Thanksgiving

A few months ago, I stumbled on a blog written by a woman out in sunny California, around San Francisco and the Monterey Bay area. The blog, I Heart Farms, is focused squarely on sharing the beauty of small sustainable farms, capturing their spirit in both words and in images. It's a great daily read and it's refreshing to see someone who cares so deeply for both how and where our food is produced. I'm pointing this out because on the day before Thanksgiving, at a time when we're preparing for our tables and our tummies to be filled with so much great food, it would do us good to take a hard look at where that food came from.

It's everything a good blog should be, and I can only hope to make this site as heartfelt and as interesting as her daily musings. I urge you to take a look. Happy Thanksgiving!

Tuffen up

Things around here have been a bit slow lately. We've spent most of our free time dealing with the arrival of the kid: washing and folding clothes, assembling strollers, car seats, playpens, etc., and taking all the prerequisite classes so that you can say you're prepared for all this when, in reality, you're just winging it. T-minus nineteen days.

The one thing I did manage to complete recently was the mailbox replacement. I didn't feel like getting into a terrible loop where I replace the mailbox only to have it smashed to bits by a bunch of kids loaded on PBR pounders. This time I opted for something a bit more substantial. This is the Tuff Body version, which can supposedly withstand flying pumpkins, baseball bats, and small IEDs. I'm certain its Tuffness will be tested at some point in the future, so we'll see how it holds up.

The street name has been blurred to protect the innocent.

Grumble

Last night after work Gina and I visited the local fire hall to complete our civic duty. After waiting in line to cast our vote we hopped in the car for the five minute drive to our house. We live in the country, so it's dark: there aren't any streetlights lining the road and our closest neighbor is about 1/4 mile away. If we forget to leave the porch light on -- especially when we revert to standard time in the fall -- you nearly have to feel your way to the front door at night.

So that's where we were last night as we came upon the house. I forgot to leave the porch light on and the moon was obscured by a thick blanket of clouds. It was dark. My headlights bounced off the mailbox as we approached and I noticed that it seemed to be slighly askew. I drove past the driveway to get a closer look. In fact, it was totally folded over on the post, with the remnants of a large pumpkin scattered across the road. Someone trashed our mailbox, and I'm totally pissed off.

What's amazing is that the mailbox is mere steps away from our front porch, and someone did this between 5 and 6 p.m. That's pretty bold. And I'm really afraid of getting into a vicious circle of replacing a mailbox only to have it smashed. All night I've been thinking of ways to bait the nefarious smashers. Fill a mailbox with concrete and paint a big bullseye on the side? Get a local welder to weld some 1/4 inch steel into a box? Wire up the videocamera to tape the little dirtballs in action? Dunno. But right now my weekend project will be installing a new mailbox and post. The smashed one is currently held together by a couple of bungie cords. We're all about class here.

It's the little things

First, this:

That, my friends, is an electrical outlet. We now have three -- count 'em, three -- of those suckers in the nursery and another three in the office. Each room on a separate circuit! Imagine that! God, I love electricians.

Now, while some of us build stairs in our free time (yeah, way to make us look bad, Bill) those of us less prolific sorts tackle smaller things, say, painting and assembling cribs. Friends, I give you the nursery in all its peachiness:

We still need some window treatments and some art on the walls, but I feel like we're getting somewhere. Here's a very lousy photo of what the room looked like last year:

I need those before / after shots to prove that I do get things done. Slowly.

We have an electrician

By some combination of lunar position, solar activity and pure, sheer luck, we have an electrician. In the house. Right now. And he's actually early. Why is this important? Well, (A) he showed up, and as far as I'm concerned, that's a great start, and (B) if he gets the work done today, I may actually be able to move forward with the nursery. Hallelujah.

I must admit, I've been freaking out about this. I've convinced myself that Gina could suddenly go in to labor at any moment and the poor child would arrive home to a half-painted nursery with unassembled furniture and a bare light fixture hanging off the wall, scarring him for life and leaving him with the belief that his father is a negligent half-wit. Nevermind that she's got five weeks to go and the kid could care less whether the walls are all one color -- this is keeping me up at night! According to conventional wisdom I should enjoy my luxurious sleep schedule now, when I can actually get more than three hours in the span of a night. And already the kid is toying with me!

In any event, the electrician will be trying to fish a bunch of wire to the second floor to separate the single circuit that supplies all three rooms plus a first floor washing machine. In the process he'll be installing an outlet and an overhead light in the nursery, and another outlet in the office. This is the rub: There's only one common wall running from the basement to the attic, but it butts up against a stairway and the electrician is concerned about hitting a header beam. No knowing until he gets in there to take a look.

Once that's done, I'll be able to reassemble trim in the nursery, patch any holes, finish painting and assemble the crib so that the kid doesn't hate me in 18 years.