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My Profile
Retro-retrospection - 2008-10-06
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11:20 a.m. - 2003-06-14
In know last December I said I'd be hiding in my cellar on the next Friday the 13th. This was a perfectly reasonable response to what happened on that last Friday the 13th, what with the ice storm and the Quasimodo boogers and all, but yesterday I went out instead. It’s June, not December so our chances of an ice storm were slim, and as for the rest of that day’s horribleness, who cared? I’d deal with whatever new yuckiness that came my way when it happened. And guess what? My throwing caution to the wind paid off. Oh for sure there were the usual Friday the 13th snafus and glitches. Normal stuff like the water going ice cold during my shower. The battery in the Other car went dead. The bank sent a notice that one of Mike’s clients wrote us a bad check and to please remit $25 for wasting the bank’s time. Like it’s OUR fault that creep client is a deadbeat. And one serious incident which I’ll get to in a minute. All in all though, we got off pretty easy. While Mike and I were out the school called and said Wolf was in the nurse’s office. Alex was here and spoke to the nurse. He tried to call us, but Mike’s cell is arbitrary and strange with its range. We’ve received calls on it in Reno, Nevada, but it’s iffy if we can get through from this house to the new one a scant 11 miles away. Poor Alex. Parents out of phone range, a sick little brother and a nurse demanding someone come get him, and Alex is here with no license, besides which Mike and I have the only vehicle he knows how to drive. What to do? Alex called around amongst his friends until he found a grown-up who was home. Ken’s dad came through. Mr. R telecommutes some days and yesterday was one of them. Graciously, he agreed to fetch Alex, take him to Wolf’s school and then take both boys home. The nurse released Wolf into his brother’s care gladly. If there’s one thing the school nurse hates, it’s being around sick kids. If Hannibal Lechter showed up she’d hand over a kid who was projectile vomiting with nary a demur. Anyhow, My Big Brass Cock. Mike and I were off in the wilderness of Sussex NJ. There’s a steel yard there which carries the 2” steel plate Mike needs for a welding job. While Mike was inside paying for his order I looked at the 5 trucks lined up outside the office and laughed. Each one of them had a woman in the passenger seat a’waitin’ on her man. Me included. Steel is man’s bidness and us wimmenfolk just stay out the way. Our errand done we moseyed back toward home. The ride is nice. 2 lane blacktop through beautiful farm country. There are many, many farm stands and nurseries. There’s one nursery in particular I’ve been wanting to stop at, they sell locally built lawn furniture and swing sets, wonderful pottery, and delicious clover honey as well as plants. Yesterday was THE day. Like Imelda Marcos set loose in Manolo Blahnik’s, I ran around like a loon. First in the perennials, then ogled some furniture, back to the plants, yadda, yadda, yadda. Meanwhile Mike was negotiating for an item we saw the moment we pulled in. The chimney at the Hobbit House is coming down. It was for the old coal furnace. Since we have neither fireplaces nor coal furnace, the chimney is unnecessary and the channel it runs in from cellar to roof will be the perfect space to run the ductwork for the central air. Plus Mike’s been itching to put in a whole house fan and the chimney hole in the roof is a good place for it. The chimney comes down, the fan goes in, and he’s putting a cupola over it. And what belongs on top of a cupola? A weathervane, of course. Plus our outhouse has a weathervane on its roof and we thought the two buildings should match. I told Mike I wanted something unusual. All the weathervanes around here are of trotting horses in honor of the race track and Hall of Fame of the Trotter in town. And if a weathervane doesn’t have a horse it’s got a cow. Cows being the other major player in the local animal based industries. Race horses and dairy cows. I love them both, but it doesn’t mean I want one on my roof. In our discussion of weathervanes I offhandedly suggested a rooster. Mike thought that sounded fun and an honorarium of sorts as our new homestead was once a flourishing chicken farm, but thought our chances of finding a rooster weathervane were pretty slim. You’re way ahead of me, of course. That nursery HAD a rooster weathervane. A big one. It had been sitting around for quite some time too. Mike and the guy hondled a bit until the formerly $275 item was ours for the low, low price of $65. Mike wrestled the thing into the truck, I paid for the trumpet honeysuckle I couldn’t live without, and we got underway again. Mike and me and... My Big Brass Cock. Today’s Pick: “Gimme Gimme Fried Chicken” by Queen
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