A ray?

There was a ray of sunshine this morning.  A few rays before the clouds returned. 

The rain drops on the trees looked like Christmas lights. (Of course this photo would have been even better if the emergency telephone wasn't in it.)

Cabin Fever

I have cabin fever.

I want cake.
I want chips.
I want toast.

Maybe I have carbohydrate fever.

I want sunshine.
I want the windows open.
I want to dig in the dirt.
I want to sit on the patio, next to the camp fire and grill delicious foods with a frozen drink in my hand.
I want my lips not chapped.
I want my hands not dry and cracked.

Want. Want. Want. 

Piles of freshly shoveled snow remind me of powdered sugar or flour.

 

 

I know, not helping with the desire for cake.

 

 

Even the tops of the tables outside look like cakes just after they have been removed from their baking pans. 

 

 

 

Enough with the talk about cake!  As Walt Kowalski would say "You know what would be good right now?  Pie."

 



Shoveling

 

Everybody had a different style of shoveling.  Some push. Some throw.  Some sweep.

 

Flat shovels, big plow shovels, ergonomic shovels,

 

Here are two of the neighbors.  The gentleman in the plaid jacket across the street is using a push broom.  I've never seen him use a shovel.  He uses the method of pushing it out into the street and letting the city deal with it. 

 

 

 

This lady is using a carrying method.  She'd pick up a shovel of snow and carry it back to the curb.  Pick up a shovel of snow, carry it back to the curb. 

 

That lasted for about 6 or 7 scoops and then she started throwing the snow out in the street, too.

 

Then the entertainment moved to the back alley where this car was stuck. Two pushing, one steering.

 

 
 

 
They used his floor mats as traction.  Good idea, but they will never be the same.


The person in blue was plenty of help. Every job needs a supervisor.

More Power (grunt grunt grunt)

Our electrician, Power Tower, returned this weekend.  He stopped by last week to see the progress. 

 



 

We had to make a few decisions about outlets and cable.  With flat screen TVs now mounted on walls, there is no longer a need for a cable box near the floor.  Now they are50 inches (or more) high on the wall. 

We had to decide which way doors were going to swing, where beds and furniture might be located, and where a hanging TV would have the least amount of glare. 

With his knowledge on new construction, he knew the standards and code for the state.  

Did you know that in our state there is no "smoke alarm requirement applicable to existing homes not undergoing changes?"  In other words, unless you are remodeling your house there is no law stating that you must have a smoke detector in your house.   Wow.  Other states are more strict. 

For new construction, since, 2006, a "one-family or two-family unit dwellings to be equipped with interconnected smoke alarms that must receive their primary power from the building wiring."

I had no idea.  But I like it.  So does Walt Kowalski. That's exactly what Power Tower did for the smoke alarms.

 
The other electrical code requirement is a receptacle (outlet) every 12 feet in "every kitchen, family, dining, living, parlor, library, den, sunroom, bedroom, recreation, or room similar area of dwelling."

The idea behind this regulation is that no electrical device should require an extension cord. Sensible, but a power strip is sometimes necessary. 

 
We have brought the house up to code in more ways than one. However, it also means that if you set off the smoke detector on the first floor because you accidentally burn your toast, the alarm is going to sound on all floors and nobody in the house is going to sleep through it. 

I have never set off the smoke detector because I burnt my toast or the macaroni or the cheese on the nachos.  Nope.  Never. 

Power Tower drilled through all of the studs and is wiring the house as is standard now.  As Walt Kowalski and I were measuring to find the center of the rooms for the ceiling fan boxes, I was trying to remember how they had it wired previously. 

The house had very little wiring.  I think each room had only one over head light fixture, one power switch to turn it on, and one outlet. 

Snow Cones



Walt Kowalski is trying something new in the stink bug battle.  Frozen.  Yum.

 

 
Instead of the shoe treatment, they get the snow treatment.  (I should have marked these bugs to see if they come back alive I the spring.)

 
After throwing several outside into the frozen tundra, Oreo wanted outside.  I tried to convince her it was cold outside and she really didn't want to go out.  It was too cold to leave the window open; instead I brought the snow into them.

 
Oreo, Fudge, and Cocoa Fluff had a few sniffs and licks, but after that, nobody was interested.  

In the summer, Cocoa loves to escape out the back door. Funny, she's not so interested this time of the year.  You'll find her on the warm pillow, instead.

Exercises

 

Walt Kowalski and I weren't the only ones that went to the gym last night.

 

Cocoa Fluffy exercised with the foil ball.  She chased that ball of foil around the house for at least an hour. 

 



 
 
She cornered it, attacked it, and chased it when Walt Kowalski rolled it to her.
 

 
It moved fast on the hardwood and tile floor. She even picked it up in her mouth and brought it back to Walt Kowalski several times.

 
Fudge worked out his arms with the candy cane.  (I always miss a few Christmas decorations.  This one was hiding behind the curtains.)

 
Fudge, and the girls, don't mind when you poke them quickly.  But if you slow down and come towards them v-e-r-y s-l-o-w-l-y...that will freak them out every time.

 
Then everybody rests. 

Fudge looks sad on top of the cat tree, but don't let him fool you.  His spot is on the couch downstairs.  He is the first to jump up and hog the couch when we have a fire. 

You can see he's planning an attack on cocoa Fluffy. 

False Advertising

I am here for your amusement.  To tell you stories, to entertain, to humor and maybe, just maybe, you won't have the luck that I have. 

The Mama of House #1 needs a washer and dryer.  Just by chance, the mayor had a dryer for sale.  Lucky for us!  It was an older model, with very few scratches from moving, but is in excellent condition.   His mom needed a new washer and wanted the matching set.  She didn't want an unmatched pair. Her desire for a matching washer and dryer means good fortune for us. 

Now the search for a washer.

To quote Grammy, 'I have never owned a matching washer and dryer in my entire life.' 

The life cycle of a washer and dryer do not match.  It's worse than hotdogs and hot dog buns.

Our laundry room isn't much better.    Two years ago, the safety outlet (GFI) by the washer kept tripping. I would put a load of clothes in the machine and return a half hour later expecting to find clean clothes.  Instead, I would to find a washing machine full of wet clothes and soapy water.  Or sometimes it was wet clothes and clean rinse water. 

Stupid outlet.  The outlet must be going bad.  Push the reset button.  Start the washer where it left off.

Ha!  If only. 

Then one day...

I filled up the washer.  Filled it up to the brim with jeans, sweatshirts, warm water, soap, and cranked it up.  Away it went.  Washa, washa, washa. 

Except this time, I found out that the problem wasn't the outlet. 
Except this time, the washer turned off and never turned back on.
Except this time, I forgot about it for longer than a half hour.  Which normally wouldn't have been a problem.  So what if the cleanly washed and spun clothes are wet for an extra hour or they have time to get cold? They are going in the dryer.
Except this time, when I returned, the washer was still full of wet, dirty, soggy clothes, water, and soap. 
Except this time, I forgot about the clothes so long that the water got ice cold.  It was, of course, January and the laundry room doesn't have an overabundance of heat. 

I know it could have been much worse. It could have been a washer full of hot water with bleach and dirty socks. Ewwwww.

But then, on a snowy day in January 2012, a new washer was delivered. Two young men dragged the new washer up the driveway hill, installed it, and took the old one away. 

We tipped them for their good work. They were surprised and pleased with the tip.

The old dryer is still going.  It's squeaky, but it runs and makes the clothes soft and dry.  They, too, are an unmatched pair. 

Back to the search for a washing machine.  The Mama of House #1 found a good deal on that website advertising jobs, housing, appliances, and anything else you might want to sell that someone else might want to buy.  We'll call it Bobslist.  (We'll talk about our love of all things Bob later.)

She contacted the owner, secured the funds, and arranged pick-up.  Walt Kowalski and I had the easy part, we were the pick-up team. 
 
The washer was a good deal.  $150.  Only two-years-old.  Good name brand.  Close to home. Good neighborhood.  Why such a good deal for a new washer?  They were getting married, both had washing machines, and didn't need two.  Sounds good to us.

It was exactly the deal she was looking for.

Walt Kowalski and I got to the house at the arranged time and knocked on the door.  The woman of the house answered and said to meet her around back where the washer was located.

But the washer wasn't on the back porch or side porch.  The washer was in the car port.  The unheated, outside car port.

Do I need to remind you that the high temperature yesterday was 21 degrees?

The unheated part wasn't good, but it wasn't the worst of the situation.  The floor of car part wasn't paved.  It wasn't patio stones.  It wasn't even a gravel base.  It was dirt.  Which is fine for a car.  It is not a fine place to keep a washing machine.

The washing machine was not two-years-old.  False advertising #1.  The photo she sent was not of this actual washing machine sitting outside.  False Advertising #2. 
 
After looking at the washing machine it was obvious that it was not actually two-years-old but instead had been sitting in the mud of the carport for two years.  Big difference.  BIG difference.  Plain and simple, she lied to the Mama of House #1.

Not only were there leaves inside the machine, but over the two year period, the washing machine had sunk an inch down into the mud.

Sunk. Into. The. Mud. 

Did I mention that the high temperature yesterday was 21 degrees?  Did I mention that the low temperature yesterday was 3 degrees?

Not only was the washing machine suck in the mud, but it was frozen in that inch of mud.  Even Walt Kowalski couldn't push the washing machine loose.  All three of us together tried and couldn't push that washing machine loose.

I'm not even going to mention what could happen to a washing machine engine and parts if it freezes.  (All of the water never leaves the inner workings of a washer.)

The woman of the house said 'Oh let me see if I have a shovel.  You you can dig it out.'  

The thought of digging out a washing machine has never crossed my mind.  Digging my car out of the snow.  Digging the flowers out of the dirt.  Digging the vegetables out of the garden.  Washing machine?  Nope.

Walt Kowalski was so kind.  She handed him a broken shovel.  The shovel looked like someone took a bite out of the blade.  He took one look at the shovel and said 'This is only half of a shovel.'  She replied, 'Oh, my husband is a mason.'

I know that it took all of his power not to say 'What is he?  Half of a mason?' 

Walt Kowalski gave the ice mud around the washer a couple of jabs with the half shovel and said 'You'd better ask your husband to work on it when he gets home.  Text us if he gets it loose.'  He is so kind. That is not what he was thinking. 

He was just as frustrated as I was.  Once we got in the truck, all we could do was laugh. 

*sigh*

So the hunt continues. There are several outlets with scratch and dent appliances in the area.  We'll check them out.  Worst case a brandy, new, shiny washer is on sale for $299.