Not So Merry Go-round

We all have them:  those times in life when everything seems to go kaflooey at once.

The good weather held yesterday.  Mike had rounded the bases and was in the home stretch when, you guessed it, he tore off the last of the boards and ran into another section of bad girders.  More time, more work, more money.  I don't know which of us was more disappointed.

Having told Arden that the washing machine hose had been replaced and to come over in the afternoon, I wanted to dust and vacuum.  Yeah, well.  The marvelous cordless vacuum cleaner that Deb and Craig had given me started pitching a fit.  I'm used to having to empty the canister after sweeping a ten-foot square.  I've also discovered that the thing has to be completely disassembled every so often because there are numerous hidey holes that can become plugged.  One such well-hidden hole was determined to thwart me yesterday.  It prevented anything from going into the canister.  After the umpteenth time of cleaning it out, I called the manufacturer.  I rarely lose my temper with any tech or rep.  After all, I need their help and want them on my side.  However, there are exceptions.  After over twenty minutes of telling me that I wasn't properly taking care of the machine ("But I did that, I do that, I wash the filter frequently"), she told me I was obviously trying to pick up items that were too big.  "What do you consider to be 'too big?'"  "Paper, sticks, things like that."  "Let me speak to your supervisor."  After a long wait, during which I'm sure the gal was presenting her side, the supervisor came on the line.  I explained the situation and what I had been told.  With no hesitation, the woman said she would send me a replacement part immediately.  So there, snotty girl!  I finished dusting just as Arden drove up.

I put her laundry in the washing machine and sat down to enjoy the lunch my friend had brought.  After an appropriate amount of time and not hearing any more sounds from the washer, I went back to check before telling Arden she could put her clothes in the dryer (our division of labor).  Imagine my dismay when I found the washer still full of water and not running.  Aarrgh!  Fiddling with the dials, I finally got the water to drain and get the spin cycle to run.  Mike was just packing up for the day.  "Mike, what do you know about washing machines?"  I explained what had happened.  "It's dying."  Not what I wanted to hear.

It was nearly dark before Arden was ready to leave.  I had to excuse myself to bring up a couple of wagons of wood, and again to take Michael for a walk.

It was a long day.

Wipeout

(Wipeout, by The Surfaris, 1963)

Yesterday is not a day that I'd want to do over.  It did not surprise me that I slept in until 6:30 this morning because I was completely wiped out.  First, it was a "pay bills" morning (aarrgh!).  Let me say that I loathe and detest (words reserved for the worst of the worst) the IT person who designed the new bill-pay page at AT&T.  I've been paying my bills online for years, including AT&T, without problems until now.  The new system throws you into an endless loop with no hope of success.  Trying to contact a real person is futile.  The phone company doesn't answer their phone!  Perseverance and a new vocabulary of cuss words and I finally got the deed done, but I was not happy.

That did not put me in a good mood for a trip to town, but it had to be done.  Wally World was out of one the meds that I had to pick up...totally out!  It would have to be back ordered with no date for delivery because the manufacturers were also out (and just how does that happen?).  It was suggested I call another pharmacy.  Okay, I did that, and found that one of my regular stops had the med in stock.  Oh goody.  Of course there was a glitch and we had to wait and wait.

Mike had shown up at the crack of dawn.  He took a few minutes out of his day to install the new hose for the washing machine, which I very much appreciated.  I never would have been able to do that by myself and Arden would have had to take her laundry elsewhere.

Michael and I took off.  Everything took longer than usual and I had extra stops to make.  Michael again dehydrated himself while I stood and waited by every bush and twig.  One thing about Michael, he is so darned cute that people who might otherwise be grumpy start smiling at him, and then they smile at me.  That's nice.

Missions accomplished, we got back just before Mike was ready to call it quits for the day.  He's only got today before the atmospheric river rolls in to drench us with rain again.  He's on the home stretch now and just about ready to turn the last corner on the deck.  Neither of us had anticipated that this would turn out to be the job from hell.

Then the worst.  Michael got sick.  He barfed and...had problems with the other end.  I lost track of how many times we had to go outside last night.  I hated to tell him that we could go no farther than the light from the porch, but facts are facts.  I can't see in the dark.  Finally his gut settled down and he could sleep.  I have no idea what had happened, but he came to bed and was able to sleep through the night.

I wasn't the only one wiped out.

Table For Two

Having heard the rain beetles bumping around the night before, I got another scare yesterday morning when I got up in the dark and saw a red glow just outside the bedroom window.  Fire?!  Mike had left two chargers for his cordless tools plugged in and placed on the ledge.  Whew!!  I hadn't noticed them at bedtime because of the lights in the room.

I've been keeping a food bowl on the deck for Missy and she rarely misses a meal, rain and Mike notwithstanding.  Yesterday I heard unfamiliar scratching noises outside.  Now what?  It seems the Steller's jays have returned and one had found Missy's dish and was helping himself.  Maybe I'll need a bigger dish and a table for two.

It rained steadily all day, sometimes light, sometimes hard, but thankfully without the wind.  Mike sensibly took a day off.  I found one of Steve's big puffy jackets to wear outside and replace the red hooded sweatshirt that is my "uniform" of the day.  (Think "The Woman In Red," Gene Wilder, Kelly LeBrock,  Charles Grodin - 1984.)  Michael and I timed it pretty well morning and night and went for our walks without getting drenched.  Michael is darned near waterproof, his fur is so dense water never gets near his skin.  A quick once-over with a fake chamois absorbs the surface droplets.

These rainy days are great, but we're not out of the woods when it comes to the trees.  (Huh?  Did I really say that?)  Sustained rain loosens the dirt around the oaks and that's when they fall.  Fingers crossed.

Who's There?

Having fallen asleep in the chair (again), it was a little unnerving to wake to small sounds out on the deck and tapping at the windows in the dark.  Feeling much like the narrator in Edgar Allan Poe's "The Raven" (1845), I wondered who or what was out there.  The cats were on high alert, so it wasn't my imagination.  Then I realized that a light rain was falling.  Of course!  The rain beetles were back above ground.  The rains of the past week or so were too hard to bring out these funny, bumbling, flying tanks.  I'm sure I'll find some on the porch this morning.

Poor Mike.  This has turned out to be one of those jobs where nothing goes right.  The damage to the girders was much greater than he'd thought, creating a lot more hard work and time, but it had to be done.  Now that he's laying the surface boards, he's finding that the amateurs who built the deck were very casual about 90-degree angles and it's driving Mike to distraction.  He's a perfectionist and wants everything "right."  I had to go to Mr. Aukum yesterday and asked if he needed anything.  "Yes, I need, oh, about twenty pounds of screws," and he handed me an example.  "They have to be just like this, with this kind of head, three inches long, and gold colored."  Sample in hand, Michael and I went to his favorite store.  Turns out Mt. Aukum has screws, but they weren't gold colored.  Since Mike had been so specific, I didn't get any.  I explained why when we got home.  "That's good because you would have noticed if the screws didn't match and I wouldn't have used them."  (Don't tell Mike, but I don't think I've ever really looked at a screw once it's in place.)

Even the weather has been against Mike.  Fierce wind and rain have caused delays.  He caught a break yesterday with warm sun and no wind at all.  He was back to working shirtless (he's recently moved here from Montana and thinks our sunny winter days are heavenly...when we get one).

Michael got a double treat, a ride to Mt. Aukum and another to take the trash down to the road.  Michael thought it was a good day.

Da Winnah!

"Da winnah and still champeen!," was the referee's cry as he'd hold up the triumphant boxer's hand.  (Do they still do that?)  Michael is taking our race as a daily thing now.  I swear he is grinning as I make my way to the porch well behind him.  To see him this happy, I wouldn't beat him even if I could.  (Ha!  As if I ever could.)  That gawdawful wind had pretty much died down when Mike got here, but there was still a drizzle of rain.  He insisted it wasn't going to stop him.  Hey, he's the professional.  Who am I to tell him no?  He figures to be done by Thursday.  I'm sure he'll be as glad to be done with this job as I will.  I know it's taken a lot longer than he originally estimated, and the weather definitely hasn't cooperated.  He was working shirtless when he started.  Yesterday he was wearing a parka. 

Mike wasn't the only one cold yesterday.  I'm not sure who is training whom here, but Michael looked cold so I tucked him in.  He seemed appreciative.  It made me think of my mother.  "I'm cold, honey, put on your sweater."

The computer has gone wonky and has lost it's alignment.  This photo at sundown is still worth sharing.  If the prognosticators are correct (and sometimes they are), we should have good weather for a day or two before the next storm hits.  One can hope, and we'll all be winnahs!

Not Working

Well phooey, all that chanting the night before didn't work.  For a short while, I thought it had.  The wind wasn't too bad for a spell during the day, but, boy, it was cold!  Michael, always so serious and all business, surprised the heck out of me on our morning walk.  He'd done his thing along our route, but we didn't go out in the west field, something he likes to do.  We were heading back and I said, "Yeah, Michael, let's get back in the house.  It's too cold out here"  Omigosh, his head and tail came up and he started dancing.  "You want to go back now, too?"  "I do, I do, I do!"  Fearing he might possibly run down the drive, I took off his leash.  "Okay, kiddo, go for it!"  Turned out he wanted to race me.  "Come on!  I can beat you!," as he headed up the walkway to the porch, stopping to look back and make sure I was coming (slowly).  "Oh, Michael, you win again!"  He was obviously pleased with himself.  We'll have to do that again.  It's the first spontaneous game he's wanted to play.

Stove reminds me of Audrey II, the voracious plant in The Little Shop Of Horrors (Rick Moranis, Ellen Greene, 1986), whose tag line was, "Feed me!"  Stove has chomped his way through nearly two wagons of firewood in two days.  As long as I keep generously stuffing his maw, he keeps us warm.  I'd been giving him appetizers and he wanted a full meal.

Mike took yesterday off, but planned to come back today.  The wind came back like gangbusters last night.  It was blowing so hard at 3:30, it woke me up.  Unless it lets up, I'm going to tell Mike not to come.  I don't want him walking and working on those rain-slick boards in gale-force winds.  My chanting didn't work last night, either.

Chanting

"Wind, wind, go away (and stay away!)"  Yes, I know I'm taking liberties with an old childhood chant, but we need the rain and we sure don't need the wind.  A summer breeze is always welcome, but a howling wind is not.  It was cold yesterday and poor old Stove had his work cut out.  I lit the fire at 8 and, try as he might, he couldn't get the house warm until almost 4.

The view from my lap on a cold day.


Mike worked a long day on the deck and is making progress.  Many of the support joists were bad and needed reinforcement.  Of course, that slow and difficult work didn't show.  Now that he's laying the surface boards, it's going faster and looking good.

The previous storm had blown the tarps off the woodpile.  I brought three more wagonloads up to the porch (gotta keep Stove fed) and did my best to recover the firewood.  I have a wealth of cut wood this year and the pile is taller than I am, so that wasn't an easy job.

Mike called it quits about 5, just as the wind started kicking up, joined by a smattering of rain.  I'll say this for him, Mike is a workin' fool and isn't much deterred by weather.  I was glad Michael and I had gone for our walk a little early in the afternoon.

By bedtime, the wind was beating against the house and sounded like a freight train.  My personal pack (reminds me of a pack of huskies) snuggled up against me, nailing me in place, and my windy weather chant began.  "Please protect the trees and keep them all upright and branches in place.  Please let us keep electricity.  Please make the wind stop.  Please."  So far, all is good but for the gosh-awful wind.  I'll probably find the tarps in the next county.