A Modern Take on a Historical Building

I love and adore the Arcade Building (8th and Olive) across from the Old Post Office.

After financing fell through on a development deal, it’s just been languishing for years. There was talk of it being torn down. (NO! Absolutely friggin’ not, people!)

Recently though, someone boarded up the uppermost windows which had been almost completely exposed when the plastic that had been covering them deteriorated. I took that as a good sign.

Then, several weeks ago, I noticed these canvases being put into place. I took that as an even better sign. I think they are awesomely cool. Some of the arches, which really are part of the space they are covering, are part of the canvas. On a few others, they’ve left the real arches exposed and fit the canvas neatly inside the arch.

They’re cooler still considering that the pictures inside the arch shapes feature architectural features from other buildings. I recognize three.

One is from the Railway Exchange Building. Why is it familiar? I have a similar photo (that I took) on the wall in my office!


Another is from the American Theater. Again, I recognized it from my own photos of the theater ...

And, the most recognizable, is from the Wainwright Building.

This is one of the ones where they tucked the canvas beneath the actual arch of the entryway/window instead of including a fake version in the canvas. I like the Wainwright well enough. But I much prefer some of Louis Sullivan's other works, especially his other existing St. Louis skyscraper, the Union Trust building. (Yes, I know. Call it sacrilege, but I think they should have torn down the Wainwright instead of the Buder or Title Guaranty buildings.) Even so, I'm glad they didn't and one of that infamous trio survived.

Sullivan supposedly was a mentor to Frank Lloyd Wright, though I fail to see much of his influence in Wright's work. Sorry. Again with the sacrilege ... Wright reportedly called the Wainwright Building "the very first human expression of a tall steel office-building as Architecture."

Well, maybe.

Record-setting Heat

Saturday was unbelievably hot. We supposedly broke a century-old record by reaching 98 degrees. I think it may even have been a little warmer on this side of the river.

Our thermometer in the carport had it at over 100 degrees in the shade. Even Pearl gauged it at 99 at one point. It was so hot that, short of doing some necessity running, I didn’t do much of anything. It was cooler on Sunday by about 10 degrees. Still pretty damned hot but I managed to get the mowing done and washed Ladybird. I also did a walk around to try and guess how many bricks I'm going to need. An initial guess is somewhere between 400 and 500. It will likely be more.

I didn’t make any progress on the bathroom. However, I’ve come to a decision.

With all of the various work that needs to get done, and with June looking more like July in terms of temps (three 96-degree days and a 99-degree day are forecast this week), if it isn’t too sizzling and not raining, I’ll work outside. If it’s too hot and/or raining, I’ll focus on the inside.

Make sense? It does to me so that’s my plan.

More Fun with Bricks

Sometimes, I need to just shut the hell up.

I need to just not go there and not actually vocalize what may – or may not – be going on in my head. Fall completely silent. Say nothing. I know what happens when I don’t heed this warning. You’d think I would learn. But I don’t.

As a result, I’ve managed to sign myself on for a HUGE, MONUMENTAL, MAMMOTH landscaping project. It involves removing a ton of rocks, laying down miles of thick plastic, digging out several thousand cubic yards of dirt, putting in several hundred bricks as edging, replacing the originally removed rock and reinforcing it with a quarry’s worth more of rock.

See – I told you it was HUGE!

And I still have a brick project already on the books, not to mention a kitchen and bathroom to FINISH. But ... I think all the project work, once I actually get it on track and start making real headway, will be cathartic. It always manages to clear the mind, the body, the soul. I'd be a liar if I said that wasn't a welcome thought.

It’s going to be a long, hot summer.

The Unexpected Guest

It almost never fails that when I’m trying desperately to get something done, the proverbial fly lands in the ointment.

On Sunday, it was in the form of an unexpected guest. This one had two legs, but also two wings, feathers and a thin coat of down. It was a juvenile robin. Not a baby, but one who was very close to venturing forth on its own. I discovered it quite by accident.

As I was putting out some laundry late Sunday morning, birds were everywhere, many diligently drilling into the soft ground, pulling up worms. I spied another busy at work in my neighbors’ yard, near their pine tree. As I got closer though, it didn’t seem like he was drilling at all. He was flopping around wildly and falling over.

When I got to him, he was on his back. When I righted him, he tried diligently to stand up but promptly fell onto his side. Uh-oh. There he lay, helpless in the sun, open to bugs, the heat and predators. I quickly retrieved a box from the basement.

We have had our share of baby birds at This D*mn House over the years (as well as bunnies, kittens and mice). I know when one is diseased. This one was not. I still donned a latex glove as a precaution but I didn’t see anything that made me think this little guy could pass something on. Instead, it appeared that his entire left side was injured somehow, though there was no sign of damage. It appeared to affect both his left leg and wing, and also his neck as he could not hold his head upright. A neck injury maybe?

Maybe he had flown into my neighbors’ house or garage? It was really windy Sunday. Perhaps in one of its maiden flights, the wind had thrown it off course. Its mother was nearby along with a sibling of similar size who was following her around, shrieking to be fed, occasionally making its own awkward flights to spots not that far off the ground. I hated to upset her but I knew at this point, I could do more for him than she could.

With the help of one of Ozzie’s old syringes, I got a few drops of water into him. I carefully fed him tiny bits of wetted chicken. He eagerly ate, occasionally flipping the food out of his mouth. I wrapped some old rags in paper towels and tried to prop him up in a way that he could be comfortable enough to rest, but the poor thing never could quite get comfortable.

The mother says that it is not always our mission to save; many time it is just to comfort. Such was the case here. A few days of comfort with a bit of food, in a warm, safe place. Unfortunately, that was all I could provide. He could not be fixed.

Our little guest left us around six last night. Seems he was finally able to get comfortable, having gone on to the most loving care of all. Fly on, little one. Fly on.

Time Flies

Hope everyone had a fabulous holiday weekend.

It's amazing to me just how quickly four days can go! This is my fifth and last day off before heading back to work.

I have done yard work, stripped and skim-coated bathroom walls, taken paint inventory (and purchased new during the Memorial Day paint sale), chosen a body shop and gone there for an initial consult for Pearl's repairs and washed clothes.

It wssn't anything like I'd hoped to accomplish but we've been slowed a bit by an unexpected houseguest. (More on that later.)

Right now, I'm going to grab a quick bite, meet up with my new BFF Advil, and relish the last morning that after awaking before dawn like normal (for a third consecutive day), I can mercifully crawl back into bed for a few hours.

Then, we'll see just what else I can do before tomorrow comes ...

Are You Covered? Sure About That?

If you’re a DIYer, Memorial Day weekend is generally the equivalent of a religious holiday to all things home-related. So, I’m pretty sure you have a healthy to-do list all written up.

But, while you’ve got this extra time, I’m going to recommend that you move something up to the top of that list: Read Homeowner’s Insurance policy. I’m recommending this for a few reasons. First, with our homeowner’s renewal check going out this week, I became aware of something on my policy that I didn’t know. Second, rates are in rapid rise mode so it might not be a bad idea to comparison shop if you’re renewing soon. Third, recent violent weather – some of which came within three blocks of us.

1. 80 percent coverage. Say what?! If This D*mn House burned to the ground, in order to rebuild it, I’d automatically be $25,000 to $35,000 in debt – beyond insurance’s share, for a property that is PAID FOR. That’s because I didn’t know that we didn’t have 100 percent coverage. Apparently, 80 percent is a minimum and what most mortgage lenders require you (or used to) to carry on your home. Apparently, that’s what we had. A revised policy was sent to us, upping the premium by less than $100. So, which sounds better: Less than $100 now … or up to $35,000 later?

2. Dramatic increases. Our rates went up about 7 percent this year. Not outrageous and not surprising considering the number of claims that they’re no doubt paying thanks to Mother Nature and her endless tirade. But that wasn’t the part of our recent renewal that got me. It was buried on Page 2 in the form of a $1,000 deductible – or DOUBLE our current $500 deductible. OR 10 TIMES the $100 deductible we had prior to July 2006. That is a 500 PERCENT INCREASE in under five years! And the deductible level in mandatory. It used to be that you could pay a bit more in premium to have a smaller deductible. That is no longer the case.

3. Violent weather. It seems almost nowhere is immune to Mother Nature’s wrath this year. And you just never know if it will be your town, your block, or just your house that she’ll choose to level next. If we’ve learned nothing this spring storm season, we’ve learned just how indiscriminate the damage can be. How many times have we seen one or two homes completely obliterated, only to see neighboring homes suffer infinitely less damage? The only thing that would be worse than losing everything or losing loved ones in one of these disasters would be to fall victim to a financial tornado in the aftermath of such tragedy. What about flood insurance? If you live fairly near water, you definitely need to check into it. Homeowners' alone won't cover flood damage.

So, if you haven’t looked at your homeowner’s policy in a while, please do. Use some of this extended weekend to make sure that you’re covered or to pull a list of questions together for your agent if you find out that you’re not.

I think it will be well worth your time.

Heartbroken

Apparently, the star of HGTV show Carter Can can say, “I do.”

Yep. Sadly, I must report that the world’s sexiest handyman – Carter Oosterhouse –is no longer on the market, ladies.
Oh, Carter … how could you?! It wasn’t bad enough when you started a show called “Red, Hot & Green” … and co-hosted with a different Nicole. That was insulting, but I didn’t complain.

Now you’re off to marry some sweet little blonde thing. Ah! Heartbreaker.

In all seriousness, I hope they will be very happy. Everything I've ever read about this guy, he's the real deal. He does lots of things to support kids and the environment and is just an all-around good guy. Add to that the he is so incredibly hot -- and a talented craftsman ... that's one lucky girl!

Ah, well, I'll console myself with the reality that if I had a handyman that looked like that (instead of dear grandfatherly Lawrence) nothing would ever get done at This D*mn House!

Ready. Set. Paint!

OK. Maybe I won't be doing actual painting this holiday weekend (or maybe I will, one never knows) but do know that I will be BUYING paint this weekend.

Yes, boys and girls, it's the Memorial Day paint sale at The Home Depot. Now through Monday, get $5 off a gallon or $20 off a five-gallon bucket of Behr, Glidden and other paints and stains. I know I will be buying outdoor white, more paint for the kitchen and possibly more black paint. The black paint will be for the strips of egg and dart molding which arrived from Surface Solutions amid all of the storm craziness that was Wednesday.

Yes, I have an eight-foot box in the middle of the livingroom floor. I'll get it moved later today.

Trying to decide on just WHAT to work on as, when I leave work this afternoon, I won't be back 'til THURSDAY. YIPPPEEEEE!!!!

That's the problem with having so many different projects going on. It's hard to know just where to start ...

The Fun Never Ends

(This post is actually from Tuesday but because of all the more serious events of that day and the hours preceding it, I didn't post. Since today's forecast is rain -- and just rain -- and cooler temps (as in 20 degrees cooler!), decided to go ahead and post this one. Wednesday was a pretty scary day in St. Louis but it ended up OK.)

Yet another storm front moved through very early Monday afternoon. I don’t know what the wind gusts got up to, but they had to be freakin’ phenomenal. A piece of ¼-inch glass was pulled off of the baker’s rack in the carport and literally hurled behind Pearl, shattering the length of the driveway from carport to street. Unfreakingbelieavable!

I had Pearl covered as a precaution, trying to avoid more damage ‘til I can get her fixed, and the wind (which Lambert clocked at up to 84 mph) tried in spite of the bungee cords to remove it. Ripped the whole rear passenger section of the cover. Oh, and another shutter was peeled off the back of the house, right off one of my bedroom windows.

There are bits of trash all over the yard and the mats I have down to help control the amount of oil that the driveway gets dripped on from Ladybird ended up in the neighbor’s yard. And none of this stuff, except for the shutter, is light.

So, I have to pick up all this little mini-disaster when I get home from work. Fun times.

Trying to do just one more thing before dinner, I run downstairs to grab some birdseed. Wait. Gotta turn on the lights. D*MN! The dimmer switch is permanently dimmed – it won’t switch on. So, the hall light is the only light you get until you can make it to another switch in the middle of the family room. (I’ll add that project to the Lawrence List.)

Once downstairs, I dump the dehumidifier. I notice that it’s not acting right. The compressor doesn’t want to seem to do its job. I guess it’s going to be time soon to get a new one.(This one has been on almost continuous duty for six or seven years. It’s done its duty.)

I finally get the birdseed but as I’m getting to the top of the stairs, I stumble, squishing the plastic container I’m holding a bit. The lid pops off and at least a cup of birdseed goes everywhere. Fabulous. Yet another mess to deal with.

I get that cleaned up and I race through the rest of my evening routine so I can sit down and watch HBO’s “Too Big to Fail.” Tons of huge names. Have been wading through all the hype for weeks. With little more than 38 minutes to go, the TV locks in place. I soon discover that cable is out. It would be out for the next few hours.

Frailty, thy name is Charter! I can hardly wait to kick these guys to the curb.

Downtown St. Louis: Some Olive Street History

I love downtown St. Louis. But you already knew that. Even so, I got a reminder of just how much in two ways this week.

First, as I virtually trolled through a digital collection of Missouri History Museum photos, I mourned some of the buildings that had perished. It's so hard to look at some of the grandeur I see in these photos and know that someone decided it just wasn't worth saving. Conversely, I got seriously excited as I found images of others that I completely relish during my daily commute.

Then, as I took a lunchtime walk through the actual streets, my spirits were immediately buoyed by the sight of some of my favorite centenarians. Just about every block of the heart of downtown has some old building that has weathered a century or more. And I adore that. The late 19th and early 20th century architects responsible for these gems are among my idols.

Unfortunately, I am a directional idiot so seeing some of these photos tagged as the northeast corner of this intersection or the southwest corner of that, doesn’t help me get my bearings to figure out if the buildings in the photos even still exist. Luckily, I do know enough to recognize certain things. That’s why I was a little puzzled when I saw this photo of Olive Street featuring some of my most favorite buildings.

It’s a photo of the Union Trust building (which I wrote about here) in 1893.

It’s the best picture I have EVER seen of its original round windows that went around its second story. And look at the second-story gargoyles on the corners! I didn’t know it had those.

Wonder what happened to them when some idiot decided to cover over those beautiful windows back in 1924. (Though there’s a lone alley where you can see a precious few. My blog post features a shot of one of those originals.)

Though it was the age of art deco so, by then, some 30 years after it was first built, I guess the plainer front and the gargoyles might have seemed outdated to them.

I easily recognized the domed structure in the background as the Old Post Office. But what’s that rectangular structure between the two?

Beats me. Hey, wait … the Chemical Building is supposed to be there!

Oh, but it wasn’t built until 1896. Guess that could explain its absence, huh?

Then, I happened upon this Olive Street scene from a few years later – 1900 – and a block farther back.

You can see the unmistakable round windows of the Union Trust (and oh, look at those gargoyles!!!!) though the trolley covers the two-story entryway.

Sadly, I'm pretty sure that where that gentleman in the foreground is standing is now the edge of a parking lot. (I hope St. Louis has learned from its shameful history of razing historic structures and turning them into parking lots or garages!)

But just behind the trolley and opposite the power line … is the Chemical Building. (It’s the building with all the bay windows. It’s one of only two in the city with bay windows from bottom to top. The other is the LaSalle Building a few blocks away.)

God, I love this city.

Mother Nature's Wrath

I had another post all ready to go, but it's all so trivial right now in the wake of more deadly tornados I just can't. It will keep.

I hope that all of my virtual world buds are safe tonight. And, all of my distant family members who seem to be in or very near the storm-struck areas.

Be careful out there PLEASE, everyone. Keep your eye to the sky, listen for warnings, watch radar on TV if you can.

If you have a watch or warning issued, HEED IT! Maybe that time you spend in the basement, the bathtub or closet might seem a silly waste, but sillier still would be for you or your family to lose your lives because you chose to ignore it.

You're all in my thoughts tonight, folks. Batten down the hatches and hopefully, we'll all be OK tomorrow.

Total Devastation

My heart aches for the people of Joplin, Mo., and its surrounding region. The total devastation and the continually increasing death toll is beyond tragic.

It’s horrible how this can keep occurring each week. Watching that coverage makes me feel more and more lucky to have gotten by with what we did in April.

The silver lining is that they found 17 people ALIVE in the rubble yesterday. I hope it's a trend that continues; I fear that it won't be.

Mother Nature needs to cut them slack so that they continue their rescue efforts. So many have lost so much already. As I usually do, I'll ask that you offer a helping hand if you can. There are so many groups, even individuals in the St. Louis area, who are sending back some of the love that came our direction a few weeks ago.

Sometimes you get what you give.

The End of the World … Again

It’s the end of the world as we know it.
It’s the end of the world as we know it.
It’s the end of the world as we know it.
And I feel fine. – R.E.M., “It’s the End of the World As We Know It”

Surely by now you’ve heard about the 89-year-old minister who’s predicting “The Rapture” for today. He says the event he’s looking for to herald Judgment Day is a major earthquake. I’d say he’s got fair odds of getting one considering recent major tremors in South America, Japan and Spain.

Even if that does happen, does it really signify the end of the world? Probably not, as similar claims have borne out.

Still, there are those who believe that on May 21 (today) that the righteous (or roughly 3 percent of the world’s population) will be whisked away to heaven. The rest of us? We get to deal with a self-destructing earth for five more months. How would that work, exactly? If you’re on the “nice” versus “naughty” list you magically vaporize? And, if not, you’ve basically signed on for the Apocalypse?

In my lifetime, this is the fourth or fifth time that I can think of that Planet Earth was slated for destruction. In my lifetime! (I’m sure there were several others that I either don’t know about or forgot.) And yet, the world didn’t go kablooey sending life as we know it screeching into oblivion.

The first one I can recall was in 1982, thanks to a mid-1970s prediction from televangelist Pat Robertson that the world would end that fall. (A couple of science writers touted this same theory, citing some kind of planetary alignment that was supposed to set off the San Andreas fault and domino style, take the rest of the world along.) While I didn’t get to go to it, my friend Maria threw an “End of the World” party that has long outlived the dire prediction and is now legendary.

In 1988, there were multiple apocalyptic predictions. I remember these only because that was the year I was graduating from college and I thought, “D*mn. I get this close and I don’t get a degree!” On the bright side, I wouldn’t have had to repay my college loans.

Then, while it wasn’t world-ending, there was the Iben Browning prediction for Dec. 3, 1990. He claimed that on that date, give or take 48 hours, the New Madrid fault area had a 50-50 chance of being the center of a destructive earthquake. And while that wouldn’t have ended the world, per se, it would surely have seriously rocked mine due to simple geography. That didn’t happen either.

And then … Remember all the Y2K hype of 2000? Yeah. Me, too.

So, if you’re reading this, I guess earth’s imminent destruction has been foiled yet again… at least until 2012. And if they’re right?

At least I won’t have to mow the yard.

To the New Graduates

So you got your college degree … CONGRATULATIONS!

Unless you already have a job lined up, I’m sure the question you’re asking is: Now what? I wish I had a good answer for you. I do, however, have what I hope will be a few words of wisdom.

Like you, I graduated within a few years of a stock market crash, a major financial bailout, rising inflation, tax cuts primarily benefitting the wealthiest among us, an ongoing debate over balancing the federal budget (and during which some Republicans cried as they had to vote multiple times to raise the national debt ceiling), and geographic unemployment challenges.

The unemployment rate was just below 7 percent then, a number that would look good by today’s standards. But, the area in which I lived and still do, was not flush with opportunities for a still wet behind the ears communications major. When I got the chance to apply at a local newspaper a few weeks after I “officially” graduated, I leapt. Two weeks later, I began my first “career” job.

It would be both a blessing and a curse.

It was a blessing to have a job, especially one related to my degree. It was an incredible training ground supplying insight and experience I could never have gotten in school. It was a curse to have a starting salary that paid only marginally more than the part-time civil service job I gave up at the university. And, it became even more of a curse because I stayed there way too many years. I was reminded of this by an article in the New York Times about today’s college graduates and the bleak outlook for their immediate futures.

“If you don’t move within five years of graduating, for some reason you get stuck where you are,” one expert in the story says. Oh, how right that is! Here's some other advice:

• Don’t be complacent. At least until you get that first job or two under your belt, always keep looking.
• Take every job seriously – even the minimum wage ones with no direct ties to your “career.” The people you work for in these jobs may appear again later in your life and be in a position to help you along and be willing to do so if they have a good memory of your work. Don’t burn bridges!
• Be realistic. You probably aren’t going to waltz into your dream job with a huge salary. (A Rutgers study showed the median starting salary for students graduating from four-year colleges in 2009 and 2010 was $27,000, down from $30,000 for those entering the work force from 2006 to 2008.) If you get an offer in this ballpark for a job you can do, ideally in your field of choice, think of it as an investment in on-the-job training – and something besides your part-time work record that you can put on your resume.
• Network. Think of everyone and anyone you’ve ever known who works in a field or at a company that you might like. Talk to them. Seek their advice. And, if you can, enlist their help. Many times it really is just as much about who you know as what you know, particularly as you start out.
• Always save Face(book). This wasn’t an issue in my day but in the age of everything is on the Internet, be very mindful of what you put out there on blogs, Facebook, MySpace, etc. It ceases to be all in good fun when a prospective employer stumbles upon less than savory photos or other college exploits.
• Consider internships. Many companies offer paid internships, positions that are often filled by candidates a semester or two past graduation. I know firsthand several former interns who work as staff today because they took a chance and showed what they could do during 90 days or so. Even those who weren’t hired, now found they had some great new references – or they were introduced to people outside the company who could offer them other opportunities.

The Ballad of Frank and Jemmy

After a morning downpour,
into our drive you strode.
Somewhere in our neighborhood,
you've settled into your own abode.

While we thought your stay was temporary
And looked upon you as a guest,
I'm more of the mind to think now
That you've set up a duckling nest.

To help you get things going
And meet your many needs
You'll always find a ready supply
Of fruit and bread and seeds.

And so it is with great joy
An announcement I do make
That This D*mn House is now home to
Jemima Puddleduck and Sir Francis Drake.

And so goes the ballad of Frank and Jemmy ...

A Hail of a Lot of Money

Before the (Not So) Good Friday storms that rocked the St. Louis metro area, there was the Tuesday before Easter. On that day, hail fell at This D*mn House not once, but twice, within 12 hours.

My group had clients in town and we were supposed to get the company suite at Busch for a game that Tuesday night. But because the National Weather Service was already posting warnings over the prior weekend, by Monday, those plans were cancelled. ( As was the game following the storm the next night.)

If I’d still had plans to go to the game, I would have driven that day. In fact, even though those plans were canceled, the early morning warnings calling for hail were enough to make me think I should drive anyway. I came very close to doing so because Pearl would have safe haven inside a downtown garage rather than have her rear exposed in our carport. I almost drove that day. Almost.

But then I thought of the stretch between Illinois 3 and the McKinley Bridge. It’s a fairly desolate stretch – either with nowhere to seek shelter or nowhere you’d want to – so I figured Pearl’s chances were better in the carport.

I figured wrong.

I made it to work just fine but the HUGE hail (golfball at least) started in within 15 minutes of my arrival. I got a panicked call from home in which I could actually hear the hail beating the hell out of the house. I knew Pearl was under siege and cringed. D*MMIT! I’ve I’d driven, Pearl would have been safe!

Before round 2 of the hail hit (more of a pea-sized variety, fortunately), I made it back home and while it was still raining a bit, I had to go out and check Pearl. I immediately noticed a half-dozen or so good dents in the trunk lid. Not too bad, all things considered. It would be several more days though before I would get a clearer picture of the damage.

When I washed her that weekend, I actually felt before I saw the array of tiny pits on the lid. Sh*t! That’s going to require a new trunk lid, I thought. Since then, I’d found a few more dings on the rear quarter panel and one leading to the roof, all on the side that was open to, while not directly exposed to, the elements. That’s because we hadn’t had much in the way of sun and Pearl’s iridescent surface can mask a multitude of sins without direct bright light.

And Saturday, when I took Pearl to the insurance adjuster’s for an estimate, they found even more damage. In fact, they identified nearly $2,400 in damage in total. While it is comparatively less than all my neighbors’ claims that I’ve heard thus far, I still think it’s a buttload of money. And it makes me sad. Say heh freakin’ looooo to higher car insurance!!!!

But, I have to get her fixed. I think I’ve identified a body shop, so I’ll need to call them up and take her for a visit.

Fine Feathered Friends

Saturday morning, ahead of the sun, the mother bolted into my room and awakened me from a very pleasant and peaceful slumber. The weekends are the one time of the week that I am not dressed and out the door, usually well before sunrise, so I relish these early morning extended visits to the unconscious realm.

“Hey!” she cried. “C’mere. Quick. There’s a mallard duck and his mate out in the driveway.” Without completely opening my eyes, I muttered, That’s nice. And then returned immediately to my prior state.

But within 15 minutes, she was back. And insistent. “Aren’t you coming?” she half yelled. “I thought you’d bring your camera.”

Did she honestly not see that I hadn’t stirred? No. Let me sleep, I protested grumpily. Dammit, I know what ducks look like. Big deal. But it was no use. This time she had succeeded in pulling me from Dreamland and I would not be able to return as easily as before. So, I got up. And I got my camera.

Unfortunately, there were too many challenges to get a decent shot. 1) A bleary-eyed photographer, still in a mild state of protest; 2)a funky camera angle through a multi-paned and grubby window; 3) a dying set of batteries which was making auto-focus go bananas; and 4) two moving targets.

These are the best of the half-dozen shots I did take. Not very good. Oh well.

In between myriad activities on Wednesday afternoon, I got a call from the mother. “They’re back!” she exclaimed. “They’re out there right now with the squirrels, eating.” We regularly put seeds, moldy bread and fruit out for the menagerie of creatures in our yard – bunnies, squirrels, robins, sparrows, a lone pair of cardinals, an occasional raccoon or owl.

Arriving home, the first thing I noticed is that they were still in the yard, eating happily. I quickly ditched my stuff and emerged from the house, camera in hand. It’s the only way you’ll ever see me shoot a duck.


They were out there again last night, near dusk. I watered down the driveway in a section we don’t drive on so they had pools to pick from but they diffidently waddled off instead. If I see them tonight or over the weekend, I guess they’ll have to be officially added to our creature collection – and may warrant names.

It’s Time to Go Home

PUTTING THIS BACK UP AS BLOGGER DELETED IT
(I wrote this post a few weeks ago – roughly April 21. In all the confusion of recent world events and Mother Nature’s local wrath – not to mention daily life – I never got around to posting it. My sentiments remain the same so I decided to share, albeit a bit late.)

"I'm angry. Waste always makes me angry, and that's
what all this is, sheer waste." —Rhett Butler
(Clark Gable) to Scarlett O'Hara (Vivien Leigh) as the citizens of Atlanta mourn
their dead upon learning of the Southern defeat at Gettysburg in GONE WITH THE
WIND.

Man, am I with you, Captain Butler.

That quote popped in my head after hearing that not one, but two, award-winning photojournalists were killed in a Libyan grenade attack yesterday. All I could think was, “All that talent … wasted.”

I think that both Tim Hetherington and Chris Hondros would disagree. It takes a certain kind of individual to be a journalist. And it takes an even narrower breed to be a foreign correspondent. And then, there are those who dedicate themselves to war coverage. Some people will tell you that they were crazy or stupid for taking on such an assignment.

While I’m sure that both of them possessed some kind of daredevil/thrill-seeker gene, they both were passionate about a different role they played: communicator.

I consider myself a communicator, both personally and professionally. As a former journalist, I fully appreciate the impact a story or a photo can have, even at the local level. So, put that on steroids, crank it up a couple thousand times and you can begin to recognize the value of what these guys were doing. They put a face, or more accurately faces, on our foreign war fronts. And in most cases, those faces belonged to young American males, far from home, often questioning what they were doing, most scared sh*tless but putting up brave fronts to conceal it.

They also put a face on the many nameless and often unseen figures: the civilians whose lives are in complete and utter upheaval by the violence that surrounds and regularly permeates their personal space daily.

Hetherington and Hondros gave them a face and a voice. Most notably for Hetherington in the award-winning documentary Restrepo, and for Hondros, in a body of still images illustrating the stories of countless masses in the U.S. and abroad. My God, those pictures!

What makes me angrier still is the continued collective carnage in the Middle East. We aren’t winning hearts and minds. We’re losing limbs and brain capacity and the potential of so many young lives. It’s wasteful. And it must stop.

Now.

You Asked

Recent email query: When are you going to review some more stuff?

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by this question. I’ve been getting lots of recent hits on several reviews – some even a few years old – including caulk guns and caulk, our Dyson canister, my Kindle, the Twin Draft Guard and the TroyBilt lawnmower that was sent to me to review last summer.

Hmmm … good question. I wish I knew the answer. It isn’t like I don’t have things to review.
A hard floor steamer that has never been taken from the box. Ditto that for a tool I won – a year ago.

YIKES! Seems like I’m more than a bit overdue. So, thanks for asking! I'm thrilled that my opinion seems to matter.

I’ll see what I can do to get ToolTalk revived.

Next Up

I think that next up on the to-do roster is the bathroom. It's logical because I think it's the one room where I actually can finish things. There is, of course, quite a ways to go.

I have to finish the walls, wallpaper and paint. do some minor flooring repairs and put down quarter-round and … I think we’ve had a slight change of plans when it comes to the ceiling trim. Instead of using the thin egg-and-dart molding I’d bought to complement the existing thick wood trim in the bathroom, I think I’m going to go back to the proprietor of the Michelangelo project and spring for the egg-and-dart molding they sell which complements the ceilings.

You remember, right? Like in our kitchen.

Mind you, this was before I painted the cabinets (most of them anyway) AND before the arrival of our stainless appliances. This was June 2009, right after the ceiling and trim were finished.

In the bathroom though, the trim will be black, not silver. And the mother will have to paint it. And she will be unhappy about that. But, I think she will be far happier with the end result since she has recently said several times that she doesn’t like the wood in there now and isn’t sure about putting up the additional thin egg-and-dart in white.

Whatever. See, this is the problem in having almost TWO YEARS pass between the time you start a project and the time you, um, start the project and just stop. It gives her an opportunity to change the plan. Well, with the mother, that’s always an option, but when you give her almost two years to think about, it’s practically a given that she will not like something she liked then. (She already doesn’t like the floor. But, that’s just tough sh*t. I like it. It cost a bundle. It was a pain to put down. It ain’t coming up!)

At this point, you could put up rainbow-colored yardsticks for trim once the wallpapering is done and I’d likely nod in approval. OK. Maybe not that, but … you get the idea that I’m anxious to get something, anything off this massively growing list, right?

Memorial Day weekend is comin’, baby.

On Mother's Day

Being a parent is hard work. Being a parent on your own is 10 times harder.

I don't speak from firsthand experience -- but from secondhand. It’s one of the only silver linings I’ve found in having missed out on motherhood. I know that if I’m honest with myself, I might well have repeated, in many respects at least, my own childhood. (Definitely not a good idea.) And I know that it would not have been as easy as many of my friends (very much to their credit) make it seem.

I can’t imagine having the awesome responsibility of creating, caring for and molding another human being. The complexity of it does not escape me. I think it is one of the ultimate things that anyone can do and one of the most arduous tasks that can ever be undertaken.

So, it is with the maximum amount of love and respect that I offer a sincere thank-you to the person who embodies my longest relationship: the mother.

Things probably would have been easier (and a lot more enjoyable) had she not taken her parental responsibilities to heart and made them a priority. No, make that the priority, in her life. I can’t count the times I’ve wondered what might have become of me if she had decided to conveniently forget that she had a child and focus only on her own wants and needs. (It’s a chilling thought, considering that I had one parent who did just that.) And she easily could have, too.

But she didn’t.

And while it’s not always been the easiest of relationships, I know that I am loved, I have always been cared for and I have always had someone in my life truly in my corner, someone who has wanted for me many times more than I even want for myself. Someone whose enduring love, trust and respect are sometime more than I deserve.
And for that, I will be forever grateful.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms out there. Especially to mine.

Rise and Shine

For two consecutive mornings, the sun has come out at sunrise. Doesn’t sound like much of a feat unless you have been a party to its daily dose of cloud cover for far too long. Sometimes you have to be grateful for the smallest of things.

Rain is back in the forecast for this afternoon/evening. Even so, I’m beyond grateful for the temporary break. The sun began to greet me on the trip in, a small sunbeam focusing with laser-like precision on my face. It was so intense, it distracted me from my Kindle (and a rereading of Sinclair Lewis’ Babbitt) long enough to don sunglasses.

It was becoming so bright as we trundled into downtown that it cast an eerie glow around Homeless Guy who was sitting on a bench, his giant quilt still rumpled before him. (Normally, he is still inside it, huddled next to the adjacent steam vent as we pass.)

As I depart the bus, I am greeted by not one, but two bus drivers passing by, both of them former drivers of either my route in or out of downtown. Vita waves wildly and honks as I cross in front of her stopped bus. As he passes, Jimmy throws open his door, waves and shouts, “Mornin’, Sweetie!” I gladly return both their greetings.

Those exchanges garner me a concentrated stare from Chicken Man, one of the street vendors. He is parked on the corner, still sitting in his SUV before starting to set up his grill where he cooks brats and chicken for the lunch crowd. (I see this guy just about every day and have even attempted a few “good mornings.” He is not a friendly dude. I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt though. Maybe he hasn’t had his coffee yet – it is only 6:45, after all.)

In the next block, I recognize one of the security guards as he exits Starbuck’s. He grins and waves with his free hand. As he rounds the corner, a maid from one of the hotels appears. We exchange smiles as we pass.

As I enter the store downstairs to claim my own cup of coffee, M.’s familiar voice bellows, “Good mooooooooooornin!” from the back of the store. That makes me grin and I yell back. The only truly unfriendly morning exchange comes from the coffee machine.

Instead of sputtering and drizzling a stream of cappuccino down my hand (per usual) before beginning to fill my cup, it employs a new tact: It stalls – and then erupts with a stream that jumps over the cup and pours onto the floor – and my feet.

Not enough to dampen my mood though. It’s going to be a good day. Hope you have one, too.

Groceries and Rainbows

I’m always chasing rainbows … Yeah, that’s me, both metaphorically and in real-time. I’m a sucker for arcs of color in the sky.

As I sat at my desk last Thursday, I witnessed one of the weirdest weather patterns that I have ever seen. Ever. At least four times during the early afternoon I saw it shower, occasionally pretty heavily -- and mostly while the sun was shining brightly. And usually against the backdrop of a slate gray sky. Bizarre!

I periodically got up from my desk and attempted to view various angles of the sky, looking for the rainbow that just had to be there. I didn’t see it.

As evening arrived and I made my way home, the weird weather continued. Sun. Sun with rain. Gray sky. Grayer sky. Rain. Rain with sun. And as I neared the grocery store where I’d planned a quick stop, the rain stopped once more, slowing to a fine mist.

As I parked and then exited Ladybird, the sun again began to cut through the gray clouds – and the rain began anew. With it, I spied a widening rainbow arc. I quickly rifled through my bag and grabbed the camera.

I got some strange looks as I stood in the middle of the grocery store parking lot, a light shower falling, snapping away. But I didn’t care.


Pretty soon, people began to point not at me but at the rainbow forming over Arby’s. Then, just as quickly as it had started, the rain stopped.


The colors of the rainbow began to fade. I went inside to shop.

I was inside only a short time. As I walked to the car, the rain returned. First very lightly but by the time I had loaded the trunk and returned the cart, coming down at a good clip.

And the sun came out again.
As I was driving home, this is what was in front of me.



I hurriedly pulled Ladybird into a parking lot. More stares as I ran here and there to capture this.

Ask me if I care.

Is It Wrong to Rejoice?

Five words on the bottom of the TV screen, which had been cut into a mosaic featuring a live broadcast on one side and stock footage on the other, immediately grabbed my attention: Osama bin Laden is dead.

What?! I read the line again and gasped. The mother had just caught up with me. It was a stunner to see after flipping to our local news after watching various History Channel shows during the evening.

I was equally stunned to see the revelry taking to the streets across the country. Mind you, I'm not condemning it. I just don't plan to go yell in the street or anything. No. My option is much more subtle.

The old comedienne Moms Mabley said it best: "They say you shouldn't say nothin' about the dead unless it's good. He's dead. Good."

Amen.

If You Can, Offer Your Help

As scenes of the local devastation continue to dominate news coverage in the St. Louis area, there's one thing we can't claim: loss of life.

After a series of violent storms in Arkansas last night, seven people died. Twice that many have been killed in storms just this month.

All of our local news stations have been collecting money for the Red Cross to help local victims. I can't imagine what it must be like to suddenly find yourself without a home and everything in it. Worse still, I can't imagine that topped with having lost loved ones.

So, if you're like me, and you escaped the St. Louis storms unscathed, do what you can to help those who weren't so lucky -- not just here, but all over the country. With all the destruction and with all the rain, now there will be another round of tragedy in the form of flooding.

Whether it's a donation of cash, supplies or volunteering in some way, if you are able to, I urge you to help any way you can. The way these storms have been ripping through on a seemingly endless course, you never know when the person needing help might be you ...

Just a Few Blocks Away

I went for a walk early this afternoon. I circled the house twice and walked the entire property line. Nothing. Whew.

But within three blocks of This D*mn House, I was astounded by what I saw.


Sadly, this is home to an ill, elderly couple. They did not need this. I stood there for several minutes staring at what was left of their garage. Their roof is in tatters.

These are places I go by nearly every day. And last night, you couldn’t get within 200 yards of them. Still today, there is a side street a block from this devastation that the police won’t let you go down because there is even worse damage.

This is the front of a convenience store where they come out to your car to take your order. (We frequent them for sodas.)

And these scenes were all too common.




I continue to be astounded by what I see from across the river. (Our cable, which went out shortly after we got an “all clear” around 9 last night, finally came back on well after 3 this afternoon so I’m just now getting caught up on those images. They are frightening and heart-wrenching. Those poor, poor people!) They’re saying this is the worst tornado to hit St. Louis since 1967.

As we huddled in the basement last night, I grew more and more concerned as I could hear the distant TV tracking the storm as it grew ever closer.

And to think, if it had come just a few more blocks. Not miles. Blocks.
Grateful doesn't even begin to cover it.

Weathering the Storm

Ay yi yi. What a night!

But … we have power. This D*mn House is still standing – and in tact.

Some of my neighbors can’t say the same. Just three blocks away, our road is closed due to major damage including debris, flooding and downed power lines. Police and fire crews are all over the place. About six blocks in the other direction, MORE serious damage.

We spent nearly an hour in the basement but the storm went OVER and AROUND us. I am so grateful

We listened intently to the radio – and what I could hear of the TV from downstairs – as the storm drew closer and closer. I heard reports of a tornado at Lambert Airport. (We’d later heard that the airport suffered significant damage and it is now closed.)

I worried about family and friends and made some contact as soon as I could get a signal.

Our cable is out. That’s the worst of it.

I’m feeling pretty fortunate right now. Pretty fortunate indeed.

The 50-50 Split

The weekend was an even mix of work and play. It started out with play and a National Scrapbook Day event, meaning hanging all day with the MonkeyGirl, Harriet and A. (We missed you MamaMartha!) It was just the therapy I needed. It went by all too quickly. Good friends, very good eats, relaxation and catching up on my photo documenting, something I haven’t done since Camp back in January!!! I managed to get 12 pages done and a 13th one nearly so. It was more than I thought I’d finish, but not as much as I’d have liked. I’m still trudging toward the end of 2007 (I do my albums chronologically) and I would dearly love to start 2008 before the end of THIS year. Sunday was all work though I didn’t start until after noon. I mowed, swept, dumped, cleaned and cleared and then carefully assessed the outdoor projects that I really need to do. These include: 1) The “mystery” project involves removing the rotting wooden ties from around the base of the shed’s foundation and replacing them with a bricked edge. Should be a nice way to tie in all of the other brickwork with the back of the house. 2) Putting some bricks or concrete blocks along the edge of the front walkway 3) Same for around the base of the mailbox 4) Ditto that for the rock – but not until after I take it all up, put down several layers of plastic as a weed barrier and then put the rock back. 5) I need to repeat steps 2 and 4 on the side of the house, out back by the patio and around the birdbath and in front of the smaller section of fence out back Whew! Wears me out thinking about it. It really needs to be done though to try and keep the weeds under control and to keep the rocks contained and from getting under the mower. If we have a spring/summer like last year, there’s no way I can hope to do all of this. (Last year, it either poured down rain or was so miserably hot that you didn’t dare work outside for any length of time.) So, I guess we’ll see how cooperative Mother Nature is this year and just how much time, energy and money I manage to have all at the same time!

Historic St. Louis: The Roberts Orpheum

One of my favorite destinations during my regular downtown walks is the old American Theatre. "Old" in that it is rapidly approaching the century mark, and old in that unless you've been in St. Louis for a while, you wouldn't know it once was the American. When the Beaux Arts style Orpheum Theatre opened at Ninth and St. Charles streets in 1917, Hollywood films were in their infancy. It would be more than a decade before "talkies" would arrive and begin rapidly extinguishing the fire of vaudeville theater.

Downtown St. Louis was once home to a variety of movie houses and theaters. The original American Theater was part of a hotel built a decade earlier (in 1907) and a few blocks away. It was demolished in the 1950s to make way for -- what else? -- a parking lot! Today, the Orpheum/American remains the last of its kind, following the senseless demolition of the Ambassador in 1995/96.

From the 1930s to the 1960s, it was a movie house. During the 1970s and 1980s, it had an occasional theater offering but became better known as a concert venue, hosting the likes of Pearl Jam (who filmed a video there), the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Alicia Keyes, Dave Mathews Band, Tori Amos, Phish, the Black Crowes and Nelly. It was during this period that this beautiful old building made it onto the National Register of Historic Places. After that distinction and continuing its long run of concerts from up-and-coming performers, the poor building sat. And sat. It might well have seen the fate of downtown's other performance venues at one point. For much of the last decade, it’s been owned by Mike and Steve Roberts, St. Louis brothers who now possess much of historic downtown. To their credit, they undertook a major rehab of this glorious old building and even restored its original Orpheum name. The theater is rented out for private gatherings and even still manages to host live performances a few times a year. I've got to get back there one of these days! For now though, I'm content to know that it's there and to take in the lovely views its exterior affords. The day that I took these photos (which was last spring) a woman was walking with two young children in tow. The elder of the two, a boy no more than 10, suddenly charged several yards ahead of his mother, wildly pointing at the building's roofline. "Looooook, Mommmy!" he yelled. "I see lots of faces." There are, indeed, DOZENS of faces that make up this gorgous cornice. And the fact this future little architecture buff noticed was more gratifying to me than I can describe.

To my delight, they were only momentarily distracted by my presence as the mother then became just as absorbed in the architecture as her son. Had I been smarter, I would have offered to snap a photo of the trio outside the theater and offer to email it to them. Though it might have been an awkward offer to extend, I'd like to think it would be a nice memory for them.

I know that it is for me.

On Housing and Mortgages

I would LOVE to move.

It would be awesome to have a home with more space, “real” closets (as opposed to our imaginary ones), a garage (at LEAST one-car, preferably two), more than one postage stamp-sized bath, a sunroom or an open out onto patio area … I could go on and on and on. In many cases, I’m sure you could, too.

It’s just that getting those things would require selling This D*mn House, taking on a mortgage again – and considerably larger than the one I paid off a few years ago – and a highly elevated rate of taxes and homeowner’s. I wouldn’t be hot for that plan in a good economy, but in an uncertain one? Yeah. We’re staying put.

Even with all the daunting work ahead, work that won't net any of the things I so long for listed above ... Funny. We’re not alone. There was an article in the Chicago Tribune last week talking about how redoing is far outpacing relocating. For many folks making that choice, it’s the state of the housing industry. And no wonder!

I couldn’t believe that there are currently more than 2.2 million homes more than 90 days behind on the mortgages. Add to that, that it can take almost two years between the time of foreclosure and time of actually vacating the premises. Two years.

Not that I’m faulting the people. So many have lost their jobs in recent years, you can’t help but sympathize. You’d think those numbers would be daunting enough that banks would want to work with people to keep them in their homes. I mean, almost two years rent-free and then who knows how long on the market and at what loss? (Sometimes people gut homes after foreclosure; I saw one recently and couldn’t believe how the residents had raided it. They took a BATHTUB!!!)

It’s all good news for the home improvement business. But for the housing industry, it sure sounds like it’s going to get a lot worse before it gets any better.

“Firsts” of the Season

It was soooo hot over the weekend. You could have told me it was July and I’d have believed it.

The temperatures marked a series of “seasonal” firsts. That’s because we were very warm on Friday and then at or near 90 both Saturday and yesterday. Trust me when I say it made for one hot house. We toughened up and made it through several back-to-back unseasonably warm days recently, but after tossing and turning Friday night and being too miserable to even sleep in on Saturday, I decided enough was enough.

I had the air up and running that afternoon. Before I turned it on though, I hooked up the hose, removed the wood we keep on top of the A/C unit during its downtime, and rinsed the unit off. I attempted to buy some new tubing for the drain because the old one is looking a might poorly but I’m still not sure if it will fit or not. (Every time I would think about checking, the A/C kicked back on; I never had the forethought to shut it off so I could check. Doh!)

I picked up a new filter while I was out and about Saturday and changed it that night. (A spring thing to do if you haven’t lately!) Then yesterday, I got the mower out. I mowed and then I trimmed the neighbor’s tree (he doesn’t) because it had branches that were dangerously close to both the carport roof and to Ladybird in the driveway.

I took all those clippings to the dump and then washed Ladybird on the way home. Poor thing. She was covered in dead buds and leaves and goop and other tree debris from said tree that budded during warm weather a few weeks ago only to have those blooms perish in the snow a week later. I pulled weeds, too. The ground was still a little damp from early-morning rain so it wasn’t the monster of a chore it normally is.

The wind (which was blowing a steady 15-20 mph most of the afternoon and occasionally gusting to 35-40) made things a bit challenging. I had wanted to start on my latest brick project but it would have been a nightmare in that wind.

This coming weekend is going to be damp and quite chilly (40s and 50s) so I guess it won’t be happening then either. Talk about extremes! Welcome to weather in St. Louis.

Shut ‘er Down

If you regularly read this blog (or if you did when I was actually contributing regularly to it) you knew I couldn’t let all this political BS slide. Right? Not in the mood for a rant? Sorry. Move along now then, please.

First things first. Donald Trump is an a**hat.( An egotistical blowhard a**hat at that.) The very sight of him makes me want to puke. Unfortunately, he’s everywhere. Yeah, he’s a billionaire. So what? Money definitely isn’t a guarantee of sense or principles. Direct quote that made me want to hurl something at the TV yesterday: “I’m only interested in Libya if we keep the oil.”

Well of course you would be, a**hat. You don’t give a sh*t about Americans, so why would you care about Libyans? Definitely the kind of attitude I know I want from the leader of the Free World – NOT! I’m wondering where dear Donald was during the EIGHT YEARS of the Bush administration as the country went hurtling down the path to hell. (The one we’re on, according to him. Um, exactly who put us there?) Sir, kindly take that dead animal that lives on your head and go back and crawl under your rock.

Whew! That felt great. Continuing on …

DENYING HEALTHCARE TO DISADVANTAGED WOMEN IS NOT A GOOD REASON TO SHUT DOWN THE GOVERNMENT. ( I’m hoping that this shutdown can be avoided tonight, but I’m not holding my breath.) Don’t want public money to fund abortions? Fine. That’s been the law of the land for some time now anyway. (But wait, I forgot. You folks aren’t very good with American history, even in the current century.)

But to not want to fund pap smears, cancer screenings, mammograms – seriously? This is the place where many women turn for such “routine” care because they couldn’t afford it otherwise. If you’re one of the dumba** legislators in favor of this, then I think you should tell your wife/daughter/sister/mother to cancel any and all such screenings. Wouldn’t dare do THAT, would you? Didn't think so.

Oh, right. I keep forgetting ... these are the people who don’t give a d*mn if anyone has healthcare—‘cept them of course. (I remember one of these freshman Teaheads going all whiny because he had to wait XX number of days for his healthcare to go into effect. Welcome to the ranks of the 32M you could care less about, sweetie!)

Between Paul Ryan’s “budget” and this Congressional stalemate over women’s healthcare, I can only conclude that the Republican and/or Teahead healthcare plan for the old, impoverished, or otherwise disadvantaged can be boiled down to two words: DIE ALREADY!

And I have never ever never been able to understand how people can see contraception and abortion as mutually exclusive. Don’t like abortion? Guess what – contraception can be your best friend! Oh, yes, there’s abstinence, of course. But people are human. They generally forget a lot about what they’re supposed to do/not do when hormones come a’ calling. And sometimes, contraception fails.

While I support a woman’s right to choose, it’s not something I personally could do. But hey, I don’t think that should be imposed on everyone. I totally support someone who wants to decry abortion – I just don’t agree with them. I have just one beef with the “radical” side of the pro-life movement (of which I think some legislators are definitely a part of). Some of these same legislators are busy “defunding” education and the very social programs designed to help the women they’d like to see forced to give birth! *stops to scratch head*

Yeah, go ahead and tell me how much you care about kids as you eviscerate education. Go ahead. I’m listening.

Your respect for the unborn is admirable. Too bad that same passionate concern doesn’t apply to the millions who are already here.

A Project

It’s my own fault, really. I’ve waited so long to start back on house projects (having done pretty close to nothing for several months). In fairness, work has been busy and sinus/allergies have been awful. Making it through work and tending to the basics (groceries, laundry, car maintenance) has taken what little spare time and energy I’ve had of late. Poor little blog has been frightfully neglected. But during all that inactivity, the mother couldn’t help herself but to see beyond the already as yet undone. Yes, that’s right. With all this downtime, she has had plenty of time to think up yet another project. One that will require the cooperation of Mother Nature to complete. And one that will probably take twice the 150 bricks I purchased and hauled last weekend. (I can pick up some extra when I go to get some mortar mix.) But with rain and wind in the forecast, that’s not exactly conducive to brickwork, especially to brickwork that will be completely exposed to the elements. I’m hoping to at least get started this weekend but that’s still a big question mark at this point. Any guesses on the mystery project? Here’s another hint: My “stone patio” is involved.

Yo-Yo Snow

Look carefully, folks, because the view may not last long. This is what I found when I went outside late Saturday afternoon. In all, we got nearly 4 inches of snow Saturday. Even on the early evening news, they were telling people to stay home if they could; the roads were funky. But by early Sunday morning, it was already disappearing. By Sunday afternoon, you'd have been hard pressed to prove that it snowed at all, save a few clumps scattered throughout the yard and lingering in the shade of the trees.

It wasn't much. It didn't last long. But, it was enough to send the poor trees that had bloomed a very nasty message. Those poor things! Today, their blooms are brown and falling off. And the even more fun news? We get to maybe repeat this whole cycle again tomorrow!

Aw, c'mon already ...

I don't want it to be 90, but I sure do want to be done with this stuff.

Jumping the Gun

It seems my pronouncement of spring was a bit premature. Oh, the calendar hails it. Hell, even the weather itself was indicating as much ... a week ago.

A week ago, I was running around in shorts and a T-shirt. On Sunday, I was miserably hot. And the house kept the warmth making it nearly unbearable and hard to sleep at bedtime. Monday and Tuesday, I didn't even wear a jacket to work. By Wednesday, I was wishing I had. And on Thursday, it was a necessity.

I awoke to sleet and snow yesterday. Yes, the dreaded s-word. And now, a winter weather advisory is just getting underway and lasts through tonight.

UGH.

I need to get started on something inside anyway so I shouldn't hate it so much. It may actually be doing me a favor.

To The Duuuuude

March 23. Throughout my childhood and first years of my young adulthood, it was a day to celebrate. But for more than two decades, it has been a day to recall. A day to remember. A day to fight back the tears that inevitably want to come.

It’s my dear “faux brother’s” 46th birthday. Unfortunately, Steven’s not here to observe it. He died a week after turning 22. To me, this is the very definition of patently unfair. He was such an awesome guy. He was sweet. He was funny. And, in the year or so before his death, he was downright adorable. (If you’ve seen Pretty in Pink, think Andrew McCarthy …)

He was my cousin, and a distant one at that (his mother and my mother were first cousins). But there was nothing distant about our relationship. We were the perfect siblings – minus the trappings of the rivalry that is commonplace between brothers and sisters. Our family jokingly called us “the twins” because we were born just a few hours shy of four months apart.

A few weeks ago, I remembered something I hadn’t thought of in forever. I used to call him “Duuuuuude” as a greeting. And he would comically respond with, “Saaaay, blood.”

I shouldn’t complain. I was lucky enough to get to grow up with him. The first six years were normal enough.
Having known each other since infancy and both of us having been only children, we were the best of buds. Then, an undiagnosed case of strep throat changed everything just as he was turning 7.

It attacked his major organs and shut down both of his kidneys. (One later regained function overnight and he became a case in medical textbooks.) Before the miraculous occurrence, he had been given two weeks to live. Two weeks.

He lived 15 more years.

He didn’t complain though he endured more than anyone, much less a child, ever should. I think partly because of his plight and partly because our parents were the way they were, we were both spoiled rotten. We got a lot of the same things at Christmas (yes, I was an incurable tomboy) and we always celebrated birthdays together.

When we were 9, I was supposed to get a brother. Shortly after my mother miscarried, his mother discovered she was pregnant. At 10, he got a brother. He promised to “share” him – and did.

He was funny and sweet and one of the best friends I ever had. And, all these years later, I still miss him.

If we really can see into this world from the next, I hope he can see how much. Happy birthday, duuuuuude.

S-P-R-I-N-G!

It is, at long last, SPRING! And I can barely contain my joy. The past few days, however, have been summer. Mid-80s for two consecutive days (after mid-60s on Saturday) and I fully expect that today will be a third day of this uber-mild weather.

MMMMMMMmmmmmm. I am lovin’ it! (And it ain’t McDonald’s.)

The mother has been busily decorating for Easter (stay tuned for those photos) and spent Monday clearing the sidewalk in front of This D*mn House of all the debris it has accumulated over the winter. And it was quite a bit. The streets here are just this side of rubble!

For now though I wanted to officially welcome Spring and all her wonderful features. Here’s a few that greeted me when I got home last night. (One of those features being that IT’S STILL LIGHT FOR A WHILE WHEN I GET HOME!!!!)

The Baby Bunny (as he/she) is known, and has been ever since it squeezed its little body beneath the fence last year when it wasn’t as big as my hand, was one of the first things to greet me. Here, Baby Bunny chills out under an obliging pine tree in my neighbor’s yard.

On the other side of This D*mn House, the tree that is just beyond our property line is in full bloom.

That holds true for that same neighbor’s flowers growing along the side of his garage.


Spring has certainly sprung and I’m a VERY happy camper as a result. OLE MAN WINTER you are OUTTA HERE! Don’t let the door hit ya …

Wearin' o' the Green

One of the biggest mistakes anyone can ever make in my presence is to insult my heritage.

"St. Patrick's Day is stupid," a middle-aged, paunch-sporting man at the bus stop dared to say as a few of us sportin' our green began to gather. "What's so great about the Irish?"

Boy did he pick the wrong girl to ask that question ... My answer went something like this.

The Irish have survived centuries of political and religious tyranny. Yet they could not be burned out, stamped out or starved out. They washed clothes, plowed fields, built railroads. Those that managed to leave Ireland's borders, never really left it behind. They carried their roots along, too, planting them all around the world. They've continued to take hold, many, many generations down the line.

I, for one, think there are a lot of great things about the Irish. And I'll thank you not to besmirch the rich heritage that Edward, Francis and John, and Bridget, Mary (I wrote about those two great ladies, each representing a different side of my family, in this post last year) and Julia gave to me. I can only hope that I have proven worthy of all the sacrifices they made so that I could be here. And then I walked away.

Two people applauded.

For a lot of people, St. Patrick's Day is about drinking green beer, wearing green clothing and occasionally donning some over-the-top costumes to go watch a parade. But not me.

Maybe this sense of nationalism for a place I've never even been is foolish. But not to me. It embodies all the many generations who came before me. And I'm proud to be part of their stock. The middle-class they helped foster is under siege (particularly at the state level ) all over this country so maybe some of that pride will help foster a movement to reclaim its rightful place. But that's for another post.

I think it's great that in this country we celebrate the Irish -- whether we are or not. And that it is one of the many celebrations for various nationalities that we have come to hold dear. It's one of the many things that make us a great country. I'm American by chance because someone, or several someones, decided to become American by choice. And I respect all those of any nationality who have done the same. Never ever forget where you came from.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

A Lighting Tip

Dusting out the cobwebs and returning … It’s been a while, I know. I’ve been busy with a variety of things both at work and at home. Lately, I can’t even keep up with the basics much less find time to jump back into house projects. (Stay tuned. That’s about to end soon. Very soon.)

That said, one of the things I recently had to do was buy new light bulbs for the over-the-sink kitchen light. It’s not the garden variety light anymore. This is the triple-light LED stainless steel version that Lawrence installed nearly 19 months ago. (Looks just like the photo minus one light.) One of the end bulbs had apparently burned out.


Though these are “long-life Xenon bulbs,” 19 months is a pretty good record considering that this light gets used CONSTANTLY. In its higher setting, it light up a good enough chunk of the kitchen that we don’t have to turn on the overhead to heat something in the microwave or wash a dish. In its lower setting, it keeps the kitchen lit overnight.

I wrote down the volts and did a typical stick-figure drawing of the bulb itself which is small, clear and has two protruding pins at the bottom. (It reminds me a little bit of the bulbs for one of my first cameras where you pulled the film out and waited for it to develop before peeling a layer of paper off to reveal the photo. But I digress.) Unfortunately, neither bit of information helped me. I found bulbs that looked similar but they looked stubbier. I finally scoured the shelves until I found a version of our actual fixture, though in white. I compared the packaged bulbs to the fixture’s. No. It still looked wrong.

During my search, I learned two things from a guy working in the lighting department at Lowe’s who finally appeared at the height of my frustration. “Do these bulbs fit this light?” I asked. “They look smaller.”

He assured me that they did fit though they were smaller. The first of my lessons: Go by the G rating. If it says it will take a G6, all G6 bulbs will fit. Same for G8. Good to know.

Secondly, since these are Xenon LED bulbs, it Is best to wear gloves or use a cloth while handling them. Apparently, body oils can interact with the Xenon in a not-so-good-way and significantly lessen their lifespan. (This is equally good to know because many cars, including Pearl, now use Xenon bulbs.)

And since these little suckers cost almost $4 each, I don’t think you want to do anything to jeopardize their working time!

Shoes for Obama

I honestly would not want to be in the President’s shoes. That dude has my enduring sympathy … most of the time. But these days, I’m wondering just what size shoes the man wears.

That’s because after more than two weeks of workers in Wisconsin protesting the imminent removal of their rights to collective bargain, the President has barely spoken on the topic, much less joined them.

Really? C’mon, Mr. O. You said you were going to do this. I’m assuming then that your insistence on remaining in the comfort of home can mean only one thing: You own NO comfortable shoes. No tennies. No Dockers. No Skechers. No classic liberal Birkenstocks.

So, I am hereby establishing the Shoes for Obama fund. I’m going to scrape together enough money to buy the president some of those comfy shoes he promised to don. I’m going to consult my male colleagues and informally poll what they deem to be the most comfortable pair of shoes that they own. Then, I’ll send a pair out to the President.

Does anyone know his shoe size? Mrs. O., help me out here …