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04/24/04
We put together the steps for the front of the house, or should I say Thomas did. Thomas is a Type A that just does things himself. I helped when I could, but most of the time he said, “You just sit over there.” Perhaps he knows I’m cross-eyed and dizzy and not exactly the best partner to be around power tools. I dunno, but they’re done.
Well not quite. The steps are down, and they’re solid. There are handrails on both sides held up at their front and back, so it’s open space between the front and back of the handrail. At this point that’s actually a good thing. Trainboy thinks I did the steps. I never said I did, he just assumes I did. When he first told me he thought I made good steps I told him Thomas did most of the work and I just helped him. He doesn’t care, as far as he’s concerned his Dad made the steps.
I can get some 2x2’s to finish the handrails and drill some pilot holes in them. He can put the screws in as best he can. They can be the steps that he helped build. He’ll remember that.
Saturday, April 24, 2004
Friday, April 23, 2004
Thursday, April 22, 2004
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04/22/04
The guy who we ordered concrete steps from has never showed to do his own measurements. He apparently didn’t think I could use a measuring tape myself and wanted to measure it himself. We got tire of waiting and decided to go with wood instead.
We went to Home Depot and got four stringers- that should be plenty of support for six-foot wide steps. We also got two green-treated 2x6’s per step. That way there’s a split in the middle of the steps and they can drain better.
Since nothing is adequate unless it’s excessive I applied stain to all parts that would be in contact with the ground or hidden from further painting. Being treated they’re supposed to last 10-15 years anyway, but we can try for more.
Seeing me outside, Thomas came over and asked how I was doing. He agreed I had everything needed for the steps and asked what I was doing. I told him I was sealing the hidden areas. He thought it was a good idea; at least he said so. For all I know he went home and had a good laugh. It matters not to me, these steps are going to last. He said he’d come by to help. As skilled as he is that would be a good thing, laughing or not.
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
04/22/04
The guy who we ordered concrete steps from has never showed to do his own measurements. He apparently didn’t think I could use a measuring tape myself and wanted to measure it himself. We got tire of waiting and decided to go with wood instead.
We went to Home Depot and got four stringers- that should be plenty of support for six-foot wide steps. We also got two green-treated 2x6’s per step. That way there’s a split in the middle of the steps and they can drain better.
Since nothing is adequate unless it’s excessive I applied stain to all parts that would be in contact with the ground or hidden from further painting. Being treated they’re supposed to last 10-15 years anyway, but we can try for more.
Seeing me outside, Thomas came over and asked how I was doing. He agreed I had everything needed for the steps and asked what I was doing. I told him I was sealing the hidden areas. He thought it was a good idea; at least he said so. For all I know he went home and had a good laugh. It matters not to me, these steps are going to last. He said he’d come by to help. As skilled as he is that would be a good thing, laughing or not.
Tuesday, April 20, 2004
The Thrifty Wife does our taxes, so she knows how those things work. She determined that since we’re paying more on principal than interest we aren’t getting much of a break on the taxes for home ownership. When the mortgage statement came she told me how much we were paying per year in interest, and how much our home would cost by the time we are done paying for it, she was more than slightly appalled.
She tried to get the mortgage refinanced, but no company was interested because the amount involved apparently wasn’t worth their trouble. So she called the mortgage company and had them send us a statement showing how much it would cost to just pay it off. It was a good chunk of change, and ohmigod, we have enough in the bank to cover it.
I don’t like the idea of being so financially depleted while I’m having medical problems. It matters not; she is convinced it’s the rational thing to do. I learned long ago that for a happy marriage the husband must give in early. So we made a trip to the bank for a cashier’s check, and another to the post office to send it certified mail, or was it registered, I still don’t know.
The clerk at the Post Office explained the different options, but honest to God, there hardly seemed to be a difference. I couldn’t discern any advantage. The Financial Empress couldn’t discern any advantage. The clerk rolled her eyes and you knew she was thinking, ‘You idiots, just pick one and let me do my job.’ In desperation she tried to be helpful, and asked what it was. Upon being informed it was a check she said, “Well you can always get one of those replaced.” Maybe, but being a rather large check it still made us largely nervous. I told her I wanted a return receipt and that was that.
It’s just a matter of days before we have the paperwork showing we own this pile of sticks free and clear. The Super Wife is one HAPPY WIFE. Being debt-free has always been her Holy Grail.
After the post office we went to Hy-Vee for a few things. I don’t have a lot of vices, and I don’t feel particularly confessional at the moment, but I like their Broccoli Sunshine Salad a lot. It’s broccoli salad and I like it, what else is there to say. The woman at the deli counter asked the HAPPY WIFE where we were Sunday- everybody had "wondered where the family was”. This is probably what happens when the Dad usually gets meatloaf every Sunday and his manic blonde daughter teases him unmercifully about it. It does make it feel even more like our neighborhood grocery store.
Super Wife was HAPPY, I was amused, so it was an okay day.
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
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She tried to get the mortgage refinanced, but no company was interested because the amount involved apparently wasn’t worth their trouble. So she called the mortgage company and had them send us a statement showing how much it would cost to just pay it off. It was a good chunk of change, and ohmigod, we have enough in the bank to cover it.
I don’t like the idea of being so financially depleted while I’m having medical problems. It matters not; she is convinced it’s the rational thing to do. I learned long ago that for a happy marriage the husband must give in early. So we made a trip to the bank for a cashier’s check, and another to the post office to send it certified mail, or was it registered, I still don’t know.
The clerk at the Post Office explained the different options, but honest to God, there hardly seemed to be a difference. I couldn’t discern any advantage. The Financial Empress couldn’t discern any advantage. The clerk rolled her eyes and you knew she was thinking, ‘You idiots, just pick one and let me do my job.’ In desperation she tried to be helpful, and asked what it was. Upon being informed it was a check she said, “Well you can always get one of those replaced.” Maybe, but being a rather large check it still made us largely nervous. I told her I wanted a return receipt and that was that.
It’s just a matter of days before we have the paperwork showing we own this pile of sticks free and clear. The Super Wife is one HAPPY WIFE. Being debt-free has always been her Holy Grail.
After the post office we went to Hy-Vee for a few things. I don’t have a lot of vices, and I don’t feel particularly confessional at the moment, but I like their Broccoli Sunshine Salad a lot. It’s broccoli salad and I like it, what else is there to say. The woman at the deli counter asked the HAPPY WIFE where we were Sunday- everybody had "wondered where the family was”. This is probably what happens when the Dad usually gets meatloaf every Sunday and his manic blonde daughter teases him unmercifully about it. It does make it feel even more like our neighborhood grocery store.
Super Wife was HAPPY, I was amused, so it was an okay day.
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
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Monday, April 19, 2004
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Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
Another one for the files of nature vs. nurture
This evening Ms. Pikachu declared, “Boy, I’d really like to burn something up.”
What are you talking about? What do you want to burn up? “Oh, anything. I just want to smell the burning and hear it crackle.” She was so exuberant about it I could only shudder and think that it runs in the family.
When my brothers and I were even younger than she is we had small fires underneath the bunk beds. I kid you not. We were fascinated with fire. Some of us were more fascinated than others, but the difference was only a matter of degree. Knowing how dangerous a kid is with fire, and how she wants to play, Mommy and Daddy are going to keep real close control on the matches and lighters.
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Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
Another one for the files of nature vs. nurture
This evening Ms. Pikachu declared, “Boy, I’d really like to burn something up.”
What are you talking about? What do you want to burn up? “Oh, anything. I just want to smell the burning and hear it crackle.” She was so exuberant about it I could only shudder and think that it runs in the family.
When my brothers and I were even younger than she is we had small fires underneath the bunk beds. I kid you not. We were fascinated with fire. Some of us were more fascinated than others, but the difference was only a matter of degree. Knowing how dangerous a kid is with fire, and how she wants to play, Mommy and Daddy are going to keep real close control on the matches and lighters.
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We live on a two-lane one-way. This has given me the heebie-jeebies when Train Boy gets on, or off, the schoolbus. It pulls up like any other bus- lights flashing, and a red stop sign that swings out from its left side. You would think those safety features would ensure his safety. Hardly.
I have seen cars speed by the bus like they were trying to set a new stop sign to stop sign speed record. It’s infuriating, and it makes me fear for the Train Boy everyday.
The Super Wife has traditionally walked him to the bus in the morning. In the afternoon he seems to have a race with another kid to see who can get across the street first. They don’t look, and we haven’t been able to impress upon them the need.
The Super Wife had resigned herself to kids being kids. While being home, I’ve decided that I will be an SOB when I want to. I’m on the porch waiting for the bus to come, and I’m standing in the middle of the lane when they get off the bus. Just in case anybody tries to blow by the bus I carry a nice rock to lob in front of any car. If they take the shot and want to complain they can explain to the police why they were speeding by a school bus and endangering the lives of children. Just part of the Public Serf’s job of public education.
This morning the Super Wife was waiting with Train Boy for the bus. Had she not been there he would almost surely been run over by someone who did not stop for the bus. Even though they were standing at the side of the van, ready to cross the car just blew by. The Super Wife got the license plate number.
The car braked to a stop a half-block away. A woman got out and waved her arms over her head. Apparently this was her sign for “My bad, sorry, let’s forget about it.” Then she got back in her car and drove off. She could be that cavalier about it because it wasn’t her child she’d put at risk. The Super Mom called it in.
I have no idea what the penalty will be, if any. Whatever it is it will be cheaper than me floating a rock in front of her car. That may seem extreme, but when it comes to the safety of those we love extremism comes easy. Or is it vengeance? It doesn't matter, I'm comfortable either way.
This morning’s close call did leave an impression on Train Boy. When he got off the bus he looked around the fender to see if a car was coming. I am not grateful for the lesson though. Given my druthers I would have been there to put a rock in front of her car.
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
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I have seen cars speed by the bus like they were trying to set a new stop sign to stop sign speed record. It’s infuriating, and it makes me fear for the Train Boy everyday.
The Super Wife has traditionally walked him to the bus in the morning. In the afternoon he seems to have a race with another kid to see who can get across the street first. They don’t look, and we haven’t been able to impress upon them the need.
The Super Wife had resigned herself to kids being kids. While being home, I’ve decided that I will be an SOB when I want to. I’m on the porch waiting for the bus to come, and I’m standing in the middle of the lane when they get off the bus. Just in case anybody tries to blow by the bus I carry a nice rock to lob in front of any car. If they take the shot and want to complain they can explain to the police why they were speeding by a school bus and endangering the lives of children. Just part of the Public Serf’s job of public education.
This morning the Super Wife was waiting with Train Boy for the bus. Had she not been there he would almost surely been run over by someone who did not stop for the bus. Even though they were standing at the side of the van, ready to cross the car just blew by. The Super Wife got the license plate number.
The car braked to a stop a half-block away. A woman got out and waved her arms over her head. Apparently this was her sign for “My bad, sorry, let’s forget about it.” Then she got back in her car and drove off. She could be that cavalier about it because it wasn’t her child she’d put at risk. The Super Mom called it in.
I have no idea what the penalty will be, if any. Whatever it is it will be cheaper than me floating a rock in front of her car. That may seem extreme, but when it comes to the safety of those we love extremism comes easy. Or is it vengeance? It doesn't matter, I'm comfortable either way.
This morning’s close call did leave an impression on Train Boy. When he got off the bus he looked around the fender to see if a car was coming. I am not grateful for the lesson though. Given my druthers I would have been there to put a rock in front of her car.
http://publicserf.blogspot.com
Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
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