Bright Sunshiny Day

Turn the clock to zero, boss
The river's wide, we'll swim across
Started up a brand new day. -- Sting "Brand New Day"

As I zipped into the office this morning (I drove thanks to a "must keep" dentist appointment I forgot about) the sun was throwing color all over the morning sky. I was wishing I was able to snap some then, but luckily, it held out just long enough. (If you're a regular follower, you know how I love my sunrise/sunset photos.)

It's February now, so you won't be capturing the sun under the Arch again until next winter, but hey, this is still pretty d*mn awesome. Definitely not too shabby for a Monday ...

Phase One

It was cold and windy but the sun was out. All in all, not a bad day for a drive. So, the mother and I headed to the restaurant.

We didn't take the big mirrors for the fireplaces but we took a smaller one, a cabinet and a bunch of assorted odds and ends. The restaurant was hopping. My little cousin even jumped in to help with the tables.

I did a bunch of measuring and there was a lot of discussion about what and how and how much. Not much when.

I have a feeling it's going to be sooner, much sooner, rather than later. Phase One -- whereby we decide the WHAT needs to be done is complete. Phase Two is well under way, the time during which we determine what supplies and how much we'll need to pull it off.

In return for my trouble, I was treated to an awesome sandwich (turkey and havarti) and cup of soup (carrot and rice -- may not sound good, but it's dynamite!) and homemade potato chips and sweet potato chips.

Yeah, it's going to be a lot of hard work but d*mn am I going to be eatin' good!

Enough Already!

I grew up watching Johnny Carson on the Tonight Show and for about a decade I watched Late Night with David Letterman.

I don’t watch much late night TV anymore and haven’t for quite a few years. Usually, because we watch local NBC news, I’d catch Jay Leno’s monologue by default. Sometimes he even had an interesting guest or Ross the Intern on. And, if it was Monday night, I might leave it on, and then go do something until “Headlines” came on. I have no particular allegiance to Leno but I can watch him.

As for his successor/predecessor Conan O’Brien, I don’t think he’s that funny. And I did give him a few tries on The Tonight Show, too. I barely survived the monologues. No one, Leno included, will ever be Carson.

I didn’t watch Leno’s appearance on Oprah and from what I’ve read, he didn’t really say anything that anyone who was listening five years ago didn’t already know. (If you couldn’t figure out by some of Leno’s comments and jokes immediately after the announcement years back about O’Brien taking over that Leno wasn’t in favor of it, you just weren’t listening.) And so, it’s been a long few weeks of finger-pointing and name-calling by all kinds of people online and even picketing at NBC.

Even before they officially said that O’Brien had said no and that Leno was coming back, I was increasingly annoyed by the people who acted like Leno was gunning for the job. That prompted me to comment on one of our local news sites, something I don’t often do. I tried to describe the situation in real-life terms and in a way that most of us could relate to:

Imagine that someone came to your office – where you were the top performer – and said, “Hey, we think you need to clear the way for Joe Blow here to take your spot by this date in the future because we don’t want Company X to steal Joe away from us.” Joe continues his other gig with the company and gleefully waits in the wings to take your spot.


Would YOU like that?

Then, you leave, Joe Blow replaces you. Your company doesn’t want you to go to another company either so they throw you a bone on a smaller, less lucrative project. It doesn’t go well. Meanwhile, things aren’t so good with Ole Joe either -- his results are only HALF AS GOOD as yours were. Customers are complaining about their results.


Realizing their error, the company decides to take part of the plum assignment away from Joe and give it back to you. Just part. Otherwise, it’s business as usual. You say you’re game if he is. But Joe? He’ll have none of it. You don’t lobby for the company offer but Joe acts like you do. And in the end, Joe walks … with a helluva lot of money, for doing absolutely nothing.


Yeah, if I were you, I’d try to find some spare time to feel sorry for Ole Joe, too.
When O’Brien ultimately declined and Leno took the desk back, the vilification of Leno got turned up on high. Why? All he did was reclaim his job – a job the network got him to begrudgingly give away in the first place. The network is guilty all the way around. NBC was ballsy to expect Leno to abdicate to begin with (after all, his ratings weren’t suffering, he was No. 1). It was equally ballsy to then use Leno as a pawn to try and “fix” the huge mistake they’d decided to make five years ago – to keep him from going elsewhere – only to play him against the guy they were once so anxious to replace him with! It was exceedingly crappy treatment of both Leno and O’Brien.

I thought it was admirable that O’Brien stuck it out for benefits for his staff. And, if his shows had been half as clever or amusing as his “People of Earth” letter, the opening salvo in the “CoCo” war, he may actually have gotten the viewership needed to appease the network and this whole mess would never have transpired.

But that didn’t happen.

Now the whole matter really is a moot point. O’Brien took his $30M+ and went home. After the winter games, Leno will be back. Get over it people. Move on with your lives. Just stop blaming Jay. There's more than enough blame to go around, most of which belongs to NBC.

U.S. unemployment is at 10 percent. The country’s short-term financial picture remains uncertain. People starve to death on the streets here every day. In Haiti, they’ve stopped looking for survivors, even though there probably are people still clinging to life beneath the rubble. And these are people whose lives weren't even that great BEFORE the earthquake ...

If you have to feel sorry for someone, I’m thinking Conan should be pretty far down on the list.

Game ON!

I did not hear the bus go by the house. Usually, that’s my cue to be heading out the door or very, very close to it.

I was right on schedule. I looked for it at the middle of town as it should have been coming toward me but I didn’t see it. Great. It looked very much like one of those days where it just wouldn’t show up. Because it is Friday and I’m exhausted. And uncaffeinated. And it’s 17 degrees.

But at the station, it did come – and almost on time. I nearly cheered.

I know my posting schedule has been erratic at best this week, due in part because I’ve been erratic at best this week. I’ve tried to at least read most of my usual blogs and event comment when I can but it’s been tough. And I can't keep up with the comments on my own blog but I'll do that soon.

I’ve been busier than a one-armed paper-hanger this week – and loving it. One of my new assignments has mushroomed into a myriad of small projects, some of which are loosely connected. (After my initial job, they asked to keep me – and for as much of my time as they could get. Humbling, that.)

There’s a huge learning curve on my part as it’s a whole new industry for me (though I did work briefly on another account several years ago, but not with work like this.) I have new colleagues to please and a new client to impress. Interesting, if not a little bit intimidating, even to an old hand like me.

I love to be challenged and busy and it’s been quite a while since I’ve been both of these for an extended period. It’s exciting and exhilarating and exhausting. Tired as I’ve been, it’s been very hard to shut my brain off at night. Funny how that works sometimes, isn’t it? You’re almost too tired to go to sleep!

Right now though, I need it to ON, really on. So it’s full speed ahead. Happy Friday, everyone!

The Cobwebs of My Mind

Somewhere, tucked away in a darkened corner of the attic inside my brain, are the words that I desperately need to complete the revisions to a client's project I've been working on for the past week or so.

It reminds me of my old newspaper days when you'd hit the equivalent of a writing "speedbump" and that word, the very one that would so perfectly complete a thought, a sentence, a headline was just beyond your grasp. My colleagues and I would helplessly confront one another, adopting a robotic monotone, endlessly repeating, "Word needed! Word needed!"

I've done a lot of writing lately representing a variety of voices, subjects and styles. I've been in a fairly consistent state of one-upmanship with clients as my words have become theirs and their words have, in some cases, replaced mine. Well, says the little writer who lives somewhere deep in my soul, if you thought that sentence was good, it's only because you haven't seen this one yet. And the battle of the wordsmiths would resume and I would hurl myself headlong inside of it.

But then ... it just stopped. (If you've ever fancied yourself a writer, you know exactly what I mean.) Instead of languishing in a steady stream of literary love, I find myself drowning in a linguistic dearth of epic proportions. It feels very much like being mid-shower when someone tries to do dishes or flush the toilet. It's that startling a jolt.

It's been a fabulous few weeks. My fear is that the proverbial well of words has now run dry. (Maybe I really did use up more than my share of valuable brain cells in less than productive -- albeit infinitely amusing -- ways in college and the piper now has come to exact his price. EEK!)

Somewhere. Buried beneath countless cobwebs, aging memories and mental photographs from long ago scenes from a much-younger me's life (oh my God, look at me! I was sooooo thin!) I shuffle through them, peek here, peek there and yet those words continue to elude me.

Here, wordy, wordy, wordy. Where arrrrrrrrrrrre yooooooooooooooou?!

IF I Had THAT Hammer …

My tool love is well-documented, so it shouldn’t be a big surprise that I’m throwing my hat in the ring of yet another contest to try and win one. And the fun part is that you can, too!

Todd over at Home Construction Improvement is giving away a Craftsman Auto Hammer. Todd tells us that this little baby “removes the need for a hose or cord and uses the power of a 12 Volt Lithium-Ion battery to nail nails up to 3.5-in. in length with the press of a trigger.” And even with the battery, it weighs less than 2 pounds! Sounds like love to me.


I’m thinking there are plenty of uses for a small, battery-powered, handful of SMACK-IT around This D*mn House. I’m thinking it could:
· Take care of the dozens of finishing nails I’ll be using to complete assembly of the new kitchen drawer fronts.
· Make quick work of some replacement picture-hanging that needs doing.
· Install ceiling and floor trim as part of the long-awaited bathroom project activities.

And now that there’s Another D*mn House in my life to think about, I’m sure there are 100 other things I could use it for. Wish me luck and/or get in on the contest yourself. What would you use it for? Think about it and enter by Feb. 5.

Extremes

For weeks, I've been grumbling about the real estate people at Uncle Bill's house. I'm not likely to stop anytime soon.

For one of those weeks, they repeatedly left a pocket door blocking the kitchen and entire upstairs from the basement and sunroom (the latter two both unheated) open. At first, it was open just a crack. Then, for days it was left half to completely open.

Then, they left the front door unlocked -- one time not even closing the door!

So, my godmother gave them a firm talking to. Tonight they went from leaving the doors open and unlocked to locking the place up like Fort Knox.

I couldn't get to the back door to open it because the storm door was locked up tight. I found the front door the same way.

The bad part? No one knows where the keys are, if they even exist.

So I guess the realtor is going to be paying for a locksmith.

Through the Looking Glass

Mirrors are a fabulous way to add light and depth to a room. We know this well at This D*mn House where space is at a premium.

But, the mother had been on a quest for nearly a week to find mirrors that would do the same thing but in a much larger space: two of the dining rooms at our family's new restaurant. She had something very specific in mind (as she always does) and nothing else would do.

We'd seen a few contenders that were close but there was always something: not the right shape, too much damage, or there was only one. It seemed we could not find that which she sought. That changed Sunday.

I lost her in a decor store. I spent about 15 minutes looking for her. I started out in the obvious sections: first, I went to the photos/frames section. I thought she might look there first since it was closer to the front of the store. No dice.

So I meandered around until I found a section of mirrors. I spied some very pretty 16x20 mirrors in some gorgeous antiquish frames and at an unbelievable price -- but I knew there were too small for what she wanted. (She ended up getting one of these anyway for something else.) Once I finally found her, awash in nick knacks, she'd already seen the other mirror and saw the same basket that I did to solve a long-standing storage need of ours.

We spent the next few minutes combing the mirror aisles together. She snagged one of the 16x20s and we continued to search. It all seemed in vain. But then, I saw it ...

I called to the mother and the second I saw the expression on her face, I knew the search could end right there but for two things: 1) Would I need a defibrillator to revive her once I saw how much it cost? and 2) Were there two of them?

No. And yes!

These mirrors are ginormous. (I think they're 30x34 or 32, some outrageous size like that. The 16x20 mirror FILLS the mirror portion perfectly if that gives you an idea.)

And the price? For a second, I thought I might be the one in need of reviving! Not because the price was too high, but because I couldn't believe how low it was: $30! Mind you, I've looked at no less than 100 different mirrors since our first visit to the restaurant on Monday. Mirrors this size (even the cheapest) are at minimum, twice that. And the second that I confirmed that there were indeed two exactly alike, the mother immediately burst into applause.

What was not so fun was getting them home. While Pearl can haul things, that was never the intention. The mirrors would NOT fit in the trunk and they almost wouldn't fit into the backseat. It took some careful maneuvering -- and the blanket that came with the cargo mat that now lines the trunk, a day after Thanksgiving find at Kohl's -- to get them in and not damage my seats. But I did it. And then had to repeat the performance in reverse to get them out and then into the basement.

And there they sit, for now. Along with a little collection of other goodies that the mother has been grabbing up like a kid in a candy store. I know that they're going to do the trick. Can't wait to see them in place!

A New Profession?

So I called up Jim the Mechanic to see about getting Pearl back to him, thanks to the reappearance of the engine light. And, of course, to boast about my conquest of the turn signal.

"I've got good news and bad news," I began. "The good news is the turn signal is fixed -- and I fixed it. The bad news is the engine light's back on."

"Well how did you manage that?" Jim asked. I related my battle with the wheel well cover and Hell's pushpins. He laughed mightily.

"Well, if you're ever looking to make a career change, you should just come down here and work with me," he said.

I graciously declined. For the moment, I'm quite happy right where I am. Let's hope it stays that way.

Winter – and Monday – Return

I blinked and the weekend was over. And as it left, winter came back.

The past week or so with lows around 30-35 and highs between 35 and 50, I had been allowed to briefly forget about winter. Not so this week. The good news is that we have survived December and most of January. February is the month to worry about, though we do occasionally get a 70-degree day during the month.

The mother and I did some running around again yesterday. It was very near 50 degrees though quite cloudy all afternoon. We found some more things for the restaurant and the mother and the godmother were on the phone plotting and planning again last night.

The mother can get waaaaaay ahead of herself so I cautioned that an on-site planning session, complete with measuring, was definitely in order before things went too much farther. That said, I imagine we’ll be taking another trip to the restaurant one evening very soon.

I see much work in my future. Yes, Another D*mn House is looking more likely all the time.

Engine Light: ON!

I couldn't believe it. As I was taking Mrs. B. and S home Friday night, the engine light returned.

I'd driven somewhere between 175 and 200 miles since Jim had cleared it on Monday. After driving roughly half that distance just on Monday without a recurrence, I thought for sure it was a fluke. Apparently not. Something is wrong.

A few things it might be:

• A failing oxygen sensor. (EXPENSIVE)
• An ailing air filter. (NOT expensive.)
• A hole in a vacuum hose. (MIGHT be expensive as you have to remove a bunch of stuff to GET to the hose to check it out.)

Would be great if it were something as simple as an air filter. My luck, however, is usually not that good. I'll call Jim tomorrow and see when I can get it back in the shop. Besides, I can't WAIT to tell him about my victory with the turn signal.

Inside the House of Plenty

I promised a look inside my family's new historic restaurant yesterday and would gladly have done it last night but I was only home from work last night long enough to dump my stuff and head right back out the door.

The mother and I went on a four-hour shopping expedition and came home with a trunkful of décor items for the new restaurant. It’s pretty but it needs some help. Here are some before shots and a few more architectural details.

I really love the upstairs windows – both outside AND in. This is in "the ship room," an upstairs bedroom turned into another dining room.

This fan has a gorgeous medallion and it has exposed brick walls. I would have shot the room itself but it had several diners in it at the time and I didn’t want to be rude. This is the "big" dining room. Unlike the two smaller rooms downstairs, it doesn't have a name. Just like in the "Timothy" room with the fan, the big dining room's main light has a pretty medallion, too. When you first walk in, there's an area off to the left with more seating and some more exposed brick. (There's also some hokey looking faux stained glass panels in the ceiling. Those will be going.) Between the door and this section, there is also a cool, old cookstove.

There are some very nice features, but the place is in for a few changes. So, consider these some of the "befores."

Dear GM

Dear GM –

I really, really, really love my CTS and you’re to be commended for the successful combination of a sleek and classic sedan with a sporty design. Previously, I never thought that anyone under the age of 65 should or would own a Cadillac and, as I’ve still got a few decades to go, never dreamed that I would be among them.

But, back to the design …

Is it really necessary to make it virtually impossible to reach something as vital as a turn signal bulb? Really? Was it absolutely necessary to make something that should be as simple as opening a drawer as difficult as navigating the Amazon?

Those “pushpins” from Hell that hold the wheel well covers in place were nearly the death of me. And once I had those off, I had barely enough room to reach the bulb housing. And who in the hell decided to put in the owner’s manual something about “plastic clips” holding the bulb in? WHAT plastic clips?! I spent nearly 25 minutes looking for something that doesn’t exist!

I’ve owned or driven several makes of cars including Volkswagen, Chevy, Ford, Buick and Nissan. At one point or another, I have changed a bulb or headlight of some variety on every one of these vehicles. EVERY ONE! But NONE of them made it impossible to access the bulb or headlight to change it. No. It was a simple five-minute procedure. AS IT SHOULD BE.

This process even managed to confound a mechanic or two. (Of course, they didn’t bother to consult the owner’s manual either.) But me, I'm stubborn and I didn't buy the theory that both the bumper and headlight would have to come off to get to the signal below.

I’m happy to report that I survived the incident on my own, despite an inury. A putty knife and a pair of very thin needlenose pliers finally defeated the pushpins. (But not before my hand got pinched in the bargain.) And, other than the debacle about the plastic clips, the rest of the job was fairly simple. I’m very glad to say that job is behind me … until the passenger side decides to go out.

In the interim, I would recommend some serious physical torture for the person who designed the access. I think it should involve pushpins. LOTS of pushpins. And pliers …

A New Destination

I mentioned earlier this week that my godparents bought a restaurant and that we went there for a visit. It is really quite the place. Or it will be, once it gets some of the TLC it's been lacking for a while.

This is now the "front" entrance -- but it wasn't always. Here's the original front more than 100 years ago.And here it is today. It's now the side of the building and adjacent to the main dining rooms. I just LOVE the architectural details! It needs some work but you probably would, too, if you were born in the 1850s! I wish that my own house was under control so I could be of more help to them. They're going to need it. (Yes, I can see the launch of Another D*mn House, though I'll admit that this was always the kind of place I saw myself redoing instead of the one that I am.)

Of course, the mother has been obsessing for days. She's already got the entire inside done -- in her head. (She does this.) She and my godmother have been on the phone every night, thicker than thieves, discussing this accent and that design. The mother is seriously chomping at the bit to get let loose inside. (Come back later and I'll take you in.)

Yesterday, their local newspaper did a write-up. So far, business seems to be OK. I hope for their sakes that it all works out. It sure is an awesome place!

Good Luck, Mrs. B.

The mother and I were talking about “the female state” after watching Sense & Sensibility for the bamillionth time over the weekend. (It’s one of my favorites and I’m happy to report, now among the mother’s, too.)

Early on in the movie, Edward (Hugh Grant) is bemoaning how he can’t agree on a profession with his mother. Eleanor (Emma Thompson), whose father has just died and – along with her mother and two younger sisters – is being turned out of her sizable home, which has been inherited by her half-brother and his wife, Edward’s sister. Property passes from father to son, not father to daughter, Eleanor tells us. The family of women is reduced to a paltry annual sum on which to live collectively.

“At least you will inherit your fortune,” Eleanor tells Edward. “We can’t even earn ours.”

I thought about this as Mrs. B bid me farewell yesterday within minutes of having greeted me. Turns out she’s been fired from her part-time job; Friday is her last day. “I guess I’m just too old,” she said, a look of defeat covering her face. I asked if she could retire, referring more to her finances than her age. “I could,” she said. “I just don’t want to.” Somehow, I don’t think that’s completely true.

She has a son but I don’t get the feeling that he is either willing or able to help her out. I do get the feeling that she may be looking at some tight times ahead. I can’t imagine having to start over at my age (something that frankly, scares the holy hell out of me) much less at hers. The widow lady trying to make her way in the world for whatever time she has left.

So much has changed since the time of Jane Austen’s forward-thinking female characters. (I have to think Jane Austen would be simultaneously pleased and appalled by some of the changes, depending on what part of the world you're in. That was the heart of the discussion the mother and I were having.) Yet for all their forward-thinking, there was just one out for Austen's female characters: to invariably solidify their fates through fortuitous marriages – with vulgarly rich men they just also happened to be in love with. Something Jane herself even managed to avoid.

Yes, so much has changed since then … and yet, so little.

Is My Backside Still There?

It’s a legitimate question because I swear I have written my a** off this week! That’s not a bad thing either – except for the blog neglect. Sorry about that.

At one point today I remember feeling pulled in so many directions that it reminded me of being a kid and of a field trip we took to Kaskaskia and Fort Chartres about an hour or so away. I remember going into a shop where two old women were alternately rolling and pulling a bunch of taffy around on a marble tale. Finally, they each took an end and started pulling.

Yep. That was me! And that’s how I felt most of the day: being pulled in five directions and occasionally balled up and smacked down on a marble table.

As my day was wrapping up, one of my colleagues stuck her head in my door. “Got a minute for a house question?” I really didn’t but I nodded anyway, welcoming the distraction from the 100mph merry-go-round this day has been.

“Have you ever renovated a bathroom before?”

Well, yes. I’m currently in the throes of the third remodel of the solitary bath in This D*mn House in our more than 23 years of occupancy. Just talking about it made me grimace, too. Lately, as I’m showering or brushing my teeth or well, just in the room, I can’t help but look around at all of the things that are not done. But I digress.

Apparently, her home is a decade or so older than mine and was built with lathe and plaster walls. Her question was about that. I had to admit ignorance as it’s not anything I’ve ever worked with before. It seems she is taking out tile and wiping out all the wall behind it. Sounds like an ugly, ugly job. Joke though they may be, our walls are drywall so you just cut out whatever section isn’t doing it for you and replace it. It does NOT sound fun.

Speaking of houses, I need to run over and check on Uncle Bill’s. The HVAC guy came yesterday and it was indeed a faulty thermostat that had the house hotter than a sidewalk in July. The mother went to let the guy in and checked everything and dumped the water from the leaking washer hook-up so I didn’t even have to think about it yesterday.

I’m so tired. I don’t even want to get up. But, I know that if I don’t, the odds are not in my favor that I will anytime soon. So … off I go!

Hope in Haiti

In July of 2006, a series of storms wiped out power to the metro St. Louis region. Almost everyone lost power at some point for some amount of time in 100-degree heat.

For most of a week, we holed up in our basement family room. We scrambled to make sure we had enough candles and batteries to power lanterns. We were without phone service for the first three days. We bought extra drinking water – when we could find it – and getting ice was a longshot each day. And we couldn’t use tap water for drinking as we were simultaneously under a boil order.

I literally saw people on the verge of blows while fighting their way into a line to get at a newly arrived shipment of ice. We had to drive to a neighboring town to get gas, too, so keeping the tank as full as possible become imperative. Driving through town was a nightmare as most of the stoplights were out, including those at many major intersections. Hot and bothered (and with good reason), manners didn’t always apply.

In short, it was bedlam.

I thought about this as we watched continuing coverage of the crisis in Haiti over the weekend. I tried to imagine what that week might have been like if, in addition to all the challenges we already going on, we had no shelter, no food and were suffering serious injuries. I tried to imagine it, but I couldn’t. And I immediately felt simultaneously guilty and grateful. Guilty because I know I was a whiner that whole week. Grateful because I know it could have been so much worse.

So I was already primed to be reduced to tears by these two news stories on NBC Nightly News. The first about a baby delivered by military on the USS Carl Vinson after his mother was pulled from the rubble in labor. The healthy baby boy was appropriately named Vinson.
Then, in what I consider to be a true definition of faith, there was a husband who refused to give up on his wife’s survival.

Visit msnbc.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

He just knew she was alive buried beneath the rubble of the bank where she worked. For six days, he held vigil at the bank site and once heavy machinery came in and began clearing debris, he would dutifully run in to check between loads to see if any evidence of survivors had been found.

Six. Days. Of not knowing. I have to think that the lack of food, water and other resources had to pale in comparison to his anguish over his missing and possibly dead wife.

But his faith paid off.

I jumped up and down in my living room as I watched a reporter try to converse with the woman through a small hole in the rubble. I wiped tears and laughed hysterically as rescuers pulled her free. (I wish I was smart enough to figure out how to get these two videos from my RealPlayer library into this file. But alas, I am not. HOWEVER -- Why S. is pretty smart and she got me the video about the baby. Check it out. Thanks, Why!)

If you need some life-affirming messages or just a kick in the pants to stop feeling sorry for yourself, spend a little time watching some of the stories emerging from Haiti. If that doesn't do the trick, you aren't listening.

An Otherwise Perfect Day

Today is the kind of day my life needs a whole lot more of.

Engine light status: STILL OFF! This, after the mother and I drove roughly 90-100 miles this afternoon. Keeping my fingers crossed on this one.

It was almost like the mother and I were sharing a brain. (I can hear the collective groan from all those already involved in the collective brain-share with me.) There is a boutique she really likes that is going out of business and it seems the owner is sloooowly putting out new merchandise every day. We've been there three times this week! (And come home with new goodies each time, too.) Retail therapy has been heavenly! She wasn't going to go today but changed her mind at the last minute.

We started our afternoon there and then ... drove to the historic home that houses the restaurant that my godparents bought at the end of December. It was our first time to see it in person and it was a lot of fun. (Photos and more info in another post.)

We did some more household shopping on the way home. I ran over to do the daily check on Uncle Bill's house. I got the first assurance that I've seen so far that the sump pump works. The water is definitely coming from the washer hook-up, so no mysteries or new problems there. Everything was fine downstairs. But once I opened the upstairs door...

It was like being hit with a high-powered blast from a toaster oven. The kitchen counter and stovetop were so warm that it felt like the oven was on! Apparently, the thermostat had gone nuts. It was perfectly fine yesterday. Today -- completely and totally schizoid! I tried everything to get it to turn off. This went on for nearly 30 minutes but nothing worked. The furnace raged on.

I was afraid to start flipping breakers, not knowing what kind of havoc I might wreak. (Not to mention, I had NO clue where the switchbox even was.)

While relating this story to my godfather via telephone, I had a brilliant thought: doesn't the furnace have some kind of a master switch? I know our furnace does. Why, yes, it does! my godfather confirmed. Try that.

Of course, I had already gone home by this time. So back I went. (Thank God it's only about 3 blocks or this could get monotonous in a hurry.) I found the switch with no problem, flipped it and viola! The furnace is off. Whew!

Luckily, it's not supposed to be nearly as cold as it has been recently and the water is already shut off, so ideally there won't be any damage to follow. And, the plan is they'll be able to get someone to come out tomorrow and look at it.

I feel a little guilty (visualize the inch or so of distance between thumb and forefinger) for not getting anything done in the house on a three-day weekend. But sometimes you really do have to hold out for the joy of it all. Right?

Engine Light -- OFF!

Here's hoping it stays that way. I spent part of the morning with Jim checking out Pearl. He did some tinkering but says the code could be a fluke. He reset it to see if it returns. Here's hoping it doesn't.

In the meantime, Pearl will have to go back whether or not the light returns. That's thanks to the blown turn signal light. Seems that Cadillac thought it would be a good idea to make it impossible to get to the d*mn thing to change it without a) removing the sealed beam headlight or b) putting it up on a rack to gain access to a shield under the car. Just further proof that nothing can ever be easy!

In the meantime, the mother and I are preparing to take off on a little adventure. I figured if the light is going to come back, the few miles from Jim's shop probably won't be enough to trip it. A 30-40 mile roundtrip, however, might be. So, I guess we'll see. Or hopefully not.

Hitting Stride

I have always loved to write. It only seems natural then that my third career choice as a kid -- journalist -- would ultimately win out. At age 7 or 8, I was making my own newspapers on looseleaf, the pages strung together with yarn. Less than 20 years later, I was doing it for real for a newspaper I once delivered.

After more than a decade of covering countless council and school board meetings, court cases and even a criminal execution, I jumped to what journalists call "the dark side:" that's PR to the rest of the world.

I've been doing that for nearly a decade. During that time I've written countless press releases, media plans, bylined articles, case studies and executive bios, just to mention a few projects. But somewhere along the way I was doing less and less writing. And less and less of it that I found any joy in.

The blog, which is nearly two years old if I discount the initial three entries from 2007, has been a godsend in restoring some of my creative juices. But even so, something has been missing.

I've recently gotten some great opportunities to write again at work and part of how I've been preparing have been some of what I think are my best blog entries. They have had little or nothing to do with the house or with DIY or tools or most things you normally find here. So I thank you for indulging me those. And I thank you for the many kind comments you've left.

It's been invigorating and energizing and I'm hoping that my little writing exercises will give me the jolt I need for my writing assignments for work. It's a reservoir that's gone untapped for far too long. Here's hoping that the stream I've tapped keeps right on flowing.