Family Generations

This one's for Christine; her birthday was Sunday, and I had hoped to see her in the live chat, but didn't. I hear she wasn't happy about not receiving an HB message, and I tend to keep up with the kids 'through the family grapevine' - they share, and it filters back to me in pieces.

What they may or may not realize is how well I know each of them. I hear a fragment of what's going on in their lives, and I have a pretty good idea of the fuller picture. I know which one cried when the ladybug died or grew tack-spitting mad at a racial comment or burst into tears during college finals before a trip to France because of a facial break-out brought on by stress or wore flip-flops under her wedding gown because of a sprained ankle.

I don't need to hear much to know the pulse of their lives, even if I seem to live in 'my own world' - which is currently in chaos. I'm working on that.

While I'm working, I'm using my favorite ladder. Most folks would have tossed it years ago. I inherited it, as such, when my stepmother deemed it was unsafe for my father 12-odd years ago. It has a weight limit around 120 pounds, and I don't recommend heavier folks use it. It looks like junk.

But when I'm on it, I sense the number of times my dad went up and down it; there's a fair array of old paint and unidentifiable substances on it, contributed both by my dad and myself. It's been repaired by both of us - Dad screwed on some wood supports at the top, I bandaged the leg when a friend tried to 'bounce' it in position and the leg folded. It's well-used and slightly abused, and I don't think I'll ever get rid of it.

It looks like junk. Unless one knows its history.

He passed in February, 1998, but I don't let many folks rest in peace. When I'm struggling with something on the ladder, I ask him to hold it steady. When the well-guys said it'd be $300 to dig a hole, I felt him standing nearby with his pipe, giving his opinion. "My arm's not broke and I have a shovel." So - I started shoveling. He was hard-headed and hard-working, and it's filtered down through the generations. He was a character.

Since this is Christine's month, born on George Washington's birthday, I'll share a Grandpa story for her involving a ladder. My stepmother insisted they needed an outside light on the garage, and eventually wore down his resistance. When she threatened to hire someone to install it, he got on with putting it up himself.

Except he wanted it "just there". Not two inches to the left nor two inches to the right. Except "just there" happened to be through a thick support stud. And he didn't have a long enough drill bit. And he didn't want to buy one just to use for this occasion. So he thought a bit, then climbed up on the ladder inside the large garage / workshop / equipment building he'd constructed. With his rifle. And tried to shoot a hole through it.

It kicked him off the ladder and set his ears to ringing for days. Concrete floor in an aluminum building, and we see this wasn't the wisest course for a 68-year old man to choose.

Then he bought a drill bit.

I don't know if this is the same ladder, but it could be.

Only people that know its history would find any value in it, but it fits me pretty good. Light-weight, easy to move, and I don't have to worry about spilling paint on it.

Like father, like daughter - I saw him get the ashes knocked out of his pipe when he hit a live wire, and I got a minor zap here the other day. Rather flummoxed by it, because is there any reason a wall outlet would be juiced with two hot lines feeding into it? One came in from the left and was 'working up the line' and one came in from the right - also working.

I had the left one disconnected, which is a live wire, and was a bit surprised to find out it still had juice. I didn't understand the reason behind this, but I put it back the same way after adding a switch for an outside light to be added.

Oh. Hi, Dad!

PS - Grandpa says "Happy Birthday, Christine" :)

Whew, if I wasn't living in it...

(Midnight ramblings)
Half the time I wonder how I got into this (my mind deceives even me - "quick and easy" it says, and that's a quote), part of the time I'm head-scratching on how to fix another piece, and occasionally I ponder how to put it all back together again.

Do I know what I'm doing? Vaguely, maybe. Subject to change as situations present themselves. As usual, no real blueprint; gathered what I had, threw it in a pile, tried to figure out what I needed, added in some experience. Stir, let simmer, get on with it.

I'm stopping early tonight... so I can get crackin' on it again tomorrow. A few more unusual things presented themselves today. With my first cup of coffee, I realized my computer desk was a space-hog. It had a center support length-wise underneath that was inconvenient, and I had a perfectly good desk next to it, sans keyboard shelf.

Recycled motel desks I've had for years, solid and have been 'recycled' about 5 times in my life. At one point, I flipped one upside-down, set the other on top, added a board so it wouldn't fall, ran a closet bar across it - voila, it was a closet while I needed it to be.

First cup of coffee, and it dawned on me all I needed to do was screw the pull-out shelf off the old desk onto this one and saw the overhang board off. For a little project, it took a bit, but a fairly easy fix.

Dropping down the ceiling fan / light was a pain - literally. It was a bit wobbly and the Styrofoam is thick going up, so figured I best try to fix it. I'd put it in myself, so had some experience with it. (Garage sale, $5 years ago) Keeripes, it's a heavy bugger! I added a board, rewired it, got it back up...

Fan still too high compared to the Styrofoam going up. Scratched my head to increase brain cell activity. Realized I had another outlet box in the shed and the wires would feed to it, so -. Dropped it down again. Installed the box so I'd have the proper bolt holes, redid the wires, and got it back up.

Snapshot of moments of this process: standing on a wobbly ladder (another story) holding a wobbly light on my tiptoes to support it with my shoulder and my arms and legs getting wobbly from the strain of it. I usually holler at the Universe and folks on the other side to help in these situations, and between us, we finally got it back up.

For now, I clean up the area, flop down Styrofoam, lay out my bed on top; bring in dog blankets since the kids are gone and hunker down. I passed the queen-sized bed to another through Free-cycle (local 'net) and have to, literally, 'make my bed'. Before I can do this, I need to...

Morning note, continued:
While I had a portion of the wall open, I investigated the heat duct to this room. It's tapped in to the furnace line by about six feet of uninsulated pipe and fed through a hole in the concrete. It's not only losing heat to the underside, it's exchanging cold when the furnace isn't running, so there's a cold blast every time the heat kicks on. I assume this is a bad thing, just gut instinct.

So - before I finish that wall, I need to creatively insulate the pipe. Crawling under the house is not an option if I can avoid it, nor is tearing this pipe loose (God forbid, or I will be under it for repairs). Creating a 'tube of insulation' and slipping it on like a sock is my plan. I'm also going to extend it out about 3 feet inside a box / shelf, because it's hard to keep the wall clear to humor the heat vent.

Checklist: fix up the heat vent; finish walls; run switch to outside-light-going-in-this-summer; replace crackling outlet; make bed; make closet; make shelves. Then finish everything else.

IT'S ALREADY A TON WARMER IN HERE - weather is at -10 this morning, and I don't feel cold pouring in from the foundation, floor, porch. I think this extra plastic and insulation on the ceiling will help prevent the ice berms forming off my roof - yay!

In a strange way, I'm impressed and grateful it seems to be working. I've been tackling it on blind faith and a handful of information, with a small fistful of dollars and a shaky belief I was capable of making it work.

I really want 'my bed made' so I can quit camping out on the floor.

Looks like a full day, better get started. Time to fold up my bed.

Holy Kadiddle-hoppers!

I'm in the thick of it now. Luckily I'm not six feet tall, because adding 4 inches of Styrofoam to the floor meant I have a choice of three: cut the door down from the porch, cut the door jamb up to fit, or hang a curtain. Guess what my favorite option is?

Everything's piled in the kitchen and living room, so it's rather a mess. I bought the dogs hot dogs, decided I'd have two for lunch, and realized the only way to reach the microwave was to literally climb on top of a pile of stuff and crawl across the counter. Luckily I hadn't piled anything on that counter to wiggle around.

While I was making a mess anyway, I figured I may as well tear down the old ceiling tiles. Put up a sheet of new plastic, because it was, um, well aged - kind of like Swiss cheese. As I thought, when they added this room on, they ran the paneling backed against the original concrete block foundation without insulation or moisture barrier. Cold Infiltration! And probably shooting moisture right up into the ceiling.

Par for the course, I got caught on a couple dozen staples from the carpet and floor boards when I pried them up. Blood dripping everywhere, and do you think there's band-aids in the box labeled 'Band-aids' in the bathroom? Of course not, there's some ointment in it. Toilet-papered wrapped about five fingers and kept working. Then I stopped for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, went to lick the raspberry jelly off my hand, and realized - how would I know what was jelly? Determined it was time to wash my hands.

SOMEONE (ahem, Becky) sent me a check for Christmas so I could buy something 'for myself'. I did. A saw-zal. Today I cut up the edge of a desk and put the keyboard frame on it off my old computer desk. Yesterday I sawed Styrofoam with it. Now I'm going to go saw the door down to fit.

What?! Did you think I was going to mess with moving hinges around? They're a pain in the arse, and I can just whack the door bottom off to fit. If I do want to ever cut a door proper, I have my saw and can do it then. :)

So how's things in your world?