When your babies get to a certain age you tell them to bathe more often, think about teaching them to drive, and you buy them a razor so they do not resemble their hairy father (as much). Today, the last round of all of this has finally come to pass for me.
I'm (almost 100% positively) not having any more children. As 'they' say, "My work here is done." Well, mostly. Since the whole point of being a parent is to silently and elegantly make yourself redundant, while at the same time teaching 'the issue of your marriage' to be pleasant productive citizens who think for themselves. I think, for the most part, that I (we actually, since it is a team sport) have done rather well.
I am--prepare to be shocked--really rather proud of my children. They are thoughtful. They are polite. They are respectful. Now, I don't mean that they are always that way to me or the missus, just to other people.
I don't actually need them to be all that to me. I expect them to use me as a sounding board for growing up and becoming an adult. I'll tell them where I think they went wrong. If they fail to be polite to me, I am more than willing to forgive them. Parents are, in my opinion, like a sparring partner. You can hit them (figuratively) and they'll tell you when you blow it; no hard feelings.
Is it fun to be a parent? Yeah. Is it hard to be a parent? It is (usually) easy to start, and hard to stick with the program 'til the end. Is it worth it? Considering that you are making several shiny adults out of stuff you have laying around anyway, it certainly is. Even with all the elbow grease.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Friday, September 18, 2009
Royal Flush II
Only 12 more posts after this to make it to 500. Maybe I'll make it by Xmas.
So, there was a time long ago when I never thought about sewer lines. This was like, 1970 or so. After that, we had A Problem at the family home there and we (well, Dad) had to dig up the sewer line and replace it. I think he had some help, maybe from Grandpa, but it was a really hard job. And to top that off, the back porch and the lawn were never really the same after that. It pretty much left a scar.
You never forget that smell of a sewer. It isn't exactly the smell you expect, my gentle reader, but it is distinct.
Fast forward to just about 1:10 AM a week ago. We were now back from getting everything set up at Ardenwood for the Renaissance Faire, and busily getting all of our personal stuff ready to go. For hours. It always seems to take way too long. We had hot tubbed, and packed up and repaired a chair and, and, and.
And then I needed to go. So I went. Then came an, "Uh oh." from the other bathroom. It seems the convenience wasn't draining; in a somewhat inconvenient manner. 'No worries', I think. Out with the handy plunger. This does the trick 99 out of 100 times.
This was That One Time. So, the next step is to get one of those water jet do-hickeys that goes on the garden hose. That goes down the clean-out and into the main drain line and forces the clog downstream under pressure. Works like a charm.
Except for this time. Speaking of time, it was now about 1:45. AM. And we were getting up at 6:30 (HA!) to head out for the faire. Not so fast, buddy.
So I break down and Call A Professional. Actually about three of them. "We can be there at 8 AM". "We can be there at 7 or 8." "We can send a technician now." (Rescue Rooter) They also insisted that they COULD NOT TELL ME THE (big state secret) PRICE until the technician was there. What a load of crap. Of course this is possible - give me the minimum charge for the estimated hour of service. The tech did within five minutes, after asking me about three questions that I had already explained on the phone.
So the tech called us back in a few minutes after we got off the phone. He could be there in an hour. That would be about 3 AM. :-) So I took out my contact lenses and tried to get some sleep since I was gonna be on my feet all day. Sharon and I joked that it could be worse, it could be raining.
3 AM comes with a knock at the door. The technician and I get familiar with the situation around the clean-out. He gives me the estimate. $354. It could be worse.
It starts to rain.
I get a garden umbrella and a flood light. The tech gets his rain coat and a very substantial power snake unit out of the van. It is heavy enough that the van has a power lift to get it in and out.
The lightning and thunder starts.
The cable is prepared and fed into the watery abyss. The tech says the only thing that could go wrong is if the cable goes the wrong way, up into the house plumbing - which could be "bad". Since the clean-out pipe is full of "water", we can't really see which way the cable is headed.
LOTS of cable goes into the pipe. Like 80 feet or so. Much farther than it is from the clean-out to the city sewer under the street. The tech asks me ominous questions about how far it is to the bathrooms inside the house (about 5 feet), and how the house is plumbed...
"Honey, there is a weird growling noise in the kitchen!"
Cue more lightning and rain.
On investigation, the cable has in fact traveled the wrong way and followed the drain line that comes from the opposite end of the house (90 feet) and the 2-1/2 inch flexible cutter head is scraping clean the inside of the 2" drain line. The dog is confused by this weird noise and only comes out from under the desk to bark at the thunder. The wayward cable is reeled in. The grumbling technician gets a shop vac out.
"I have an idea." he says. A few minutes later he has the "water" out of the clean-out line, THEN asks me where he should dump it. It start to rain a little harder and more often for greater poignancy.
So NOW (3:40 AM) we can see the bottom of the clean-out and which way the cable is headed. Finally, it looks like we might succeed.
The cable goes about a foot before it tangles on "something" the tech explains. Out comes the cable. The 2-1/2 inch cutter is exchanged for the smaller one... Victory is ours!
The cable jams about one foot in.
The tech patiently tells me how the best way to fix this is to (simply) dig up the tee connection at the end of the clean-out pipe and put in a proper "sanitary tee" which has a sweeping bend from one pipe into the next, and then cable the line again. It's pretty clear this isn't in the scope of work he can do at 3:50 AM. He packs up his gear and gives me a receipt. And leaves. At 4 AM.
So, in a last desperate act, I try the water jet thing again. It is very hard to get round the corner in the pipe but eventually I am able to make it seal. And then I flush out the line for a minute or so. Either I have burst the line and irrigated around it or it is clear. Out comes the hose.
Toilets are flushed as I watch the "water" rush on by at the bottom of the pipe. It worked! Sharon jokes that, "The blog post almost writes itself." Sorry. No pictures. You'll thank me.
I hit the pillow at 4:20 or so. The dog continues to bark at the occasional thunder for another half hour. 6:45 came WAY too soon.
So, there was a time long ago when I never thought about sewer lines. This was like, 1970 or so. After that, we had A Problem at the family home there and we (well, Dad) had to dig up the sewer line and replace it. I think he had some help, maybe from Grandpa, but it was a really hard job. And to top that off, the back porch and the lawn were never really the same after that. It pretty much left a scar.
You never forget that smell of a sewer. It isn't exactly the smell you expect, my gentle reader, but it is distinct.
Fast forward to just about 1:10 AM a week ago. We were now back from getting everything set up at Ardenwood for the Renaissance Faire, and busily getting all of our personal stuff ready to go. For hours. It always seems to take way too long. We had hot tubbed, and packed up and repaired a chair and, and, and.
And then I needed to go. So I went. Then came an, "Uh oh." from the other bathroom. It seems the convenience wasn't draining; in a somewhat inconvenient manner. 'No worries', I think. Out with the handy plunger. This does the trick 99 out of 100 times.
This was That One Time. So, the next step is to get one of those water jet do-hickeys that goes on the garden hose. That goes down the clean-out and into the main drain line and forces the clog downstream under pressure. Works like a charm.
Except for this time. Speaking of time, it was now about 1:45. AM. And we were getting up at 6:30 (HA!) to head out for the faire. Not so fast, buddy.
So I break down and Call A Professional. Actually about three of them. "We can be there at 8 AM". "We can be there at 7 or 8." "We can send a technician now." (Rescue Rooter) They also insisted that they COULD NOT TELL ME THE (big state secret) PRICE until the technician was there. What a load of crap. Of course this is possible - give me the minimum charge for the estimated hour of service. The tech did within five minutes, after asking me about three questions that I had already explained on the phone.
So the tech called us back in a few minutes after we got off the phone. He could be there in an hour. That would be about 3 AM. :-) So I took out my contact lenses and tried to get some sleep since I was gonna be on my feet all day. Sharon and I joked that it could be worse, it could be raining.
3 AM comes with a knock at the door. The technician and I get familiar with the situation around the clean-out. He gives me the estimate. $354. It could be worse.
It starts to rain.
I get a garden umbrella and a flood light. The tech gets his rain coat and a very substantial power snake unit out of the van. It is heavy enough that the van has a power lift to get it in and out.
The lightning and thunder starts.
The cable is prepared and fed into the watery abyss. The tech says the only thing that could go wrong is if the cable goes the wrong way, up into the house plumbing - which could be "bad". Since the clean-out pipe is full of "water", we can't really see which way the cable is headed.
LOTS of cable goes into the pipe. Like 80 feet or so. Much farther than it is from the clean-out to the city sewer under the street. The tech asks me ominous questions about how far it is to the bathrooms inside the house (about 5 feet), and how the house is plumbed...
"Honey, there is a weird growling noise in the kitchen!"
Cue more lightning and rain.
On investigation, the cable has in fact traveled the wrong way and followed the drain line that comes from the opposite end of the house (90 feet) and the 2-1/2 inch flexible cutter head is scraping clean the inside of the 2" drain line. The dog is confused by this weird noise and only comes out from under the desk to bark at the thunder. The wayward cable is reeled in. The grumbling technician gets a shop vac out.
"I have an idea." he says. A few minutes later he has the "water" out of the clean-out line, THEN asks me where he should dump it. It start to rain a little harder and more often for greater poignancy.
So NOW (3:40 AM) we can see the bottom of the clean-out and which way the cable is headed. Finally, it looks like we might succeed.
The cable goes about a foot before it tangles on "something" the tech explains. Out comes the cable. The 2-1/2 inch cutter is exchanged for the smaller one... Victory is ours!
The cable jams about one foot in.
The tech patiently tells me how the best way to fix this is to (simply) dig up the tee connection at the end of the clean-out pipe and put in a proper "sanitary tee" which has a sweeping bend from one pipe into the next, and then cable the line again. It's pretty clear this isn't in the scope of work he can do at 3:50 AM. He packs up his gear and gives me a receipt. And leaves. At 4 AM.
So, in a last desperate act, I try the water jet thing again. It is very hard to get round the corner in the pipe but eventually I am able to make it seal. And then I flush out the line for a minute or so. Either I have burst the line and irrigated around it or it is clear. Out comes the hose.
Toilets are flushed as I watch the "water" rush on by at the bottom of the pipe. It worked! Sharon jokes that, "The blog post almost writes itself." Sorry. No pictures. You'll thank me.
I hit the pillow at 4:20 or so. The dog continues to bark at the occasional thunder for another half hour. 6:45 came WAY too soon.
Monday, September 07, 2009
Royal Flush
How did it get to be September already? I mean really. Sheesh.
We went on a lovely bike ride today. Than we made plans on what the hell to do with our house next. Or rather, we discussed what to do next. We need to do something. Unfinished projects loom.
The garage, however, is off of the death-watch list. A full day of cleaning revealed a workbench that had been covered with crap for a year plus, and some re-organizing helped out with some voluminous crap that has been stored here by friends. But that stuff still has to leave, soon.
Recently helping friends move has motivated us to get rid ofthings we have collected that we only marginally need or want crap. For example, I have a twenty volume set of books called "The Book Of Knowledge, A Child's Encyclopedia" that was complied in 1922. My set is from 1927. I have not read these 20 volumes except to open it and skim them. It is about the quality level of Wikipedia, only from a 1922 American viewpoint. I got the books from my grandfather's effects as he was moving out of his home about 20 years ago. Do not want.
I'm thinking Craigslist. About 100 listings ought to do it.
We went on a lovely bike ride today. Than we made plans on what the hell to do with our house next. Or rather, we discussed what to do next. We need to do something. Unfinished projects loom.
The garage, however, is off of the death-watch list. A full day of cleaning revealed a workbench that had been covered with crap for a year plus, and some re-organizing helped out with some voluminous crap that has been stored here by friends. But that stuff still has to leave, soon.
Recently helping friends move has motivated us to get rid of
I'm thinking Craigslist. About 100 listings ought to do it.
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