If you ever have to choose between dismantling a box spring and purchasing a truck so that you can bring a box spring to the dump? Buy the truck.
Yesterday as I prepared the House of Rock for a new tenant, I found myself with a box spring that needed to be discarded. “No sweat,” I thought, my ruminations saturated in overconfidence, “with tin-snips, a knife, and hammer I bet I can knock this out in 20 minutes!”
It took two hours – and I was INDUSTRIOUS.
The concept is simple enough: Cut off the fabric backing and the mattress pad, remove the springs or spring assembly from the frame, dismantle the frame, and roll the spring assemblies to fit inside one or two of those big black garbage bags.
Conceptually, that’s exactly what I did. But each step was a labor of Hercules. Wrestle and slay the Nemean lion? No sweat. Try rolling a matrix of metal into a cannoli.
Anyone who dismantles a box spring deserves an Olympic medal.
The noun ‘news’ tickles me. Let’s take an adjective ‘new’ throw an S on the end and consider it a noun.
I kinda wish that after a defined period of time post publishing, news would be reclassified as “olds.”
We have a few baby books scattered around the house that use the word “bough” instead of branch. I find it curious I’ve only ever encountered the word in baby books and nursery rhymes. I find this particularly ludicrous because we’re using these books to teach language.
Maybe I should embrace it. Maybe I’ll start using it all the time.
“oh look! An Oriole!”
“On the bough of the Maple!”
I really enjoy my Ford Fusion. And, until recently, it’s been problem free. This changed a few weeks ago when I noticed something funky happening with my transmission. I brought it to a local dealer, Hammonasset Ford, for an investigation.
The bad news? I needed a new $4,000+ transmission.
The good news? It was covered under my extended warranty. Woo!
The repair work took about 10 days which included some time waiting for insurance assessment etc. In the interim, I was given a rental car. Like any warranty claim the interactions were stressful at times, but overall I would describe the experience as smooth. I got the car back about a week ago and all’s sunny.
Yesterday morning Sander pointed out the really bad news:
WITHOUT MY PERMISSION THE DEALERSHIP PUT ONE OF THOSE STUPID LICENSE PLATE ADVERTISEMENTS ON MY CAR.
NOT COOL HAMMONASSET FORD!
I am passionately against those stupid license plate advertisements.
Unless under extreme duress, I assure you I will never return to Hammonasset Ford.
Not cool Hammonasset Ford. Not cool.
When it comes to bird watching, Jen and I clock in somewhere around Vireo. We know what a vireo is, but I wouldn’t be able to pick one out of a lineup of lookalikes. BUT, when we see a new bird we are quick to jump up, take pictures, and look up the details in our Peterson guide (thank you Tom & Mykal).
So it was a few weeks back when Jen, in a startle, pointed to the window and exclaimed “WHAT IS THAT!?”
That, it turns out, is a Red Headed Woodpecker. What made this an extra exciting find is that the Peterson Guide didn’t even reference is as local to Connecticut. AND, where it was local, it was listed as uncommon!
Was this a truly once in a lifetime sighting?!?! Well, no. The bird came back twice over the next few days. BUT! when we notified our local Audubon society, they got Giddy. We sent them our pictures and they promptly posted them on their Facebook page.
Further, they sent our address (with our permission) out to a few of their birding colleagues who voiced an interest in coming to our street to see if they could also find the bird.
I think it’s marvelous that we can be surrounded by unique gems of nature, but be completely oblivious to them. If this bird had visited us a few years ago, we might not have noticed at all. And if we had, it might have been not much more than a momentary curiosity.
I’m glad we were able to celebrate its uniqueness. Thanks for visiting us, Red Headed Woodpecker!
In celebration of J.Atlas’ first birthday we hung up 12 pictures, one from each month of his first year. Carrying him in my left arm, I walked down the row of pictures pointing to each one and saying “Johnny!” When we reached the end of his pictures, there was a picture of Jen and me. He touched the picture of me and said “Dada”
It was heart melting! I was startled and touched far more than I ever could have expected.
Then he pointed to a clock on the mantel and said “Dada”
I’d like to witness a spelling bee where a kid, having no clue on the proper spelling of a word, decides to filibuster the event.
Moderator: Your word is “stichomythia”
Kid: May I hear it used in an example?
Moderator: The author was well acquainted with classical drama, as may be seen in his use of stichomythia.
Kid: Stichomythia. S – T – I – T – C- H – O – M – I – N -S – T – L- A – E – R – J – I – A – L – C – D – W – W – E – I – O – S – E – I – O – S – V- B – K – Y – P – W – Q – 2 – X – L – L – M – O – I – D -K – F – H – A …
Warning: pictures and recounts of mildly gnarly wounds to follow
Remember when my hand got caught in a roller and my fingers got smooshed? Yesterday, the pinky fingernail finally fell off! Hurrah! This is exciting because until now there was a constant risk of it getting snagged on something and causing a frustrating zip of pain or a tearing of the nail bed. Now instead of risk of injury, it just looks really weird-sauce.
The ring finger is mostly healed. There’s a mega lump on the top and side of the front knuckle that is slowly going away, but otherwise it’s okay. And despite much concern, my guitar playing is mostly unaffected.
Fun fact: did you know the end of your fingers are officially referred to as the Distal interphalangeal joints?
Extra fun fact: In traditional scrabble, at 15 letters long “Interphalangeal” would span the full length of the board. That means it could potentially hit THREE triple word scores. The E and G would fall on double letters. You’d obviously have to build it off of conveniently placed other letters since your tile rack is only 7 letters deep, but the potential score is 648 points.