Journey to the Center

A few weeks ago, before I was unceremoniously swamped by work and stress to where I could barely think let alone write, this very unusual thing happened. I suppose it’s not all that unusual in the grand scheme of all living rural folk, but in my experience it was unique.

It starts with a dark and stormy night.

My husband and I had been off all day, doing who knows what. Of course, it was a Sunday and we were returning late and in the early stages of what promised to be one humdinger of an electrical storm. The lightning was flashing and the clouds were many shades of gray, promising a whole night of pounding rain. There was enough light left that we could see, but it was clearly fading fast.

We pulled into the driveway and up close to the house. I got out of the car and could hear a weird rushing sound. It was very faint, almost like the streams nearby but louder. And a little odd. So I started poking around, trying to pinpoint it. It was loudest next to the vent for the crawl space. There it sounded like a rushing stream. I looked in through the mesh and could see a waterfall coming out of the insulation. Naturally, it was near the space where the electrical main is located.

“Go inside and shut off the water!” I called to my husband. He looked at me like I was crazy. “There’s a waterfall in the crawlspace!”

This got his attention and he moved inside quickly. I still don’t know why I didn’t just run to open the door and do it myself. Too many years of CPR training I guess - they stress having someone else do the calling and working triage yourself.

I started walking the yard, looking for other signs of destruction. The first thing I noticed was that the hose bib was sticking out from the house. About 8 inches of pipe was exposed, and this was the cause of the indoor waterfall. I immediately envisioned teenage boys tying the bib to a bumper or hitch of a truck and stomping on the gas. There didn’t need to be a logical explanation for why this would happen, especially after living at our last house and being next to the boy who would light random fires. Teenage boys are odd an inscrutable, in my mind, and half the time even they don’t know why they’re doing something. So I rushed inside and checked to see if they’d been in the house and make sure nothing was missing.

This was about when my husband showed back up after turning off the water. Turns out he’d done some looking around too and saw that the barbecue had been tampered with. It was slightly open, and the recycle bin (which had some meat-stained cardboard) had been knocked over. He also noticed that the box that houses the hose was gone. It wasn’t anything fancy, and I certainly wasn’t going to miss it, but it was close to the house and the hose was also missing. Taking in all these facts, he had a different explanation.

BEAR

I walked around a bit more, looking for more damage, while my husband tried to corral me in the house. I was all cranked up on adrenaline and ready to hit something. I swear, if a bear had come out of the woods I would have punched him in the face.

We spent several frantic hours trying to figure out how to get a plumber out to fix the pipe that had broken on a Sunday night. The number of off-hours plumbers is shockingly small, despite the ridiculous amounts they can charge.  We finally found a guy and setleddown enough to talk about the practicalities of getting to work Monday morning and decided that the inability to shower was a deal breaker. So Monday, we worked form home and tried to remember that there wasn’t any running water in the house.

Mid-morning, it finally occurred to us that we could fix this pipe outselves, for a tiny fraction of the cost that a plumber would charge. It was probably the return of sense/loss of adrenaline that let us get there. All told, the repair cost about $35, some of which was for the perfect tool. So we got off easy.

At this point, our theory is that a bear came rambling around because of the smell of the meat. It decided to play with the hose box, and got tangled up somehow. This scared the bear setting it off running, rending the pipe. I have a vision of a bear tangled in hose and running fo cover, with the hose box merrily stuttering along behind.

We never did find that box.

I’m trying to be very careful today. I have this sense of impending doom that I just can’t shake. There’s a very good reason for this, beyond the waking up crabby and trying to hide from the world.

This morning, a crow ran into the side of my car.

Note the phrasing there. The CROW ran into the CAR. I was just driving along, assuming that the bird taking off on the patch of grass to the right would be able to get his crap together in time to make it off the ground like every other bird in existence. Somehow, that just didn’t happen. The bird ran head first into the passenger window, trying to splat himself on my car.

Crow attempted suicide isn’t that common, is it? Are all the other crows going to attack my car because this one who knocked himself silly is going to tell the rest about how evil it is? I just have this terrible feeling that this is some sort of omen…

A decade ago, a coworker and I picked up some goldfish and a 2 gallon tank. Over time, and with a lot of trial and error, I now have 2 stable fish tanks. One is a long 30 gallon and is home to a few tetras, a pair of cories and a single Opaline gourami that hides all the time. This tank is a bit overgrown with its live plants, but the addition of a second filter and heater has stabilized the plant growth immensely. One of these days I’ll clean up the plants and get an actual light for it (the tank is a 30 year old hand-me-down and doesn’t have all the right pieces any more) and take some pictures. The fish are happy, especially when the cats are leaving them alone.

But this tank isn’t that interesting to me. I built it out mostly for my husband, who likes tropical fish. He likes the colors and the flash that you only get in warmer waters. I actually think these fish are unintelligent and have no personality. Of course, I could be prejudiced by the constant hiding. One of the cats is convinced she can get the fish by swatting the outside of the tank.

My favorite tank right now is the one that’s becoming a problem. I started with 3 goldfish in a 10 gallon tank, not realizing that they’re messy and will get enormous. As they grew, I had to invest in a larger tank. They’re down to 2 (one didn’t survive the move) in a 30 gallon. It’s planet with a few anubias and java fern, since those seem to be the only plants these two won’t eat. In fact, that’s the only thing they won’t eat. They’re now so huge, about 6 inches each, that we need a new tank for them.

So last month we went and bought a 120 gallon tank. We’re slowly gathering all the parts to put it together, and I’m going to aquascape this one thoroughly. I even have a layout in my head for all the plantings, after flipping through some amazing books on layout. I am very excited about this project.

But the best part? Tomorrow we head to the lumber yard to pick up wood to build the stand. We’re not buying a stand from the store, rather we’re taking plan for a generic stand and crossing it with the plan for the bookshelf we built. The melding of these two will give me a stand that has space for books AND all the aquarium stuff. The tank is even deep enough that the stand with have room to hold additional hardware, should I get the bug to go crazy on the plant maintenance.

Between the woodworking and the tank setup, I’m going to have lots to talk about over the next few months.

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It’s been quiet around here, most of my time has been spent either trying to figure out the logistics of moving several large tree segments and all the accompanying branches to a place where they can be disposed of or worrying about paving the driveway. But the last week has been special. It’s been a week of avoiding the cough my husband brought home from our trip down to Portland, OR over Memorial Day. He’s currently at home, trying to find a way to hork his lung out through his mouth. As a consequence, I’m a little tired and cranky, but not yet sick. Insert finger-crossing here.

Before picking up the cold, Memorial Day was a wonderful mini-break. We drove down Friday night, arrived very late, but were able to spend all of Saturday messing around. The weather was great, so we headed out to the Rose Garden, where I took a ton of pictures. Unfortunately, none of them are that great. But I had a great time setting up shots and working around the gardens. The guys (husband and our host) either humored me particularly well or actually enjoyed themselves.

After a few hours wandering around in the sun, we tried to find the Japanese Garden. My fabled direction-fu failed us miserably, it took us about 30 minutes to find the entrance despite it being just across the street. Somehow the signs just didn’t make any sense. I blame the unaccustomed sun exposure.

Once we got into the garden and rehydrated a bit, we wandered around for another hour or so. There I was able to take the best pictures of the trip. This one is my favorite. There’s just something about the sand that brings the foliage out perfectly. Fortunately, this was toward the end because we were all fried from sun and heat and lack of water. So upon leaving the park, we headed straight for the Bridgeport Brewery. This time my direction-fu was working perfectly, because with only an address and a vague sense of where we were, we ran straight to it.

You might think this wasn’t the most brilliant of choices, but before any of us touched food or beer, we drank 4 litres of water. Then we ate enough food to be full through the next mornings breakfast and had a couple beers to go with. Can I just say that Ropewalk is an amazing beer? And it’s even better at the brewery where it’s made than out of the bottle.

Dinner and drinks fortified us to head out to see Indy 4, which we all liked. It wasn’t the Best Film Ever, but it was pretty darn entertaining, even the 2nd time. And it did nothing to harm my love of Shia LaBeouf. He’s one of my indicator actors - he always picks films I’d like to see, so anything he’s in gets added to the list.

After a long day of walking, drinking, and sitting in a theater, we went back and passed out. Somehow we managed to miss the worst of the rainstorms, even after getting up Sunday. The huge amounts of food and milky coffee set us up for a late lunch at McMenamins (yes, it was a brewery tour weekend), which was a good thing because it rained all day.

The rain meant that the farmers markets were all off the activity list, so we had to find something else to do. We eventually settled on seeing Iron Man (which I loved) and managed to kill time getting more coffee and wandering around the hardware store. This is what happens when you get 3 homeowner/geeks together. We buy tools and plan projects. It was a good hour-killer before the movie, and we were able to skip dinner after what with the massive quantities of bar food over the last 2 days.

When we got back to the house, we spent a couple of hours playing Wii games. This was fun and silly, and in now way lessened my desire to have on for my very own. Group Wii games are even better, what with the insults and distractions that become part of the competition. Trying to focus on the screen when someone is talking about politics and saying silly things behind you.

Overall, a really nice and relaxing weekend. I wish I’d used the camera more, but with all the rain Sunday, it was hard. And if we hadn’t come back with the nasty cough attached to my husband, it would have been perfect anyway.

Saturday my husband and I went to the Emerald City ComiCon. This was the first time either of us had been, I’m relatively new to the comic world and my husband just went along because I wanted to go. We arrived about 11, so the crowds hadn’t really picked up yet. This was a very good thing, because the first thing I did after a quick tour of some of the building was to stand in line for Wil Wheaton.

I’ve been a fan of WWdN for a while, and have picked up all his auto-biographical books so far. I managed to get Just a Geek from Mysterious Galaxy pre-signed, and ordered the special edition of The Happiest Days of Our Lives which came signed as well. So this was my chance to get my copy of Dancing Barefoot signed. Completion issues, I haz them.

Anyway, while Wil was personalizing my book, I was able to avoid saying anything too scary and instead thanked him for introducing me to Alan Moore. The best part? He was totally cool and we geeked out about comics for a bit. I must now order Lost Girls because he recommended it specifically. And so far, we’re in total comic-book-agreement. The worst part? Being trapped in line by in front of two girls who reminded me of Cordelia and Harmony from Buffy. Seriously lacking the clue necessary to recognize their own hypocrisy. But it was pretty entertaining to listen to.

While I was waiting in line, my husband wandered around and looked at stuff. This is good because I was in serious power-shopper mode. No idea why this happened. I move much faster through those situations than he does; he wants to stop and look at everything, I only want to browse things that catch my eye.

A couple of the art tables caught my eye and we ended up walking away with Nighty-Night by Scott Kikuta and Lucha Monstruo by Daniel Davis (pictures after the jump). I love them both, they’re going to get framed and hung in my office. As we were cash poor, we didn’t walk away with much else, but there are a couple of titles I’m going to be asking the local comic shop to be picking up for me.

We ran into a couple of old friends that we haven’t seen (hi Zannah!) in ages and then burned out and left. There were lots of people there, the standing had cranked my back, and we still had to head out to get lunch, a present and attend a party. Saturday was awfully busy, but the con was a good way to start.
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I’ve finished a lot of fluff books lately, nothing real groundbreaking. Here’s the catchup:

Phantoms by Dean Koontz is the story of 2 women trapped in a town by an unknown agent of death. They’re joined along the way by police, scientists and one scholar whose theories are confirmed. This is one of Koontz better books. He keeps the spiritualism that taints his later works to a minimum and concentrates on the untenable situation the protagonists find themselves in. A little unrealistic in that all the good guys stay good even with the surety of their deaths looming over them, but the identity of the agent is worth it.
Michael Crichton’s Prey is typical of his formula of writing. Just like in Terminal Man and Congo, scientific excess and unchecked ambition lead to a disaster of potentially global proportion. I enjoyed this book for its investigation into the nuance of nanotechnology, but the reliance upon his earlier formulas left me disappointing. I was unable to suspend my disbelief long enough to really enjoy the last hundred pages or so.

The Golden Compass by Philip Pullman is a childrens book based in an alternate reality. People have companions that are tied to them, almost as the physical representation of their soul. The main characters best friend is stolen away by mysterious people and she decides to get him back, no matter the cost. Lyra faces down monsters of every sort, including her guardian, to achieve her goal. It turns out that the worst monsters she faces are people. It’s a decent book for one aimed at kids, though I don’t understand the furor over the theism in this universe.

As part of my ongoing effort to be my own advocate for my scoliosis, I asked the hospital to send me a copy of my xray. This is remarkably easy to do now, what with digital media and all. They sent me a CD with a little program that pops up the xrays. Oddly enough, it only runs on Windows.

Anyway, I’ve decided that being my own advocate is the only way to proceed with this. The alternatives I was presented with at my initial consult just weren’t acceptable, which was how I ended up on the alternative track to start with.* So I’m collecting all relevant information and keeping copies on my own. That way if I get stuck hopping to a new doctor at some point, I don’t have to go through all of this again.

Anyway, for your amusement, I present thoracic scoliosis with a 19 degree curve:

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*How can anyone, let alone a back specialist, tell people that their options are surgery, with fabulous new metal rod (bionic woman powers not included) or 45 minutes of aerobic exercise a day? Because climbing stairs will magically fix spine alignment issues, or something.

Today is funny, mostly because I’m crabby. There’s a lot going on today, in a mental-overhead sort of way and it’s taking some weird sort of toll on my brain and my ability to concentrate, making the day fuzzy and indistinct. It’s also making things funnier than they would normally be.

Take, for instance, the hallway yawner.

I’m walking along, minding my own business, headed off to heat up my lunch in the kitchen. Around the corner comes a big man in a bight yellow sweatshirt with his mouth wide open. The first thought I have is that he’s trying to eat the world. And then I wonder where he’s going to put it all, since it doesn’t look like the sweatshirt will expand that much.

I had to stifle giggles until I was safely in the kitchen and away from him. Passing his office has been dicey since then, I’m seriously tempted to let him know that he just shouldn’t try it. Too danged risky.

I’ve finally finished the bookshelf that I built with my father. I’d put off staining or sealing it because I was paranoid about my ability to get a nice, even stain applied. My success on previous projects was directly proportional to the color I picked - the darker the stain, the worse I applied it. Especially in cases where I really wanted the color but not the saturation. As a result, this bookshelf has been sitting in various pieces waiting for me to get some courage for over a year.

Two weeks ago I finally got the bug. I decided that I really liked the color of the red oak without any stain at all, so all I needed was to seal it. We get tons of natural light, so 3 coats of varnish is essential for anything to retain even a bit of its intended color. The living room floor is a perfect example of this - the color fades from one side of the house to the other in direct proportion with the amount of sun.

The trouble with 3 coats of anything is that it takes 4 hours between coats. So it took 4 sets of painting sessions (yes, 12 total) to get everything sealed. It took a couple of weekends, especially with other projects thrown in, but I’m done. And the piece is beautiful. I’m still deciding whether or not I want to wax over the sealant to protect the wood from scratching and daily abuse, but for now it’s actually holding books.

Additional images in the gallery.

The disposal is in! Finally, I can grind bits of food into smaller bits and then flush them away down the sink. This is strangely satisfying, especially considering the amount of time it took to get around to completing the dang task.

But now the plumbing is done (One minor tweak involved and only 3 new pieces of pipe! Thank goodness for compression fit pipe.) and the thing works like a champ. It’s enormous - 3/4 hp motor. I can’t imagine what we could possibly grind up that would need that much power, but its there if we need it. Maybe I’ll start grinding bones or something, just to justify the thing.

And now the box can go to it’s final resting place in the middle of the living room. It seems to make the best kitty fort ever. Once inside, the cat goes into full-on army mode. It’s almost worth more than the disposal itself.