Christmas Wrap-Up, Iowa Trip Prep

We had a nice Christmas yesterday with presents and donuts and a nice Christmas dinner, and today is Cheryl's birthday.

I was so hoping to have the Building Permit in time for Cheryl's birthday, but my drawings took too long. I didn't get the application submitted until late this afternoon. It'll probably be another week or so before it gets approved.

Meanwhile, we're going to celebrate Cheryl's birthday today by going out to dinner at Macaroni Grille. So we can draw on the paper table cover and dip hot bread into delicious olive oil. And then come home and watch a movie or something.

After that, we're going to get crazy with the packing because we're heading out to Iowa early tomorrow morning.

I stopped by the library this afternoon after dropping off the building permit application at City Hall to return some bad book-on-CDs which Cheryl had picked up last week. For some reason, two of the CDs from one book were identical. Weird.

Since we're leaving so early in the morning, though, the kids will be sleeping through the first three or four hours so I don't expect we'll need them both. One book generally takes 12-18 hours, which should cover most of the trip.

Frankly, I'd rather drive in absolute quiet. I like to just drive and let my mind wander. It's very relaxing.

The Hobbit Part 3

It's been too many years since I read the very short book, so I can't judge whether it was really worth creating three very long movies about it, but speaking strictly from a mathematical viewpoint, it just don't add up.

There was this hobbit by the name of 'Bilbo', right? And he was living in his little hole in the ground in a community of like-minded people, some of whom were OK and some of whom were ... annoying. Bilbo, unlike the majority of his neighbors, is curious about the world. When Gandalf, the 'wizard', offers him a chance to explore the world (via some behind-the-back conjuring and outright trickery), he ends up on a big adventure which takes him from the safe confines of his home to the Elven lands and then to a city besieged by an evil dragon and then to the Lonely Mountain where he witnesses a huge fight between Elves, Dwarves, Men, and Orcs. He is rewarded handsomely for his efforts (as a 'burglar') with gold and mithril and goes back home to rest on his laurels and retire in peace and harmony.

Until many years later when he returns to the land of the Elves and leaves his Precious in the hands of his nephew, Frodo. But that's another story.

Three movies. Nearly nine hours. Wow. Seems to me I remember the whole story being told in an animated version several years ago, and that only took two hours. It served the purpose. It got the main points across.

This version goes on for a long time, and after a while it occurs to me that it isn't so much the story of the Hobbit as it is the story by the Hobbit. Bilbo is certainly there as a witness, but he is not central to the action; indeed, in this third part of the new 'trilogy', it is more the story of the Madness of Thorin on one side, and the Nobility of Bard.  (There's also some trivial nonsense about the Elves and Wizards battling the Necromancer, but that's just there to create the link to the LOTR story.)

We all enjoyed the movie but I'm not sure what we'll remember when it's all said and done, when the DVD is out and added to our collection and it sits on our shelf along with the other ones.  There have been a lot of arguments about it on-line, but since most of us (with the exception of Adam) aren't really interested in debating the subtle nuance of invented worlds, we'll just have to wait and see what kind of staying power it has in our minds.

Meanwhile, we are thankful to James for taking the whole family out to see it. This was his Christmas gift to the family.  And we had a lot of fun!

Thanks, James!

Shocking Failure

We're getting ready to go to Iowa to visit Sandra and Brian. We decided, instead of renting a van over at the airport, to take our ancient Caravan over to the dealer and have it tuned up.

They found a list of things wrong with the car, but we opted out.  Except for the actual tune-up. Three hundred dollars for a tune-up. Seven hundred dollars (minimum) for all the other things they want to fix. Shocks. Fuel filter. Kind of surprised me. How on earth could it cost so much to replace some simple shock absorbers and a fuel filter?

Of course, I'm remembering how much it cost to do the same thing for the old Toyota. Fifty bucks for the shocks, fifteen bucks for a fuel filter. A couple hours of labor, tops.

But not on the Caravan.  Why? Because the fuel filter is located on top of the gas tank. And you have to drop the gas tank to do it.

Huh? What a stupid design!

I figured it would be easy enough to do the shocks myself; I bagged the fuel filter because not even I am stupid enough to try that one on right before a major trip.

I soaked the shock bolts in solvent because they were kind of rusty and let them sit overnight, but apparently that wasn't enough. The top one came off easy enough; the bottom one busted right off.

Rats.

A couple days later, after a trip to the Firestone place (I was too embarrassed to take it back to the dealer) and some additional payola, the shocks were fixed and we were ready for our trip.

End of the Year

The Christmas season is supposed to be relaxing, isn't it? Days off of work, time to sit around with family and spend quality time?

So why am I so stressed out again?

My focus is completely wrong. I'm anxious about finishing up these Christmas cards -- mainly because we didn't send out (hardly) any at all last year -- and am feeling overwhelmed by the amount of time and effort it takes to write them.

Friends and family, I love you all, but you are wearing me out.

It doesn't help that my job -- you know, the place I go to every day to try and earn some bread to put on the table -- is turning into a nightmare of dread. A nightmare because I. don't. care. any. more. My drive, my ambition, my desire to succeed has fizzled out like last year's birthday candle. My anxiety overload has washed over that old flame like a biblical flood and drenched it so deeply that it will never, ever, ever burn again.

So my job is wearing me out as well.

There are so many things going on around here that contribute to the endless spiral of depression that I cannot begin to list them all.

I'll just shut up for now and go eat chocolate.

Chocolate with peanut butter.

That always makes me feel better.

For awhile.

Grace Point Finale revisited

OK, now that we've seen the finale in its entirety, it makes a little more sense.

(Spoilers ahead!)

Detective Carver is (sort of) reconciled with his daughter. He's going to get the surgery he needs.

Detective Miller's son, Tom, was the one who killed Danny, but it was accidental. Her husband, Joe, took the fall because he wants to protect Tom, who actually killed Danny. But Tom was trying to protect Danny from Tom, who is a pedophile. Danny just got in the way when Tom was swinging the oar at his father.

In a weird sense, justice was done. If Joe Miller (the dad) hadn't been pursuing Danny, none of it would've happened. Joe feels responsible, so he's going to pay for the crime of being a pedophile even though he wasn't the one who actually killed Danny.

And it wasn't the look that passed between father and son in the interview clip that revealed the truth to Detective Carver; it was the admission by Tom that "nobody else" had hit him. Only Tom.

Detective Miller is leaving town. She cannot live there anymore, even though all her friends are there. She feels responsible because, as Beth said, how could she not have known her own husband was a pedophile?

So she didn't answer the call from Detective Carver because she knows her husband didn't kill Danny. She didn't want to hear his suspicions that Tom was the one. Because she's going to protect her son, no matter what. And she has agreed with Joe that the truth will never be told.

Danny, of course, will have to live with the fact that he killed his friend. And that his own father is a pedophile who was trying to develop a relationship with his friend. That's a horrible combination of guilt, disgust, and jealousy.

That kid is going to need some serious therapy.

Grace Point Finale

We'd watched most of the Grace Point episodes because we just can't get enough of David Tennant.

He was a perfect Barty Crouch, Jr., a psychotic Hamlet, and an amazing Dr Who, Now he is playing a "famous" (or infamous) detective attempting to solve a murder in a tiny little village on the northwestern coast of the US. Only instead of taking a couple hours to tell the story, it is dragged out for ten episodes to the point where you want to scream.

Tonight was the final episode. But it was also the High School Orchestra Winter Concert. And since Cheryl is the president of the Band and Orchestra Boosters, and because we really enjoy music, we attended that in lieu of watching the silly TV show.

Because, after all, we can always watch the TV show, but there is only one live performance of the orchestra students.

The kids were wonderful. The directors put on an amazing show. And it ended too soon (although my eyes were burning holes in my skull from the dry air we've been experiencing lately).

Afterward, we went home to eat celebratory ice cream and watch the last ten or fifteen minutes of the TV show. Which was just enough to leave us wondering what really happened. Like ...

What was the significance of the look that passed between Tom Miller and his son when they were being interviewed?

What did Detective Carver see in the interview clip, and why did he call Detective Miller? And why didn't she answer the phone?

And why does it always seem that scriptwriters use pregnancy as a means to imply a reconciliation between an estranged couple? (See Parenthood for a particularly outrageous example of this phenomenon.) The Solano family hast just lost their preteen son and suffered through an excruciating investigatory ordeal; is another child going to erase all that trauma?

The last thing a strained marriage needs is another baby in the house. Especially when there are already teenaged-or-older kids in the house. Do they really have the energy to spend another eighteen years raising ungrateful offspring?

Guardians of the Galaxy

Guardians of the Galaxy was in the theaters for about a month or so, and I never found time to see it. Everyone said, "You must go!" but I never did. Because there are so many other things that had higher priority. Like the job, housework, basement plans, etc. I have long ceased to be a fun person. Facebook bears testimony to the fact that all of my family, friends and acquaintances are far more fun than I am: countless pictures of vacations, weekend pleasure trips, adventures in Disneyworld, European tours, potlucks, birthday parties.

Movies.

Well, maybe we can do something about movies.

The DVD for GotG finally arrived at the stores and I picked it up so that we could have a movie night at home. Most of the kids had already seen it, but us old fogies hadn't, so it was a bit of a struggle to keep them from talking through all the good parts (warning: our kids have a tendency to talk through movies even if some of the audience hasn't seen them yet). Nonetheless, we still managed to enjoy it.

The "origin story" is quite engaging, and the characters grow on you like mildew on a shower curtain. And it has everything needed to entertain. There's action (including  the obligatory slaughter of anonymous persons who are no more than cannon fodder for any conflict between good and evil) to define the distinct attributes of each of the primary players, romance (which always plays out as two characters who can't stand each other in the beginning), humor (an alien who takes everything literally), pathos (the son who lost his mother at an early age), and mystery (as in, why was the main character abducted by space pirates in the first place?). There's beautiful aliens, handsome starship pilots, and weird creatures from other planets - including a genetic human/raccoon hybrid and a talking tree.

In short, it has everything required to provide two hours of riveting entertainment. And it was directed by Joss Whedon.

'Nuff said.

Just Teasing. Not.

Having been on the receiving end of bullying in my youth due to my small stature and good grades (yes, it was a crime to be smart back in my day, too), I am forever curious to know why people talk mean to one another, then try to pass it off as "just teasing". It infuriates me; does it infuriate you as well? Or are you one of those people who think it is funny to make cruel remarks or innuendo and try to laugh it off?

Every few months, for some odd reason, I visit Orson Scott Card's website. He's the writer of "Ender's Game", a rather famous Science Fiction story (for those of you who aren't into Science Fiction). Which was a great short story, a passable novel, and a horrible movie. I read the short story; I endured the novel (and a couple of the sequels), and passed on the movie (even though it has Harrison Ford in it).

On his website, Mr. Card writes movie reviews, political essays, and commentary on the life and times of North Carolina, where he lives. It is sometimes interesting, sometimes funny, sometimes insightful, and sometimes annoying. Mr. Card is a Mormon, but he does not proselytize on his website, which I appreciate since I don't agree with his theology.

Mr. Card wrote about this particular issue -- teasing -- back in October, which tells you how often I read his site. I just read it today. And immediately wanted everyone in the world to read it, too. Especially people who experience a perverse pleasure out of teasing other people.

I do not like teasing of any kind. Teasing makes me angry. People pretending that it isn't harmful to others, makes me angry. Some say I'm oversensitive. Especially guys. Guys who remind me a lot of those kids back in school who bullied me because I wasn't big and strong and athletic like they were. That's how guys communicate, right? Teasing, punching, slapping, insulting. In school, I developed a defense mechanism for dealing with it: they wouldn't hurt me if I insulted myself first. They thought it was funny. They couldn't hit and laugh at the same time.

It bothers me when I hear this at the office or at church. But it bothers me most when I hear it at home. I've tried to convince the kids that it is not acceptable, but sometimes I still hear it, and I go ballistic. I don't want to hear it in my house anymore than I want to hear swearing in my house. It is simply not acceptable.

I want the home to be a place of safety, a place of refuge. And this quote from Mr. Card really got to me:

"If your own home is a place of danger instead of a refuge, then it's not really your home, is it? You are bound to look for that refuge somewhere else."

Home is supposed to be a place where you can relax and be safe, let down your hair, be totally yourself and know that you are accepted for who you are. What happens if the one place you want to be safe is just another place you can be bullied?

Winter Band Concert 2014

Marching Band ended just a little while ago, and suddenly it's time for the Winter Band Concert. Where does the time go?

Deb plays in the Symphonic Band, but there were a couple other bands who played their pieces first. Freshman Band, Concert Band. Then Symphonic. Then some other upper-classmen bands. I didn't really notice those as much. While we support the Music programs in general, we mostly support Deb in whatever band she is playing in.

I had to do a little training with the Robotics team in another part of the building prior to the concert so ended up rushing things a bit to get to the auditorium in time. But some of the kids in the Robotics team are in Band, so everyone understands how those things work.

The concert went from 7:30 to a little past 9:30, so we were all a bit tired and cranky afterward. I was definitely ready for bed.

No Leaf Unturned

We had a huge pile of snow in the beginning of November, but after a couple of weeks, the storms stopped coming and the temperature climbed above forty and the snow melted away and revealed to the world the shame that is our yard.

Covered with leaves.

Yes, we didn't manage to get all the leaves raked up before the snow fell. We have no excuse except we really don't care. Well, I don't care. Cheryl really wanted the yard all cleaned up before the snow covered it up, but there weren't any 'volunteers' so the job didn't get done.

It would've been nice if the snow had just kept it covered up all the way through March. Procrastination is my middle name!

But it didn't. So Cheryl made the request for assistance, and the kids went out this afternoon and got it all raked into piles and the piles were put into bags and the bags were placed on the front porch so they could be moved streetside on Collection Day.  Friday.

It was nice to get it done. It will be nicer when it gets picked up.

Man Cave Closed for the Season

It's going to be a very odd winter.

I shut down the third bay today, after finally getting it all cleared out and then moving Serenity in there. With the Subaru inside, there's no room to do any woodwork or anything else; all the workbenches and tools have been broken down and stored elsewhere.

The loft is completely stuffed with all my junk.

And I have very little room to do any auto or wood or metal or electrical work.

But that's OK because I'm supposed to be working on the basement anyway.

And my cars have promised not to have any issues this winter.

Or else.

So I have no more Man Cave.

No retreat.

No happy place.

I'm expecting my stress level to get very high by the end of the year.

So don't be surprised if the next missive you receive from me, is in crayon.

Black Friday

I didn't realize that today wasn't a regular workday until the afternoon, when I checked the company calendar and found out that both Thursday and Friday are paid holidays.

My brain doesn't work too well these days.

At least I avoided any shopping today! But I did actually go into work and dial in to the normal Friday afternoon meeting WebEx, which consisted of only myself and one other geek engineer who hadn't checked his calendar. Boy, did we feel stupid!

But we actually got some work done, so I suppose that's not a bad thing.

Afterward, realizing I didn't need to be there, I went over to Costco to get some fuel for the car, then went home and worked on the garage.

And in the evening, Cheryl and I watched the latest episode of Foyle's War, one of our favorite BBC series.

We are Thankful Today

We are so thankful today.

We have good friends, good food, good health. Notwithstanding all the things in our lives that aren't going quite the way we would like, we have so much that it is impossible to be dissatisfied with what we have been given.

We are thankful for family.
We are thankful for friends who want to share this day with us.
We are thankful for the providence of God that allows us to have all this good food.
We are thankful that we live in a country where we can worship God.

And we are thankful that at the end of the day, we can go to sleep without worrying about tomorrow.

==

Pre-Thanksgiving Pie Prep

Pecan, Apple, and Pumpkin.

Isn't that what Thanksgiving is all about?

We spent the evening working on the pies we'll be taking to the Shapin's house tomorrow for Thanksgiving. I am hoping to eat some of each ... but with all the food we're going to have, it's difficult to know just how much room is going to be available for dessert.

After the chicken and the mashed potatoes and the stuffing and the string beans and the sweet potatoes and the cranberry sauce and the bread, there might not be any space left in the ol' tum-tum.

If only there were some snow on the ground I could shovel in-between courses! That would help burn it all off.

But all our snow has come and gone, and now we are only left with cold air.

Which isn't enough.

Perhaps flapping my lips would burn off some of those extraneous calories. I'm good at yakking. I could go on for hours. Unfortunately, the caloric conversation rate for conversation is appallingly low.

Maybe I'll have to run laps around the neighborhood instead.

More Movies!

We just did a Daddy-Daughter date last night and watched a movie, so tonight, although it's not a Daddy-Daughter date, we're watching another movie!

We got Iron Giant a million years ago when it was on VHS. We almost wore the tape out, watching it over and over again because it is such a good movie!

Then we let someone borrow it a few years back, and we haven't seen it since.

Until Deb decided to buy it so she could watch it with her boyfriend.

Unfortunately, her boyfriend wasn't able to stay long enough to watch the movie (although he was able to join us for some snack food), so we all watched it as a Family Night event instead.

It's still a wonderful movie.

Daddy-Daughter Date

Now that Deb is dating someone who works a movie theater, she seems to be seeing a lot more movies.

She's already seen Interstellar and Big Hero 6, but tonight she and her father (me!) went on a daddy-daughter date to see it. Big Hero 6, I mean. Not Interstellar. That movie is just too long for me to sit through.

But Big Hero 6 was a very good movie. Sad in places, exciting in others. But definitely worth the time spent in the theater.

Gonna hafta get this one on DVD.

Happy Birthday, James!

Everyone around here is getting so old.

It's an odd feeling to have nearly grown-up children still hanging around the house, even the ones who have a  plan and are making it happen. James is another year older, six months past graduation, and he's doing what he wants to be doing and making plans to continue his dream(s). He's not going the standard route of college-then-career; he's got a vision and needs to work and save up some money to make that dream come true, so he's been diligently working and putting away the money and patiently waiting for the day when he can start the ball rolling on the next phase.

We have always told our children that going to college is a choice they will have to make, and that choice depends on their vision of the future. We are not forcing them to go into college immediately after high school, and we are constantly cautioning them to be financially wise concerning debt load, but we are also reminding them that the college degrees (mostly) provide the higher incomes, if that is at all a factor in the career decisions.

Adam has a vision of being a writer; he also is passionate about language, the creation of language, the syntax and semantics of language, and could have a wonderful future in linguistics. But it seems his true passion is still writing. Not sure where he gets that from.

James has a vision of going to Germany and (possibly) studying Art in one of the art schools there. (I suspect it would be advantageous to study German first, but he doesn't have the same passion for languages as his brother.) He also wants to create videos. If you want a sample of his work, go take a look at his YouTube channel. His logo/intro is quite amusing!

Deb wants to be a mom. She loves kids. Gets that from her grandmas. And she wants to be an editor, career-wise. Again with the writing.

Mary is a bit of a wild-card, since she's still in the early stage of high school. She's got some very strong ideas of her future, but there is still a lot of room for adjustment. I admire her passion for missions, her love of music, her outgoing nature, and her endless optimism. She laughs a lot, kind of like my sister Jeanne. Even when we're driving together, she laughs, especially when she makes a minor mistake. Being in the car with her is hilarious!

But today is James's day. He rolled another year. In celebration, we went out for dinner (Thai!) and then to the Symphony to hear The Firebird. (We snagged his best friend Nathan to go along with us, at least for the food, which was a good thing since we didn't have time to run our leftovers to the car, so Nathan took them home.) The first part of the concert was a commissioned piece by Avner Dorman called "Dialogues of Love", which was in three different languages (Hebrew, German and English). It was ... interesting. Somewhat discordant, experimental. After a short intermission, which was spent trying to convince Deb that the second half wouldn't be quite so "boring", we enjoyed the non-ballet version of The Firebird. With cue cards on the video monitors to explain what was going on if we had been watching the ballet.

Then we went home and ate ice cream and opened cards and presents!

Ruby Pumped!

It worked!

We jacked the car up and pumped the tires "in the air", and then dropped 'em back on the ground -- and they seem to be holding.

James says he's going to take it for a test spin later on, but for now, it's held up nearly all day long and no leak. I suppose that means that breaking the bead doesn't mean that the tires or rims are no good; it just means they have to be re-pumped.

Which is good. A friend of mine, who owns a tire store, quoted me over $100 to repair/replace the rims on the Subaru because they're aluminum alloy.

Yikes!

Ruby-smacked!

James was so annoyed by the snow yesterday that he decided to skip work today. Called in and said he wasn't coming. I don't blame him; he has a long way to drive, and when the roads are as bad as this, it's nothing but stress.

And the snow is still falling.

And it took me an hour to get all the cars cleaned off.

After work, I stopped by Costco for dinner -- the schedule is kind of crazy today, so there's no time to cook anything -- and then stopped by the old workplace to pick up the Christmas wreath I'd ordered from the Boy Scouts.

Ruby (the red Subaru) was sitting in the garage with two flat tires, both on the passenger side. That's weird. When I asked Deb about it, since she had driven the car to school today, she said she'd taken a sharp turn and slid into a curb. No damage to the car, but the impact was enough to pop the beads on both tires and let all the air leak out.

Luckily for her, the air lasted long enough to get home.

I'm hoping to take care of that tomorrow.  Tonight, Cheryl and I are going out grocery shopping. It should be interesting, especially with the amount of snow/slush in the parking lot.

A Snow Day

First snow day we've had this season. And it's a tad too early for my taste, given that it isn't even Thanksgiving. But one doesn't argue with the weather.

The snow keeps falling. And falling. And falling. There's a foot or two on the driveway; I haven't bothered to try shoveling it until today, just barely managing to brush off the cars every morning when everyone leaves for work/school. Why bother cleaning off the driveway when it's just going to keep coming? Besides, it's the really dry snow so it's relatively good traction even on top. If it was getting close to freezing, there'd be slush and that's an entirely different equation insofar as traction is concerned.

I still had to work today, but did my working from home. Can't say that much got accomplished, but probably more than would get done if I'd braved the roads to try to get to work. Too much worrying about the traffic can be such a distraction!

Deb was in a "mood" this afternoon, so we watched the original Back to the Future and I was amazed (again) at the language in that movie. Still don't remember it being so caustic when we first saw it back in '85. But the rest of it is still funny. Although the contradictions still bother me.

James got home in a very bad mood because the windshield wipers weren't doing their job of keeping the snow off. Around here, they have to be replaced every year because we go through such temperature extremes and the rubber dries out in the summer and then the snow / ice cakes up on them in the winter and they're useless. So I pulled some out of my stock from last year and they should work fine for the rest of the season. Not sure if they'll still be good in the summer.

Cleaned off the cars again, while I was out there. This is getting ridiculous. I don't even bother with those snow brushes, the ones that combine a scraper with a brush. I just broom off the cars and call it good. The snow is so light and airy (since it's only 20 degrees F) it just brushes off anyway. Haven't had to scrape the windows much this season, maybe once or twice.

Pre-Pre-Playoff Game

Another Saturday, another playoff game.

I don't know what's gotten into this football team. They keep winning. It's just not fair! All of us in the Marching Band are tired and ready to move on to other things.

We have a Christmas concert to work on! Give us a break!

But so long as the team keeps winning, we're going to be there for them, marching in the field and trying to maintain the team spirit. Kind of like cheerleaders on steroids. Or sugar.

Today it was very difficult to maintain the spirit.

It was cold, very cold. So cold that one of the kids actually fainted after coming off the field. Luckily, there were two doctors right there who were able to take care of the situation.

Deborah was in tears at the end of half-time. She could not feel her fingers or her toes. She was not able to play her flute because she couldn't push enough breath across it. So her friend Sabrina unselfishly gave her some regular gloves (with actual fingers on them - the flute gloves don't cover fingers, obviously) and we stuffed hot packs into them, put a cup of hot apple cider in her hands, and told her to stay on the side of the stadium protected from the wind. She was OK in ten minutes.

But it was not fun for the Band. The stadium seats were covered with ice and we couldn't scrape it off. For some reason, perhaps because aluminum is a relatively soft metal, the ice held firm. So the kids sat on the icy bleachers with blankets or the edges of their raincoats beneath them, and toughed it out. And tried to play their instruments when the Director told them to. And tried to maintain spirits.

It evidently worked. Because the football team crushed their opponents. And the other team was supposed to be tough! But our team was playing ferociously, pushing the ball downfield when it was theirs, and blocking like crazy when it wasn't.

Final score: 31-14.

If we keep this up and win again next week, we're going to the State finals.

I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

Band-wise.

The Game and The Crucible

Due to the football team's proclivity lately for winning, we had another game today. Which meant that Marching Band was there. Which meant that we were there.

My pit crew team arranged to have a tailgate party before the game -- actually, as we were trying to get all the front-line carts set up -- so it was kind of chaotic. At one point, the guy who had brought the grill asked me to watch it for him, as he had to run inside the school to watch his daughter compete in the swim meet.

So I had to watch the grill and oversee the pit crew operations.

After the carts were out and set up, we put our folding tables in the trailer and stacked them with the food we had brought. Hot dogs, chili, chips, cookies, soda - the usual tailgate fare (I think -- we are not a tailgating family). And we ate. And got stuffed. I had 3 chili hotdogs, which was far too many for me, and then it was time to go out to the field and get the Band ready to go.

It was a good, evenly-matched game. Lots of back and forth, lots of exciting moments. The score stayed tied for most of the last half, and then our team won by a single field goal, 17-14.

We were happy.

Especially after clean-up. When we could go home and relax for a few minutes before heading down south to another high school's production of The Crucible.

I hadn't seen a production of this play since my own high school days (back in the Dark Ages); we'd read the play in one of my classes -- I don't remember which one -- and we'd gone to a professional production of it. But it had been far too long for me to remember any of it. So it was almost as if I'd never seen it at all.

And it was a very good production at this high school.

Deb's friend Sarah (at whose high school this was) knew quite a few of the cast, so she probably had more fun than we did, from a social standpoint. But we were able to enjoy it for the play that it is. Although "enjoy" might be the wrong word. It is a strong play. It is highly offensive at times. And it is difficult to walk away from it without wanting to do something about the blatant injustice of it.

Personally, I was taken aback by the amount of language in it. I'm perhaps too prudish to thoroughly enjoy a play with that much use of expletives (and I'm not talking about the modern expletives that wouldn't have even been considered for use in a play like this; I'm talking about the common, nearly ubiquitous expletives that most everyone takes for granted, so much so that they don't even garner a PG-13 rating anymore). It bothered me that they were being used in a high school play.

I still remember Mrs. Jones' sixth-grade class back in Richmond, Virginia, when the class read aloud a play which was in some kind of "Weekly Reader" magazine. (I thought it was "The Red Badge of Courage", but am not really sure since my memory is not what it used to be, but I remember very clearly the very last part of whatever play it was.) She had asked me to read the part of the protagonist because I enunciated clearly and loudly. And everything was fine until we got to the final line in the play, when the protagonist utters two expletives.

And I couldn't do it.

And all the other kids in the class knew I couldn't do it. They knew I was one of those goody-goody kids who went to church and didn't cuss or cheat or steal or anything.  And they were just waiting to see what I would do. They were ready to hear the teacher get on my case about it. Finally, Mr Goody-Two-Shoes was going to get in trouble!

And I was confused. Why would Mrs. Jones, that nice Baptist lady (who prayed with us before sending us off to lunch), make me say those bad words?  How could she do this to me?

(And why was it in a Weekly Reader magazine? That's another question which was never answered satisfactorily.)

So for the first time in my life, I pretended not to know how to pronounce a word. A simple word. A word I'd read many times before. A word that scared me. Because only bad people used this word.

I said the line. Dully. Flatly. Monotonously. Badly. As if I couldn't for the life of me figure out what it meant.

"Dan you. Dan you."

And I turned bright red.

I don't know if Mrs. Jones noticed. But I do remember one of the other boys noticed. A nemesis. A bully (at least in my eyes). One of those cute, blond boys who had been told all his life that he was handsome to the point where he believed it was his God-given right. And all the girls believed it, too. I can still see his face in my mind's eye, the look on his face as he smiled with that certain smile that said, Ha! Not so smart, are you?

I wanted nothing more than to run outside for recess and forget the whole thing. But I never did. Not after forty years.

Funny how the mind works.

I enjoyed The Crucible. It's not something I'm likely to ever see again, unless someone I know is in it. The things that happen in that play are immutable and horrifying. And it gives one such a desire to go back in time and knock some heads together.

Especially when one realizes that one of Cheryl's relatives was actually there.

Old Cars

There's a reason I buy old cars.

Actually, two.

For one thing, I enjoy working on cars, fixing them, keeping them in running shape. Given enough time and opportunity, I'd spend hours every day taking them all apart, bolt by bolt, cleaning them all up and then putting them all together again, shiny and brand-new. One of these days, should I live long enough, I want to have a car or two I could drive over to the local car show and pop up the hood and show off all the little sparkly metal pieces and have people admire it and say what a nice, clean, beautiful piece of work it is.

Until that day occurs, I have a driveway full of old, rusty, beat-up, mostly-functional cars.

Which brings me to my second reason.

So long as there are teenagers in the house, teenagers who drive these cars hither and yon, I'm going to keep old cars around.

Because if the cars get dings and scratches and bumps and cracks, I don't care. It doesn't bother me if they don't look like they just rolled off the assembly line. And I'm not going to take them to the shop to have some artiste waste time and money (lots of money!) trying to repair cosmetic damage.

It just ain't worth it.

Naturally, I'll make sure the cars are safe to drive. Tires properly inflated, wipers functional, engines running, transmissions working. But body damage is not worth a moment's concern. (Other than slapping a quick coat of paint on it to keep oxidation from turning little dents into huge holes.)

Teens make occasional mistakes. Cars suffer the consequences.

Teens learn from their mistakes. Cars can still operate with dents.

So when someone (who shall remain nameless) backs out of the driveway in the morning with a little less caution than is necessary and accidentally hits one of the other cars, leaving a nice little dent on both vehicles, I'm not going to get all upset about it. I'm not going to make them pay for it. I'm not even going to bother to fix it. Yet.

I figure the best reminder to be more cautious, is to let them see that damage every day when they (once again) pull out of the driveway and get onto the public roads.

And when I'm finally ready to do something about it, they'll work with me to fix the dent, to bend a little metal, apply a little putty, sand and shape and buff and polish until it's impossible to tell there ever was a dent. And maybe that experience will help them understand a little of why we have to be careful.

But I will remind them all - frequently - that we aren't just cautious because we want to avoid piddly damage to cars.

We are most cautious because we wish to avoid damage to people.

And I ask them to imagine the consequences of inattention when pedestrians are involved. When other children are walking in our street, in front of our house, on their way to the bus stop, on a cold, dark morning. These children - and their parents - are relying on us to make sure there is nothing in our path before we send three thousand pounds of automobile rolling across the ground.

We mustn't disappoint them.

The Joys of Suburban Life

So it's mid-morning and I'm working from home, feeling lousy because of a virus or something, and there's a knock on the door. I run up the stairs from the basement, huffing and puffing all the way, open the door, thinking/hoping it's a magical package from FedEx or Amazon or NewEgg which I never ordered, but instead there's this nicely dressed guy with a big smile on his face and a business card held in his hand.

Says he's the "Compliance Officer". The guy in charge of going around the neighborhood and making sure our grass is the right height and our cars are parked in the right place and our houses aren't falling into disrepair. And I always wondered what all those Association fees were paying for.

When I heard "Compliance", I thought he was going to talk about my car, the one I'm still working on, the one that still doesn't have a plate because it's not registered. But - no. He wants to talk about my trash bin. 

It's been sitting outside, on the side of the house, since Friday when the trash was picked up. It's empty, not heaped high with refuse. It's just sitting there, dark brown and horrifying, reminding the neighbors that occasionally, we throw out garbage.

It's sitting there because there's no room for it in the garage. Because I'm trying to rearrange the contents of the garage in order to find the room to move the cars inside. Which is going to require some major overhaul of the basic structure of the third bay (my shop!).

I should feel lucky to have a third bay to put my car in. Instead, I'm feeling put-upon because this yahoo is coming to my front door complaining that my empty brown trash bin is sitting outside rather than inside my garage where it belongs.

A couple years ago, the City put a warning sticker on my car (yes, it's been under repair for a long time now!) because it was sitting in my driveway, not hurting anyone, but also not moving. Apparently, there's a law against non-moving cars in driveways. That infuriated me. The car is not a rust-bucket. It is not dripping oil all over the place. It is not an eyesore.

It just doesn't move. Yet.

OK, so I can understand why the City doesn't want a bunch of derelict cars sitting in people's driveways. It reduces the value of the houses and the neighborhoods, and the last thing the government wants is to reduce the value of people's property! How else are they going to keep those property taxes so high? (Oddly enough, we found that property taxes actually don't go down when property values go down; for some reason, they only go up.)

But if the car doesn't look like a derelict, why do they care?

And why does the neighborhood care if my little brown trash bin is sitting on the side of my house?

I wonder if they're going to come after me for all those un-raked leaves.

                        *                         *

Parent-teacher conferences are always a wonderful time for those of us with wonderful children. We don't have any issues or complaints, so we usually sit around and chat with the teachers about non-stressful topics.

Except tonight.

Tonight, Deb was all excited because her boyfriend's father was going to be there, and she wanted us to meet him. Not for the sake of meeting him and getting to know him as a person; no, she wanted us to meet him so we would allow her to go over to her boyfriend's house to "hang out". So we would approve of him as a chaparone.

Unfortunately, even if he is a nice guy, it doesn't matter. He and his son live by themselves in an apartment. There are no other females in the place. That is an inappropriate situation for a young teenaged girl.

I met him. He is a nice guy.

But it doesn't matter. I will not approve of her "hanging out" at his house, unaccompanied by other women.

And maybe someday she'll understand.

A Family Date

There's nothing like the prospect of dinner with the family to send a young girl's heart (and mind) into complete chaos.

By "dinner with the family", of course, I mean that her boyfriend will be having dinner with the family. And she'll be forced to put on her best display of familial affection and cooperation while trying not to look too affectionate towards the people she would trade in an instant for another moment or two in his presence.

We're not fools. We've been there before. We assume you remember as well, those of you who have survived adolescence. Giddy hearts, frantic mood swings, desperate thoughts and despairing days when your whole world walks on the narrow ledge between utter happiness and complete desolation. It is difficult to watch someone else go through it, knowing that whatever advice or counsel you may provide will be dismissed, trampled, and forgotten before the words have even escaped your lips. Youth knows all, sees all, understands all, and has no need of the pitiful mumblings of the aged, decaying minds of we adults -- at least until the next crisis occurs. We understand this and simply stay out of their way, resigned to standing on the sidelines with the cup of hot cocoa and the blanket, ready to blot the tears if necessary.

But it's hard to stifle the laughter. It's like watching a comedy routine.

So. The boyfriend came to dinner tonight.

Deb couldn't find enough to do, and she really tried to help, but she was far too nervous and excited to be of any use. She simply got in the way in the kitchen, which didn't help her mother's mood; and when urged to go find something more useful to do, she hovered too long near the door anxiously awaiting her guest, which didn't help mine.

The boyfriend arrived - finally! - which gave the poor girl something to do besides pace in front of the door. We (the family) welcomed him to our humble home, bade him sit, be refreshed, take a load off; we attempted to engage him in polite conversation, but he had no ear for it because he was not there to see us.

While the cooking continued in the kitchen in spite of whatever assistance Deb could offer, Mary and I fled to the store to get some additional supplies (e.g. french bread) so escaped for a time, but we eventually had to return. Given the storm clouds which had been hovering overhead (Cheryl's head), we weren't sure what cataclysmic scene we might find. But everything was reasonably calm. There were no broken dishes or spilled beverages. There was food on the table.

And the dinner was excellent. Spaghetti and meat balls, salad, string beans, the aforementioned bread. The conversation was interesting, although inane at times, owing to the frenetic nature of some of the participants. I was a bit disappointed that the two young people were not as hungry as the rest of us, but chalked that up to major hormonal distractions. Oh, well, that left more for the rest of us!

Afterward, we played some Monopoly (which, owing to the rather poor concentration on the part of the "couple", I unexpectedly won) and ate ice cream and read books and watched something on Netflix. By the end of the evening, the "couple" was sitting comfortably on the couch (near Cheryl) and I was thinking of how nice it would be to just go to bed so as to recover from the weekend.

Ah, slumber. Last refuge of the hormonally-deficient and physically decrepit.

We'll see him again, I think.

Dating at Last

We knew it was coming. We thought we were prepared.

We were half-right.

Deb went out on her first official "date" tonight. I don't have a shotgun, though, so I wasn't able to greet the guy out on the porch while cleaning it, as I had always imagined. Instead, he parked across the street and she ran out the door to meet him. And they drove away to watch a movie and then grab some dinner.

We'd met the young man a few days ago when he came over to "hang out". Nice kid. Quiet (mostly due to nervousness, I suppose). No tattoos, no piercings. But blond. Colored blond. Hmmm... As if there wasn't enough blond around here anyway, what with all these Dutch people hanging about.

Well, this will be an interesting adventure!

Are We Done Yet?

The High School football team is doing very well this year, and I should be happy about that, but I'm not. Because the Marching Band has to perform every time the football team plays now, and they are putting the games in the middle of my Saturday, and that kills the whole day.

Today was our first official playoff game, and while there was a thought in the back of my mind that it would be wonderful if the team lost and then the Marching Band season would be over and we could go back to our normal lives, the reality of the situation was that we knew we were going to beat the other team. We were playing very well, and they were not.

But before we even got around to starting the game, there was all the preparation for the Marching Band.  Pit Crew, in particular, since that's my responsibility, began their work at 11 am, pulling out the carts for the front line instruments (marimbas, xylophones, electric bass), setting up the podiums and the marked-off area in the stadium, loading all the equipment we need to take over there, helping the kids load their instruments.

We check a lot of things as we're setting up: gas for the tractors (which pull the carts), tire inflation, gas for the generator (which powers the electric bass while on the field), and a host of other things. We thought we caught everything. But sometimes things just happen.

Like the tractors didn't want to start. It was cold; the batteries were supposedly charged; but the starters whined a few seconds and then stopped. It sounded more like an actual starter-motor issue to me, but we were able to get them both started with the help of a portable battery charger.

Then, on the way over to the stadium, one of the tires blew out. Not "went flat", but "blew out", so that it was just a piece of shredded rubber wrapped around an aluminum rim. We didn't have time to change it out on the way; we performed the pre-game with the blown-out tire, and then I ran back to the trailer and grabbed a spare tire/wheel so we could fix it before half-time.

And another battery charger. For the wireless speaker system.

See, the band directors sit with the band in the special, marked-off "band section" of the bleachers, directing them with peppy tunes throughout the game. They use a wireless speaker system. I'd checked the system prior to heading over to the stadium. They indicated "fully charged". So we put them on the cart and took them over to the stadium. We didn't find out til they started using the system after pre-game that the batteries were actually not fully charged.  In fact, they were practically dead.  So while I was back at the school getting the spare wheel, I also grabbed the charger unit for the portable speaker system.

Since there is no electrical outlet right near the spot in the stadium where the band sits, I had to "borrow" the generator to charge it up. Which meant we couldn't use the generator for the show. Which meant I had to run around to the backside of the stadium and turn on the field power (because there is an outlet right on the field itself) so the electric bass player could use it for his amp during the half-time show.

Whew! By half-time, I was ready to go home and call it a day. But then the game got exciting.

And we won.

Which means we get to do this all over again next weekend.

Oh, joy.

Premature Snow

The snow began today, but only in flakes which danced on the wind and instantly evaporated the moment they touched the still-warm ground. It was lovely to watch, unnerving to consider.

Winter is almost here and we are not ready for it. There are still far too many tasks left over from the summer which have not been accomplished. The yard is not ready, the house is not ready, the family is not ready.

Tomorrow is the first Playoff Game, and thoughts of it have consumed my brain because the Pit Crew, of which I am chief constable and organizer, must perform our duties once again. In the cold. In the damp. Expeditiously. In the middle of the day.

Putting these events in the middle of the day is a great inconvenience to those of us with very little interest in sports. The morning is spent in preparation; the evening is spent in recovery; the amount of energy spent in association with the activity precludes any other investiture. The house will be ignored; the yard will be ignored; the cars - oh so desperate for more attention - will suffer from the lack of it. And the day after tomorrow offers no respite. For what is the busiest day of the week if not Sunday, the day when we all "rest" by participating in all-day-long activities focused on our church family?

These are the times when I dread weekends, when there is no time for the activities on which I place the highest personal priority because there are community concerns which outweigh my own. I am, at heart, a selfish beast who would rather play in my shop than sit in a cold and windy stadium watching a game which gives me little pleasure. But one must always remember the Big Picture, especially when there are children involved. And it will soon be over.

Just in time for the serious snow to fall.

====

In other news, we had a successful All Hallows E'en.  Adam was out playing games with his friends, James was working on his videos, Deb had a sleepover with a friend, and Mary stayed home and handed out treats while Cheryl and I went out for dinner at one of our favorite restaurants.

We decided to be weird this year and hand out Icy-Pops as well as candy for our treats, which was highly appropriate given that the air was so frightfully cold this year -- below freezing, with wind chill. My intention was to tell each child as they were handed their treat, that should the Icy-Pop become frozen, it was a sign that the child should immediately go home!  But owing to the fact that Cheryl and I were gone for the duration of the trick-or-treating, I didn't get to do that. But Mary enjoyed handing out the treats, and most of them were gone by the time we got home, so it was successful on its own right.

Anticipatory Disappointment

Winter is breathing down our necks and I'm in a hurry to get everything tied down before the snow starts falling.

Rumor is, the snow starts falling on Friday.

We ordered a "Deck Box" from Home Depot last week and it was delivered to the local store this morning and I got a notification in my email so ran over there after the big status meeting at work and picked up the box containing the "Deck Box" and took it home and put it in the third bay so later on I could enjoy the task of putting it together ... after dinner and homework and all the other routine events of the day had occurred. There was an anticipation of fun and joy that was building up all afternoon as I thought about it and daydreamed about it and then thought about it some more.

(It's sad when your daydreams involve putting together deck boxes made of plastic which inevitably decay in the sun.)

But there was delay after delay after delay, and I didn't get around to finally opening up the box and laying out the parts until nearly nine o'clock tonight, and you can imagine my horror / disgust / emotional upheaval when it was discovered that

... it was broken.

No sign of damage on the box. Just one corner of an end had been (somehow) shattered. But the endcaps won't stay on with all that broken plastic. And the glue won't hold (I know this from experience). Much sadness ensued.

So, since it was purchased on-line, Cheryl contacted the Customer Service folks (or at least their website) and sent them a very nice little email, complete with pictures of the damaged part, in the hope that they would provide us a replacement.

Soon.

Because winter is on its way. And we have a lot of gardening equipment to put into storage until Spring.

And I'm thinking of perhaps getting another storage box to put under the deck to store all the other "outdoorsy" things which I won't need after the snow falls.

Because space is getting to be quite a premium in my little garage.

Rearranging the Puzzle

The garage is still a mess and there's been no time to straighten it out. Most of what has been accomplished -- if that's the right word for it -- is in the vein of deconstruction rather than reorganization. Taking everything out of the shop area and putting it (temporarily) in the second bay until I can figure out where to put everything.

I'm having difficulty with a couple items. One is the old Toyota engine which I'd hoped to "restore" one day. But since I don't have the old '86 Corolla anymore, there's really no point in having it. Craigslist? eBay? It's time to get rid of it. But it won't be easy.

Another is the tea cart I built for Beauty and the Beast back in '11. I've been using it as a kind of workbench, but it's not really designed for it, and I hesitate to tear it apart because that would destroy whatever intrinsic value it had as a prop. And Cheryl did such a nice job on the decorations!

Oh, and there's all those Subaru engine parts, the ones I'm keeping around for spares. Since I bought a used engine to replace the one that went bad in Serenity, the parts are just taking up space. And I won't have any time (or inclination) to do anything with them this winter, so I've got to come up with a place to put them. Or just get rid of them.

I had hoped to rearrange all the items in the attic and the loft this past weekend and find room for all the things that won't be needed over the winter, but didn't have enough time. And here it is, Sunday night and time to think about the upcoming week. Lots of activity this week, not much of it focused on the garage. Mostly concerts (for Cheryl) and last-minute yard/house winter prep (for me). And homework (for the kids).

One little item that was accomplished, was blowing out the irrigation lines. Can't have any pesky water in the lines once the hard freeze comes, unless one is wanting one's irrigation system destroyed! So I pulled out my handy-dandy compressor and pushed 120 pounds of air through the lines and watched the pretty mist steam out of the sprinkler heads. Sadly, the sun was at the wrong angle to get a pretty rainbow.

Oh, well. Maybe next year.

Klackle Orchard and the Fallasburg Covered Bridge

It's the last warm weekend in 2014 for the state of Michigan -- or so we've been told -- which makes it the perfect weekend to take the family out for a drive in the countryside to see the beautiful fall colors and visit a cider mill to pick up some apples and cider and pies and donuts and fudge and all sorts of other wonderful treats.

Of course, it took us a while to get started. Cheryl and I had a Marching Band committee meeting at noon, which went on and on and on and on (as those things tend to do when there are so many things to talk about); by the time we got back to the house to pick up the kids, it was past two o'clock and the sun was on the lower end of the sky. I figured we had three hours to get there and back before it got dark - and it's not next door!

We took Cheryl's car because it needed a nice, long workout. And it rides really smooth. So smooth, in fact, that the kids fell asleep in the back seat!

We arrived at Klackle's in a bit of a stiff wind, but it didn't blow us over too much. We didn't bother with all the kiddie rides (there are lots of 'em) but went straight to the market to look at all the wonderful food. And try the apple samples. And cider samples. And select all kinds of fudge to try. And a dozen donuts of varying kinds (including pumpkin and apple-caramel). And pie: Apple Caramel and Pecan!

(Now if we only had some ice cream ...)

Afterward, we drove on down to Farrasburg to visit the Covered Bridge.

When the boys were (much) smaller, they attended a Boy Scout Jamboree nearby, which I barely remembered, but James did remember. I only remembered it when we drove around the final curve and saw it laid out in front of us.

We spent a few minutes wandering up the road and crossing the bridge and taking pictures and then just as we were about to get back in our car, this lady appeared who had lost her camera -- well, actually, her little daughter had lost her camera -- and she was asking everyone in the little parking lot if they'd seen it. We hadn't, but it made us feel quite sad that someone had lost something so important, with memories inside.

And then, as we were sitting in the car ready to go, the lady, who had crossed to the other side of the little country road to the ditch and scrub-grass beyond, suddenly cried out in joy because she had found the camera.

That made for a very successful conclusion to our visit.

Of course, it wasn't the end to our road trip. We still had miles and miles to go to get home, and then it was time for dinner. So guess what we had for dinner?

Yep. Apple pasta salad with apple slices. And apple donuts!

Deconstruction

It's the end of October, probably the last bit of warm weather we're going to see around here for a very long time, so we're starting to hunker down and plan for the Big Freeze. There's a lot of things that didn't get done this past summer, so it isn't possible to just sit in our cozy, warm house and read books by the firelight (no matter how much I'd like to do that); I'm going to need the shop and the tools and the snow blower and the shovels and all manner of other things in order to fix things around the house when they break down, as they always seem to do when it is least convenient.

But ...

There's Serenity. She's been laid up now for a couple years, waiting for me to get the engine running again, taking up valuable space, and I just don't have the heart to leave her out in the weather again, rusting. I want to get that car fixed. But there's too much going on right now. The priority is the basement, not my car, so she's got to sit around for a few more months waiting for life to slow down a bit, waiting for some attention. And only spot available for her is the third bay. The shop.

Unfortunately, the layout of the shop is not convenient for that purpose. Over the past few years, it's been built up quite a bit to be suitable for a shop, but not suitable for a place to park a car. Cars take up a lot of room. Subarus require 65 inches in width, 185 inches in length, and 60 inches in height. The shop is essentially a large box inside the garage, complete with doors and a ceiling; it's long enough and wide enough to handle the car -- except for all those pesky workbenches and shelves and table saws and welders and hammers and saws and other fix-it paraphernalia which clutters up a shop after a few years and a few trips to the hardware store.

So tonight I'm going to rip it all down to the bone and start over again. Somehow I have to find room for a shop and a car.

Hey! Miracles happen, don't they?

Trash Night

There was supposed to be great accomplishment today, Thursday, the day I can work from home without interruption and focus without distraction. Except for the interruptions and distractions. And plain ol' lack of motivation. Ever have one of those days? In Washington, it was every day when the sun shone bright. "Hey, this might never happen again!" And so the day is spent enjoying the good weather, doing outside things. Just like today. Except it wasn't outside things so much as it was not doing anything at all.

The day started out oddly. Someone (who shall remain nameless) left the car door open on Ruby (the red Subaru) and when I went outside to scrape the ice (yes, ice!) off the windows of the cars in preparation for ring-around-the-driveway, it was glowing like a crystal chandelier. Oops. Naturally, when I tried to start it up, the battery laughed at me, sputtered, and then died. Good thing no one needed to drive it today!

But I was prepared with my 75-amp cranking charger, so got the car started up in short order (only took ten minutes to charge it up enough to turn over and catch) and it was good as gold. Except for the oily burning smell from the oil dripping on the exhaust pipe. Hmmm. Gotta get that fixed.

Got the van de-iced by letting it run for ten minutes with the defroster running full-blast.  Too lazy to actually scrape the ice of the windows.

Same thing for my green one. Ten minutes of spewing noxious gases into the environment and the windows were clear enough to drive to work. Because I got called into a meeting on short notice, that's why!

But the day's news wasn't all bad -- Staples called to say that my wireless trackball had arrived, so I could go in and get it. And while I was at it, I stopped by Costco for the "usual suspects" (milk, mostly). And something for dinner, because tonight was ... tonight was ...

Busy. Cheryl had to run up north to deliver a "package" to its destination, I had to run over to the school for Robotics, James had to attend band practice. Adam was at school til late.

Then there was Jane Austen, Bones, and Grace Point. Then it was time to put out the trash. Goodness! Look at the time! I need to get to bed.

I didn't really get a chance to play with my new trackball.  But that's OK, because, as the reindeer sings, "There's always tomorrow ..."

Maybe something will get accomplished then.

Minor Accomplishments

So far this week, I have managed to accomplish two things: replacing the fuel pump in the Red Subaru, and installing the new in-sink disposal unit!  Yay, me!

In other news, Cheryl is still enjoying her new car, Adam is still in college, James is working lots of overtime and enjoying all the toys his money can buy, Deb is practicing her flute like crazy and getting ready for the playoff game¹ where she gets to wear a costume, and Mary is ... Mary is ... what on earth is Mary doing? Mostly she's reading, reading, reading.

That reminds me -- I need to start subscribing to The Atlantic Monthly, The New Yorker, and The Saturday Evening Post. There's entirely too much young adult-oriented reading material in this house which does not meet my standards of grammatical correctness and plot development. We need to expand some horizons around here!

In the old days, I subscribed to Analog, Asimov, and Alfred Hitchcock, but then found myself frustrated when it took only a day to finish all three magazines. Scientific American used to be lots of fun, too, but they moved so much of their content to the web that it takes only a few minutes to read through that one. Such short-lived pleasures for those who resist the siren call of the Internet!

How are people supposed to know what good, intellectually-stimulating reading material is all about these days? The web is inundated with so much content, it is difficult to filter out all the bad to find the good. And who takes time to read when so much time is spent being simply entertained?

I'm thinking of taking the winter "off" and just reading eight hours a day. Then writing for the other eight. And sleeping for the remainder.

Oh, wait, there's that basement to finish. Hmmmm.  Maybe I can get some audio books and listen to them while I work on the basement.

Any suggestions for really good mentally stimulating books?

______________________________

¹Yes, we made the playoffs. So Marching Band gets to perform at any home games. And we thought it was all over ...!

Mary's 15th Birthday (#2)

This is the "family" party. She had a previous party with some friends over at the house, but we didn't film that. 

Late Night Benediction

I'm up later than I intended and haven't gotten nearly any of the things done today which needed to be done, but some days are like that.

Yesterday at work I was listening to a YouTube mix of The Carpenters because it was raining and that song, "Rainy Days and Mondays" just seemed appropriate, and I ended up listening to the full mix all afternoon and thinking about Karen Carpenter and the sad business of her anorexia (and her brother Richard's drug addiction), and that set the tone for the whole day. I got out of work early to run over to the school to start setting up the front line carts for the Marching Band show and it started raining right about the time we were supposed to head over to the stadium, so the directors pulled all the kids into the auditorium and we waited until six-thirty to decide whether the full band would be playing or not. Since the rain did not let up, they decided only the brass would play, and then only the national anthem. The full band did not play the pregame show or the half-time show. So we put everything away again - in the misty rain - and went home.

I was exhausted and tired and wet and feeling depressed and miserable. It would've been a good night to just sit in front of a fire with a blanket wrapped around me and a good book in my hands, with occasional sips from a mug of hot chocolate. But it didn't happen.

I did finish up the book, "If I Stay", which is now a major motion-picture. It was well-written, except for the premarital sex and the adult language (which are apparently assumed to be the new 'normal' for young adults these days). It bothers me that the book is targeted towards impressionable high school kids. I don't believe it is necessary for a good story to recreate the common language in order to be acceptable, although many authors (including the ones in my Writer's Group) believe this to be the case. A good auther doesn't need to be explicit to get an idea across, just as a good movie doesn't need to show everything in order to be a good movie.

Today I was hoping to get some things done over at the school and then get my plan done for the basement, but those didn't happen. I ended up only getting some little things done in the garage and some caulking done in the window in our bathroom (because the wasps are coming in through the cracks).

Tomorrow I am hoping to just rest after church and get ready for another long, tedious week of work. We'll see.

Falling, Falling, Failing

The fall rains have started in Michigan in earnest and they bring with them an overwhelming sense of melancholy, of dashed dreams, of unfulfilled promise. I've spent the last few weeks in a state of anxiety over the numerous goals I had for the summer which have gone un-met, feeling as though I squandered my time on useless ventures. At the beginning of summer, there was so much to look forward to, so much time that stretched out into the future, time enough to get all these things done. And now the summer is gone, school is in session, the weather is rapidly cooling (although it never actually got very warm), and we are beginning to think of hunkering down for the winter.

So many things have gone wrong these past few weeks, so many hopes have been dashed, so many nasty surprises have occurred that it feels as though I'm adrift in an open ocean. I feel like that famous Winslow Homer painting, with the sharks circling around and no hope in sight. I dread going to work each day; I dread coming home for fear of encountering yet another emotional confrontation. I have tried to trim off all the extraneous commitments which have filled up my hours to the detriment of my family, yet still feel compelled to help people when they describe a need that is not being met. I feel overwhelmed by all the tasks on my plate both at work and at home; and my anxiety level for my children's well-being has exceeded my ability to cope with it.

I have to get out.

So I do.

Some people have their prayer closets; I have my shop. When I go into my shop and close the door behind me, I leave all those worries and cares and concerns behind. I hold a tool in my hand and meditate on the feel of it as I use it to shape or fix or clean or smooth it. My mind relaxes; words form in my head that are clear and concise and correct; images come to mind of truth and beauty and purpose; my muscles relax and my headache disappears and a grand feeling of peace fills my soul.

After an hour or so of cleaning my head out, I am finally able to go back into the house and deal with the momentary emergencies of the day/week/month.

Knowing that the anxiety will build up again.

Knowing that I will soon find reason to return to my shop again.

And looking forward to it.

Summary of August

Friday, August 1

It's the fifth day of band camp and now it is getting very hot. Like 82 degrees. Not as hot as it has been in the past, but quite different from the early part of the week. Now we're starting to work on the details of the show we're going to put on for Friday.

I took some time off at lunchtime to meet with Cheryl and Adam over at the recruiting center. We didn't make an appointment because we thought the facilities would be fully staffed during the day. Silly us! Apparently, the Armed Services are somewhat lackadaisical about their hours. We showed up at what we thought was a reasonable time. The Army, Navy & Air Force weren't there.  The Marines were there. Not really who I was hoping to talk to, but something is better than nothing, so I set up a meeting for 4:30 p.m. later this afternoon. That's going to be cutting it close since dinner is supposed to start at 5, but this is far more important.

We met with the Marine recruiter at 4:30. Once we told him that Adam was on meds and has been counseling for awhile, the whole point of the visit was moot because they won't take anyone who is on meds (and not for two years after they've stopped), but we had a nice discussion with him anyway. We're looking for someone to help Adam understand how life works; the recruiter is looking for someone who really wants to be a Marine. The two goals don't exactly line up, but it's the best we could do right now. The recruiter was obviously restraining himself; he really wanted to play Boot Camp and get in Adam's face about it. I imagine that happens a lot.

Back at the school, the Marching Band performed the show and it went off rather well. Afterward, we in the Pit Crew had to rush like crazy to get everything put away so we could go inside and watch the skits. They were not as funny as they had been in the past; in fact, they were downright vicious. Deb in particular was very offended by one of them, "If I was not a senior, I wonder what I'd be ...", because the flute section leader made a snide comment aimed at her. Deb's personality is such that she jumps in where angels fear to tread ("If the section leader isn't going to tell these freshmen how to march, I'm going to do it for them!")  Considering it's a bunch of teenagers blowing off steam, I'm not surprised but quite disappointed with the level of meanness in the skits.  And it wasn't just Deb who got upset: apparently Mr. Ross left after someone made some insulting remarks about Claire. Maybe they should re-think this part of the week.

Saturday, August 2

Relaxed by working replacing the brake lines on my car.  Didn't get it done, but had a great time hanging out underneath the car and staring at all the rust!

Sunday, August 3

While setting up the classrooms for Sunday School, I discovered a dead bat lying on the floor next to the door. Brought back memories of the dead bird from a few months ago. What's up with these poor animals who get into the ventilation shafts and end up in the classrooms and can't figure out how to get back out? Ick. I also noticed that the furniture from old auditorium is stuffed into every nook and cranny in the gym. They're doing a lot of remodeling up there and this is the place to store it all while they're working. Hey! They brought down one of those comfy couches! Cool. I know where I'm going to sit this morning.

Today's lesson was about Nehemiah and rebuilding the wall of Jerusalem. We used Legos.

After Sunday School, Just as I was bringing the kids upstairs for worship, I got the call from Lowell that Larry Bogart (the Scoutmaster from Troop 350) had died early this morning. He had been on the downswing for a long time after suffering from a series of strokes a couple years ago. We'd been expecting an announcement like this for the last few weeks after we heard he'd stopped eating.

Jabez and his band from Knoxville led the praise & worship. One of the singers reminded me or Cher; she had a Cherokee bone structure.

Adam and I attended the Writer's Group picnic at Michelle's. It went on a bit longer than I had hoped, and my subtle ploy to enlist the aid of the group in helping Adam to understand priorities (i.e. work comes before fun) backfired because they assumed I was making excuses for why I don't take the time to write. I really don't need a lecture from anyone at this point on how I need to spend more time writing. I have too many other priorities. Oh, well. I was too emotionally exhausted to care by that time, so after we got home, I took a nap.

Afterward, Cheryl and I went over to Eric's house for the Orchestra barbecue.  He has a nice place, and a very playful dog.  When does he find time to play with a dog?? I got covered in dog fur. Met some nice people. Had some nice food. Almost fell asleep on the back porch. Man, I'm tired! I guess that nap just wasn't long enough.

Monday, August 4

The work day was long and tedious, and I kept being distracted by one thing or another. The big discovery of the day was that George Winston released 2 albums of Vince Guaraldi tunes about a million years ago.  I must find a way to obtain them!

Tuesday, August 5

Did not sleep well last night. Woke up two or three times in the middle of the night.  Then woke up late (6:30) with a headache. Perfect. Today is the day we meet with Adam's counselor at Calvin. I was hoping to have a clear head. As if that ever happens.

The counselor is a very nice young lady. We did a bit of talking back and forth, but I'm not sure if we actually came to any conclusions. Obviously there's a lot going on inside his head that isn't getting out. And there's a lot of frustration in our heads that is coming out all wrong. Not sure what to do about that yet. The counselor wasn't as helpful as I had hoped. Of course, I imagined we'd all come out knowing exactly what to do and how to fix things. But when does that ever happen, really?

Wednesday, August 6

The Marching Band is playing this morning at the Grand Opening of the new WalMart store over by the railroad tracks. I took Deb over that at 7 a.m. sharp.  We weren't quite sure where to go; there wasn't anyone on the WalMart staff assigned to direct us.

We practiced a few times out in the parking lot near the store, then someone actually came over and told us where to stand -- inside the store, behind the little "grandstand" they'd set up near the east entrance. The Regional Director made a speech, the Store Manager made a speech, and then someone actually said a prayer blessing (!) over the store.  They also handed out some gifts to the community.

The Band played one song (!) and then we were done. It didn't seem as organized as I had hoped; I got the impression the WalMart folks were winging it with regard to the band. Doc had thought we were going to play 3 songs. Oh, well, it was enough for one morning. I took Deb home and then went to Larry's funeral.

At the funeral, I hung out with the other Scouts and we talked about Larry. He'd been involved in Scouts since his son started, way back in '86, so there was lots of Scout stuff to talk about. Then we were all directed into the auditorium where there was a regular worship service and lots of people stood up and said wonderful things about Larry. I especially enjoyed the stories from his best friend, Dale, who was also in the Scout troop. After all the kind words and funny stories and poignant memories, we were all directed downstairs for a luncheon, which was nice.  And we got to talk about Larry some more.

Interesting how going to a funeral always makes me wonder what will be said at my own. No one is going to talk about my accomplishments (because there aren't any), but I sure hope someone mentions that I love my family. I definitely don't want to be one of those people about whom it is said, He should've spent more time with his family.

Does puttering in the garage count?

Thursday, August 7

Took Mary for a drive over at the school so she could practice before she goes for her drive tomorrow with her driving instructor. She's hilarious behind the wheel. Laughs whenever she makes a mistake. Can't wait to see how she does out on the road!

Friday, August 8

Cheryl and I went out on a date to Menards to get some plastic pipe for the irrigation system, and the electrical boxes for the Youth Center. And a few other things that caught our fancy.

Saturday, August 9

Working on the Subaru again. Finished up the right rear brake line, so switched over to the left rear. The rusted bolts slowed me down a bit, so had to leave it soaking in solvent.

Took Mary driving again, but she was very tired so we didn't go for long. But we did stop at the grocery store and pick up ice cream, which always makes us feel better.

Then we watched the first 2 episodes of Bletchley Circle. Very interesting show. Kind of sad and exciting, all at the same time.

Sunday, August 10

My favorite Sunday School kids brought me fudge from Mackinac Island! My day is made.

In the afternoon, I was finally able to get that stubborn bolt off the left rear brake line. Maybe tomorrow I can put it all back together.

Monday, August 11

Mary chatted my ear off on the way home from her Driving lesson. She's got a lot to talk about, and she always seems so cheery! Wish I felt so happy all the time.

Got the news about Robin Williams at home. So the kids decided to watch Aladdin in his honor. Or at least to hear his voice again.

Tuesday, August 12

Today is the big day for Sabrina. Her official adoption ceremony down at the courthouse! Unfortunately, I am not able to go. But Cheryl and Deb did. Then they went over to the Drivers for the celebration. (I had to work late.)

In the evening, it's time for Marching Band practice. The green tractor won't start. Dead battery. Not sure how that happened, since it hasn't been used since last week. Is there a short circuit somewhere?

Starting to get anxious about the Metro Cruise, which is next week.

Wednesday, August 13

Installed a new extension pipe on the side of the house so we could use the irrigation system, and tested it.  Then worked on the Subaru brake lines again. Still not done.

Still anxious about the Metro Cruise.

Thursday, August 14

Picking up Mary from Driver Training again. Fell asleep in the car waiting for her. Why am I so tired?

After dinner, it was time for Marching Band practice so we can get ready for Metro Cruise performance. The water crew needs another table. The new/used tractor needs a new gas tank. Ross wants carts for the Metro Cruise, so we'll need both trailers.  We'll need Kevin to drive.

Friday, August 15

Friday at last! We're heading down to South Bend to hang out with the Rice family. And have a barbecue!

Once we got down to South Bend, we stopped at the local Meijer to pick up some picnic supplies, leaving Deb and James in the car. Apparently they left the fan on in the car while were gone and that was enough to kill the battery, because it wouldn't start when we got back in.  So we got back out and marched right back in the store and bought another battery and installed it into the car and it started right up and we went on to the Rice's and had a nice barbecue and then Alban and Sue and Cheryl and I went on a double-date to Menards to buy some supplies for the screen door repair, and we went back and worked on the screen door until past ten o'clock and then drove home and got to the house around one in the morning.

We were very tired.

Saturday, August 16

Yeah, we slept in. So sue us!

Worked on the Subaru brakes again. Installed a short coupler on the line underneath the back seat and tried bleeding the left rear, but it keeps dripping and won't stiffen up, so I'm going to have to pull it apart again and put the teflon tape on the threads. Rats.

Ran over to the church to install some outlets in the Youth Center.  Tried to pull the old light strips out, but they are too high up on the wall and I can't reach them.

In the evening, the Dills had another get-together for Tabby so Cheryl and I went over and chatted a while, but didn't stay very long because we were both still very tired.  Good bratwurst, though!

Sunday, August 17

Taught Sunday School and Crew 2, then Adam and I went to the cafe for Writer's group. After that was done, we drove over to the old Klingman's to check out the Metro Cruise site. Trying to figure out where we'll park the trailer, where the carts will need to go. The parking lot is all busted up since they haven't been in business for a few years; the grass is coming up through the asphalt and I'm not sure if the carts will be able to move over it. Maybe the ground crew working the Cruise will take care of it. I hope.

Went home and took a short nap, then got up for a leftover dinner followed by Chitty-Chitty Bang Bang. Tabby was over, too, and James was trying to copy the pictures on her SD card, but he doesn't have an SD card reader; so I used my laptop to copy them over to the terabyte drive.

Monday, August 18

Got up early to run.  My time is getting better! 5:55 - 6:12 (17 minutes).

Stupid cat pooped in the butler area. Checked the litter box; it was beyond messy. Someone obviously has forgotten an item on their chore list. Ick. Off to work!

Called up Lacks to make arrangements to have the Marching Band trailer moved over to Klingman's on Friday for the Metro Cruise.

Then went over to the little key kiosk near Sears to have the keys made for the new band director. Surprise! The kiosk is gone. Moved. Vanished. Talked to the guy at Sears and he was able to give me the name of an alternate key shop. While I was there at the mall, I checked out Radio Shack to see if they had the audio adapter that got bent, but bagged it at the last minute because something just felt wrong. Was it the fact that the item I was looking at was in the wrong place? Not sure. Bugged out. Drove down to Caledonia to hang out at the library, waiting for Mary to finish up Driver training. Nice library. Got about half an hour of work in, then started to drive over to the Driver Training office but saw Larry Zehr in the parking lot, so stopped to say hello before leaving. Waited out in front of the Driver Training office for Mary, then headed home for dinner.

Took out the blower resistor pack in the Pontiac to find out why there are only two fan speeds instead of the normal five. Looks to be mostly burned out, so I'll have to get another one.

Mary gave us her letter tonight, the one that tells us that we don't know anything about her and we are complete failures as parents (at least that's the way I'm reading it). Well, that was a shocker! Why is it always the parents who are the last to know? Discussed with Cheryl til late at night.  And even later.

Tuesday, August 19

Today's counseling session with Adam went well, I suppose. It was very emotional. It's weird to be talking to one's children though the use of an interpreter. Makes me feel (again) like a total failure. I can't even talk to my own children without going through someone else?  Where did I go wrong?

Picking up Mary from Driver Training. Then off to Marching Band practice. There was lightning, so the kids stayed inside so I called the Pit Crew and told them not to bother coming. Then I went over to the auto parts store and got a blower resistor pack and went home and installed it and -- it worked! Well, it's nice to have a little success.

Tried to write a response to Mary's letter, but couldn't find a good stopping place.  There's just too much to say, and I'm not sure what is useful and what is just not. Cheryl sent hers instead. It's shorter and to the point.

Wednesday, August 20

My brain is fried. I just want to work on cars, do something I know how to do. There's so much to do!

Found water in the trunk of the Pontiac. I suspect it's from the inexplicable hole between the trunk lid and the rim, where the rubber post is missing. The tool bag is soaked. I take it out and empty the tools out onto the garage bench and dry them off. Then dry out the trunk. And fill the hole with a rubber seal. And wait for the next rain.

Thursday, August 21

Too mentally spent to drive to work, so stayed at home instead. Telecommuting. During breaks, I put the Subaru on the charger, took Mary to Driver Training, spent an hour at the library reading the latest Hugo Award winners. Attended the Driver Training "Wake Up the Parents" session. Then went home for some dinner. Cheryl is over at the middle school helping with registration. Sabrina is our guest. And Adam decides do use inappropriate language at the table. I'm mortified. And angry. But there's not enough time to deal with it right there. Deb and Sabrina and I have to rush off to Marching Band practice. James is off to Worship Band practice.

We were expecting rain -- it would have fit my mood perfectly - but it only sprinkled. The Pit crew fixed up the green tractor, installing the new gas tank and removing all the extraneous items. Kevin hurt his hand trying to set up the tow bar for his truck. He and Lowell and Dave worked on the new bicycle prop or the Color Guard. Got most of them put together, except for the middle rod and the PVC glue. Lowell is taking all the stuff home to finish up. We also loaded up the drum cabinets into the trailer and got them ready for tie-down.

After the band was done with practice, we loaded up all the equipment in the two trailers ready for tomorrow's Metro Cruise performance.

Deb took the Pontiac home, unfortunately right before Mrs. Mantia showed up to get the receipts (which were in the car).  Kinda steamed me up, since I'd promised to have them there. Makes me look like a schmuck. And I'd gone all the way home to get them, too! My mood is not improving.

Friday, August 22

Here it is, our 22nd anniversary, on the 22nd of August, and I am feeling completely overwhelmed with non-romantic anxiety. What a day.

When I got home from work, Cheryl and I talked about the evils of the internet and the negative influence it is having on our children. That, and the evil movies with bad language. I'm ready to get rid of all the movies and turn off the internet completely.

But there is that Metro Cruise to deal with first. I have to be over at the school by 5:45 to meet up with the truck driver who is pulling our big rig, and with Kevin and Lowell, so we can head over to Klingman's. Once we get there, we start setting up the carts & tractors, and then help the kid get ready. Then watch the performance. Then pack the whole thing up again, getting back to the school by 9 or something. Then home to (hopefully) relax.

Saturday, August 23

It's time to pack up the office downstairs in preparation for the remodel, so I got some boxes down from the attic. Then worked on the Subaru brakes again until, miracle of miracles, it was all done. Now for the bumper repair!

Since we were unable to go out last night for our anniversary, we decided to go out tonight to one of our "usual" places, Thai Fusion, then over to Menards for some remodeling supplies. We looked at new lights and got some cans for the overhead bathroom lights, then looked at the bricks we might use for the driveway extension.

Sunday, August 24

The new multi-colored lamp looks great in my Sunday School classroom, and it put out just the right amount of light for our "What's in the Bible" presentation of the story of Job. The kids enjoyed the show, then we read excerpts.

After church and a nice, long nap, it was time to finish up the bumper work, take the Subaru for a test drive, then install two more bike lifts on the garage ceiling.

After our weekly family meeting, we watched "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat", the version with Donny Osmond. I remembered watching this oh so many years ago back in Washington and marveled that the kids were all so grown up now.  Where has the time gone?

Monday, August 25

Had to go out and buy some more rope to hang the rest of the bicycles up in the garage because the rope I had was too short. Then installed some filters on the wifi so I can track the internet usage.

Tuesday, August 26

Surprise, surprise! I got home from work and was swamped by children demanding the wifi password.  Sheesh! Hey, can we have some dinner first??

Then it was Marching Band practice, this time out on the field in the stadium. We had to scramble to get everything out there.

And I get my welder from Dan! Yay!

Wednesday, August 27

Home sick. But working on stuff (because stuff needs fixing). Computers. Garage cleanup. Trombone repair. Went on an outing with Cheryl and Mary to Home Depot (for soldering stuff and new drill), Hobby Lobby (for birthday card & art supplies for Mary), Comprenew (for DVD drive and LEDs and 10-key for Cheryl), the key-making place on Burton and Kalamazoo (for Natalie's tower key), the post office (to mail check to Vanguard and Uncle Joe's card). The key place could not do the key. Home to work on the trombone, put together the exhaust to see how much fun I'm going to have welding, help James with his video/sound issues (which took a lot longer than I had thought it would), Tried to get keys made, no good. It's apparently a weird/one-off key.

Dinner with the family. Working on the trombone fix. Got it done. Over to the school to check on batteries. Took out the battery shelf because I'm sick and tired of the battery being stuck in the holder. I'll probably have to cut the holder apart to get the battery out!

Still feeling ill.

Thursday, August 28

Still ill. Working from home. Also working in the garage pulling the battery shelf apart. Took forever, with lots of hammering/bending/sawing/drilling. Tried to use the battery-powered hacksaw by wiring it up to the car battery, but that didn't work very well. Charged up a Kawasaki battery and that worked much better. Not sure why. But the ultimate solution was still beating/bending the metal back and forth until it broke.

But it took way too long, so now I'm in a panic about the game tonight. As in, I need to get over there immediately. I thought 5:15 would be time enough, but it turns out the band was supposed to be there by 5. Did I miss the memo? The rest of the team was already there, so we scrambled to get everything ready so we could get it over to the stadium. And they put on a show, both pre-game and half-time. And then we waited til the end of the game to take it all back and put everything away. And then I stayed at the school until all the band kids were picked up.

Still not feeling well.

Friday, August 29

Still not feeling well, but I'm going to work. By 8:30.  Because there is a Test Training meeting @ 10. And I don't want to miss it.

After a long day of work, I went home to try and relax so maybe my body would heal itself. The kids had home-made pizza; Cheryl and I went out to Panera because I was in the mood for cheddar broccoli soup and a nice, quiet chat with my wife.  Then we went to Menards (again) to look at a few things and dream about getting the basement done.

Some day.

Saturday, August 30

Really feeling rotten.  What's up with this thing? I took the cough meds then tried to stay awake during Mary's drive @ 10. But it was hard. An hour in the car, then home again. Napped. Then tried to get a few things done out in the garage, but kept getting distracted by one thing or another.  Worked on the wifi router again, trying to get the stupid thing to email the logs to me, but it kept rejecting my authorization.

Sunday, August 31

Still feeling rotten. Did Sunday School, but came home right afterward and took a nap.

After getting up from my nap, I worked on the lattice gate for underneath the deck, and then it was time for our weekly family meeting at 6. I borrowed "The Giver" from Deb and finished it after a couple hours.  Wanted to borrow "Rocket Boys" from Mary but she was still working on her book report.

Still coughing.