Yesterday my lovely little monsters came back. I miss them a lot now
that they're gone a bit more, and they miss me. Not much we can do
about that, I guess.
Anyway, I set about making them dinner last
night as I discussed homework with Calvin. Slapped the pot on the stove
for boiled eggs, cranked it up, fought over the journal and what
constituted an acceptable entry (note: one partial sentence is not an
acceptable entry). I look up after a few minutes and notice the kitchen
is FULL of smoke. I had turned on the wrong hotplate and the wool pad that had been on that hotplate was transmogrified.
Mental note: don't leave shit on the stove. It is not a storage space.
Mental
note 2: it's true, wool doesn't burn. It just... carbonizes. It only
burned in the exact spot it was resting on the hotplate. So dress your
babies in wool and they won't be tragically disfigured in the event of
accidental burning.
It stunk to high heaven. I had instant flashbacks to the tragic
stew incident of my childhood, where we went to the mall leaving the
stew on the stove on high and came back to a house FULL of disgusting
smoke. I swear it took months to get the smell of burned flesh out of
our coats.
Also - my smoke detector didn't go off. OK, most of the smoke was
in the kitchen and the detector is down the hall at the bottom of the
stairs. I'm wondering if this is a bad thing or not. It doesn't go off
every time I burn the toast, which is good. If the house actually was
on fire, the smoke would have to go past the detector to get upstairs,
which would wake us up. But maybe it would be better if we got a bit of
advance warning before the whole bottom storey was filled with smoke?
Hmmm.... I think not having it go off with every cooking malfunction
might win out.
I know this won't come as a stunning revelation to anyone with an
ounce of sense, but my kids like it when I pay attention to them. We've
been drawing, playing games (Calvin is kick-ass at chess. He
castled!), playing Lego... and they are much much much happier, spend
less time fighting with each other and don't feel the need to bug me
every 20 second to play computer games (we're down to every 5 minutes,
but it's an improvement). Ah, parenting. Why can't you be easier?
Homework for two kids? Check
Calvin punching me in the arm? Check
Jack throwing a shoe at my ankle? Check.
25 Lego dudes unearthed from the bottom of the bin? Check.
Whinging bouts averted? Check.
Both kids are finally peacefully asleep in bed, the laundry is
finishing up it's cycle and the horrible sound of grinding, gnashing
metal bits erupts from the washer. Again. Once can be explained away,
twice needs attention. Stupid front loader - I don't have a clue.
On the plus side, I've managed not to to send emails that will get
me into trouble. Not like I haven't written a few but I have managed
not to send them. So far.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Friday, November 11, 2011
Plumbing
I think I can do anything. I look at a project and say to myself
"That's totally doable. Even if I run across a snag or two, how bad can
it be?"
Now, my house was built in 1914. I am convinced that for the first 50 years of it's existence (and most houses of it's era) all the work done on it was done by the well meaning but somewhat inept homeowner. That's just the way it was back then. In some houses (mine included) this trend seems to have been carried on throughout it's entire lifetime. Electricity wired with no logic, though fully functional and seemingly safe. Plumbing that snakes its way around in bizarrely random patterns. There is no project that doesn't encounter a snag, no matter how hard you try to anticipate the problems.
So when I volunteered to do my friend's sink plumbing, I thought "How bad can it be?" I looked at it, tried to imagine all the possible problems, though, though and thought again. ANd then jumped in.
Her hot tap had been dripping, then running, for a while. First order of business was to put in a hot water shutoff. She had got compression fittings rather than solder on ones, not my fav but I thought hey, why not branch out? Besides the fact that I had a hell of a time getting them to not drip, it seemed relatively painless. (I suspect they are still leaking a tiny bit, but WAY less than before and hopefully snugging them up will fix that. Hopefully.)
Then we tackled the cold side. Now, I had previously noted that the old galvanized iron pipe had been replaced from the kitchen upstairs, in a fully accessible place to attach new copper to the basement. Peachy, right? What I failed to consider was that A. removing the ancient sink fitting from the stupid galvanized pipe would be, to put it mildly, a fucking nightmare and B. that getting to old supply lines out would be just as bad. So we run the new copper supply line from the basement, cut the copper from the old pipe and all of a sudden I realize we can't get the old pipe out and thus can't get the new stuff in.
Fuck.
After some serious contemplation, liberal application of WD40 and swear words, and a halfhearted attempt with the pipe wrench (I loves me a pipe wrench. Sexiest tool ever.) I abandoned hope of removing it that night. (Did I mention we started about 6 pm? Ha.) So... how to get the plumbing at least functional for the next week or so? Paper plates and takeout is fine but you gotta do da business somewhere.
So we decided to bypass the sink for now since the old pipe was talking up all the room needed to run the new supply line and shutoff and just reconnect the cold water lines with new copper pipe. Then when we figured out how to get the old pipe out we could just add in the sink supply line. Sure.
Except that the lines in the basement wouldn't drain properly so we had a bitch of a time getting them to seal. M had left for derby practice leaving poor C with me to help. I am eternally grateful to her for her patience with my ineptness, and her excellent, thoughtful suggestions.
To make a long story short, we tried three (four?) separate times to get the stupid lines to seal - in various configurations, adding in little drains, over and over. Every time we turned the water on there was a leak. The last time, with our last set of connectors (don't ask how many we wasted) as I dried out the pipe with the torch I said let's just shove some more flux in here and see if that helps. And it did. It fucking did.
It sounds so anticlimactic as I write it, but it was 10:30, we had no more fittings and no prospect of getting the water back on if this didn't work. We were elated. Overjoyed.
Now we just gotta figure out how to get the stupid galvanized pipe out. The rest will be easy.
Stop laughing.
(Oh, and it leaked in a different spot and I had to go back and fix it, sick child in tow. Not fun. There may have been a hissy-fit involved.)
Now, my house was built in 1914. I am convinced that for the first 50 years of it's existence (and most houses of it's era) all the work done on it was done by the well meaning but somewhat inept homeowner. That's just the way it was back then. In some houses (mine included) this trend seems to have been carried on throughout it's entire lifetime. Electricity wired with no logic, though fully functional and seemingly safe. Plumbing that snakes its way around in bizarrely random patterns. There is no project that doesn't encounter a snag, no matter how hard you try to anticipate the problems.
So when I volunteered to do my friend's sink plumbing, I thought "How bad can it be?" I looked at it, tried to imagine all the possible problems, though, though and thought again. ANd then jumped in.
Her hot tap had been dripping, then running, for a while. First order of business was to put in a hot water shutoff. She had got compression fittings rather than solder on ones, not my fav but I thought hey, why not branch out? Besides the fact that I had a hell of a time getting them to not drip, it seemed relatively painless. (I suspect they are still leaking a tiny bit, but WAY less than before and hopefully snugging them up will fix that. Hopefully.)
Then we tackled the cold side. Now, I had previously noted that the old galvanized iron pipe had been replaced from the kitchen upstairs, in a fully accessible place to attach new copper to the basement. Peachy, right? What I failed to consider was that A. removing the ancient sink fitting from the stupid galvanized pipe would be, to put it mildly, a fucking nightmare and B. that getting to old supply lines out would be just as bad. So we run the new copper supply line from the basement, cut the copper from the old pipe and all of a sudden I realize we can't get the old pipe out and thus can't get the new stuff in.
Fuck.
After some serious contemplation, liberal application of WD40 and swear words, and a halfhearted attempt with the pipe wrench (I loves me a pipe wrench. Sexiest tool ever.) I abandoned hope of removing it that night. (Did I mention we started about 6 pm? Ha.) So... how to get the plumbing at least functional for the next week or so? Paper plates and takeout is fine but you gotta do da business somewhere.
So we decided to bypass the sink for now since the old pipe was talking up all the room needed to run the new supply line and shutoff and just reconnect the cold water lines with new copper pipe. Then when we figured out how to get the old pipe out we could just add in the sink supply line. Sure.
Except that the lines in the basement wouldn't drain properly so we had a bitch of a time getting them to seal. M had left for derby practice leaving poor C with me to help. I am eternally grateful to her for her patience with my ineptness, and her excellent, thoughtful suggestions.
To make a long story short, we tried three (four?) separate times to get the stupid lines to seal - in various configurations, adding in little drains, over and over. Every time we turned the water on there was a leak. The last time, with our last set of connectors (don't ask how many we wasted) as I dried out the pipe with the torch I said let's just shove some more flux in here and see if that helps. And it did. It fucking did.
It sounds so anticlimactic as I write it, but it was 10:30, we had no more fittings and no prospect of getting the water back on if this didn't work. We were elated. Overjoyed.
Now we just gotta figure out how to get the stupid galvanized pipe out. The rest will be easy.
Stop laughing.
(Oh, and it leaked in a different spot and I had to go back and fix it, sick child in tow. Not fun. There may have been a hissy-fit involved.)
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Drinking the Koolaid
Roller derby is a force to be reckoned with. It is a fantastic way to
stay in shape, meet new people and have a hell of a good time. But it
can quickly spiral out of control.
It's the drug that fixes everything for me. It takes away my hangover, my cold symptoms, my bone-deep fatigue, my angst about my kids and my personal life... I notice none of these things while skating. Yes, it can be frustrating when you're tring for the 27th time to weave through cones and you're sure you'll NEVER get it. When you want to jump in the air and your legs refuse to cooperate and actually bend. But the speed, the hitting, the sense of control - the adrenalin rush is a potent, addictive drug.
The social aspect is something else entirely. Derby culture is like a cult. Before you know it, you're going out after practice on a Wednesday night, rolling in at 1 am, and dragging your ass back out of bed at 6:30 to go to work. Two days later you're out until 3, hammered. and maybe the night after that too.
And it's not just the lifestyle, it's how the attitudes of these women rub off on you so quickly. If you had told me a year ago that I would be taking the subway dressed in a pair of holey tights and a running skirt that barely clears my ass I would have laughed uproariously. Now my only concern is that I don't freeze to death. I'm not saying this is a bad thing - I'm all about havng a positive body image but it sure is different, especially for me, suzy conservative.
And then there's the sex thing. Derby girls have a reputation for being, um... skanky hos. This is coming from men. I think they have there wires crossed as most derby girls aren't even interested in men, and those who are have a hard time finding men to skank with, so filled with women are the venues we tend to frequent. But the woman-on-woman action is unbelievable. I don't want to generalize either lesbians or derby girls, but most of the women I have run across have a very broad sens of what is acceptable behaviour. Now I kind of like this. I think it's refreshing that they can do pretty much whatever they want and not be judged for it. (I'm going to assume that there is some sort of understanding between partners about what is or is not acceptable.) I used t be very uptight and moralistc about "relationships" and what constituted "acceptable" standards of practice, but this has changed a lot lately. (It's not all to do with derby and there is a lot of stuff I have come to believe that I would never discuss with my "conventional" friends as I know they'd think I was nuts, but I have changed a lot. For the better, I think. Theory is one thing - I might have to see what happens if it ever gets put into practice.)
Anyway... the point of this is that your perspective tends to get skewed after a while. Throwing women into the mix as more-than-friends is weird. No longer is there that safe space of friendship, when women (notoriously judgmental bitches) only judge you on your looks and attitudes and shoes, now it's on your potential as a prospective hook-up as well. You start to think that you have to have good hair and clothing around them, not only when you're looking to impress the opposite sex. What a chore. And it makes conversation (difficult enough for someone as socially stunted as myself) even more difficult. Who needs that?
This is so high school, I know. And for someone of my age it's ridiculous. Still, it sneaks up on you and you don't realize how far of the path you've strayed until all of a sudden you've humiliated your best friend and are making out with a virtual stranger in a dive bar.
Reality check, dudes. There is too much of a good thing. I'm sticking with the sport and camaraderie aspect of derby and leaving the rest behind me.
Not to mention the fact that anything non-derby tends to get the shaft when consumed by the obsession. Housework, hobbies, OTHER FRIENDS. You did things before derby and you can do things as well as derby. There's a reason you don't put all your eggs in one basket.
But I have improved my ability to apologize, something I'm not very good at. I guess that's a good thing. I'd rather improve my ability to relate to people, to deal with adversity, so I don't have to apologize so much.
It's the drug that fixes everything for me. It takes away my hangover, my cold symptoms, my bone-deep fatigue, my angst about my kids and my personal life... I notice none of these things while skating. Yes, it can be frustrating when you're tring for the 27th time to weave through cones and you're sure you'll NEVER get it. When you want to jump in the air and your legs refuse to cooperate and actually bend. But the speed, the hitting, the sense of control - the adrenalin rush is a potent, addictive drug.
The social aspect is something else entirely. Derby culture is like a cult. Before you know it, you're going out after practice on a Wednesday night, rolling in at 1 am, and dragging your ass back out of bed at 6:30 to go to work. Two days later you're out until 3, hammered. and maybe the night after that too.
And it's not just the lifestyle, it's how the attitudes of these women rub off on you so quickly. If you had told me a year ago that I would be taking the subway dressed in a pair of holey tights and a running skirt that barely clears my ass I would have laughed uproariously. Now my only concern is that I don't freeze to death. I'm not saying this is a bad thing - I'm all about havng a positive body image but it sure is different, especially for me, suzy conservative.
And then there's the sex thing. Derby girls have a reputation for being, um... skanky hos. This is coming from men. I think they have there wires crossed as most derby girls aren't even interested in men, and those who are have a hard time finding men to skank with, so filled with women are the venues we tend to frequent. But the woman-on-woman action is unbelievable. I don't want to generalize either lesbians or derby girls, but most of the women I have run across have a very broad sens of what is acceptable behaviour. Now I kind of like this. I think it's refreshing that they can do pretty much whatever they want and not be judged for it. (I'm going to assume that there is some sort of understanding between partners about what is or is not acceptable.) I used t be very uptight and moralistc about "relationships" and what constituted "acceptable" standards of practice, but this has changed a lot lately. (It's not all to do with derby and there is a lot of stuff I have come to believe that I would never discuss with my "conventional" friends as I know they'd think I was nuts, but I have changed a lot. For the better, I think. Theory is one thing - I might have to see what happens if it ever gets put into practice.)
Anyway... the point of this is that your perspective tends to get skewed after a while. Throwing women into the mix as more-than-friends is weird. No longer is there that safe space of friendship, when women (notoriously judgmental bitches) only judge you on your looks and attitudes and shoes, now it's on your potential as a prospective hook-up as well. You start to think that you have to have good hair and clothing around them, not only when you're looking to impress the opposite sex. What a chore. And it makes conversation (difficult enough for someone as socially stunted as myself) even more difficult. Who needs that?
This is so high school, I know. And for someone of my age it's ridiculous. Still, it sneaks up on you and you don't realize how far of the path you've strayed until all of a sudden you've humiliated your best friend and are making out with a virtual stranger in a dive bar.
Reality check, dudes. There is too much of a good thing. I'm sticking with the sport and camaraderie aspect of derby and leaving the rest behind me.
Not to mention the fact that anything non-derby tends to get the shaft when consumed by the obsession. Housework, hobbies, OTHER FRIENDS. You did things before derby and you can do things as well as derby. There's a reason you don't put all your eggs in one basket.
But I have improved my ability to apologize, something I'm not very good at. I guess that's a good thing. I'd rather improve my ability to relate to people, to deal with adversity, so I don't have to apologize so much.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Crazy dude.
Just for posterity, I think I should record this here. In case y'all think I don't love you, this is what I put up with in the name of research and entertainment. God knows I don;t get much out of it, SOMEONE should...
Went for drinks, dude likes to talk about himself. We had nothing in common, but I got somewhat drunk and managed to chit chat acceptably well. He just talks about how smart and cheap he is and the car his sister gave him and then he sold and she was pissed and he doesn't know why. Had no interest in derby - just said soccer is a much better sport. Why would girls want to hit each other? dude... I shoulda bailed then.
Then he says lets go get some lamb and cook and make salad and bread and wine and I agreed since it's so much easier, and I was still contemplating fucking him for research purposes. Then we're half way to the store and I say - no I don't want to do dinner. And he says Oh, I was just going to say we have a good vibe - I haven't invited anyone up to my place before (riiiiight - cuz you're a crazy mofo and they all run away first). And he starts grilling me on why I changed my mind etc etc. So I agree to a drink at his place. I'm a pushover.
So we go to his place and he keeps filling my glass up to almost the rim and I'm half in the bag and he tries to teach me to dance and the music was AWFUL. He just listens to stuff from Youtube - no actual music. Black dudes sorta rapping with half naked chicks crawling around on the screen - seriously? And he plays the same few awful songs over and over. The dancing was sorta fun in a completely uncoordinated way. Then he starts going on about what do I want to do for fun and he'll take me anywhere and he will pay and I say no - I want to go see my friends. I only have so much free time and I want to spread it around and he says can I come and I say no (surprise). So by now I just want to get the fuck out but then he kisses me and says there wasn't that good? Which it wasn't - he sorta ate my face too much tongue and teeth and dude - SUBTLETY please - you don't have to ran your tongue down my throat!! So then he tries again to convince me we should do something together and I say no about 20 time and finally I just say I gotta go. And he's obviously pissy.
So I make my escape and he calls me 3 x before I'm 100 yards away and I don't pick up and then he texts me to say:
and he sends texts 4,5 and 6:
Gosh, I guess you don;t want me to call you again? Like I would, you crazy psycho freak!
Oh, and he MADE me wash my hands when we got to his place. He WATCHED me put soap on and said Oh, I guess you do know how to do that. What, WASH????? And when I tried to change the music on his computer he was all - oh I'm a computer guy, you probably can't figure out HOW TO USE YOUTUBE let me help. Dude's obviously been dating driftwood.
So then I went and got even more trashed with my friends. Good times!!!
Oh, and he smokes. Seriously? Did you think I just wouldn't notice???
Went for drinks, dude likes to talk about himself. We had nothing in common, but I got somewhat drunk and managed to chit chat acceptably well. He just talks about how smart and cheap he is and the car his sister gave him and then he sold and she was pissed and he doesn't know why. Had no interest in derby - just said soccer is a much better sport. Why would girls want to hit each other? dude... I shoulda bailed then.
Then he says lets go get some lamb and cook and make salad and bread and wine and I agreed since it's so much easier, and I was still contemplating fucking him for research purposes. Then we're half way to the store and I say - no I don't want to do dinner. And he says Oh, I was just going to say we have a good vibe - I haven't invited anyone up to my place before (riiiiight - cuz you're a crazy mofo and they all run away first). And he starts grilling me on why I changed my mind etc etc. So I agree to a drink at his place. I'm a pushover.
So we go to his place and he keeps filling my glass up to almost the rim and I'm half in the bag and he tries to teach me to dance and the music was AWFUL. He just listens to stuff from Youtube - no actual music. Black dudes sorta rapping with half naked chicks crawling around on the screen - seriously? And he plays the same few awful songs over and over. The dancing was sorta fun in a completely uncoordinated way. Then he starts going on about what do I want to do for fun and he'll take me anywhere and he will pay and I say no - I want to go see my friends. I only have so much free time and I want to spread it around and he says can I come and I say no (surprise). So by now I just want to get the fuck out but then he kisses me and says there wasn't that good? Which it wasn't - he sorta ate my face too much tongue and teeth and dude - SUBTLETY please - you don't have to ran your tongue down my throat!! So then he tries again to convince me we should do something together and I say no about 20 time and finally I just say I gotta go. And he's obviously pissy.
So I make my escape and he calls me 3 x before I'm 100 yards away and I don't pick up and then he texts me to say:
- you made me feel like sort of a jerk and I kindof liked you
- but sorry please lose my number
- please lose my number as you are fake
Dude - get a grip. not wanting to spend the whole evening with you is not fake.
and he sends texts 4,5 and 6:
- sure please lose my number is that too much asking I know ur kind (?!?!?!! wtf does that mean????)
- no offense good luck
- just lose number please
Oh, and he MADE me wash my hands when we got to his place. He WATCHED me put soap on and said Oh, I guess you do know how to do that. What, WASH????? And when I tried to change the music on his computer he was all - oh I'm a computer guy, you probably can't figure out HOW TO USE YOUTUBE let me help. Dude's obviously been dating driftwood.
So then I went and got even more trashed with my friends. Good times!!!
Oh, and he smokes. Seriously? Did you think I just wouldn't notice???
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