Yesterday my wife mowed the lawn. That was a bit of a messy task, given how wet the lawn has been. She left tire tracks all over the place. But it had to be done. It is raining again as I write this. The amusing bit, however, was when she tried to mow under the silver maple tree. We have this beautiful tree, maybe 25 years old, and it grows, like all silver maples, faster than most trees. The branches have been hanging lower and lower, some of them almost reaching the ground. The mower has taken a wider and wider path around the tree. It just gets too scratchy trying to blast through the low branches. So I took some action.
I started yesterday, clipping the lowest branches. I had a good pile of branches going before I quit. Today I busted out a ladder and finished the job. Well, I finished the trimming part. I had a big honking pile of brush by the time I was done, and my son was having a blast playing in it. He has the peddle ride on tractor and he started by hauling the branches into the woods. He got tired of that after, I don’t know, one load, and then just romped in the leaves and sticks. He sat neck deep next to his “crashed” tractor. He wanted to have a picnic in the pile. I got him a cup of pretzels.
Later, once the sun had dried things a little, I started in on the endless house painting project. One corner of the house has some lovely lilac and pine trees surrounding it. It looks nice but it was a bear trying to move around them. So I busted out the saw. I have been meaning to prune these anyway. Last winter we would be kept awake by the pines scraping the side of the house whenever it got windy enough. Those wily branches needed to go. I lopped and sawed and now I’ve got some room to work.
I had one other issue, however. We had two bushes on the south side of the house, the same one I am trying to get painted first. One of them succumbed to what we think was some kind of fungus. I cut that puppy down in the spring. The other one is now kicking the bucket and I need to cut it down before it gets too far gone. It right in front of a window I need to get at. The problem is that is it an evergreen with needles. When the needles are green, they are smooth and soft. When they get dry and brown, each tiny needle is just that–a needle. Those babies are so sharp and so persistent they make me just about cry. Getting one of those in a shoe is painful I tell you.
I started in on this bush but I had to be careful. I was wearing shorts and Crocs, of all things. This was fine for scraping and sanding, but not so fine for cutting back the needle bush. I did manage to cut enough that I can now maneuver at the window. Of course, the thing looks truly wretched now–a hacked and mangled, jagged, green and brown protrusion. Now I really need to get that thing out of there.
Since it is raining again, I won’t be able to sand first thing tomorrow. Looks like I’ll need to slide into some pants, put on my heavy jacket, don the gloves and goggles, and have at that bush. It’s tough, but I’ll show it the what for. I’ll make sure to wear some better shoes.
We all have our quirks. Some people are particular about how the toilet paper roll hangs. Some people have to load the dishwasher just the right way. Some people never use their turn signal. I like sharp pencils.
I know a lot of people don’t even use pencils. They yse pens, if they write things by hand at all. It’s not like people tend to keep journals these days, or write letters. Even the words I am writing now are not being written by hand, unless you count typing on a keyboard. Pencils seem so elementary school. But I love them. If I start a grocery list, I reach for a pencil first. Crossword puzzles? Gotta be in pencil.
The thing is, I like sharp pencils. A dull pencil is like a dull knife. Sure, it can get the job done, but it isn’t fun and it isn’t easy. A dull pencil makes for work. A sharp pencil makes for pleasure. A fine graphite tip scratching across paper–that is simply a joy. And those mechanical jobbers won’t do. A newly sharpened wooden pencil is a fine and incomparable thing.
I got a pencil sharpener from my grandmother a few years ago. She moved out and so cleaned out and gave me one. It hangs on the wall and has a hand crank. It is one of the most used tools in our house. I use it almost every day, in fact. I attached it to a post next to our desk downstairs. A few pencils sit in a bin above it. When my pencils start to wear too much, I crank it and start writing again.
One thing of which I am not a fan is an electric pencil sharpener. That seems like a waste of energy. That seems like it was designed for sloth. You can’t even wrap a couple of fingers around a little knob and make a few turns? You need electricity to sharpen a pencil? How lazy can you be? I guess if you have to sharpen hundreds of pencils (SAT test administrator?) it would come in handy. But otherwise, come on people.
We have been trying to weed through all of the random crap in our basement lately. We have boxes with art supplies, kitchen supplies, office supplies, all of which are half unpacked. I keep wondering how one couple could have gathered so many damn writing utensils? We have hundreds of pens and hundreds of pencils. I kid you not. I have to keep changing the system for how we will store them to accommodate more. We have a whole bin of pencils on the kitchen counter, tucked behind the telephone. My sharpener has been busy.
This doesn’t count, of course, the pencils that my daughter brings home. Apparently someone at the National Education Association convention recently announced that all teachers will be condemned as half-ass slackers if they do not provide dozens of pencils for each pupil to bring home each month. And the National Halloween Federation must have passed a ruling that since candy is bad for you, the safe and smart alternative is to hand out pencils. As a parent this isn’t all that bad–hey, less candy to rot my kid’s teeth. But if I were a kid I’d be pissed–A pencil? Do that again next year and I’ll poke your eye out.
In summary:
I like to write with pencils
I have scores of pencils, some of which are older than Thriller
I like sharp pencils
Electric pencil sharpeners are for lazy people
I sharpen my pencils with a tool that is older than Michael Jackson himself
I support, although I do not necessarily agree with, the idea that pencils are better than candy, even if they are sharp
If you happen to need a pencil when you stop by, and I’m not home, you can find them behind the telephone
Satellite television is the biggest ripoff ever
OK that last one has nothing to do with pencils. Got a problem with that? Write me a letter. In pencil.
I made some good headway on the old house painring project today. I sanded and made, generally, a huge mess. I ended up covered in dust. Those respirator masks are brilliant I tell you. I am working on two sides, already scraped, and I got a good deal of the way to sanding all of it when the sander busted. The pad that holds the sanding disks flew off, spinning into the oregano plants. That was the end of it.
I went into town and got a new pad, and some more sanding disks, and while I was at it a piece of lumber to replace one corner board on the garage. Rain started falling on the way home. This is turning out to be a slow project.
It keeps raining. We did have a clear day on Thursday, and yesterday it rained just for a brief shower. But it has been wet. Not ideal for an outdoor painting project. Maybe tomorrow will be dry again.
For now I will kick back with an adult beverage and wait. Summer is a time to get things done. It seems also to be a time for patience. I guess that means chilling for a bit. I can live with that.
Once thunderstorm season comes our way, we get rainbows. Late in the day, the sun slants low across the fields. When scattered showers fall, the light shines through the falling water and it glows. A rainbow arcs across the sky. Last night as the children were falling asleep, rain fell through the sun. The rainbow lasted a half hour or so. It was one of the longest lasting I have seen. We will have more. This is a perfect spot for rainbows.
There was a recent article in the Guardian, The Lifestyle to Beat Alzheimer’s, about what one can do to keep dementia at bay. The headliner was about coffee (this New York Times article has more details about that). Coffee drinkers, it noted, “will be clinking mugs in a toast to new research suggesting that just two strong cups of the black stuff a day can reverse the effects of Alzheimer’s disease.” I’ll make sure to keep sipping the dark roast.
The article mentioned several other things that research suggests can keep one’s brain sharp enough to avoid slipping into forgetfulness. To summarize:
Drink two strong cups of coffee (the regular stuff, not decaf) per day
Eat blueberries, kale and broccoli (and other vegetables)
Don’t smoke (duh)
Drink one or two alcoholic drinks per day
Stay in shape
Speak more than one language
Stay married (no divorce allowed as that can increase risk of getting dementia)
Do crossword, sudoku and other puzzles
Other than speaking multiple languages, I’m doing pretty well on this list. I am working on the puzzle thing especially right now. I’ve got multiple books of them going at once, in fact. I have been tackling crossword puzzles, sudoku, kenken and new to me, kakuro.
My parents gave me five new books of puzzles for Father’s Day. My mother sees dementia every day, since she works in an elderly care facility. I guess she wants to keep me sharp for longer than other people. I’m good with that. My parents really do love me. Puzzles: the gift that keeps giving, even when you become an old codger.
I am afraid I could use some help with staving off dementia. Already, I forget crap all the time. If taking the time to do some puzzles will help, I’ll do it. It may get in the way of other things but that is the way of it. ”Sorry, honey, can’t paint the house right now; I’ve got to prevent Alzheimer’s right now.”
We took a trip up to Montreal the other day. It was just a day trip. That is a benefit to living here. We can zip and cross the border and be in a large city in a few hours. The idea was to expose our children to the city and to some things they just won’t see in their typical days. It took about three hours to get up there. The border crossing on the way there was cake. They are pretty laid back in Canada. A few questions, a peek at our ID (we all have passports now) and off we went to the great white north.
We went first to the Biodome. This place is pretty amazing. It hosts several ecosystems, complete with plants, animals and birds. Capybara, monkeys, beaver, penguins, lemurs–there is a lot to see. That would make the trip worthwhile in itself but we were not there long. The children lasted less than an hour inside. So we split for the city center. Signs are in French and getting on the Metro isn’t intuitive. We asked for directions and paid in US cash. We had meant to get Canadian dollars but never got around to it. They took it, as seems to always be the case. Since the US dollar is worth 1.15 Canadian right now, why not?
The Metro was probably the best part of the trip. Our kids had never ridden a subway before so they got a good slice of city public transportation–lots of people, a musician, the fun of figuring out which stop is yours. Once we got off at McGill, we wondered for a bit. Montreal off was showing off its urbanity and we walked through it a bit before stopping at a shop to buy candy and toothpaste. We covered the bases.
And then we headed back. We were in the car more than we were out of it, but we were happy with our trip. Seeing the bridge over the Saint Lawrence River, driving through tunnels, reading road signs in French, they all added to the experience. Unlike Customs on the way into Canada, where we waited about ten minutes and were greeted with a smile, we waited maybe 45 minutes to talk to Mr. Stern Face at US Customs. But he did let us pass unmolested.
The children were tuckered by the time we got home. And hungry. After a late dinner we headed right to bed. We dreamed of living in a big city, and woke up to celebrate the birthday of our own nation. It does have some major issues, and isn’t as progressive and free as Canada, but overall, this nation of ours is a great place to live for most people. If only we could get the health care thing down, we might be as hip as our northern neighbor. One can hope.
I had this crazy idea of putting in some shelves in the garage today. The previous owners had planned to do that and graciously left some boards for the purpose. They never got to it. Neither had I. Today was the day to make it happen.
I had all the materials I needed and I gathered all my tools. I pretty much just needed to measure and cut and assemble. Great. But I couldn’t find a level. A level is pretty much a must have tool when installing shelves. I guess I could have just eyeballed it, but I would likely be ruing that decision every time I went into the garage. Cockamamie shelves just won’t do.
I searched the house to find one of the two levels we own. We have a newer one and we also have an old one that belonged to my grandfather. Neither was where it should have been and I looked every place either of them might be. I looked and looked, searching places two or three times. I even looked in places it probably would not be found, but where it just might fit, like in with my pants. You never know.
I was unsuccessful in my quest. I was even going to try the mini level on our square, but I couldn’t find that. I kept going out to the garage and looking at the shelf that is there, a makeshift particle board jobber. That thing is crooked and falling down and unsturdy and ugly. We keep crap on it anyway. I want that gone and some solid shelves instead. I’m not looking for perfection here. I plan to use the lumber I’ve got on hand. If I can make this happen, however, we will have more shelf space and stuff won’t slide off every time I shut the door too hard. Apparently, however, my tools to get the job done have disappeared.
So I have no new shelves. I did manage to install some hooks to hang our snowshoes. They have been piled on a shelf (a different one, way up high over the firewood) the past couple of winters, so that at least feels like something. Summer is well underway and the year, as of today, has entered its second half. I need to get cranking if I want to get much done this summer. But first I need to round up all my tools. I would prefer not to spend the next couple months searching for them.
I know I should be all grown up and whatnot, but let’s face it, flatulence is funny. A friend once called it “cosmic humor” since it would be funny to any intelligent life form. That was years ago and I still believe it. Then I discovered this:
With this stuff so easily accessible, I am not sure I will ever be able to grow up.
