December 2022

Fall’s all gone, and it’s cold out there.
Outdoor projects are on hold until further notice.
And then Lowe’s called. My windows are in. The ones I’d wanted by July.
I didn’t know whether to celebrate or sigh, so I put them downstairs, and tried to forget about them.
But they were underfoot and in the way, and the best way to get them out of the way was to just put them in, the way I wanted them. No two ways about it!
Anyway, I picked a nice day and did some cold, rough carpentry, and I only made small mistakes.

Also underfoot and in the way: Dad’s boxes. Twelve of them, full of his tools and personal effects from his office, and smack dab where I want to build a wall for the apartment.
And the best way to get them out of the way was to sort through them.
So I went through all the boxes and absorbed most of the contents into my own collection of tools and treasures. He had a truly amazing collection of high speed rotary power tools, “one of everything” from the Tandy Leather catalog, and “three of” an awful lot of brand new pocket-sized goodies.

While I was at Redwood, I didn’t think to go through his stuff in the ‘community workshop’ room, and I feel like I kind of missed the boat.  Who knows what treasures I missed? There was very little in Dad’s pile from his lapidary era. Same for his turning,  jewelry, and casting  days, and we all know he went all out on all those things.
So many unusual tools and supplies — poof.

So I framed the wall which went where Dad’s boxes had been. And now, the main thing that’s underfoot and in the way is the motorcycle workbench, which is piled high with motorcycle clutter I haven’t touched for two years. Maybe I should ‘just put the damned engine back together’ and get it out of the way?
Not counting on it.

All my life, ‘more is better’ has been the rule regarding bacon and ice cream.
And all my life, there’s been no consequences. Weight, figure, BMI, LDL? All good.
Then suddenly, BAM. The doctor tells me my cholesterol is high. A stroke is nigh. “Get your shit together,” she said.
And I’m working on it. I’ve found that it’s a lot easier to give up bacon and eggs than ice cream, so granola it is.
And for the first time in my life, I’m looking forward to my next blood panel.

Now that Mary is back from vacation (Santa Fe), and
now that Mary is back from the dead (flu),
we went and got our Christmas tree.  We got a nice one, and we were going about the business of putting it up, when – it’s a long story – I cut myself with a knife.
Not a lot of blood, but it could have been a lot worse a quarter inch away.

Mary roasted a chicken last night, made soup this morning, and chicken salad sandwiches for lunch. I was eating my lunch in my chair when a piece of chicken fell out of my sandwich and onto the floor. Following the five second rule,  I  groped about under my chair, found a  moist lump, picked off the cat hairs, and popped it in my mouth.
It wasn’t chicken.

The Big Storm musta’ been in the news for a week before it finally hit, so I topped off my gas cans and refrigerators and we settled in.
First it snowed a foot. Then it rained a foot. Then the temperature dropped a foot and the wind picked up and it howled all night. We were snug.
Next morning, there was no problem, so I snoozed for a few more minutes and woke up to no power. Sigh.
Pee. Don’t flush. Coffee. Cat. Socks. Generator.
Generator wouldn’t start. Sigh.
Starter fluid did the trick, but our new wifi plugs into a plug that isn’t powered by the generator, so … Sigh.
Several extension cords later, we were snug again.
The power company said “two days.” Maybe.
I had gas on hand to run the generator for a day and a half. Maybe.
So we did a rolling blackout, and only had power for a couple hours at a time.
Thus was Christmas Eve.
We decided the green house could survive one night without power, so we let it go and, in the morning, the cheapo generator we bought for next door there wouldn’t start. Sigh.
I let it warm up inside (where it was 42) and eventually got it running and hooked up.
Two hours later, the power came back on. Our very own Christmas Miracle!!
I shut down both generators, but the green house boiler didn’t want to fire. Sigh.
And Mary’s got guests coming tomorrow. ‘Sigh’ is not exactly what Mary had to say.
I settled in with the service manual and punched in codes like a monkey at a typewriter. I finally got it to light. I breathed a sigh of relief.
Meanwhile, Maggie’s morning flight to Atlanta was cancelled, so her whole crew came to our place for an evening of snacks, gossip, and substance abuse, and a Merry time was had by all.

The plan was to head South to Atlanta for a family New Years gathering.
We got there fine, but the visit went south in a hurry.
Ask me about that some day.

Happy New Year.