Prep Work

As you all don't know, we're heading on a road trip in the near future in order to attend Miss Ellie's wedding. This will entail three days of driving to get there, as Miss Ellie is getting married in East Bumblyburg, and there are no airports within a thousand miles of there. Give or take.

Part of getting ready for a long road trip is to clean the vehicle in which you will travel. In this case, the winivan. Now, my childrens, darling as they are, seem to believe that the only difference between a floor and a garbage can is that you can also walk on a floor. Plus, a floor is generally a lot closer. When this philosophy is extended to winivans, well, it can get a bit sticky.

We removed all the "gear" that The Mrs. insists on hauling with her wherever she goes lest any kind of an opportunity present itself for which appropriate gear is not immediately at hand. What I refer to as "the mobile garage sale". The small junk got piled into a laundry basket.

This is problematic. We seem to regularly use laundry baskets to pile junk whenever we're cleaning something, and this cuts substantially down on the baskets available for actually doing laundry. We've had to cut back to just one load of laundry per week because of this problem. Though this morning MacieC put away the socks that were washed three weeks ago and had been left in a basket ever since, so perhaps we'll be able to do two loads a week now.

This laundry basket of junk was then placed in the hallway connecting the garage to the house so that I could trip over it about 6 times during the ensuing cleaning of the winivan.

I took out the seats (which, I must admit, I had only done once before in this van, and I had to check the manual to figure out where they hid away the latch release), and underneath was quite a bit of flotsam. Gooey flotsam. Perhaps what were once gummy bears, some nerds, a spoon from Cold Stone, and some fries with that.

The van got vacuumed, the carpet and mats got shampooed, everything on the inside cleaned, with the leather also getting conditioner applied. Then we washed and waxed the outside. I tried this new Turtle Wax "Ice" polish. It worked pretty well. I got the kind that you can use on paint, chrome, rubber, plastic, whatever, and it won't leave white residue. That definitely worked.

The whole process took about 6 hours. We even had to make a trip to Wal-Mart in the middle cuz we were out of car cleaning products. Now that the van is so fresh and clean, it's a shame to allow the fambly into it. Maybe I'll make them drive around in my pickup all week, and I'll take the van to and from work so that it stays clean.

Odd

It's hot and humid in my cubicle this morning. I wonder if they managed to break the first floor air handler when they fixed the second floor's yesterday.

CherkyB, Marriage Counselor

Recently, a Sprouts "Farmer's Market" opened up near us. I put "Farmer's Market" in quotes, as I sure as hell can't tell the difference between this place and a Whole Foods other than that this place seems to have very good prices. It certainly isn't a bunch of guys in a parking lot selling food out of the back of their pickups.

But, as happens with any new market of this sort that opens up, it has unleashed The Mrs.'s inner Bohemian self. The one she tries to hide when I'm around, lest I be moved to perform an exorcism or hand her a Dr. Laura book or some such. It's not so much that I mind that deep down inside she has these trite and entirely predictable white, upper-middle-class pretensions (she did go to music conservatory, after all), or even that I really object to her spending my money on them - one forfeits the right to object to one's spouses frivolities when one says, "I do." No, it's that I object to being inconvenienced by them.

Case in point, today I went to put the iced tea into the refrigerator, as I do every day when I come home from work. You see, I prefer my iced tea cold, and thus I keep it in the refrigerator. The Mrs. prefers her iced tea cold as well, and in addition, she doesn't like ice in it. Thus, she keeps it on the kitchen counter. Well, I suspect that the real reason is the same reason everything we own is piled on the kitchen counter - people just can't seem to make the time to put anything away around here.

However, today was different, as when I open the fridge it was full. Completely full. And right where I was going to put the iced tea there sat a bottle of kefir. "Kefir?" you ask, as no one who would have any kind of Bohemian traits would ever spend time around these parts. Well, other than the one who is prone to head injuries, perhaps.

Well, I didn't know WTF kefir was either, so I had to look it up. I'll save you the trouble of hitting the link - kefir is an age-old drink invented in the Caucasus region (you know, the motherland where all white people came from) that consists of some vile concoction made from kefir grains soaked in fermented goat's blood. There is, however, no kefir plant from which kefir grains come. Why, they're not a "grain" at all in the classical starch-family sense. Noooo. It gets even better.

"Production of traditional kefir requires kefir grains which are a gelatinous community of bacteria and yeasts."

Bleaaaugh. But wait, there's more:

"Kefir grains contain a water soluble polysaccharide known as kefiran that imparts a rope-like texture and feeling in one's mouth."

Add "salty" to that description, and you are talking about something that The Mrs. won't allow anywhere near her mouth. At least not since we got married. But gulp this stuff down she does. And why? Well, because it has magical New Age healing properties and is all the rage amongst the Bohemian crowd right now.

So, as we're sitting down to dinner, right after I failed to secure cold storage for the iced tea, I was making fun of The Mrs. for buying kefir. This is what I do to let her know I disapprove of her antics. She gets quite angry if I outright ban her from such foolishness, much like a petulant teenager told not to date The Bad Boy. After a while of her defending the indefensible, she finally whined that I criticize her too much in front of The Childrens.

HannahC then yelled, "Deeeevorce!"

MaxieC inquired as to what this divorce was, as it's not something he had heard discussed prior. So, being the great father that I am, I 'splained it to him.

Me, CherkyB: "You see, son, divorce is when we sell the house, then you two kids and mommy move into a trailer, while I move into an apartment and get myself a hot young girlfriend. Then you'll come over every other weekend and Thursday nights, and I'll tell you that she's your new mommy."

MaxieC: "Why would you want a hot, young girlfriend?"

Me, CherkyB: "Ohhh. Because that's the best kind of girlfriend. ... Well, it helps if she's dumb, too. The dumber the better."

HannahC: "Momma's not dumb."

Me, CherkyB: "No. Not at all. That's a large part of the problem. She thinks I care what she thinks. That's why you want a dumb girlfriend."

HannahC: [holding up a bean from her side of mixed vegetables] "This bean is young and hot and dumb. This bean is your new girlfriend."

Me, CherkyB: "No. That bean could never be my girlfriend. It doesn't have big boobs."

MaxieC: [holding up broccoli] "This can be your girlfriend."

Me, CherkyB: "No. Again, no big boobs. Gotta have big boobs."

The Childrens then proceeded to fashion big boobs to attach to the vegetables out of other vegetables. MaxieC used two pieces of baby corn after I rejected his initial attempt at using only one piece of corn with, "No, she needs two symmetric big boobs. Not one giant boob in the middle."

The Mrs. then chimed in about how it would be preferable if they were both from the same surgeon, and much mirth ensued.

That, dear readers, is a veritable clinic in both parenting and husbanding. I invite you to read it again and again and bask in its wisdom.

Well, That Sucked

Those of you who follow along my facebook account know that yesterday, we went fishing (for the first time this season) and got basically shut out. But wait, there's more to that story...

HannahC had been talking about going fishing for months now. She loves the fishing. During one of our many tornado warnings this month, I replaced the line on her spincasting reel and on MaxieC's as well. I also cleaned and lubed them. Our tornado warnings last quite a while, though we've yet to see a tornado this year near by. We've had 6 or 7 within 50 miles, but nothing really close.

Saturday morning, I started loading up the truck with fishing gear. The Mrs. and MaxieC had decided that they were going, and that means that quite a bit more gear is required. For instance, they require folding chairs, drinks, snacks, moist towelettes, and sunscreen. HannahC and I require fishing poles, a tackle box, and maybe a cooler if we think we're going to be keeping anything.

One of the troubles with going Saturday morning was that we didn't have worms nor did The Mrs. have her fishing license. So we planned a quick trip to Ace Hardware where both are available. However, The Mrs. never allows an opportunity for blackmail to pass, so she put all kinds of pre-conditions that had to be met prior to us leaving. Most involved homework or 4H project work. The end result of this was that we left our house at 11:45 and still had to go to the store for worms and a license.

Of course, there aren't any fish at all that bite from noon until 4 around here. The sun is too bright. One baby bluegill was caught by MaxieC, and that was it. So, The Mrs. vowed that we would go in the early morning today.

Riiiiiiight.

I knew this was going to go horribly wrong the minute The Mrs. described her plans for the night. She said that The Childrens would need to go to bed early so that they could get up early to fish, and then as soon as they went to bed, we would watch one of her godawful moovies. Well, she may not have said godawful, but when The Mrs. picks a moovie, that's about the best you can hope for.

She got HannahC to bed by 10:55pm, and then we started The Mrs.'s moovie. It was Doubt, and it was horrible. Very plodding, effectively no sub-plots whatsoever. I don't understand why anyone would think this was a decent moovie (though it gets 7.8/10 on IMDB). One of the more annoying aspects of it was the fact that it was ostensibly about a Catholic priest suspected of molesting a boy (wow - very original plot there), but it was riddled with Protestant terminology. Newsflash - Catholic churches do not have "pastors". Because of this, it made it feel like some ignorant left-wing screed against Catholicism as opposed to a drama.

Finally, this horrible thing wrapped up, but by then it was close to 1am. 1am is not when one goes to bed if one plans to go on an early morning fishing expedition.

We got fishing around 10am today. Not at all unpredictable, but a pretty lousy time to go nonetheless.

The Mrs. caught the only keeper - a 6" bluegill. I spent much of the day either baiting hooks for The Childrens or trying to catch a big catfish (or a medium carp) using first Vienna sausages and then bluegill guts at bait. MaxieC caught about 12 bluegill, the biggest being about 3". In three months, this pond will be great.

We also got to watch a pair of turtles do the nasty. For the entire time. Turtles, it seems, take their time about most everything.

Poor JackieC

JackieC, HannahC's pet rat, has taken a sudden turn for the worse tonight. Last Monday, the vet gave her a steroid shot and put her on Cipro, and she seemed to recover almost fully. However, the vet said that it was one of two things: either she had pneumonia, in which case she would be cured, or her cancer had spread to her brain, in which case she'd get better for a few days due to the tumor shrinking from the steroids and then get sick again.

I guess this means it's door #2. The Mrs. just did a nice job of explaining to HannahC how we can't take JackieC back to get steroid shots every week and how we'll do what we can to keep her comfortable but that she probably won't be getting better this time. HannahC handled it well, I think because she already expected JackieC to be dead by now given how bad she was two 10 days ago.

The New Pets

One of the joys of being out of town is discussing daily life with your childrens on the phone as opposed to face-to-face. This is a little gem was from late last week.

HannahC: "Dah, when you get home you have to empty one of the mouse traps."

Me, CherkyB: "Oh?"

HannahC: "Yeah. I checked all the traps, and there was this big, disgusting mouse in one of them. The one by the stairs in the garage."

Me, CherkyB: "Why didn't you empty it?"

HannahC: "Well Mom and I tried turning it over and shaking it, but it was really stuck in there. It didn't come out. It's really huge. Like, its nose at at the one end, and its tail is all the way at the other. And it's stuck. Momma said you have to empty it when you get home. So you remember as soon as you come home, empty that."

Me, CherkyB: "Uh. OK."

HannahC: "You know what else?"

Me, CherkyB: "No."

HannahC: "Do you want me to just tell you, or do you want to guess?"

Me, CherkyB: "Ummm...Momma yelled at you for not doing your schoolwork?"

HannahC: "Yeah, well duuuhhhh. I mean something unusual."

Me, CherkyB: "Momma didn't yell at you cuz you did all your schoolwork without complaining?"

HannahC: "No. Maybe I should just tell you."

Ya think?

Me, CherkyB: "OK. Tell me."

HannahC: "Well, when I was checking the mousetraps and I found that big, disgusting mouse, I also found these really neat little white larvae. I don't know what they are, but I saved them, and I'm going to raise them to see what they turn into."

Me, CherkyB: "Did you find those, like, on the dead mouse?"

HannahC: "Yeah, some of them. They're really cool. The squirm around a lot. I really like them."

Me, CherkyB: "Right on the dead mouse? Like, in the mouse trap on the dead mouse?"

HannahC: "There were some there, but there were also some just near the mouse. I scooped all of the ones up that were near the mouse, cuz I didn't wanna touch the mouse."

Me, CherkyB: "Uh, Hannie, those are maggots."

At least she hasn't made me take them to the vet yet.

My Creative Little Pains

So, I'm mowing the lawn yesterday, all happy cuz I'm mowing the lawn, and every time I drive by the swing set (where The Childrens are playing), I notice that there is a pungent odor of dog poop. I figure that I must have run some over, since I don't ever pick it up before mowing, and I quickly located some on my front tire. I dismiss the problem as not related to the swing set, but instead related to the fact that the only time I am driving into the wind is when I am headed at the swing set.

Yet, after a while, I realize I have started to mow into the wind in other parts of the yard, and it doesn't smell like dog poop. Just when I am downwind of the swing set. Hmmm...

After finishing the yard, I investigate.

Oh my.

The Childrens have made "compost". They have done this by taking a 20-gallon Rubbermaid container that we use as a toybox, filling the bottom 3" or so with cut grass and water, into which they have mixed all the dog poop they can find as well as all the bunny poop they can find. They have done this earlier in the week, as the grass is all festering already, though you can see large chunks of dog poop floating around on the muck.

HannahC explained that I bought composted steer manure for the garden, so composting poo must be the way to go.

There was a lot of yelling after that. I put the lid on the box.

Then, during dinner, we noticed that we could smell this thing all the way in the house. More yelling ensued. There may have been aspersions cast upon people's inate intelligence.

Happily, The Childrens were sent off to bed early that night. And thus The Mrs. and I ended up out in the back yard under the flood lights trying to shovel this mess into a garbage bag, which we then triple bagged, and then hosing out the container in a remote corner of the yard.

The stank was really quite something.

The Road-Weary Traveler

I got back home Friday after a major boondoggle for The Company. I am located here at the Fort TomCollins facility, but my next assignment is on a project largely located in my old Santa Clarabelle site, so I flew there Monday to meet some peoples. Except it's not all in Santa Clarabelle, so on Tuesday I flew up to the Hillsbrothers, Oregon site in the morning then back in the afternoon. Except we're getting some of the internal parts of the project from the ZenaFolsom, CA site, so I flew there Thursday morning and back Thursday afternoon. Finally, I flew home Friday.

Oddly enough, most of the trip turned out to be a big waste of time. Many of the people I was supposed to see decided at the last minute that they were too busy right now to meet with me. The guys in ZenaFolsom were very helpful, though.

While I was gone, The Mrs. took Jackie to the vet. They thought she had pneumonia and gave her a steriod shot plus a prescription for Cipro (you know - in case it was anthrax). She's seems to have largely recovered, though she is a bit weak still. Apparently, there was lots of nursing that went on while I was gone to try to get Jackie better.

My ankle really hurts. I was using the gas-powered weed whacker around a landscape rock bed today, and it fired a rock back at my ankle. Ow.

I bought a new suit today. The last suit I bought was for The Mrs's father's funeral over 10 years ago, and I'm a lot fatter now so it doesn't fit. I also got three shirts, three ties, and three decorative pocket hankies to go with it. This way, Ellie can get married three times before I have to recycle a look.

We're having rib eyes from Sam's club tonight. It's after 8pm, and there doesn't seem to be any sign of cooking going on, so I suppose I'll have to go check on that.

A Milestone

I taught MaxieC how to ride his bike without training wheels today. I'm such a fabulous teacher that it took all of 5 minutes. I think that 12" bikes are pretty easy to learn on, as you're very low to the ground. HannahC learned on a 16", and it took a lot longer despite my powerful teaching skills.

Of course she, like her mother, is quite obstinate and just always has to do the exact opposite of what I say to do. That might have something to do with it.

JackieC the rat is quite sick again. A few months back, she had surgery to remove all her breast cancer tumors (very common in rats. Mostly females.), and she's been doing very well until just recently. The Mrs. had noticed her losing her balance on occasion the past couple weeks, and then yesterday she went all limp. The Mrs. and HannahC nursed her back from the brink by feeding her lots of peeled grapes, and she can move about a bit now, but she's definitely not normal. She is past the average life expectancy of a rat by about 25%, so while we're all pulling for her, I believe that death is imminent.

Poor JackieC.

Yesterday, we went to the Denver Zoo with the 4-H group for a guided tour. It was interesting. The tour was two hours long, then we stayed another 4 hours (at which point the zoo closed, and everyone was cranky from being on their feet all day). Naturally, we didn't go home.

We went to The Mrs.'s favorite Greek restaraunt, which is in Denver near the zoo. And then we headed home.

Well, not quite. Then we headed to Bass Pro to spend all my gift certificates. Oh, and spend we did. I got me all setup for catfish hunting. Just so Carl, Jr. can be jealous, the rod was $130, and the reel was $110. Together, that exceeded my gift card balance by $5. I didn't get anything that was purpose-built for catfish. Instead, it's a lightish surf-fishing outfit. The "catfish" gear looked like crap to me, and the dude at the store said it was crap, too. They make them look really big and strong, but it's all cosmetics. I stuck with a spinning reel, though a pretty big one that also has a trolling mode.

I doubt I'll catch a thing.

I need to find some good stink-bait recipes. Then, I plan to try them out in the back pond where we have two very well-fed catfish (along with 18 goldfish/koi). No hook. I just want to see what these guys like to eat. I saw the black catfish up close for the first time in a while today while I was cleaning algae out of the pond, and he was over a foot long. Oh my. Two years ago when we got them, they were only about 3". The black one has always been bigger than the white one.

There was a time

..that such a thing would have surprised me. But today is not such a day.

We've attempted to attempted to begin planning our cross-country venture to Ellie's wedding, but progress has been halting. However, a great breakthrough occurred today - we figured out what to do with the dog.

Last year, we took him along (as we did the rat), but that was in May. This year, it'll be in July, and it will be way too hot to leave him in the car while we eat meals. So we needed to find somewhere for him to stay. My friend Rico said he'd take him, but then decided that he was going to be out of town during that time. The Mrs. decided to check out a pet sitter she had met in a parking lot. Turns out she lives kinda far from us, but she said she could keep FreddyC at her house if'n he could get along with her 4 dogs.

He had his trial meeting today, and he got along quite nicely. So that's taken care of (at the cost of $30/day). The Mrs. has also found a home for CinnamonC and FluffyC, the guinea pigs. She's working on a home for JackieC (the rat) and LexieC (the toad).

Next step is to start mapping out hotels. Our biggest hurdle here is to decide if we want to stay together or not. This being a humor blog, you probably assume I'm joking about that, but I'm not. There are a lot of political considerations that need to be taken into account on the fambly visits. Kids, if you do for some crazy reason decide to get married, don't ever marry someone from your hometown if you plan to some day move away from that hometown. It complicates things greatly.

I really wanna go shoot my new shotgun. That's the trouble with new guns if you live in suburbia.

A trip to JoAnn's Fabric

The Mrs. loves the fabric store, and there was this coupon for some percentage off everything in the store, including sales, that expired today. She decided to buy the stuff to make MaxieC some blackout curtains so that he will sleep in later. He has a tendency to wake up with the sun.

Well, JoAnn's is in the same plaza at Sportsman's Warehouse, and I've been needing some new fishing line for The Childrens' reels. They both have the original line on them, and it was getting all nasty towards the end of last season. So I dropped The Mrs. and HannahC off at JoAnn's and MaxieC and I headed over to Sportsman's. The Mrs. told me to take a long time at Sportsman's, cuz she was going to get full use out of the coupon. MaxieC spent about a half hour there, which is a really long time for two dude to go "shopping", even at Sportsman's Warehouse.

It wasn't long enough. The Mrs. needed about another half hour, by which time she was all cranky (JoAnn's always makes The Mrs. cranky, despite it being her favorite store). She had two big rolls of fabric for the curtains, plus a curtain rod. These proved to be a little bit too long to fit lenghtwise through the hatch of the minivan:

What would you do?
	Cry because you spent so long picking out the perfect fabric, but now you can't get it home.
	Turn it a bit diagonally so that the end goes in first and it fits fine.
	Keep bashing it into the sides while growling about how your loving husband's brand new shotgun is in the way.
Free polls from Pollhost.com

Ohhhh... who lives in a pineapple under the sea?

I'll tell ya, I just don't know where the blogging time has gone.

OK, I do. We've been "spring cleaning" the house, planting the garden, and The Mrs. has been feeling a bit under the weather in general punctuated by the occasional burst of serious, heartfelt, "I'm going to die!!!!"

I'm telling ya folks, if you're not prepared for every medical malady to turn into a major performance, then don't marry someone with a performance degree. The Mrs. isn't going to die. The Mrs. was never even close to dying. Well, at least not any closer than that time she got really "happy" at the conservatory and decided to show her friends how athletic she was by demonstrating how she could jump down a whole flight of stairs without getting hurt and then called me up in the middle of the night (400 miles away) to ask me if she should go to the hospital.

But we're not supposed to talk about that.

As part of the spring cleaning, The Childrens have been boxing and bagging up toys that they don't need any more. Some for donation, some for sellin' at the consignment shoppe (at least until the new lead rules for certifying toys go into effect, which puts consignment stores out of business). Then, they'll be rewarded with new toys of a smaller volume, but likely higher dollar cost.

Probably they'll each get a Nintendo DSi. They need them for the road trip anyways, so we might as well kill two birds with one stone.

I'm thinking of cleaning up the garage so I can make room for a new truck. I have the most devious of plans. See, it goes like this:

My HOA won't let me park a boat outside, on account of the fact that I live in a nice neighborhood, so owning a boat becomes way too much hassle, cuz then I gotta rent some place to park it, go get it the night before, charge the batteries, check everything over, go fishing, come back, clean it all off, then take it back to storage. Hence, the saga of the fishing boat ended with me empty-handed.

Now, the prospect of the Gub'ment and/or the UAW and/or Fiat running Dodge has made me worry about the possibility of not being able to get quality replacement parts for the old truckster. I'm almost at 60k miles, which is about as far as once can expect a Dodge to go without requiring a steady diet of replacement parts. Yes, I know, if I'd gotten the Heavy Duty, that wouldn't be true. But I got a compact (I lived in California, and the compact didn't fit in my garage at all and just barely fit in the driveway). The Dakota, like its brother the Durango, is known more for its styling and class-leading available V8 power than it is for its longevity. You can axe 'Billy about how well his Durango held up once it got to a certain age.

So, if'n I'm replacing the Dakota in a year or so, first you gotta look at all the possible replacements. The Dakota, despite being competely redesigned a couple years ago, remains largely identical to the one I have now (plus, see above about Gub'ment/UAW/Fiat), so that's out. The Chevy/GMC twins, while they've managed to wedge a nice V8 in there, are otherwise non-competitive models, and while Fiat doesn't look to be involved, Gub'ment/UAW ownership is on the horizon. The Frontier (made in USA) and Tacoma (made in Mexico) both have laughably small beds - even smaller than I have now. There are only two serious complaints I have about my truck: pathetic gas mileage (12 city/15 hwy) and the small bed. The Ford Explorer Sport Track I don't even understand the point of.

So, I'm left going full-size. And when you go full-size, you're only real option in the half-ton market is the F-150.

Now, I've checked the dimensions of the F-150, and it will not fit through my garage door without the mirrors folded. It's not clear to me if they have power folding mirrors, i.e., mirrors that you push a button, and they automatically fold. If they do, then we might be able to get it through the door (I'm not getting in and out to fold/unfold mirrors every time I use the garage). Once inside, though, I'm pretty sure I'd have to take out the shelves on the left wall in order to open the driver's door, and I'm pretty sure I won't be able to open the right rear passenger door because I have no way to remove the post that holds up the second floor that is right there. I figure if I get the SuperCrew with the 6.5' bed, there's no practical way I'll be able to park it in the garage.

Which means helllloooo fishing boat.

Why yes, I have been neglecting you

You'll get over it. I know I did.

There hasn't been a lot to report on the old homefront these day that has any entertainment value. So I'll have to choreblog (given that The Mrs. has squirreled away the camera where I can't find it, I can't even photoblog).

Sunday of course was Mothers' Day, or as it goes by around here The Day of Anger. The Mrs. went out to the hot tub in the morning, and then came back in moments later without saying anything. An hour later, I asked if there was anything wrong with the hot tub, and she said, "It's a filthy, disgusting mess. The water is green. There is yellow mold growing up the sides. I'm not going in there."

Now, I found this odd given that just a couple days prior I had checked all the chemical levels and shocked the hell out of it (as the water was starting to look a little less transparent than I like). So I checked, and sure enough, the water was slightly green and there was some yellowish scum forming around the edges. I don't think it was necessarily mold, but I don't have a better explanation.

I decided to head to the spa store to see if I could score some new filters.

As it turns out, they didn't have any. However, the guy declared my filter just fine. Now, this was actually the owner dude - the guy we had bought the tub from - not one of the, shall we say, less knowledgeable young ladies that normally mans the counter on weekends. So I discussed the problems I had been having of late keeping the tub clean despite the copious amounts of shock I put in regularly and the fact that all the chemical levels always read just fine on the test strip.

He said, "It sounds like your ozone isn't working. That's odd. They usually last a little over a year."

"The tub is two years old."

"Oh. Have you ever changed the ozone generator module?"

"Uh, no. I didn't know you had to."

"You have to change them every year."

I really don't remember that little gem being in the manual, but it has been two years since I read the manual. He also recommended I change the backflow valve for the ozone, cuz they don't last forever either, and then you get water in the ozone generator and burn it out.

And, as it turns out, there's a little window you look in to see if it is glowing purple when turned on. If it's purple, ozone. If not, time for a new one.

No purple in mine. I would describe it more as carbonized from some kind of catastrophic burnout than as purple. Plus, the hose seemed to have shmutz deposits in it. It was a pretty easy change once I gave up on the idea of getting the old backflow valve out (it snapped off in the tube when I tried to remove it) and just cut off the end of the tube. Then, I actually used a pipe cleaner to clean the shmutz out of the tube.

Of course, now the tube was too short. So I had to make a quick trip to Ace for $2 worth of stuff to splice in a new short length of new tube. Then I emptied and refilled the tub. So far, 4 days later, it is holding up very well. The water smells better than it has in a long time (even when it was freshly filled before) - one might even say the water doesn't smell at all. I'm hoping this was the key.

I've finally decided to get the big dent in my truck fender repaired. If you recall the story (which you don't), some f$%knuts smashed into my truck in the work parking lot back in October 2006 and didn't leave a note or anything. Now, it's finally starting to rust. So I'm going to have to put up the $500 deductible and get it fixed. Get this - rather than replacing the fender, they're going to repair it, and they've estimated this is going to take 12 hours of labor. 12 hours to hammer out a dent and sand some Bondo? Can't you build an entire car out of Bondo in less than 12 hours? Maybe not a truck, but something small, like a Tacoma. And then it's another 4 hours of labor to paint it.

Plus $32.50 for the "4x4" decal. That's the only part they're actually replacing.

I managed to eat a very quick lunch today then run to the body shop for an estimate. $988. Robbery, I tell you. Then, I had to call my insurance company to see if they'd still pay a claim that was almost 3 years old. They had to "re-activate" it, but that took mere moments. So I'll be dropping the truck off the day before we had to Barfalo for Ellie's wedding, and it'll be ready and waiting when we return.

Then, I can look up what the value of my truck in "good" condition will be as opposed to "fair". I hear that Dodges lost 6% of their value after Chrysler filed for chapter 11, so probably that fancy fender paint will be the most expensive part of the vehicle. Well, until I replace the shocks, which it is also badly in need of.

That is all. Carry on.

It appears to have been cancelled

My new feature, which was to be a multimedia extravaganza, appears to have had the plug pulled on it by The Mrs. See, I was farting around with my new video editing software (which really, really sucks as it turns out - good thing it was free) along with some sound and picture editors trying to figure out the easiest way to take a still image, record a voiceover for that, and then splice it in with some video footage, when The Mrs. walked in and was absolutely convinced that the fake stills, voiceover, and goofy video I had recorded just to figure out the software was actually evidence of me carrying on some affair with an unknown woman over the compooter.

The unknown woman talking to me in the voiceover, oddly enough, was actually a recording of me that I had pitch-shifted up using Audacity, which is a kick-ass free sound editor. So, The Mrs. is mad at me right now for making a recording of me asking myself a question, and then a video of me answering myself.

And thus dies "Ask CherkyB." It had such promise, too. Sigh. How I suffer for my art.

The joys of prostate health

On AM radio, you hear a lot of commercials to buy gold. Today, though, we got to hear a commercial for a homeopathic herbal concoction for prostate health.

HannahC: "Hey Dah, what's 'sex drive'?"

Me, CherkyB: "Umm..." CherkyB must run through the possible answers before speaking:

(It's something men have all the time and women have until they get married.)

(Ask your mother. She might remember.)

(It's the thing that makes men want to earn more money.)

(You know all those Girls Gone Wild commercials on TV?)

Me, CherkyB: "So, you remember that video with Howie Mandel about how babies were made? You remember what 'sex' was?"

HannahC: "Yeah."

Me, CherkyB: "Sex drive is the thing that makes you want to have sex."

HannahC: "OK. What's a prostate?"

Me, CherkyB: "[blah blah blah] and when you get old it often doesn't work right."

HannahC: "I see."

HannahC: "Dah?"

Me, CherkyB: "Yes?"

HannahC: "Are you too old to have sex anymore?"

Oh sweet Jesus.

I'm thinking of a new feature

I'm not sure what to call it yet, as I have two or three different versions of the idea. But, you know, now that Andy Rooney is dead, I sense a vacuum.

Momma is one of Those

HannahC had a talent show today. I had to pick MaxieC up from the gym at 6:00 and drive us to the show. Being that this was the evening drive, Michael Savage was on the radio one of his satiric resignation bits.

Michael Savage: "Oooooh, I think I'm going to become one of those people who just shuts up and gets along."

MS: "I mean, what have I got to complain about? 99% of people just looooove Obama."

MaxieC: "Momma is one of those."

Me, CherkyB: "Huh?"

MaxieC: "Momma is one of those. Momma cares for Obama."

I wonder what it is that they do all day when I'm at work.

They're Not All Winners 3

Given that it has been 6 months since the last installment, one can't help but notice that, while they may not all be winners, damn close to all of them are. Oh, the quality of entertainment delivered by Me, CherkyB is absolutely top notch. I'm like Top Gear, only without the need for a continuous stream of automobile props. Or the need for two sidekicks. And not British.

OK, nothing like Top Gear, but top notch nonetheless.

So last night was an action-packed night, being Friday and all. First, upon returning home from work, I realized I had forgotten to pick up HannahC from gymnastics because she changes her schedule every week, and I had thought this Friday she wasn't there. Not to worry - I had plenty of time. I rushed back to get her and had to stand around for 15 minutes while she puddled around in the locker room jibber-jabbering with her friends.

Then, upon returning home a second time, I immediately set forth trying to clean up the breakfast and lunch dishes enough to have room to serve dinner. See, The Mrs. likes every meal to require at least two different size plates and/or bowls per person, and then a serving plate or bowl (along with a serving spoon or tongs) for each and every dish, plus at least one, preferably more food prep items. Thus, for example, a simple breakfast of pancakes for three (I don't normally eat breakfast, instead using the time to sleep in before leaving for work) will create the following carnage:

• One mixing bowl
• One measuring cup to measure the powdered mix
• A different measuring cup to measure the water
• Two beaters from the electric mixer
• A spatula to scrape the sides of the mixing bowl when mixing
• A different spatula to control the pour when pouring the batter into the pan
• A frying pan that will not be dishwasher safe
• A spatula to turn over the pancakes
• A second non-dishwasher safe pan to fry the sausage links
• A different spatula to roll the links so they cook on all sides
• A splatter screen to keep the sausages from splattering hot grease
  
• A colander in which to wash the grapes
• A bowl in which to serve the grapes
• A bowl for each child so that they can put grapes in there and not keep sticking their fingers in the main serving bowl
• A plate on which to serve the pancakes
• A big fork to move pancakes from serving plate to eating plate
• A plate on which to serve the sausage links
• A set of tongs to get sausage links from the plate
• A plate to put the butter on
• A butter knife
• Three forks
• Two knives, one for each child
• A third knife because HannahC didn't like the original one cuz it was not a steak knife
• Three juice glasses
• A coffee mug
• A milk cup because MaxieC decided he wanted milk instead of juice after the juice was poured
  

Now, if it is a good day, the non-consumed food on The Childrens' plates will be dumped into the sink in the general vicinity of the disposal. The disposal will not be run. Then some dishes will be piled up in the sink on top of the pile of food, and the napkins will be placed in the syrup on each plate, and then the plates stacked upon one another so that the napkins can properly fuse to the plates before I get home.

If it is a bad day, everything will simply be left on the kitchen table, pushed into my spot (since I'm at work and thus not using my spot) when it comes time to make lunch (with an equivalent use of dishes).

Yesterday was apparently a good day.

Now, the prior night I had noted how the entire house was a wreck and that The Fambly should plan on spending some time cleaning up while I was work. The Mrs. informed me that she had never "signed up" to clean or cook or do dishes. All she had "signed up" for was to raise The Childrens. I noted that the only thing I had signed up for was to earn the money, and I also noted that the only way I could detect what she did all day while I was gone was to log into the credit card website and watch the numbers spin by on balance.

So that pretty much guaranteed that the first thing I would have to do upon returning home was the dishes. It was a nice added touch that the groceries from the trip to the supermarket two days ago were still all lined up in bags in the hallway, and The Mrs. was complaining that the back of the van was filled with more from a trip to Sam's Club yesterday but that she didn't have anywhere to pile them. She did "try" to find all the perishables and get them into the refrigerator or freezer, though. She did not have confidence in complete success on that.

After eating dinner (a dinner of guacamole and Tostitos Hint of Lime tortilla chips), it was announced that it was hot tub time. So we hit the tub for a while - at first just The Childrens and I, with The Mrs. joining us a bit later. Afterwards, they all just went inside, leaving me to put in the chemicals, close the lid, and collect the empties. It was about 41 degrees out.

This finally brings us to the topic of the post. Upon returning inside, The Mrs. and I were changing out of our bathing suits when the following transpired:

The Mrs.: "So..."

Me, CherkyB: "What?"

The Mrs.: "No. I'm not going to say it. You'll just get mad."

Me, CherkyB: "Well, now I'm going to get mad either way, so you might as well just say it."

The Mrs.: "So...was it cold outside?"

Me, CherkyB: "I dunno. Did the earth suddenly develop more mass?"

They're not all winners.

Asymmetric Tonsillitis

My right tonsil hurts. In fact, it has hurt for two days now. My right ear canal is beginning to hurt today. It's very odd. Normally when I get a sore throat, it affects both tonsils and the whole throat. But not this time. If I could figure out how to swallow with just the left half of my throat, it wouldn't hurt to eat at all.

Alas, I have not figured that out.

I figure this must be some horrible disease to be affecting me on just one side. I assume that I am not long for this world, and thus I am napping a lot. Normally, I force myself not to nap because of the wrath that this brings down upon me, but given the unavoidable consequences of this horrible affliction, I am unmoved by worries of future penance to be extracted. I let it ride.

Sadly, this all comes at a time when I am becoming hugely popular on Facebook. I am up to 8 friends now, 6 of whom invited me. Yes, The CherkyB is in high demand wherever he goes and mingles with the little peoples. I have thus far eschewed the "applications," despite receiving about 12 different requests of some sort or another, each of which requires me to agree to a new "terms of service" form plus grant the application unfettered access to my account.

I must say, I am intrigued by this "shot request" application, though. I have one request pending on that. I may break down. I generally don't refuse shots.

Unless they're flu shots, which the gubment uses to track you.

I should probably lie down. I'm going to lie on my left side to see if the disease spreads due to gravity.

Has my wife ever met me?

This is the coffee she bought for me, cuz I won't drink her nasty Starbucks half-caf: