12-21-12. The end of the ancient Mayan calender. Some drama queen somewhere decided that meant they knew the world would end today. I choose not to go along with that idea. Some scribe back then just decided a distant ancestor could carry on his work: he'd gotten arthritis in his hands and needed to retire. I attest that the end-of-the-world concept has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I haven't made the latest payment on my credit card yet. Honest! I'm waiting for another bill to come in first. Once that's paid, the balance minus a bitty cushion will go on the card.
But there is a segment out there who believe that not only is the end of the world coming soon, they need to stock up on guns and ammo to prepare for it. I have a question for them: if the world is really ending, then what do you need those guns for?
It's over. This means you too. He who dies with the most guns is still dead.
Friday, December 21, 2012
Thursday, December 20, 2012
From the No-Cook Recipe File: Holiday Yogurt
Not everybody is lucky enough to have tree-ripened oranges, courtesy of a going away present from good friends in Arizona, but you can make do.
I start with a big container (4 servings they way they call it) of Dannon's plain unsweetened Greek yogurt. Right now it's both best ( flavor, additives, protein and carb levels) and cheapest. And I have to watch the carbs, of course. Take one of those oranges and grate half the peel to add. Peel the rest and cut the slices, minus the rare seed, into pieces. A second orange can be added if your tastes and carb allowances allow. Add a rounded teaspoon of ground cinnamon, 1/4 cup craisins, and half a cup chopped walnuts or pecans. If you want it sweeter, add a rounded tablespoon stevia or sucralose (Splenda, etc.) A little goes a long way with those. Stir it all together and either eat immediately or set aside for up to a couple days and let the flavors blend. The craisins help absorb the extra liquid the yogurt weeps.
For me the one-orange version divides into two full meals, easily packed into a cooler for breakfast and lunch.
I start with a big container (4 servings they way they call it) of Dannon's plain unsweetened Greek yogurt. Right now it's both best ( flavor, additives, protein and carb levels) and cheapest. And I have to watch the carbs, of course. Take one of those oranges and grate half the peel to add. Peel the rest and cut the slices, minus the rare seed, into pieces. A second orange can be added if your tastes and carb allowances allow. Add a rounded teaspoon of ground cinnamon, 1/4 cup craisins, and half a cup chopped walnuts or pecans. If you want it sweeter, add a rounded tablespoon stevia or sucralose (Splenda, etc.) A little goes a long way with those. Stir it all together and either eat immediately or set aside for up to a couple days and let the flavors blend. The craisins help absorb the extra liquid the yogurt weeps.
For me the one-orange version divides into two full meals, easily packed into a cooler for breakfast and lunch.
Saturday, December 15, 2012
Questions, Post-Shooting
After listening to the coverage for most of a day, feelings are still running high. One is tempted to think that they can be better managed if one can only get the answers to certain questions.
Chief among those is, "Why?" It presupposes that that answer brings with it a way of preventing more of these tragedies. We wish to believe if we know why each shooter did his act, we can find the cues to stop more of them. So we dig. And we lay out the facts as if they meant something.
We can describe the shooters, find patterns. Mostly male, young, finding themselves aggrieved, having often legal access to guns. Mental illness seems guaranteed, whether or not there's an established history, for how could any sane individual even contemplate such an act, let alone carry it out? And there is no explanation which can really explain what happened in a way to make it comprehensible.
But each of these characteristics describe tens of millions of us. Collectively they still describe many thousands. If they were clues, wouldn't they be predictive? And wouldn't there be many many more of these tragedies? Only after the fact do we even sort these things out as we scrutinize the shooters' lives. But we seem to be missing the trigger, the one thing that spurs each of these people to violence, the one thing that lets them step across that line, the one thing which separates them from us.
We need to separate them from us. And from our neighbors. We need not to be them or to be around them. How on earth do we do that?
It's easy to fasten on to a single facet. Take gun control. If there were no easy access to -pick your weapon or ammunition - this couldn't happen. Perhaps. We can look to similar incidents happening in China, school attacks by men wielding knives. Yesterday, the same time the news broke, there was a report of an attack on 32 children. They were wounded, not killed. Make of that what you will, but can it stop these attacks? Will it be enough to lessen their severity? Likely there are 20 sets of Connecticut parents right now who would choose that option if they could. But would it be enough?
Or take bullying. If we stop that in schools, surely countless lives will be improved, a goal worthy in itself. But will it be what stops these shootings?
Or take mental illness. There are many kinds and many levels of illness. So many of the mentally ill are non-violent, and even those who are not would never contemplate this kind of act. If we fasten on this facet, we are picking the meaningless. It merely serves to separate ourselves from the incomprehensible.
Some will take their meager comfort in the idea that it is "God's Will". What kind of a God wills this? The follow up phrase is always that we are merely human and God is unknowable. Trying to come to grips with that issue through the ages has driven many from their faiths. Whatever kind of Creator or force you hold responsible for us all being here, it seems apparent there is no effort to prevent these events outside of our own. Justify that any way you please. Then ask yourself what is your personal responsibility now?
This particular time there was a horrible difference. The reports are all of persons killed. Not ___ dead, ____ wounded. They haven't explained yet. Were the victims shop with a - pardon - dead aim, kill shots all? Or shot so many times they bled out before help arrived? Or shot with such damaging bullets that too much damage was done to allow survival?
We as a nation are left with grief. Some level of fear. And our questions.
Chief among those is, "Why?" It presupposes that that answer brings with it a way of preventing more of these tragedies. We wish to believe if we know why each shooter did his act, we can find the cues to stop more of them. So we dig. And we lay out the facts as if they meant something.
We can describe the shooters, find patterns. Mostly male, young, finding themselves aggrieved, having often legal access to guns. Mental illness seems guaranteed, whether or not there's an established history, for how could any sane individual even contemplate such an act, let alone carry it out? And there is no explanation which can really explain what happened in a way to make it comprehensible.
But each of these characteristics describe tens of millions of us. Collectively they still describe many thousands. If they were clues, wouldn't they be predictive? And wouldn't there be many many more of these tragedies? Only after the fact do we even sort these things out as we scrutinize the shooters' lives. But we seem to be missing the trigger, the one thing that spurs each of these people to violence, the one thing that lets them step across that line, the one thing which separates them from us.
We need to separate them from us. And from our neighbors. We need not to be them or to be around them. How on earth do we do that?
It's easy to fasten on to a single facet. Take gun control. If there were no easy access to -pick your weapon or ammunition - this couldn't happen. Perhaps. We can look to similar incidents happening in China, school attacks by men wielding knives. Yesterday, the same time the news broke, there was a report of an attack on 32 children. They were wounded, not killed. Make of that what you will, but can it stop these attacks? Will it be enough to lessen their severity? Likely there are 20 sets of Connecticut parents right now who would choose that option if they could. But would it be enough?
Or take bullying. If we stop that in schools, surely countless lives will be improved, a goal worthy in itself. But will it be what stops these shootings?
Or take mental illness. There are many kinds and many levels of illness. So many of the mentally ill are non-violent, and even those who are not would never contemplate this kind of act. If we fasten on this facet, we are picking the meaningless. It merely serves to separate ourselves from the incomprehensible.
Some will take their meager comfort in the idea that it is "God's Will". What kind of a God wills this? The follow up phrase is always that we are merely human and God is unknowable. Trying to come to grips with that issue through the ages has driven many from their faiths. Whatever kind of Creator or force you hold responsible for us all being here, it seems apparent there is no effort to prevent these events outside of our own. Justify that any way you please. Then ask yourself what is your personal responsibility now?
This particular time there was a horrible difference. The reports are all of persons killed. Not ___ dead, ____ wounded. They haven't explained yet. Were the victims shop with a - pardon - dead aim, kill shots all? Or shot so many times they bled out before help arrived? Or shot with such damaging bullets that too much damage was done to allow survival?
We as a nation are left with grief. Some level of fear. And our questions.
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
"Home" Again
At least I came in behind the storm: 16-18" just a few miles from home.
Saturday morning I left bright and early. Lots of miles to go (740 that day) and losing an hour with the time zone change. I kept an internet eye on the weather before leaving, so I knew about the storm. But I also knew that I wasn't expecting any precip until nearly home. The only thing the weather people lied about was the temperatures. Those dropped much faster then predicted, spurred by a brisk northwest wind from the time I poked my head out in Amarillo Sunday morning.
Koda quickly learned to take his potty breaks in a hurry, still sporting his Arizona hot-weather haircut.
Arizona scenery was both familiar and not. I expected snow on top of the San Francisco Peaks in December, but found only a trace via the rear-view mirror as I headed east away from the mountain. The air was much cleaner once I left The Valley, enabling me to actually appreciate mountains more distant than those visible in Phoenix. The other unexpected note was high gas prices in Flagstaff. The local news had announced gas prices were lowest and highest for AZ in Flagstaff and Tucson, respectively. They got it backwards. I probably could have waited to fill but there's a whole lot of nothing along the road and I didn't want to take any risks.
On the other hand, prices only got better as I traveled, until hitting Minnesota where they rose again. The low was $2.959, which of course was spotted 5 miles after taking advantage of what seemed like a great deal at $3.079. C'est la vie.
I made notes of where the likely trading posts were for checking out Navaho pottery on the spring return trip by mileage number of the exit: 341, 257, etc. for Arizona, and for my favorite spots in Oklahoma for other pottery, 108 and 81. 108 in New Mexico for Acoma. I'm hoping to come back through with a budget. If not, I can at least scope them out for later.
Wildlife was scarce, aside from a few roadkills. In Arizona I had been treated to lots of birds, rabbits, and even an early morning coyote hauling a rabbit back to it's den. Now the only birds were hawks perched along the road and a single flock of wild turkeys somewhere in the blur of northern Oklahoma/southern Kansas. By the time I hit Missouri there were a few late flocks of Canada Geese, fleeing the weather I presumed. I think they were smarter than I.
Bethany, MO had a nice Super 8 I'd stayed in before, though I passed on their free breakfast, being all carbs. At least they were welcoming to dogs, and I secured a room right next to the exit for dogwalking purposes. Both nights I parked under major lights at the motels, and the fully loaded car was not disturbed. I was not going to completely empty out the car and refill it, and had packed even valuables in old cardboard boxes with anything resembling junk on top. That included a couple ratty blankets (one for the dog), my two-wheeler with bungie cords in lieu of a back, a milk crate with dog supplies, a partial pack of toilet paper, a taped Milk Bones box. The second evening I removed the bottles of water and bags of fresh-picked AZ oranges to make sure they didn't freeze. Even my laptop had been packed up and was inaccessible, so no cares about dealing with a new wi-fi system each night. Heck, I didn't even turn on the TV in either room. The second night offered a recliner so I tucked in with a paperback until my eyelids turned to sandpaper.
The first snow appeared on the north side of Des Moines, just a dusting on the ground, over in about 20 miles. Another appeared later. By the Minnesota border, the snow was solid, with chopped corn stalks and tall grasses breaking the white. Roads were dry until the rest area at Dundas, where sidewalks were a bit icy and Koda had trouble finding a likely spot since he couldn't get near any trees or posts. Roads turned to packed snow/ice just as I hit the metro proper, and finally driving slowed under the posted speeds.
I made it into the area in plenty of time to hit HQ on my way through, chat with dispatchers, and deal with paperwork for starting work here again. Everybody even got to meet Koda, since I didn't trust the car to keep him warm enough while I was inside. I'm all set to start working.
I'm just not working.
It's pretty much the same story it was for starting in Phoenix. There is a single person in Dallas who is responsible for entering drivers in the system so that they can receive runs via the computers. She has no back-up. She wasn't in Monday. She wasn't in yesterday. We don't know about today yet. There are three drivers up here waiting to get on the road, and slow as driving is right now, we are badly needed. Dallas doesn't care.
Yesterday I caught up on missed TV shows recorded on the DVR. I also unpacked, mostly, though the floor in my bedroom is being resurfaced with laminate instead of carpet, and I can't really move back in. I'm sleeping in Steve's bed. My stuff in piled in the living room, where the resemblance to how it looked before we loaded the moving truck in uncanny. Also discouraging. And stressful. Not what I need right now, if ever. The stacks of mail have been gone through, 99% for the recycle pile. The X-mas letter has been typed up, and will be printed once I head out for proper paper.
I headed to WalMart Monday night to pick up perishables, having brought a box of staples back with me, intending to also get Xmas letter paper. The only available shopping scooter had only 2 bars of power left, with 6 being a full charge, so I only got the real necessities. Paper wasn't one of them.
I'm waiting. Out the windows some icicles hang from the roof, the cranberries and Nanking cherries are bowed from the weight of the snow, and everything else waits too. News reports say roads are beginning to improve, and temperatures a hair above freezing for a couple hours are expected to help. They wait for next Saturday's storm to decide whether it will head south or hit here again.
Everything waits.
Saturday morning I left bright and early. Lots of miles to go (740 that day) and losing an hour with the time zone change. I kept an internet eye on the weather before leaving, so I knew about the storm. But I also knew that I wasn't expecting any precip until nearly home. The only thing the weather people lied about was the temperatures. Those dropped much faster then predicted, spurred by a brisk northwest wind from the time I poked my head out in Amarillo Sunday morning.
Koda quickly learned to take his potty breaks in a hurry, still sporting his Arizona hot-weather haircut.
Arizona scenery was both familiar and not. I expected snow on top of the San Francisco Peaks in December, but found only a trace via the rear-view mirror as I headed east away from the mountain. The air was much cleaner once I left The Valley, enabling me to actually appreciate mountains more distant than those visible in Phoenix. The other unexpected note was high gas prices in Flagstaff. The local news had announced gas prices were lowest and highest for AZ in Flagstaff and Tucson, respectively. They got it backwards. I probably could have waited to fill but there's a whole lot of nothing along the road and I didn't want to take any risks.
On the other hand, prices only got better as I traveled, until hitting Minnesota where they rose again. The low was $2.959, which of course was spotted 5 miles after taking advantage of what seemed like a great deal at $3.079. C'est la vie.
I made notes of where the likely trading posts were for checking out Navaho pottery on the spring return trip by mileage number of the exit: 341, 257, etc. for Arizona, and for my favorite spots in Oklahoma for other pottery, 108 and 81. 108 in New Mexico for Acoma. I'm hoping to come back through with a budget. If not, I can at least scope them out for later.
Wildlife was scarce, aside from a few roadkills. In Arizona I had been treated to lots of birds, rabbits, and even an early morning coyote hauling a rabbit back to it's den. Now the only birds were hawks perched along the road and a single flock of wild turkeys somewhere in the blur of northern Oklahoma/southern Kansas. By the time I hit Missouri there were a few late flocks of Canada Geese, fleeing the weather I presumed. I think they were smarter than I.
Bethany, MO had a nice Super 8 I'd stayed in before, though I passed on their free breakfast, being all carbs. At least they were welcoming to dogs, and I secured a room right next to the exit for dogwalking purposes. Both nights I parked under major lights at the motels, and the fully loaded car was not disturbed. I was not going to completely empty out the car and refill it, and had packed even valuables in old cardboard boxes with anything resembling junk on top. That included a couple ratty blankets (one for the dog), my two-wheeler with bungie cords in lieu of a back, a milk crate with dog supplies, a partial pack of toilet paper, a taped Milk Bones box. The second evening I removed the bottles of water and bags of fresh-picked AZ oranges to make sure they didn't freeze. Even my laptop had been packed up and was inaccessible, so no cares about dealing with a new wi-fi system each night. Heck, I didn't even turn on the TV in either room. The second night offered a recliner so I tucked in with a paperback until my eyelids turned to sandpaper.
The first snow appeared on the north side of Des Moines, just a dusting on the ground, over in about 20 miles. Another appeared later. By the Minnesota border, the snow was solid, with chopped corn stalks and tall grasses breaking the white. Roads were dry until the rest area at Dundas, where sidewalks were a bit icy and Koda had trouble finding a likely spot since he couldn't get near any trees or posts. Roads turned to packed snow/ice just as I hit the metro proper, and finally driving slowed under the posted speeds.
I made it into the area in plenty of time to hit HQ on my way through, chat with dispatchers, and deal with paperwork for starting work here again. Everybody even got to meet Koda, since I didn't trust the car to keep him warm enough while I was inside. I'm all set to start working.
I'm just not working.
It's pretty much the same story it was for starting in Phoenix. There is a single person in Dallas who is responsible for entering drivers in the system so that they can receive runs via the computers. She has no back-up. She wasn't in Monday. She wasn't in yesterday. We don't know about today yet. There are three drivers up here waiting to get on the road, and slow as driving is right now, we are badly needed. Dallas doesn't care.
Yesterday I caught up on missed TV shows recorded on the DVR. I also unpacked, mostly, though the floor in my bedroom is being resurfaced with laminate instead of carpet, and I can't really move back in. I'm sleeping in Steve's bed. My stuff in piled in the living room, where the resemblance to how it looked before we loaded the moving truck in uncanny. Also discouraging. And stressful. Not what I need right now, if ever. The stacks of mail have been gone through, 99% for the recycle pile. The X-mas letter has been typed up, and will be printed once I head out for proper paper.
I headed to WalMart Monday night to pick up perishables, having brought a box of staples back with me, intending to also get Xmas letter paper. The only available shopping scooter had only 2 bars of power left, with 6 being a full charge, so I only got the real necessities. Paper wasn't one of them.
I'm waiting. Out the windows some icicles hang from the roof, the cranberries and Nanking cherries are bowed from the weight of the snow, and everything else waits too. News reports say roads are beginning to improve, and temperatures a hair above freezing for a couple hours are expected to help. They wait for next Saturday's storm to decide whether it will head south or hit here again.
Everything waits.
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
Preparing for Cold
It's been decided, announced, scheduled, and packing has started. I head north Saturday morning.
With Koda. That will settle just who is/isn't properly housebroken, just who gets into all the foods, who chews furniture and pipes. We've already settled which dog sheds last spring by clipping Koda's coat down to nothing.
He's going to be thrilled by winter almost as much as I am.
There will be both more and less room for stuff in the car. A smaller part of the back seat will be dog bed, and the front passenger seat will hold freight. But things that came down in the moving truck will return in the car, like all my work equipment and uniforms, some of the cool weather duds, cameras and beading stuff. A box of food is already packed, with a single casualty along the way: dropping a chunky soup can on my big toe. Yep, naked toe. Yep, funny in the classic sense. And somehow I managed to avoid chipping the bone as it landed right across the joint, leaving it looking much like a ripe plum.
Yep, funny.
I gave notice yesterday at work here, having given notice of my return last week in Minnesota. They're waiting for me. Down here Alfredo indicated he'd talk to the head guy to see what could be done, but unless they want to double my commission, it's too late. And they won't. But it's nice to be appreciated, on both ends.
That's just the details. Emotionally I'm trying to be shut down right now. I have already cried over missing Xmas with Steve when a particular Xmas carol came on the radio, and vowed that we won't miss any more of them together as long as we can have them together. I checked next year's calendar and decided I can take a week to fly down and barely miss any meaningful work, with the holiday being midweek. There will be two vacations a year, driving Steve and Fred back and forth, maybe varying the route and visiting family in Idaho and Colorado. This spring it'll be right after tax time, so Steve gets to be in Arizona 6 months plus 1 day, making this his primary residence now that he's part owner of the house. I'll be able to enjoy Arizona again, rather than stressing about work. Driving can be to places we enjoy rather than work or waiting for work that delays coming.
On the positive side, I've learned a whole lot about this area, where things are, how to get there. When it is time to drive out somewhere, I'll know how to get there. I just can't wait to start to love Arizona again. I haven't now for over a month.
With Koda. That will settle just who is/isn't properly housebroken, just who gets into all the foods, who chews furniture and pipes. We've already settled which dog sheds last spring by clipping Koda's coat down to nothing.
He's going to be thrilled by winter almost as much as I am.
There will be both more and less room for stuff in the car. A smaller part of the back seat will be dog bed, and the front passenger seat will hold freight. But things that came down in the moving truck will return in the car, like all my work equipment and uniforms, some of the cool weather duds, cameras and beading stuff. A box of food is already packed, with a single casualty along the way: dropping a chunky soup can on my big toe. Yep, naked toe. Yep, funny in the classic sense. And somehow I managed to avoid chipping the bone as it landed right across the joint, leaving it looking much like a ripe plum.
Yep, funny.
I gave notice yesterday at work here, having given notice of my return last week in Minnesota. They're waiting for me. Down here Alfredo indicated he'd talk to the head guy to see what could be done, but unless they want to double my commission, it's too late. And they won't. But it's nice to be appreciated, on both ends.
That's just the details. Emotionally I'm trying to be shut down right now. I have already cried over missing Xmas with Steve when a particular Xmas carol came on the radio, and vowed that we won't miss any more of them together as long as we can have them together. I checked next year's calendar and decided I can take a week to fly down and barely miss any meaningful work, with the holiday being midweek. There will be two vacations a year, driving Steve and Fred back and forth, maybe varying the route and visiting family in Idaho and Colorado. This spring it'll be right after tax time, so Steve gets to be in Arizona 6 months plus 1 day, making this his primary residence now that he's part owner of the house. I'll be able to enjoy Arizona again, rather than stressing about work. Driving can be to places we enjoy rather than work or waiting for work that delays coming.
On the positive side, I've learned a whole lot about this area, where things are, how to get there. When it is time to drive out somewhere, I'll know how to get there. I just can't wait to start to love Arizona again. I haven't now for over a month.
Friday, November 23, 2012
More Bad News
Don't ever ask, "What else can go wrong?" Somebody will be compelled to answer.
When I came home from work today, it was a bit early. There was still light out. I'd tried to stop and get a much-need oil change, but the Econo Lube joint closes early. That was my good luck, as it turned out. Having light enabled me to see the first sign of the problem.
The front entry slab is covered with green astro turf. There was a dark spot on it next to the house. I stopped to check it out, since I didn't remember there being a dark spot anywhere there.
It was wet. I felt it again, just making sure. It was still wet. There was no way it should be wet. I looked over at the pipes coming out of the ground next to the house and there was a little wet spot where the shut-off for the water line into the house was as well.
Having one of those growing sinking feelings, I walked straight into the den, the room on the other side of that wall with the wet spot under it. Good thing I did. Half the floor was wet. It was, of course, the half of the floor that was covered by cardboard boxes we hadn't unpacked yet, rather than the half covered by plastic totes we hadn't unpacked yet.
The next twenty minutes were occupied by Steve and me moving the totes out of their piles to make a base of plastic for the stacks of boxes that got moved on top of them. Several were soaked and had to be emptied, checked, and contents rescued. Somewhere in there we also got out both boxes of rags and threw them all over the floor to soak up the wet spots as much as possible.
Trouble was, as soon as we soaked up everything, more leaked out from the base of the wall over the floor again.
We needed a plumber.
Of course, we had no idea how to find a reputable one rather than a see-how-much-the-traffic-will-bear kind of plumber. You know, like the one we wound up with for the sewer repair. The next door neighbor had mentioned a better cheaper plumber, after the sewer repair had been finished, sort-of. Steve headed over to find out the name, but it's a holiday weekend and he wasn't home.
There were lights across the street, but she (Naoma) is new here and hasn't needed to find a plumber herself yet. She did show up a few minutes later with a wet vac to help with the mess, however, as well as helping with the shut-off valve and bringing over a gallon of filtered drinking water for our use while the house water is shut off. (I didn't tell her I've been drinking unfiltered water in my lunch jug because the ice cubes come that way. Lemon slices hide the taste. I don't seem to have been poisoned yet.)
Now for the yellow pages. The first choice just rang and rang. Not even an answering machine. The second gave voice-mail, so I left a message. I'm an optimist. The third advertised no extra charge for evenings, weekends or holidays, 24/7 service, and had an answering service which promised to call a tech for us if we would wait a few minutes for him to call. We did and he did. About 20 minutes later his truck pulled up at the end of our driveway.
I showed him the wet spots, inside and out, and he looked in the space for the water heater, dug a bit of dirt around the pipes coming out of the ground, and offered his conclusion. I had been envisioning tearing the wall apart to find a leak and requiring a repair of the major construction variety.
Nope, not that. We had a slab leak. Translation: the pipe running under the concrete slab the house sits on had developed a leak somewhere between the shut-off and the water heater. Now I'm envisioning jackhammers or tunneling under the slab and wondering how on earth I can manage that kind of expense.
There followed another 20 minutes of checking out various parts of the house and yard, determining what kind of piping ran where and what the options were. The must beautiful words in the world at that point were "bypass" and "through the attic". I was cautioned that his plan, while leaving the house intact, would route the incoming water around the existing pipping in the front yard and in the process also leave the ability to irrigate the front yard in the dust, so to speak. No biggie, we hadn't used it and had no plans to. If we lost the hoses too, well, we might lose the front pine tree but while a loss, it wasn't the one shading the house.
It still won't be cheap. A wall will have to be opened up to determine where exactly the incoming water hooks up now, likely to the water heater, but we're not sure. Maybe 90% sure. He was going to open the bathroom wall between the door and the shower, but I asked why not the back of the wall, in the water heater closet? He said that would require removing the water heater, but after checking it's installation date, suggested that it might best be replaced now anyway.
So the final plan is to use copper, replacing the galvanized pipe there now and since 1961, coming from the meter to the car port, head up into the attic, across to the water heater, and down into the house again to hook up to the vicinity of a brand new water heater. It'll travel outside the house for a bit, something unthinkable in Minnesota. The old leaky pipe will be bypassed completely. They can even install a connector near the ground outside so we can hook up a hose again and continue to water the pine tree! The back yard watering system (hoses again) won't be affected. And, our water pressure should be even better.
When we commented we had great pressure, he amended that to add checking the pressure and maybe adding a regulator to insure that the pressure is not too high.
We can deal with water from the hoses filling buckets for sanitary purposes until Monday. We're waiting till then because that gives us time to call the credit union and cash in another CD to cover the expense. But heck, this one's only earning 2.1% interest. I just hate that it adds to the amount of taxes I'll owe for the year.
When I came home from work today, it was a bit early. There was still light out. I'd tried to stop and get a much-need oil change, but the Econo Lube joint closes early. That was my good luck, as it turned out. Having light enabled me to see the first sign of the problem.
The front entry slab is covered with green astro turf. There was a dark spot on it next to the house. I stopped to check it out, since I didn't remember there being a dark spot anywhere there.
It was wet. I felt it again, just making sure. It was still wet. There was no way it should be wet. I looked over at the pipes coming out of the ground next to the house and there was a little wet spot where the shut-off for the water line into the house was as well.
Having one of those growing sinking feelings, I walked straight into the den, the room on the other side of that wall with the wet spot under it. Good thing I did. Half the floor was wet. It was, of course, the half of the floor that was covered by cardboard boxes we hadn't unpacked yet, rather than the half covered by plastic totes we hadn't unpacked yet.
The next twenty minutes were occupied by Steve and me moving the totes out of their piles to make a base of plastic for the stacks of boxes that got moved on top of them. Several were soaked and had to be emptied, checked, and contents rescued. Somewhere in there we also got out both boxes of rags and threw them all over the floor to soak up the wet spots as much as possible.
Trouble was, as soon as we soaked up everything, more leaked out from the base of the wall over the floor again.
We needed a plumber.
Of course, we had no idea how to find a reputable one rather than a see-how-much-the-traffic-will-bear kind of plumber. You know, like the one we wound up with for the sewer repair. The next door neighbor had mentioned a better cheaper plumber, after the sewer repair had been finished, sort-of. Steve headed over to find out the name, but it's a holiday weekend and he wasn't home.
There were lights across the street, but she (Naoma) is new here and hasn't needed to find a plumber herself yet. She did show up a few minutes later with a wet vac to help with the mess, however, as well as helping with the shut-off valve and bringing over a gallon of filtered drinking water for our use while the house water is shut off. (I didn't tell her I've been drinking unfiltered water in my lunch jug because the ice cubes come that way. Lemon slices hide the taste. I don't seem to have been poisoned yet.)
Now for the yellow pages. The first choice just rang and rang. Not even an answering machine. The second gave voice-mail, so I left a message. I'm an optimist. The third advertised no extra charge for evenings, weekends or holidays, 24/7 service, and had an answering service which promised to call a tech for us if we would wait a few minutes for him to call. We did and he did. About 20 minutes later his truck pulled up at the end of our driveway.
I showed him the wet spots, inside and out, and he looked in the space for the water heater, dug a bit of dirt around the pipes coming out of the ground, and offered his conclusion. I had been envisioning tearing the wall apart to find a leak and requiring a repair of the major construction variety.
Nope, not that. We had a slab leak. Translation: the pipe running under the concrete slab the house sits on had developed a leak somewhere between the shut-off and the water heater. Now I'm envisioning jackhammers or tunneling under the slab and wondering how on earth I can manage that kind of expense.
There followed another 20 minutes of checking out various parts of the house and yard, determining what kind of piping ran where and what the options were. The must beautiful words in the world at that point were "bypass" and "through the attic". I was cautioned that his plan, while leaving the house intact, would route the incoming water around the existing pipping in the front yard and in the process also leave the ability to irrigate the front yard in the dust, so to speak. No biggie, we hadn't used it and had no plans to. If we lost the hoses too, well, we might lose the front pine tree but while a loss, it wasn't the one shading the house.
It still won't be cheap. A wall will have to be opened up to determine where exactly the incoming water hooks up now, likely to the water heater, but we're not sure. Maybe 90% sure. He was going to open the bathroom wall between the door and the shower, but I asked why not the back of the wall, in the water heater closet? He said that would require removing the water heater, but after checking it's installation date, suggested that it might best be replaced now anyway.
So the final plan is to use copper, replacing the galvanized pipe there now and since 1961, coming from the meter to the car port, head up into the attic, across to the water heater, and down into the house again to hook up to the vicinity of a brand new water heater. It'll travel outside the house for a bit, something unthinkable in Minnesota. The old leaky pipe will be bypassed completely. They can even install a connector near the ground outside so we can hook up a hose again and continue to water the pine tree! The back yard watering system (hoses again) won't be affected. And, our water pressure should be even better.
When we commented we had great pressure, he amended that to add checking the pressure and maybe adding a regulator to insure that the pressure is not too high.
We can deal with water from the hoses filling buckets for sanitary purposes until Monday. We're waiting till then because that gives us time to call the credit union and cash in another CD to cover the expense. But heck, this one's only earning 2.1% interest. I just hate that it adds to the amount of taxes I'll owe for the year.
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
A Desert Drive
Weekend before last Steve and I decided we needed to get out of the city. Fortunately, as far west as we are, that's easy to do. I remembered a short jaunt I took my parents on years back, up to see Lake Pleasant back when they were still in the filling-it stage. No amenities, but therre was a spot to pull over and see where the water levels were going to be and get an idea of the future shape of the lake.
Yep, that long ago.
The most noticeable thing at the time was the sharply dwindling supply of cactus, notably saguaros. It had become a crime to remove them from the desert, finally. But now, with so many due to drown, one could go through a beaurocratic process and get a permit to remove one or more to a new location.
Getting there is simple from here, Just head over to 99th Ave and go north. Keep going north. Eventually there will be signs letting you know you're going the right way, and finally signs for where to turn off for various access points.
The first ones will be for private land, well developed with overlooks, a huge marina, and RV park and a store. We took that, having to pay $6 for access. The overlook made it worth it, but made us both regret having no cameras along better than in our cell phones. The weather up north was mixed rain and snow and the clouds were a great accent to the shots. We sat in sunshine, of course, enjoying the weather the best way, from a distance.
Having seen our fill, we decided to head further along the road we had been on and see what else was there. Shortly we arrived at the turnoff for the regional park, another pay-as-you-enter access. Having done that once already, we declined the privilege and turned back to the main drag. Along the way we started noticing funny saguaros, with arms in all directions and all shapes and sizes. If we anthropomorphized them, they became funny beings with individual personalities as shown in their "postures". I found a need to go back with a camera sometime, shoot them, and add captions. One had droopy arms, cris-crossed arms, and upright arms, but each pointed a different way. Steve and I both shot it, though the sun disappeared behind a cloud and all we got were silhouettes. Steve thought his should be directing a posse with a "they went thataway" and I thought it should be telling the lost wanderer where home or a water hole was located.
Passing a sign indicating that this road joined Hwy 60, we decided to continue our jaunt. The result was 20 miles of nearly pristine desert, and the surprise of a pack of wild burros, including an adorable white baby, walking along the road. We weren't the first or last car to stop, watch, and take pictures, the last being a county sheriff to monitor things.
The minute we hit Hwy. 60 we entered a different world. Civilization again, but at it's worst. Dingy, depressing, the homes and junk of folks on the edge of modern survival lined the road all along the way back until we hit formal suburbs again. It may not have looked so bad had we not just come from the wilderness we'd just enjoyed.
We'll have to go back. Soon.
Yep, that long ago.
The most noticeable thing at the time was the sharply dwindling supply of cactus, notably saguaros. It had become a crime to remove them from the desert, finally. But now, with so many due to drown, one could go through a beaurocratic process and get a permit to remove one or more to a new location.
Getting there is simple from here, Just head over to 99th Ave and go north. Keep going north. Eventually there will be signs letting you know you're going the right way, and finally signs for where to turn off for various access points.
The first ones will be for private land, well developed with overlooks, a huge marina, and RV park and a store. We took that, having to pay $6 for access. The overlook made it worth it, but made us both regret having no cameras along better than in our cell phones. The weather up north was mixed rain and snow and the clouds were a great accent to the shots. We sat in sunshine, of course, enjoying the weather the best way, from a distance.
Having seen our fill, we decided to head further along the road we had been on and see what else was there. Shortly we arrived at the turnoff for the regional park, another pay-as-you-enter access. Having done that once already, we declined the privilege and turned back to the main drag. Along the way we started noticing funny saguaros, with arms in all directions and all shapes and sizes. If we anthropomorphized them, they became funny beings with individual personalities as shown in their "postures". I found a need to go back with a camera sometime, shoot them, and add captions. One had droopy arms, cris-crossed arms, and upright arms, but each pointed a different way. Steve and I both shot it, though the sun disappeared behind a cloud and all we got were silhouettes. Steve thought his should be directing a posse with a "they went thataway" and I thought it should be telling the lost wanderer where home or a water hole was located.
Passing a sign indicating that this road joined Hwy 60, we decided to continue our jaunt. The result was 20 miles of nearly pristine desert, and the surprise of a pack of wild burros, including an adorable white baby, walking along the road. We weren't the first or last car to stop, watch, and take pictures, the last being a county sheriff to monitor things.
The minute we hit Hwy. 60 we entered a different world. Civilization again, but at it's worst. Dingy, depressing, the homes and junk of folks on the edge of modern survival lined the road all along the way back until we hit formal suburbs again. It may not have looked so bad had we not just come from the wilderness we'd just enjoyed.
We'll have to go back. Soon.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
