Summer Update

Turkey Vulture in the Clouds

Turkey Vulture in the Clouds

So the semester is over and summer is officially here for me, solstice be damned. I’ll probably be able to blog a bit more, and vent some of the accumulated thoughts jumbled up in my brain.

For now, a few bits of updates.

I’ll be reading and reviewing The Unlikely Disciple, by Kevin Roose, for Carnal Nation. I’ll post a link for you when it’s up.

I’ll be hosting the next Carnival of the Liberals here on May 20th. I’ve been receiving submissions and should be getting to those by tomorrow. To this point, they’ve been shunted into a folder in my mailbox just because they started coming in during the lead up to finals week.

Speaking of finals, I think our team project for English 113 (our final was a presentation on one of Hamlet’s soliloquys) went OK, and I expect an A on that and in the class.

I bumped into my Bio 112 prof in a store here in town a few hours after the Bio final. He stopped to say hello and told me I got an A on the final, and complimented my answer regarding The Tragedy of the Commons. I don’t think I did well on the previous exam, so I’m thinking I’m in A/B borderland. Hopefully the final will pull me above the line.

I’ve been doing a lot of photography, uploading pics to my Facebook albums and to Twitpic. Kay is prepping to graduate high school next month, and since the ceremony will be in the football stadium, we needed a decent camera. I had been scrounging to find some cash for summer tuition, but we diverted those funds (and then a little) into getting a Canon EOS Rebel xs a few days ago since I won’t be going to school this summer anyway, and I’ve been using the heck out of it and trying to figure out all those knobs and buttons.

And that’s a bit of a story, too. UNCW Center for Marine Science gives two paid internships per year to Coastal Biology students, and I was nominated by the department for one of them. That was awesome and I was very excited. But then Dub emailed The Chair to tell her that the economy tanked those two internships. That was not awesome and I was bummed. Then Dub emailed The Chair again, and offered one internship on a volunteer basis, and I was offered that. So I guess now I’m quasi-excited. I said from the beginning that I would have done it for free, and in fact assumed it was volunteer at first and was happy to do it, but then I found out I was going to be paid, and now that I’m not going to be paid… well, y’know. I’m excited, but feel a bit like a kid teased with a lolipop. Oh well, I’m looking forward to it. Dub is where I intend to finish my bachelors degree and they have a ton of interesting research projects going, so it’s still a great opportunity. I’m really proud of being nominated for that one slot.

Easy Cool

Easy Cool

And JP. James tried pole vaulting this year for the first time. It’s interesting in that he had no idea that my Pop was a pole vaulter in high school. He seems to love it, finished fifth in the conference, and even went to Regionals. He lettered, and he’s got three more years of vaulting ahead of him. How freaking cool is that?

Oh, and he’s fifteen today. Happy Birthday, son.

From whence came the art:

I took both of those images with my new Canon EOS Rebel xs, and they are each licensed by me under the Creative Commons Attribution- NonCommercial- Share Alike 3.0 License.

Just a Simple Melody

Feeling each word!, by Shahireh @ Flickr

Feeling each word!, by Shahireh @ Flickr

It’s funny, the connections the internet brings. Finding the little things that connect me to someone half a world away always amazes me, always brings a smile and a sense of wonder.

Now sure, there are the big connections, the grand ideas that I share with lots of people. Ideas that are large and encompassing: important, headline material upon which the future of humanity hangs.

But much more likely to bring a smile of wonder to my face are the little things, little things like a song sung on the street by an unknown street performer.

I was on Facebook a few days ago, and came across a random meme involving ‘my rock band’. The idea was that I was to use the randomize features of wikipedia, quotationspage, and Flickr to put together my fictional band’s first album cover.

I thought it a pleasant distraction, and went through all the steps. (I’ll put up the meme at the end of this post.) The image I drew through Flickr was (oddly enough) titled Flicker, by a photographer named Shahireh. Shahireh’s photostream is made up of photos from the UK and from Iran, and most of the comments left to her are in Arabic Persian of Farsi (though she speaks both Arabic Persian of Farsi and English). It made a great album cover, and I was moved to flip through her other photos. One of them, the one to the left, caught my eye.

Read on, to find out why.

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Text Book Addenda

Your future starts today

Your future starts today at Coastal Carolina Community College

For Kayla.  The Onslow County School District will pay for her college courses, and they used to have a book exchange program.  It may or may not be renewed, as past students apparently have been remiss in returning the text books.  We won’t know the district’s decision until Tuesday.

Psych 150 – General Psychology – Psychology MyLab Edition (Hardcover), by Saundra E. Ciccarelli (Author), Glenn E. Meyer (Author) – $124 new, $92 used, $118 new @ Amazon, $56.95 used @ Amazon.

Art 111 – Art Appreciation – Living with Art 8th edition, by Mark Getlein,  – $112 new, $83.95 used, $98.77 new @ Amazon, $78 used @ Amazon.

She’s kind of limited by what the district will pay for, and by prerequisites, so she picked classes that A) had seats open in time slots when she isn’t in school, and B) would probably be required across a wide variety of majors, as she’s become less decided on her field of study these last few weeks.

(How we spent yesterday together below the fold.)

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Fire

Got a call from Kay a while ago, she had just gone to pick up her check from work and put it in the bank.  (Still hard to get over her working and driving and all that!)

She’d gotten a block down the street.  A friend of my son, we’ll call him D, lives down there.  He’s kind of one of my adopted children.  D was home alone, and his house had caught fire.  I grabbed both house extinguishers and started to run down the street, hoping it was maybe a pot on the stove or something.

No.  When she said “on fire”, she meant “on fire”.  D was out and unhurt, spraying the garden hose in one of the front bedroom windows, but it was a battle he had no chance of winning.  At the very most he might have slowed the fire a little until the fire companies got there – except it was already in the ceiling and attic.  It was brave, if hopeless.

(More after the fold)

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Happy Coffee Pots and Sad Connections

I made this cup of coffee and it danced for meI’m a coffee addict. I drink a couple pots a day, which probably isn’t terribly healthy. With that kind of (over)usage, I tend to go through coffee pots fairly quickly. Usually, I’m happy to get a year or two out of them, so I don’t bother spending a great deal of money on them.

Last year, on Mother’s Day, my $10 Sunbeam decided it had had enough, and just stared angrily at me, rather than make my damned coffee. Recalcitrant jerk. It was Sunday, it was Mother’s Day, it was 6 A Fracking M. How terribly rude and inconvenient. Fortunately, Wal-Mart is open, even on Sunday, even on Mother’s Day, even at 6 A Fracking M.

It took some time, and was somewhat later in the morning before I actually got out the door, but I came home with my very first Mother’s Day present (from myself). I decided I’d splurge, and see if I could get more life out of something more expensive. It was sleek, black, and had a cappuccino / espresso maker attached. It was awesome, and I looked forward to the occasional chokalokacappuccino mocha latte ramalamadingdong.

Sadly, by Father’s Day, the thing would take like an hour to brew a pot of coffee, and gurgled and wheezed and caused the windows to rattle and I got the occasional complaint from the neighbors. I could always tell when they had planned on sleeping late in the morning by the evil stares across the yard in the afternoon. I had brewed too early. Still, I was determined to get my fifty bucks worth, and I’ve put up with the rattling, groaning, overpriced piece of garbage for over a year now.

This morning, the neighbors are happy. They are asleep in their beds, contentedly dreaming of JanieBelle and Kate and Lilith and Lucifer, whilst I sit here writing nonsense, enjoying freshly and quietly brewed joe. Little John, his own father now a permanent resident of California, surprised me with a beautiful white cheapo coffee pot for Father’s Day, and I love it dearly already.

But this Father’s Day brings me strange and sad news already as well.

(Continued below the fold)

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Nasty Nightmare

My Own Nightmare, by Infinity Rain @ FlickrSometimes a nightmare will inspire me, once I’m awake and look back at it. Not this one. It just scared the living crap out of me. Fortunately, I woke up before the end.

I needed some pain meds yesterday, after being four hours on my feet in the morning. The last three days, I’d been proctoring for the middle school End of Grade exams, so for the first time since I injured my neck, I’d been on my feet for an extended period without a break. Yesterday was the last day, so once I’d gotten the kids home from school I took a couple of muscle relaxers. I thought about the pain killer but decided to skip it. I haven’t had one in a while and didn’t want to get started taking them again. It’s a very addictive narcotic, and it makes my head all fuzzy.

The muscle relaxers kicked in and I crashed out about six last night. I slept straight through to 3AM, woke up for about an hour, and went back to sleep.

I awoke from the nightmare a few minutes ago. It started out pretty good, though. I was a new teacher and a group of really old black men with silver hair were teaching me to play the saxophone in the teachers’ lounge (which was outside on the deck in the forest, ’cause that’s where teachers’ lounges always go, right?). I stepped away for a moment to talk to my wife, and when I got back, the table, the men, and the sax were all missing.

It must have been late fall, because the ground was covered in orange leaves and the trees were bare. My wife and I went looking for the sax in the forest. I found it at the bottom of a little dry creek bed, caught in the top of a fallen tree. When I climbed into the thick tangle of branches to get it, I suddenly found that the tree was not a fallen one at the bottom of a creek bed, but a standing one at the tip of a long, skinny spit of land overlooking a deep gorge, and it was swaying (with me in it) out over the chasm. I shifted my weight a little when it swayed backwards toward the safe ground, and got it to crack and fall, dropping on top of me as I hit the ground.

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Licensed Driver

Entering Hyperspace, by ÉoleKay passed her driving exam today, and can now legally drive herself around without me.

I sent her to the grocery store. (Not really, but I’m going to.)

She’s out on her first solo now, gone to visit her Mom at work. I’m so proud, and so damned old.

From whence came the art:

That image is titled Entering Hyperspace, by Éole

Medical Merry Go Round

JP Immediately Pre-OpIt just doesn’t seem to end sometimes, y’know?

So both kids were out of school most of last week, sick. JP had some sort of stomach thing going on, Kay a virus exhibiting different symptoms. Kay was bad enough that we took her to see Doc Pace. Love that guy, btw. He checked her out, did a throat culture (which is where the worst of the symptoms where rearing their heads), gave her some antibiotics on the chance that it might be bacterial rather than viral. He was pretty sure it wasn’t strep or mono, at least.

She gets better by Friday and goes to school, James not so much.

He’s feeling better by Monday and goes to school, Kay finishes the course of antibiotics and begins to feel worse again.

Yesterday, I pick JP up from school, and he’s dragging ass getting to the car. He gets in and I say, “Yo, there are cars behind me with kids to pick up, what’s up with you?” He’s wincing in pain.

Now, he’s still wearing the boot from the ankle fracture he got at the end of football season so he’s not supposed to be on his skateboard or anything, but… yeah, like that would really stop him anyway. I figure he’s found a way to injure himself while on the field trip, undoubtedly doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing.

“My side hurts.”

“Where?”

“Right here.” He points.

“OK, we have to go to the hospital.” Kay’s home sick, I’m trying to get some writing done, I had not really anticipated appendicitis when I planned my day. I was in my PJs.

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Kay’s First Byline

I have no idea how she managed to get it done.  If you ask me, she’s way overextended herself, has too much going on, and takes on too many projects.

Fortunately, she has more sense than to listen to any damned thing I have to say on the subject.

Kay’s first article, co-written with a colleague (wow, that’s a weird word to associate with my baby girl), was just published in The Daily News.   Go read the whole thing.

Here’s the first little bit:

AS teenagers, most of us have a pretty long Christmas list ready for Santa — we’re just waiting for the “naughty” or “nice” stamp next to our name. But what about the kids who know that no matter how good they are this year, Santa’s not stopping by their home on Christmas? There are hundreds of homeless families right in our community who can’t afford a big fancy feast or even presents. Santa might be make-believe, but the struggle some families are fighting isn’t.

If you’d like to help, there are several local organizations you can contact.
Adopting a family through Christmas Cheer is one way to help a family who is in need for the holiday season.

Note what she chose to write about.  She rocks.

Liberty Likes Kayla

Kayla's acceptance letter*snicker*

So a few weeks ago, there were some college recruiters at the high school.  Kayla saw one that cracked her up, and she wanted the free t-shirt so she applied.

When she got back from her weekend trip back to Kentucky a few minutes ago, she came running into my room laughing hysterically after opening yesterday’s mail.  I had to share.

She’s been accepted to Liberty “University”, fundy brainwashing institute of late hate-mongering dirtbag Jerry Falwell.

That cracks me up.

If nothing else, she diverted a few bucks away from Liberty that they might have used to damage someone else.

And So It Begins

I Will Not Tease The BoysAnother school year began this week. There are sounds of school buses outside my window, children at the bus stop out front, piles of papers to be signed and returned, $15 notebooks that will be destroyed in a month, the smell of new textbooks in the house, and all the ambiance of another summer left behind.

And of course, there is the usual plethora of issues to be worked out.

First up, Kayla’s much beloved high school principal retired at the end of last school year. He will be sorely missed by every person with whom I’ve spoken. Replacing him will be Dr. Doom (as she is (un)affectionately monikered), formerly the principal at James’ middle school.

I’ve always liked Dr. Doom. She seems friendly but stern (as a principal should), intelligent, and capable. I was delighted for her when I had heard she received her doctorate a year or two ago.

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Family Updates

Livin Life in J-villeI know it’s rare that I post here more than once or twice a week, so I’m hoping I don’t cause any cardiac issues for anyone.

I just thought you’d like to know what’s been going on in the FCD family.

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Unforgiven

It had been a long time since I had lashed out in violent rage.  Years, as far as I can remember.  I had left violence and physical conflict escalation behind me with my youth.

Today, just a little while ago, I snapped.

I could bottle up no more, I was out of control with no desire to return to sanity.  IT had given me all I could take.  Years of to and fro, back and forth, frustration, rejection, all had slowly led to ITs own dehumanization.  IT no longer bore any connection to humanity for me.  IT was now just IT, nothing more than an inanimate pronoun, less than an idea.   IT had certainly not resembled that which IT once did, that which I had taken into my life so intimately, for quite some time.  I was overtaken by compulsion –  IT had to die.

I could taste the blood in my mouth from biting my tongue all these years.  I suddenly had an unquenchable taste for the blood – bloodlust they call that.  As my closed fist swung through the air, as my hand opened and released IT to crash on the floor, I felt no remorse for IT.   There was not an iota of compassion in me for IT, not an ounce of regret for the damage I was doing to IT.  I actually enjoyed watching the life-light leaving IT.

I watched myself in dispassion as without my command my foot kicked IT hard.  I was unhappy with the lack of painful scream emanating from IT, so I kicked IT again and again.

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I Dun Learnt Her Good

Sex, Sex, and more Sex

by my little girl.

Please stop by and offer your insights.

Sixteen

KaylaWow. It’s hard to believe, but my darling daughter, scourge of stupid bigotry and nightmare of fundy intolerance, voracious reader of grown up literature and writer of beautiful poetry, kind, insightful, intelligent, exuberant, and unapologetic mistress of all things mysterious, turns sixteen years old today.

She’s had sixteen years to hone the edge on her tongue, and she has taken full advantage.

She wasted no time in getting started, either. She was born by C-section and displayed her contrary personality from square one. Despite the repeated annoying attempts to block my view with that stupid paper screen, I watched as the doctor reached in and grabbed hold of my lovely little girl. First came a little tiny foot, which suddenly came to a halt a few inches outside my wife’s belly. The other leg had caught inside. Back in went the first foot, and out came two feet. But Kayla was not letting go that easily.

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Listen Up! Features Kayla

This appeared in the most recent Listen Up! section of our local paper:

Kayla

Kayla

Rising junior

Vanessa

July 3, 2007 – 10:11PM

1. The weirdest dream you’ve ever had: I had a dream when I was about 9 that my mom turned into a crab and tried to eat me and my brother.
2. Your theme song is: “Chasing cars,” by Snow Patrol.
3. You’d want this person to play you in a movie: Drew Barrymore.
4. If you could change the world, you’d start with: World hunger.
5. You regret: Absolutely nothing. I wouldn’t be where I am today if I hadn’t made the choices I’ve made.
6. You’re the most proud of: My Geometry H exam grade.
7. You do this for fun: Go to Logan’s with Jessica.
8. If you could, you’d be this superhero/have this special power: I’d want to fly so I could go anywhere in the world for free!
9. Your life so far has been: An interesting journey.
10. You consider this person your mentor: My mom. 110 percent. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for her.
— Compiled by Vanessa.

She cracks me up.

Kayla Walks

I meant to point this out, but it was during the hiatus so I forgot.  I’m blaming age and the pain meds as my cop-out.

Each year without fail, my wife and daughter participate in the local Relay For Life.  It’s a 24 hour walk-a-thon to raise money for the American Cancer Society.

The Jacksonville Daily News spoke to Kayla for their feature article on the Relay this year.

Kayla was devastated when her grandmother was diagnosed with cancer in 2003. Kayla, a White Oak High School sophomore who was in middle school at the time, remembers trying to stay strong. She couldn’t see her grandma often because of the distance. Kayla lived in Pennsylvania, her grandmother lived in Kentucky. And soon after the diagnosis, Kayla and her family moved to Jacksonville.

You can read the rest of it here.

I’m very proud of my daughter for taking time out of her very busy teenage life to participate each year.  I’m glad she’s trying to be part of the solution.

Allow Me to Share

In response to this post at the Denialism Blog,

If I may, please allow me to share a warm fuzzy divorce story…

I met a lovely young lady just before Halloween in 1987. We got along famously, and we were married before Thanksgiving. Probably not the brightest idea I’ve ever had I admit, but I was twenty and twenty year old boys aren’t always very wise.

Nevertheless, we did OK, and had a little girl in ’91 and a little boy in ’94. By the time he was a few months old, we were constantly fighting, and all miserable.

We split in April of ’95, and agreed not to fight any more over the past for the kids’ sake. Anytime the conversation steered toward the sore spots, one of us managed to steer it away. It wasn’t always easy.

We turned out to be much better friends than we were husband and wife, and by the time our divorce hearing came up, we had settled everything ourselves and showed up at the courthouse sans attorneys and holding hands.

The magistrate saw our hesitation as we pondered the plaintiff’s and defendant’s tables and helped, “You can sit together, if you want.”

She asked us a bunch of questions about our marriage, and about why we wanted to get a divorce, and when we were done, just before she banged the gavel she said to us, “Y’know, I’ve been doing this for 30 years, and you’re the first two adults I’ve ever divorced.”

Anyways, long ’bout ’02 we decided we kinda liked each other and she (the ex-wife, not the magistrate…just to clarify) and the kids moved in with me. Now we’re approaching our second anniversary of our second marriage to each other, and I gotta tell ya’- divorce was the best thing we ever did for each other or for the kids, statistics be damned.

Anecdotal and scientifically irrelevant, but it worked for us.

Divorce rocks. Ask my kids.

Hall Bath Pictures

Hall Bath
Ok, some pictures of the pimped out hall bath.

The pictures don’t really do it justice, I think. Of course, I’m biased.

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It All Started With A Little Paint…

So my daughter decided she wanted to paint the hall bath.  Despite my being a pretty useless cripple, I persuaded her to at least allow me to patch the holes in the drywall.  Our house is like 30 years old, and it had been a rental for a while, so it’s seen better days.  The cheapo towel rack had eventually ripped out of the wall, and the toilet paper holder wasn’t far behind. 

I could hardly begrudge her a little paint, the whole house is painted eggshell, with bright white ceilings.  It’s probably been the same coat of paint for about 10 years.  Well, except the kitchen.  The kitchen is a lovely shade of dark brown cheap ass 1965 panelling.  That’s another story which has yet to be written. 

Ok, so I can’t do much at a time.  I’m a cripple.  I’m taking my time, doing a little patching one day, a little sanding a few days later when I recover, yada yada yada.  Two weeks ago, my wife and daughter head to Kentucky and I plan on spending the whole weekend writing.  Yeah, shoulda known that wasn’t gonna happen.

James comes to me and says, “Dad, can we host the cast party for the musical at school?”

“Sure, when is it?”

“Next weekend.”

“Fuck.”

The kids have all their toiletries all down the hall carpet, because I’ve got the bathroom torn up.

So I have to get into what is for me now, overdrive.  What should take me a day or two takes me weeks now.  But as long as I’m patching the holes in the drywall, I might as well do the tape joint where the walls meet the ceiling, because the 30 year old tape job is coming apart and needs attention.  And as long as I’m at it, I might as well replace the $2 rental home bathroom light.  Found a really nice one at the Depot, chrome with white porcelain accents.  And the goddamned fart fan is the size of a matchbox, and doesn’t do squat but run up the electric bill, so I might as well replace that rusty old piece of crap. 

300 cfm of pure sucking pleasure, baby!  (That’s “cubic feet per minute”, for those of you non-construction bums.)  That sonuvabitch will out suck most cheap hookers.

Before they left, the girls picked out the paint for the walls.  Lime fucking green.  What the hell am I gonna do to match that paint?  It looks even worse on the walls than it does on the can.  Fuckin’ women.

Might as well replace that $1.50 plastic medicine cabinet with the fake brass trim that’s been peeling off since before I was born.   It’s only about big enough for a tube of chapstick and a condom anyway.

I rip it out of the wall, and whatya know?  The wet wall is 8″ deep and no pipes behind the medicine cabinet.  I love when that happens.  Daddy gonna build a medicine cabinet to take advantage of all the space.

Long as I’ve got the wall open, there’s no receptacle in the bathroom, so I might as well install a GFI.

But what about the lime fucking green paint?  Banana yellow.  Yep.  Banana fucking yellow.  I rock.  I am a genius.  It is the only shade of any color in the world which will salvage this fucking can of Lime fucking green paint.  I’ll trim around the door and the baseboard with banana yellow.  Might as well replace the light and fan switches and the cheap ass plastic plate.  Got good metal ones and painted them yellow to match the trim.

Nice medicine cabinet.  All red oak, with a golden oak stain.  No one will ever see them, but it’s all dovetailed together, dado and rabbit joints for the shelves, not a nail or screw in it, ‘cept for the hinges and the handle.  I rock.

Y’know what would be cool, and would help tie things together?  That glass shelf and toilet paper holder at the Depot that sort of match the light.  I’ll mount them on oak blocks to tie in with the medicine cabinet.  Oh, and the hooks on that coat rack?  They match the rest, but the mount is cheap ass crap.  I’ll dismount them, and mount them on matching oak blocks.

Wife and daughter bought some cheap white cabinets for the bath.  I’ll hang them for now, but replace them later.  I like the idea of the wall cabinet and the etagere, but they’re cheap particle board snap together things.  I’ll copy the style and build nice ones down the road.

Wife and daughter picked up a jungle themed shower curtain at my direction, and I added a paint transfer bush behind the new door.  It was one of those crappy brown fake wood hollow core P.O.S. doors that run through the whole house.  I put in a new masonite door (Pop did the mortising and knob hole drilling, he’s got the stuff to hang doors, being a carpenter and all.)  I put new brass hinges and a decent little handle on it, instead of a regular knob.  It’s much dressier.

Long as I’m at it:  Yep, matching faucet.  Sweet.

11:30 PM on the eve of the cast party, I’m still slinging yellow paint on the door trim.  It’ll have to do.

My blogs are all but cobwebby, but as long as I can move, I have to be doing stuff.

I’m joking with the family.  “I should start my own reality TV show: ‘Pimp my toilet’.

It turned out pretty well for having started with a cripple and some lime green paint, I think.  Of course, now the entire rest of the house looks even worse, next to the pimped out banya.

I got it all done in time, and while I was still mobile, I figured I’d try to work on the freeze board project I started a few months ago.  I managed to make it all the way across the back of the house.  I still have to fill the screw holes and do the touch up paint, then I can hang some crown mould and stuff.

See, when they built the house, they just slapped in some skank 2X6s, just barely hanging on the wall, then slapped on some 1/4″ plywood and cheap ass metal trim.  It’s the cheapest way to do it.  (The freeze board is the part of the house that comes down from the roof to lap over the top of the brick wall, so the rain doesn’t run behind it.)  I don’t blame them, their job is to slap up as many houses as they can in the shortest amount of time with the least amount of money.  But after 30 years, it rotting and crappy and now that the house is mine, I want to fix things right.  It’s a construction bum thing. 

So I took some 2X4s, built a little wall on top of the brick (deck screws, no way in hell I can drive 16 penny nails), and put some 3/4” pine board up with finishing screws.  It’s painted Sidesaddle (brown), and I’m thinking I’ll go with some Family Legacy (tan) to trim other parts of the house.  Before I started, it was all the same eggshell that’s inside the house, except the gutters which are the most godawful red-brown.  It’s horrendous.  Anyway, so what should have taken a day took me several months to be able to do.  And it’s just the back of the house.  I still have both ends and the front to do.

There’s a homeless woodpecker out back now, and some pissed off European Starlings, but they’ll get over it.  At least I’ll be able to shower in peace now.  (The “master bath” sticks out on the back of the house, and was open at the freezeboard for a while now.)  Goddamn woodpecker trying to see my pecker wood.  I ain’t shy, but I’m choosy, y’know?

Anyways, that’s the long and the short of my emergency disappearence.  I’ll try to get pictures up tomorrow, because I have a feeling that that’s about all I’m going to be able to do.  I’ve used up my quota of good days for quite some time, I think.

I hurt like hell, and I’m going to go shower now.  In fact, I think I’ll take a bath.  I’m a little afraid of falling, my legs have been acting up bad today.  Meds and spinning blades don’t mix, and I had to use the spinning blades.  I’ve been a terror, but not as bad as last time I was without meds.  Knowing what was going on helped me to mitigate the collateral damage, I think, though I’ve had my moments.  Kay was pretty pissed at me for a couple days there.  God only knows what horrible things I may have said in my insanity.

Anyways again, I’m taking my meds in the morning.  Dr. Jeckyl should replace Mr. Hyde shortly thereafter.

Thanks for all of your concern.  There was just no way I could do any blogging at the end of the day.  The only thing I could manage was to crawl into bed and hope I didn’t have to pee until morning.

‘Til tomorrow.