year (at least).

In the late evening, I relaxed with Mom and Dad in front of the TV to watch some music shows (The Statler Brothers) and a couple episodes of one of my favorite old westerns (Cheyenne) before hitting the hay.

Then it was time to call Cheryl and tell her how much I love and miss her, especially on this Special Day. It was hard, though. She's really good about handling things when I'm away -- and I've been away quite a few times -- but we were both tired and the strain of suddenly being apart was showing. It was hard to finally say good-night.

I can't wait to see where we'll be next year. I'm still hoping to spend our 30th at Mackinac Island. Can't believe we've lived in Michigan for so long and we still haven't been there!

The Fourth of July in Twenty-Twenty

We had a pleasant time down in Tuscola for the Holiday, with hard work, good food, and family. Always family.

The route from Plano to Tuscola is relatively straightforward once the confusing maelstrom of roadways in the Dallas-Ft.Worth metroplex have been successfully traversed. (Here "successfully" means no traffic congestion, no accidents, no blinding thunderstorms, and no mechanical failures.) Taking the Sam Rayburn / Hwy 121 to Hwy 114 / 121 to Hwy 121 / 360 to Texas 183 / 121 to I-820 to I-30 to I-20 on the far side of Ft Worth. From there, it's an easy hop along I-20 to Hwy 322 in Abilene and a short drop down Hwy 84 to the Ranch.

Google says a little over 3 hours at highway speeds. We made it in almost exactly 3 hours. Guess we must've had a tailwind.

Got there Thursday night just in time for a dish of ice cream before bed, then we all woke up fresh and ready to go on Friday morning.

On Friday, Dad and I worked on mudding some drywall in the middle bedroom. Come dinnertime, thanks to Cheryl, there was some amazing salmon with cous-cous and spinach salad; after that, in lieu of taking a nap,. we enjoyed a leisurely evening's entertainment with John Wayne and Jeff Hunter in "The Searchers". Hadn't seen that movie all the way through in quite a while. Still haven't, as I only caught the last hour-and-a-half or so. But it's a good one.

So was the blueberry cobbler (made by Cheryl) and ice cream (provided by the folks) dessert.

Saturday was the big yard clean-up in preparation for the Independence-Day festivities; while Mom and Dad attacked the vast acreage with their respective riding lawn-mowers, I edged the front yard with the weed-whacker and Jan cleaned up the "inner" yards with brooms and rakes and the push-mower. (They do have quite the collection of lawn equipment!) Then Jan brought out the grilled burgers and red-white-and-blue corn chips, and we had a lovely late lunch on the back patio.

Later that evening, we got Jan's new air-conditioner installed, so she could enjoy a full 8000 BTU of coolness needed to fend off the warmth that streams through the windows all day long (the old unit was only 5000 BTU, and it was fighting a losing battle).

Sunday was a lovely day to go to church and meet up with those really lovely people we haven't seen in a long time (last October??) and sing some wonderful songs and hear a couple sermons (Dad had to do the Bible Class lesson because someone was sick, and he was already slated to preach the sermon); then it was home for lunch and a brief bit of socializing before we hit the road again for "home".

The whole weekend went by in such a blur. Tomorrow it'll be back to whatever we call "normal" these days. I'll be working in a huge building with five or six other people, washing my hands two or three times an hour, wearing my mask every time I get up from my desk; and Cheryl will be picking up some new furniture and doing some grocery shopping for the week.

This new normal is kinda weird.

Living the High Life in Texas

Hey! We're in Texas!

Life just continues to get weirder and weirder. First there was the weird virus that took over the planet. Then there was the absence of avocation (i.e. layoff/furlough). Then suddenly there was a job opportunity in Texas -- and here we are!

I can't begin to describe how bizarre this entire year has been. Or has become. Everyone knows that, and some are experiencing it in far more measure than we are. I was really hoping that this was going to be one of those "good" years, one of those years where it felt like things were getting better instead of worse. Prior to this year, the worst one was 2009, with 2015 a close second in the "please don't make me live that all over again" category. But those were bad years due to personal reasons, and, for the most part, they were bad only from my own limited perspective.

But this year. Whoa.

It feels like our whole world has fallen apart, not only the little world that we inhabit inside our little house in Grand Rapids; but the entire world that surrounds us, the world in which we thought we were living a life of relative peace and tranquility. Mainly because we are boring people who don't bother anyone. But this year has affected so many people, both in and out of our little circle of acquaintances/friends/relatives, that a day doesn't go by that we aren't experiencing a little (or a lot) of heightened anxiety.

I didn't mind getting laid off. I didn't mind getting unemployment. I've never really worried about things like that because life is an adventure and I have some incredible people surrounding me who give me the confidence to continue getting up every morning no matter what, and facing the future. My parents brought me up with a strong faith; and my lovely life-companion has wisdom and courage and faith that emboldens me; and though sometimes doubts assail me in my innermost thoughts, there has never been a moment when my faith has left me high and dry.

And adventure is always around the corner. And I'm for adventure!

Especially when it involves just me and my lovely wife, heading off into the sunset towards an unknown destination, starting our life together a second time, taking some time to just be with each other again without the encumbrances of house and family, spending some good quality time by ourselves.

Of course, we're also taking the opportunity to spend time with some family we haven't had a chance to see on a regular basis for a long time, and hoping to strengthen the familial bonds.

But the real adventure -- for me -- is to finally have some time to spend with Cheryl in our own little place, even for a little while, not having to worry about the house falling down around our heads, or the children needing this or that.

Going for walks, having quiet dinners together, seeing a new (to us) place and sharing that newness together.

Having a new job that is kind of fun (for a change); living in a new town where nothing is familiar; living in an apartment again (not a house!) where the landlord (hopefully) takes care of all those things that fall apart; going shopping for things to make the place a real home-away-from-home; remembering what it was like so long ago when we were first married; the awkwardness of conversation when you promise yourself you aren't going to talk about the children. What do we talk about these days?

I love the challenge. I love the experience.

Except the traffic. I'm not too keen on the metropolitan traffic. Where do all these cars come from?!?!

Braking News

I spent the better part of two days trying to get the brakes fixed on the Sonata. And it really should've only taken an hour or two. But I tend to get dragged into complications that make every little task turn into a mountainous fuss.

Cheryl had been making the astute observation that the brakes were very, very noisy when she drove, especially the rear driver-side brake. Cheryl does not like it when mechanical things start making odd noises, since she knows that it is the harbinger of trouble. Luckily for her, she has a wannabe-mechanic for a husband who is willing to sacrifice a couple days of productive work for the opportunity to tear apart something and make a huge mess in the garage, inconveniencing everyone for the sake of finding out just what is going on.

As it turned out, what was going on was that the rear brakes were just about worn down. Which surprised me in no small measure because in my head I was thinking, Didn't I just redo these brakes last year? In fact, didn't I just put a completely new set of parking brake hardware in it last year?

Well, no, in fact, I did not do that last year. It's actually been a couple years now. How time flies by when you are not having any fun!

Seriously. The speed at which time is flying past makes me want to scream sometimes. How can it be time for bed when it feels like I just got up? How can it be 2020 when I distinctly remember 1992 like it was yesterday?

Must be the drugs.

Anyway, I started working on the brakes Sunday night. Jacked the car up, pulled the rear driver-side wheel off, pulled the pad cover, and -- oof. The pad was nearly gone, starting to scrape metal. Wow! How could it have worn out so quickly?

It was too late to run down to NAPA and get the parts I needed, so I just ordered them online so that I could pick them up bright and early Monday morning. Front and rear. Might as well do the whole set, since they're only $40 for a pair. And I've got money to burn! (Not really, but it's got to be done.)

Monday morning came along, and I'm down at NAPA to grab my parts (and those guys are really bored because business has been extremely slow, what with people not driving their cars); it took all of five minutes before I was homeward bound again. Started replacing the driver-side rear pad, and ran into a familiar issue -- the pad was having a difficult time fitting in the caliper mounting. Had to grind down the flanges just a bit (not really supposed to do that, but I was getting tired and frustrated and had only been working on it for half an hour!). Finally got it to fit, then spent another half-hour adjusting the parking brake (because it had not been grabbing early enough before). Then switched over to the passenger side.

This one wasn't worn down as much as the other side. Hmmm.. That's not good. They're supposed to wear evenly. Not quite sure why the driver side was wearing down faster than the passenger side. Oh, well, not going to figure out that mystery just yet. The important thing is to get the brake pads replaced! And adjust the parking brake on that side!

Another hour zipped past. Then I took a moment to test the parking brake setting by going up and down the driveway, checking to see where it started to grab with the car in neutral and gravity pulling it toward the street on the slight incline, holding the little button at the top of the handbrake lever while slowly lifting it until the car stopped rolling. I was hoping for half the travel length, but three-quarters will do. So long as it stops the car before the lever is all the way back.

Whew. It was nearly noon by this time. Lunch! Just a quick break before getting back to work. Time to relax for half an hour or so before resuming the fray.

Then suddenly it was one o'clock! What happened? Where did the time go?? Off to the garage again...

And now for the other side: Lifted up the front end of the car using my T-jack, pulled the passenger-side wheel, checked the pads. They were about two-thirds gone, which wasn't bad. Still, it was a bit of a struggle to get the new pads to fit into the calipers -- especially with the shims, which seem to be designed to block them from gliding in place. Arg! This is taking too long!

On to the other side -- and the wheel refused to come off. Jammed. Stuck. Probably a spot of rust between the rotor and the wheel rim. This happens a lot in the Rust Belt. Which is why normally I put a bit of anti-seize between them when doing brake checks. Evidently I forgot to do that the last time I worked on this car. Or perhaps this car was worked on at a shop and they forgot to do it.

Took me another half hour to (finally) figure a way to get the wheel off. Had to use a six-foot iron pole (which I normally use to break the ice off the driveway during the winter) and jam it into one of the holes around the rim to pry it off. Man, that felt good when it finally popped off! But there was also the anxiety of time zipping past...

Quickly pulled the final pad off (which was worn about the same as the other front one, so at least they were both wearing at the same rate!) and put the new one on. Half an hour to get it on/off and tightened down.

So it was nearly five o'clock before I had them all in place and all the wheels back down on the ground and all the tools put away and everything cleaned up.

Now it was time to get around to all the other chores which were supposed to get done today. Sigh.

Mondays are so much fun.

In the Good Ol' Summertime...

It's June. That means summer, right?

The temperature is nearly 90 (again) and the humidity is high as well. We go for walks every morning when it is cool so that we don't  faint from heat exhaustion, because the humidity rises quickly around here (and all the plants raise their branches and shout Praise the Lord!) and it doesn't pay off in the long run to try to sweat off the heat while standing in a cloud of water droplets.

We continue to complete little tasks here and there around the house while waiting for the world to get back to normal.

The Camry is running again (although there are still a few pieces that need to be put back on), so Deb and Mason have a space in the garage to park at least one of their cars (and they can determine amongst themselves whose car gets to stay out of the weather); the front yard has been weeded (although we're allowing quite a few plants to grow that others might consider weeds); the deck has a kind of cover over it so that we can eat dinner out there (although it's a hack job that I threw together with a few ancient 2x4s and a dropcloth we'd used for painting the basement); we've purchased a new propane grill (even though the old charcoal-based camping grill was working just fine, it just takes too long to get started); the basement is looking very nice now that Deb has decorated it the way she wants (although there are still a few missing ceiling tiles and little things we have to keep our eyes on, like the water drains and hookups in the kitchenette and the sump drain, as well as the bathroom flooring which still needs to be fixed); the garage is a bit more organized and there is actually room to work on things with the big power tools (although I have to keep moving things around to make room because there are still too many things that need to be donated to Habitat for Humanity -- once they finally open up); the router was finally moved to the front hall closet and I finally got the outlet wired up in there so we didn't have to run an extension cord around from the dining room.

And I finally got a job.

It is only a short contract for six months, but it's one that I can work (mostly) remote, which means I can still work on house projects during the summer while getting paid for the work I do. And my contracting agency thinks they'll be able to shift me into a long-term job afterward, although the details of that job aren't solidified yet.

I'm very lucky and blessed to have a job. So many people do not.

I just hope the world doesn't fall apart any time soon, at least any more than it is.

It feels like we've (the citizens of the world) have already had a one-two punch and we're just waiting for the third for the knockout.

We hope and pray and love and care and try to stay positive, relying on our friends and family to keep us from going crazy. We have the best of both.

God bless you all!

Going to the Airport in Time of Virus

Marcello was very eager to (finally) get on the airplane that would (eventually) take him across the Atlantic to that wondrous land beyond Beyond, where his (real) Home and (real) Family waited anxiously to greet him (and then promptly put him in quarantine).

It was hard to contain his excitement Thursday morning when he woke up (early) with his bags already packed, his body moving back and forth, his feet nervously tapping, eager to get moving. We left the house for the five-minute drive to the airport, parked the car, walked from the parking deck to the United check-in counter, and then were told: "Your flight has been canceled."

Joy.

One advantage of being only three hours from Chicago is that it is entirely possible to drive from Grand Rapids to O'Hare airport in the time it would take to fly. (Weird, I know.) So instead of moaning and crying and trying to figure out another flight to Newark, we jumped back in the car and drove home and grabbed a few snack items and jumped back in the car and drove down to Chicago (along I-294 up to the airport) in record time (due to the lack of traffic and negligible construction impact) and made it to the airport in plenty of time.

Which was a good thing, since we ran into a problem: One of the luggage items was overweight by a pound or two (and they wanted to charge him $100 for it!!) so we unpacked it and shifted some items to his backpack; but then while trying to close up the luggage again, the zipper broke and we had to get assistance from the (extremely bored / eager to do something / very helpful) United staff to tape up the broken luggage (which was threatening to spill the contents of the luggage all over the place) and place it inside a plastic bag (tied at the top) so that he could then check in his bags and get through Security and get to his gate and make the flight to Newark (and then Frankfurt and then Home).

Once he had disappeared on the other side of Security, Cheryl and I were able to relax and head back to the car to begin our long, leisurely, drive back home, listening to an audio book and eating the snacks we had packed (which we had not eaten on the way because we were just too anxious). It was a nice drive. There was very little traffic (mostly tractor-trailer rigs) until we got to Michigan City, IN, and then there was effectively none.

Overall, a nice, seven-hour round-trip Adventure with me and my girl, doing what we can to make up for the failure of local airlines to get their customers where they need to go.

We heard from Marcello as he got to his intermediate stops via text. He had no further issues getting home.

We slept well that night!