Velcrometer
Throwing stuff at the internet to see what sticks
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M. Giant's Velcrometer Throwing stuff at the internet to see what sticks |
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Wednesday, October 28, 2009 Party Time After months of prep, stress, and work, the party finally came and went. Trash and I knew that the two hours we'd been working for all this time would fly by. And, in fact, it did. This is not to say that there weren't a few hitches. With thirty-odd kids coming, Trash would not be dissuaded from her insistence that there needed to be one thing to do for every 3-4 kids. At the same time. That comes out to like ten different things she wanted to have going on. I tried to tell her that long lines are the sign of a successful party, but since she refuses to wait in those kind of lines on philosophical grounds I wasn't about to convince her to set one up for people whose ages are in single digits. But she was able to mastermind ten or so different activities, from the haunted house whose intellectual genesis dated back to June, to a photo scavenger hunt that she came up with that very morning. That left only the issue of how to staff everything, because a few of the adults we'd lined up fell through for various reasons, and there was nothing we could do about it. For instance, when Bitter called that morning and said that maybe she wasn't up for being the centerpiece character of the haunted house due to having Captain Trips, we couldn't really argue the point. I suppose we could have still stationed her there, with her pajamas and a pile of tissues instead of a witch's costume and a cauldron, but it wasn't the adults we were trying to scare. EyeHeartPizza stepped up to fill that void (and admirably so, by all accounts). But there was at least one other station that got filled when one family showed up, the mom asked Trash if there was anything she could do, and immediately got dragooned into service. This was a new experience for Trash in more ways than one. Normally she works a party pretty hard, mingling and moving around and making sure everyone's good. She even does this at party's she's not hosting. But not this time. Even though she'd assembled a major work force, the fact that we were short-staffed meant she was pretty much stuck at the entrance to the haunted house, controlling the number and timing of the kids as they went in. So this time she had to wait to ask if everyone was good after the fact. I still don't think she's gotten around to everyone. But the highlight of the party for her was Chao. He was running both the pin-the-tail-on-the-pumpkin game and the photo scavenger hunt, in costume as a pirate. This consisted of a tricorn hat, an eyepatch, his late girlfriend Gerd's pirate corset, and a pair of cutoff jeans. The jeans worked surprisingly well with the costume, up until the point when EyeHeartPizza, near the end of the party, noticed that his fly was conspicuously down. And he was the best person for this to have happened to, since he just happened to be the one in charge of blindfolding little kids and then spinning them around. Hearing about this after the fact made Trash's night. In fact, she was planning to go around to all the parents and tell them, "Thank you so much for bringing the pirate! He was such a big help. What, you mean you didn't bring him? Hmmm, I wonder who did…" Trash is aware of a change in her status among the moms of the neighborhood and the school. She always felt like she's kind of viewed as a slacker mom. Now she's suddenly been promoted to "that mom," the one who makes the other moms look bad. She's unaccustomed, but not entirely displeased. And it won't be a permanent status anyway, because as we told everyone who complimented us on pulling this off, "We are never doing this again." Because we all learned a lot from this experience, and I think the most valuable thing we learned was a new and completely unexpected appreciation for one towering figure in children's birthday parties: a rodent purveyor of pizza whom Chao refers to as Charles Edward Cheese. posted by M. Giant 1:56 PM 1 comments 1 Comments:
Major kudos to Trash for achieving that mom status. It sounds as though the party was of sufficient legendary proportions that next year, when you are in Chuck's domain for M.Edium's birthday festivities, people won't think any less of her. They'll just say "remember the party they threw last year? WOW that was something!"
By Monday, October 26, 2009 This Old Haunted House I've been putting off writing about the birthday party, probably because putting it on was such an undertaking that I fear the same will be true of an entry about it. But now I have to assume that since once the party was over I felt a lot better, that will apply to writing about it as well. First of all, it should be said that this was a group effort in every way. Trash drafted friends, parents, relatives, and neighbors to help make this happen, from having them provide food to putting them to work facilitating the activities. And writing about what went on from my point of view is in no way meant to diminish their contributions. Without which the party might still have happened, but it would have been a party of bored, angry, hungry people. So anyway, the first order of business was to build the haunted house in the garage. This was Trash and M. Edium's idea that they had way back in June, inspired by a similar effort from Trash's mom when Trash was little. Obviously that was memorable, as shown by the fact that Trash remembers it. This took a lot of prep work. Trash's mom trolled the garage sales down in Iowa where she lives all summer, snatching up cheap bed linens to hang from the garage ceiling to form narrow, spooky corridors. Maybe that's not the best use of bedsheets, but since they came from garage sales, maybe it is. About a month ago, we cleaned out the garage. We have a two-and-a-half car garage in theory, but in practice the only way to get even one car in there half the time is to tip it up onto one side and sort of slide it in diagonally. After our last camping trip in September, Trash took care of that. We even got rid of a bunch of scrap lumber by making fake gravestones and spooky signs out of it, killing two birds with one stone. By the time Trash was done, there was room in there for both our cars, without our even having to take the fire engine out. It was my job to come up with the hay bales. Ever try to shop for hay bales in a major metropolitan area? It's not as easy as it sounds. I don't know how people bought hay before the Internet, but fortunately we now have a thing called the "Hay Exchange." That's how I found a guy who was willing to not only sell me hay at $1.50 a bale, but deliver it to our house for less than the cost of the amount I was buying. When he showed up on the appointed Saturday morning a couple of weeks in advance, he told me that when he got into the city, people were yelling to him at stoplights whether they could buy some from him. So I was gratified to know I wasn't the only one in Minneapolis who had trouble getting his hands on some hay. With those three jobs taken care of, I thought that actually constructing the haunted house on the Friday before the party would be pretty effortless, especially with M. Edium off at Nana and Grandpa's until the next afternoon. I was wrong. Trash had a vision. Victims would enter through the garage's pedestrian door on the left, and would find themselves in a narrow corridor that wound around the back and to the far side, before letting them out in a main center area, occupied by a witch played by our friend Bitter. The walls of this corridor would have a double row of hay bales as their foundation, with the sheets hanging down from the rafters outside them. To cover up the multicolored effect of the secondhand linens, Trash had the idea of hanging a layer of black garden fabric -- three bucks for 200 square feet, and it covered every color but red, which was even cooler than covering every color. Now, keep in mind that the average age of the victims would be five, so we couldn't get it too spooky. That did help us save money on extra-gory effects, but the amount of Christmas lights we had to thread from the rafters made up for some of that. In addition to the witch at center stage, Trash had me hang sheets at the corners to create hiding alcoves for other cast members whose job it would be to jump out, and to operate the strings that would drop spooky items like a paper spider down from the ceiling. So this ended up taking longer than I expected, although things picked up when EyeHeartPizza showed up to help. Another thing I didn't expect? It's really easy to lose stuff when you're working around hay bales. I don't even know how many times Trash and I misplaced both hammers, both rolls of duct tape, and both pairs of scissors. Luckily I had a bunch of nails in my sweatshirt pocket, or those would have vanished too. And I still don't know where my stapler is. But it was all worth it, because by the time we were done, we had a haunted house any kid would be proud of. We even focus-grouped it with a five-year-old neighbor. And it had only taken us fourteen hours of prep time, during which we'd completely forgotten to eat anything. Fortunately, we could look forward to taking the next day easy, since that was when the party was happening. Oh, wait. posted by M. Giant 7:49 AM 2 comments 2 Comments:Only one thing to say about that haunted house: Pictures!!
By Wow, finally someone who goes even more all out that we do for a party. 8-) I'm impressed with your hay bale finding skills!
By Friday, October 23, 2009 Karma Trash again. What a week. Sorry for the delay on the update, but we had a wild rumpus around here last weekend, including a Halloween birthday party for M. Edium that included more than 35 kids and an almost equal number of adults, as well as a haunted house and semi-carnival in the back yard and a cemetery with creepy actors in the front yard. No, it isn’t something we routinely do and no, it will not happen again, but I will leave that story for M. Giant. Anyway, YOU GUYS! I can’t believe how many of you donated in M. Edium’s name. We spent a considerable amount of time looking through projects to see his name, and he was so charmed whenever it showed up. Thanks to each of you for making a little boy’s day. He would call out to M. Giant whenever we found his name and say, “Isn’t that sweet, dad? And it’s for my BIRTHDAY.” Additionally, someone won the Barnes and Noble mini-card and asked that it be given anonymously to M. Edium! I can’t express how cool that gesture is, and what a great, great lesson in karma for M. Edium. We had fully intended to reward him for his giving this month, both as part of the Donors Choose drive and his birthday party (in place of gifts he asked for book donations for a local school) but to have someone else give him a reward? Best lesson ever. He is so excited to buy a couple of Star Wars books (sigh) and maybe another dinosaur stuffed animal. And he gets it – he understands that it’s the direct result of his giving to others. So thanks again (and thanks to the person who donated the card and made it all possible.) Well, on to his weekly list. A couple of his big ones were recently funded (including the Christmas gifts, a rocket project, and the school supplies) but he is pretty excited about the new ones, including another school that needs basic school supplies which is so wrong. Real Biology: DNA and science Marco Polo: Swimming and pool supplies Basketball: completed Rocketry and Space History: His current favorite Space Exploration: completed Guitars for Students: another favorite, since daddy plays guitar Food for Robots: closed Touching Their Way Through Learning: completed Reach for the Stars: completed – an old favorite Think like a Scientist: completed Engaging Explorations: completed AP Chem Labs : completed posted by M. Giant 4:11 PM 4 comments 4 Comments:And I just want to thank Trash for helping with the blog maintenance the last few weeks. Her karmic reward is a marginally less grumpy me.
By Send M.Edium over the Rocketry and Space page - he may see his name there....
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You'll see another tribute at M.Edium's favourite project, and one at "Individualized Learning Made Possible" which I could not resist funding out.
By So delighted to see the guitar project getting more attention! M. Edium, it's so awesome that YOUR daddy plays guitar too; you'll remember that forever. Happy belated birthday!
By Wednesday, October 21, 2009 A Good Walk Spoiled Trash and M. Edium and I decided to go for a walk to the library on Sunday, motivated by the combined euphoria of having his party behind us and the fact that it was looking like one of the last really nice days of 2009. Now that the party had been successfully brought off, the main thing we had left to stress about what kind of workspace we're going to come up with now that Trash is telecommuting to her job almost as much as I am. But we came upon a potential solution to even that, barely a block away from our house. Trash's typical work space when she's at home is the kitchen table, but it's far from perfect. Aside from the fact that it's an ergonomic nightmare, there's the noise issue. Meaning, she can't tolerate any. If she's on a conference call, I can't run the dishwasher or the sink or the microwave or the trash can lid or the cupboard doors or even the refrigerator, as far as I can tell. I joke about how when she gets on the phone I'm suddenly living in the Flowers in the Attic house, but she's half deaf anyway and I can kind of see her point. Especially when the high school marching band used to go blasting past her window (not kidding). At her old job, she would telecommute on her own desktop in our upstairs bedroom, but our current employer requires her to be on her work laptop to access the network, and there's just not room for that on her upstairs desk. So it's either the kitchen or the living room love seat. Until we came upon a miniature computer desk that someone had left out on the sidewalk during our Sunday afternoon walk. I suggested bringing it home, and we'd find a place for it later. And I knew we had to hurry, because of how fast the Jawas in this neighborhood move when it doesn't involve M. Edium's dresser. I started rolling it down the sidewalk back to our house while M. Edium and Trash went on ahead, Trash promising, "We'll go slow." "So will I," I said. Some time later, I got it back to our house and just parked it in the front yard, among the gravestones and fence sections (though far back from the curb, just to avoid any confusion). Then I headed back out to catch up with Trash and M. Edium. This didn't take as long as I expected, because by the time I saw them again, they had found a child-sized plastic Adirondack chair that someone had turfed. So I had to bring that home before coming back to rejoin the walk. "This is going to be the longest walk to the library ever, isn't it?" I said. Trash suggested that this time, I should come back with the car. "Good idea," I said. "Then I can just follow along next to you, and if you see anything else you want, you can just throw it in the back." They didn't find anything else. I met them at the park that's on the way to the library, and M. Edium played there while Trash went on ahead and returned his stuff. Then she came back and he played for a while longer, and we all drove home. Trash didn't know that I was being careful to drive the same way we went, lest we see a discarded refrigerator that we just had to have. But this is how it starts, isn't it? posted by M. Giant 6:27 AM 1 comments 1 Comments:
Aha! Get rid of one thing, bring home, that's our problem also!
By Monday, October 19, 2009 The Dresser Five years ago, when we learned that M. Edium was coming to us early, one of the first things we had to do in the rush to get ready was fix the hand-me-down dresser that was in his room. The drawers were off the tracks so badly that some of them didn't even open. And the ones that did fell clear out. I went and got some little boards and some hardware from Home Depot, and patched it up. The following months may have been studded with new-parent fails, but that dresser held up. For weeks. And then M. Edium came home from the hospital. I haven't fixed it since. But we did discover over the years that having the drawers full of clothes (whether it's a dozen pairs of 5T pants or three hundred preemie-onesies) acts as a kind of ballast, preventing them from being too dangerous. The drawers that got stuck again, we simply yanked free by brute force, because getting a preschooler dressed in the morning is no time for finesse. And any fears we might have had of M. Edium hurting himself with it proved unfounded, as it turned out that he hated the thing so much he never touched it. By now you've noticed that I'm speaking of this piece of…furniture in the past tense. That's because EyeHeartPizza, who just moved back to Denver, didn't want to bring her five-drawer dresser along and gave it to us. She was even apologetic about little stuff like the broken handles on a couple of the drawers. I don't think she realized how much we appreciated the giant step up to drawers that slid out instead of tipping out. This was last Thursday night, when she and Chao came over for dinner. We had the old dresser out by the curb by the time The Office started. Given the way the Jawas operate in our neighborhood, I figured it would be gone, drawers and all, by the time Jim and Pam said their vows. Even though three of the drawers were still in the house. But it was still there the next morning. Huh, I thought. That's weird. Maybe it'll go faster if I bring the drawers outside and put them next to it. No, I didn't put them in. It was cold, okay? Too cold even for Jawas, apparently. It was still there on Saturday. Coming home from an errand that day, I thought I saw what the problem was. I had placed the dresser facing the street, so that anyone driving by could see the bashed-in fiberboard that comprised its backing. It looked like I'd shoved someone's head through it, and who wants to pick up a used murder weapon up off the curb, free or not? I probably would have put the drawers in right then, but I think it was still snowing. Sunday I put the drawers back in. At first glance, it looked like a perfectly serviceable item. Anyone driving by fast enough wouldn't even notice that half of the drawers had their faces cast disconsolately down at the street. Surely the Jawas would not be able to resist this prize. And after all, maybe they just hadn't made the rounds yet. Monday is garbage day, and Sunday -- the day before, and a weekend to boot -- is the sweet spot. Monday morning, Trash watched out the window as the garbage man picked it up and tossed it into the back of the truck, where it was instantly crushed into splinters. The rest of the way, I mean. We were kind of ambivalent about its end. We prefer to either donate stuff directly or park it on the curb to give away in situations like this, and it felt like we'd committed some kind of environmental fail by letting it get squished. On the other hand, it had been out there for four and a half days. The reclaimers had plenty of opportunity, if they'd wanted. But I think what bothers me the most is that if this was what was going to happen to it, I would have liked to do it myself. Preferably with an axe. posted by M. Giant 10:49 AM 2 comments 2 Comments:I had the same dresser experience in South Mpls this summer. Crappy dresser but it looked GOOD. and they wouldn't take it and it ended up being crushed and disposed if and it made me sad too.
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We have a tendency to keep most things to the point where, whatever it might have started out life as, it's on the verge of complete collapse by the time it exits our life.
By Thursday, October 15, 2009 Take Five I'm at that age where my birthdays become bittersweet. One more year under the bridge, never to return again. Surprisingly, so is M. Edium. Monday was his fifth birthday. He's five now. Five is a big deal. Five is a milestone. It's half a decade. Most of my earliest memories are from when I was five. It's when you stop being a little kid and become just a kid. Four-year-olds can get away with all manner of shit that five-year-olds just can't. You don't fuck with five. I haven't said all of this out loud, of course. But M. Edium has been looking so forward to this birthday for so long that paradoxically, I don't think he was entirely ready for what it really means. We were driving in the car Monday evening and he said, "I'm not used to being five yet." "It takes a while to get used to," I told him. "You only feel a day older than you did yesterday, don't you? Not a whole year." He couldn't get over it. "Last night I was four, and today I'm five. Already." "Already is right." To be honest, I'm having a bit of trouble with it myself. When he was a baby, and then a toddler, I used to so look forward to having one less family member whose bodily waste didn't have to be physically carried out of the house. Being able to let him venture more than six feet away from me in public. Leaving the house on a ten-minute errand without packing. And those things are pretty awesome. But other things were awesome too. Naptime was awesome. Naps he took on top of me were even awesomer. Adding a new word to the list of things he could say was always awesome. Being proud of him when he finally learned how to say a new person's name, or got through the alphabet by himself. All awesome. And there are things that are awesome in the present tense. Like when he jumps into my arms from one of the bottom stairs, or asks me a question about Star Wars that I can answer, or the run-hugs he does when I drop him off at school in the mornings, or how much he loves to help us, no matter what we're doing. Those things are awesome right now. Today, he read a book to his class. AWESOME. I think these things are even more awesome than it will be to have to learn about whatever obnoxious thing tween boys will be into next decade, or to always know exactly how many beers are in the house at any given time, or to have that inevitable realization that we're not the biggest thing in his life any more. Seriously, I'm really not sharing any of this with him, but Monday night, after we put him to bed, he had a miniature existential crisis. It wasn't just that his birthday was over, because he's still got his party and more presents to look forward to. It's really just the start of his birthday week. But he cried softly in Trash's arms for a minute. "Didn't you have a good birthday?" she asked him. "I had a super-good birthday," he said sadly. "But it was my only fifth birthday. I don't have any more fifth birthdays. I'll never be four again." I get that. I mean, look at it from his perspective. When you're that age, so much of your very being is tied up in how old you are, and he'd been four for almost as long as he could remember. In his view of the world, he's all but permanently four, except for a long time ago when he "was little," and before that there's nothing but dinosaurs. And now he's not a four-year-old any more. The very foundations of his existence have been shaken. We said we understood. We explained how part of getting older is leaving things behind so you can move on to your future. We said it's part of life, and it happens to everyone. The terrifying, magical, endlessly rewarding miracle of time. And then he asked to be put back to bed and fell asleep almost immediately. He'd better remember all that for me in three months when I turn 40. posted by M. Giant 1:29 PM 4 comments 4 Comments:
I can clearly remember feeling that same way when I was little. It was like "But I'll never, ever be this thing again!" I don't know at what point I decided this, but I remember that eventually I started to believe that part of me would always be the age I had just left behind and part of me was this new age, but those things could co-exist. And even though that's not really logical, I still pretty much believe it. I've been reading you since M. Edium was M. Tiny, so now I'm getting a little existential crisis, too!
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M. Edium has my sympathies, though for me, the mid-kidlife crisis age was six. Six! Six meant real school, and the fantastically old neighborhood kids of eight and ten being willing to let me play with them and not treat me like a total baby, plus six just sounded so much more grown-up than five, to my ears. It was exciting, but scary. I'm sure M. Edium will adjust to his new mature status with no trouble.
By I turned 20 a month ago...it was tough. I'm not a teenager anymore! Being a teen was a huge excuse and I can't use it anymore! That lasted for about a day until I realized that I was 364 days from being able to drink legally. Many of my friends and co-workers say that 25 was a really hard birthday.
By What is it about the magical number 5? My earliest memory is crying the day before my fifth birthday because I didn't want to be five - I wanted to be four for the rest of my life. Sometimes, I still do. :)
By Tuesday, October 13, 2009 Donations for the Nation Trash here. M. Edium received a super-cool gift for his birthday Monday. No, I’m not referring to the incredible Clone Wars Helmet sent to him by Catherine in Australia (you should SEE him stomp around the house in that one) or any of the other great gifts sent by M. Giant’s readers (you guys are all too cool, seriously.) No, I mean Corp Kitten’s gift of a Donor’s Choose gift card so M. Edium could pick some additional projects. He has been very busy this week, going after science projects and schools in need. I have been a bit surprised by his lack of interest in book projects, since he loves books so very much, but he is a boy with a mission – and that mission is science. And Star Wars. Sadly, there aren’t many (read: any) projects that focus on Star Wars Hyena Droid Bombers (what does that even MEAN?) so he has picked a variety of science projects. And the best news for you is that most of them still have room to give, so you can all partake! By the way, he is just tickled when he sees his name (well, M. Edium) on the donor wall, so THANK YOU Land of Shimp for making his day. He keeps saying “Did I do that or did someone do it for me?” when he sees his name, and he he is so happy when it’s from someone else. Some of our friends, like Linda and Joe, are offering fabulous recaps as gifts to readers who complete project or donate, and I can’t offer that (what with the lack of talent or skills in that arena) but I will offer this: if you donate anything to any of the Donors Choose projects through Tomato Nation and mention M. Edium’s name in the *why we donate* box – and then let us know, so I can find it - I will show it to M. Edium and tell them what an amazing and incredible person you are. Oh, and you will make a little boy very, very happy. Anyway, this week M. Edium’s projects included: Strong Lab Basics Houston We Have a Launch Reach for the Stars: Astronomy at Its Best! Solar Energy - Now! Robot Explosion Classroom Bully First Hand Look At Rocks Outdoor Physical Activities Basic Classroom Resources Labels: trash talkin' posted by M. Giant 7:05 PM 6 comments6 Comments:
It's my pleasure to participate, and I'm so glad it helps make M. Edium's day :-) A happy, belated birthday to you! My son is M. Uch Older (19 and in college) and he's always loved projects like this, too.
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*points at Solar Energy project also*
By Check "Solar Energy Now" - from a lurker who enjoys reading about M.Edium's exploits.
By You can also check out Classroom Bully if you are so inclined...
By You can check out "Reach for the Stars: Astronomy at Its Best!" also.
By Another belated birthday message at "Classroom Bully"...
By Monday, October 12, 2009 Smooth Move In between home repair projects, one forgets how much time is spent just waiting for stuff to dry. I mean, fortunately you can do other things while the various substances you have applied to various surfaces do their thing, or else I wouldn't have gotten anything else done all week. For instance, I already told you about how my search for my power sander resulted in finding the roll of wallpaper I needed to fix the wall under the window. Trash and I were both happy about that, although we're still trying to come to a compromise about the exact size of the sheet of Plexiglas that I'm going to screw onto the wall to keep the damage from happening again. I'd like a fairly large sheet that goes all the way to the floor trim, whereas Trash refuses to even consider the idea of listening to me ask if I can suggest thinking about installing one at all. Somewhere in the middle we'll find a compromise. But with that fixed, I couldn't put off the search for the sander any more. I spent a half hour on Wednesday night searching for it in the basement, and drafted Trash to help me ransack the garage the following day. Nothing. However, I did find lots of sandpaper sheets and sanding screens, as well as a couple of sandpaper holders for hand-sanding. Obviously the universe was trying to tell me something. And with M. Edium's birthday-party deadline ten days away, I was running out of time. So I sucked it up and did the sanding the old-fashioned way. This was not, admittedly, without its advantages. I was able to use a little water on the surfaces to keep the dust down. It wasn't as noisy. I didn't make the mistake of over-sanding, rubbing too much away just because I had a machine. When every stroke is done by hand, you don't do any extra. So all in all, there was less noise, surface damage, and dust. Oh, except the dust. There was still a shitload of that. But the good news was that I had it ready to prime -- and better yet, primed -- by the end of the day. Nothing left to do but the painting and the crown molding. The painting happened on Saturday. That went fairly well, except for the fact that M. Edium insisted on helping (beginning by slapping a white-laden roller on the taupe wall) and the more annoying problem of the ceiling paint being kind of old and thus smelling like spoiled fake crab. Trash didn’t appreciate that part very much, since she doesn’t' even like fresh fake crab. But I got two coats up (keeping the exhaust fan on and a wet towel rolled up against the bottom of the door to keep Trash from vomiting), one with M. Edium's help and one after he went to bed. When that was done. I opened up the can of the color we have on the walls, and touched up a number of spots that have been damaged for a while, and a few that got scraped up during the ceiling installation. But before I could do that touch-up work, I needed a brush. Most of the ones I had in the house were still wet from being used on the ceiling, so I had to get a new one. I dug in the bin of paint supplies in the basement. I was surprised at how deep I had to dig to find a brush. I wasn't remotely surprised when I got to the bottom of the bin and found the power sander. That's just part of being me. posted by M. Giant 10:23 AM 1 comments 1 Comments:
Hey, you might want to let a certain gentleman of a medium stature know that the Christmas book project is now officially funded. I went back to check on it, seeing if I needed to take out my chisel again and it was a done deal :-)
By Thursday, October 08, 2009 Papered Over One nice thing about having lived in this house for over sixteen years is that less and less of the stuff I'm fixing is the result of the work of Dr. Jellyfinger, and more and more the work of people I've hired, family members, and myself. All of whom have a much better idea of what we're doing than Dr. Jellyfinger ever did. During this endless bathroom ceiling replacement project (it's getting there, but I confess that by now I would have fired anyone as slow as I am), something unexpected happened. The new ceiling, which now consists of naked drywall stippled with a wide stripe and multiple spots of unsanded plaster compound, started looking a lot better than the wall right below the window. Let's rewind. About five and a half years ago, when we were getting the house ready for the adoption home study, we redid our bathroom. We'd torn the horrible wallpaper off the top half of the walls the first summer we moved in (so as to avoid a psychotic break during long periods on the terlet), but there was still wallpaper on the bottom half that needed to go, despite being rather less horrible. This time around, we were going to get rid of the wallpaper entirely, since we both pretty much hate the entire concept of wallpaper. But that would have exposed the even more horrible scraped-up wood paneling underneath that the horrible wallpaper had been stuck to. And under the paneling was rough plaster that looked like a stadium floor after a tractor pull, so leaving that exposed wasn't an option. The only thing that fit into our time budget was new wallpaper. We got something without a pattern -- only color and texture, and not much of that -- and my mom put it up. Fast-forward five years. Phantom and Excavator have something of a feud in effect with Pipsqueak, a straw-colored indoor/outdoor cat of indeterminate gender who lives next door. The frontier of their ongoing feud is our bathroom window, because Pipsqueak can climb up on the deck bench and make our cats scream at it. So you can imagine the beating that the wallpaper under the window has taken over the years, as they use their claws to haul themselves on and off the windowsill. But it's accelerated since we adopted Excavator, who seems to be singlehandedly trying to eliminate the phrase "catlike reflexes" from the language. And we have the birthday party coming up, and when guests arrive, something about a work-in-progress ceiling somehow seems more reputable than a disintegrating stretch of wallpaper. Especially after last week, when, during one of M. Edium's long periods on the terlet, it occurred to him that maybe he should just take hold of one of those little scraps of wall and pull it away, revealing a chunk of that horrible scraped-up wood paneling. So next weekend, any number of people who have never been here will come over, use our bathroom, and mentally describe our otherwise lovely home as "early crack den."  The good news is that now we had an excuse to get rid of the horrible paneling, now that we could see it again. I even picked out some new paneling out at Home Depot:  But how were we going to find time to get new paneling home, let alone installed in the time we had left? I mean, we'd have to disconnect and move both the toilet and the vanity, and worse yet, hook them both back up again. Today, I seriously floated the idea of paneling just the one wall before the party:  While fretting about that, I decided to go down and find my hand-sander, because at least then I could get the ceiling ready to prime and paint, if nothing else. I didn't find the sander, but I found something else: the remainder of one of the rolls of wallpaper we used originally, five years ago. And I thought, "Hmm, I can't wallpaper a room, but I can wallpaper a few square feet of a room." So I finished peeling off the shredded section, cut a new one (with Exie's help, naturally), filled the bottom of the bathtub to dunk it in, and pasted up the new sheet:  It's not perfect, but it'll hold up under casual scrutiny. Oddly, it even makes the rest of the wallpaper look better. And now the ceiling is the worst part of the room again. Damn, I really need to find that sander now. posted by M. Giant 5:13 AM 2 comments 2 Comments:I'm a little creeped out by how much that bathroom looks exactly like ours in shape, size, and setup. Only difference is that previous owners installed a pedestal sink, a big shelf over the toilet, and paneling exactly like you're talking about. I feel like I should send you a picture, it's that eerie.
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Wallpaper in an area with steam seems to have some inherent problems.
By Tuesday, October 06, 2009 More to Give Trash again. I said I would keep you up-to-date on where we - well, mostly M. Edium - is sending his support through Tomato Nation's Donors Choose event, so here I am. I love the annual fund drive, and I've been saving some of our donation money throughout the year in anticipation, but this year has been the best because M. Edium is so excited. Every moring during breakfast we discuss what kind of projects I should seek out (made much easier by the new spreadsheet created by Sarah's intern Amanda). We always start with the suggestion of a Star Wars or Lego project, but as soon as I gently suggest we try to expand our interests (having invested in one lego-themed project already) he is on it. He will suggest Energy or rockets and I will search until I find something that might interest him. He is picky and will reject those projects that don't hold his interest, but when there is a connection? He is so excited. He has even offered to travel to the school in question to show them how to use whatever it is we are buying. With his birthday coming up on October 12th, we have been trying to ensure that he understands that not all kids are as lucky as he is, and that some kids don't get big birthday parties (with a haunted house and games and WAY too many kids) or even Christmas gifts (The project still needs donations!) and I think the message is starting to sink in. He is asking people who come to his party to bring books to donate instead of gifts, although (of course) he still has a list a mile long of wished-for birthday presents. And he is excited about the contest and the ways he can contribute. For example, today's choice might have been influenced by me, but he was thrilled to select it. The Lorax is one of his favorite Dr. Seuss books, and also one of his favorite movies [even if the tone is completely wrong -- M. Giant]. Tomorrow? Who knows. He might decide it's time to check out rockets or the moon or the theater. I guess not knowing is part of the fun. Labels: trash talkin' posted by M. Giant 1:06 PM 2 comments2 Comments:
I think it's great what you guys are doing, and I will donate on Friday when I get paid, if there is anything left to give on M. Edium's projects.
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Hey there, I went ahead and popped the Christmas books project under the 400.00 mark, thinking maybe it might help gain some momentum if it continues to gain progress.
By Monday, October 05, 2009 Movies 3Q09 It's been a slow moviegoing quarter. I blame this on something that pretty much everything can be blamed on: Big Brother. Public Enemies I was frustrated by this movie. Maybe it was the theater I saw it in, but the picture was frequently muddy and the sound worse, to the point where I couldn't understand a lot of the dialogue. Made it hard to follow what was going on. It wasn't until later that I realized that things like dialogue and plot are pretty much secondary to this movie. It's basically, "Look how good Johnny Depp looks in thirties clothes, y'all." I just wish I could have realized that going in. Or even an hour and a half into it. I could have saved myself an hour. District 9 I enjoyed this a lot, and found it interesting enough to let its flaws pass. What flaws? Well, there's a lot of telling instead of showing; that whole thing where two characters are each speaking their own language yet understanding each other perfectly (which I haven't bought since I first saw it on The Life and Times of Grizzly Adams when I was FIVE; the faux-documentary style even in segments where there couldn't possibly be a camera. Even so, I thought it was terrific. I'm ambivalent about rumours of a District 10, but if they ever make a District 1 through 8, I'm staying home. Inglourious Basterds Probably my favorite film of the year so far. Yes, it does have the typical Tarantino flaws, like talky stretches where the storytelling makes you feel like you're listening to some half-drunk guy holding forth in a restaurant booth, wishing he'd wrap up his current digression and get back to his main story. But what I love about it is that it follows one of my favorite dramatic forms: the Jacobean revenge tragedy. I have a special affinity for that form, having once written one. Jacobean tragedy, for those of you who have lives, refers to the period of English drama during the reign of King James. It's distinguished from Elizabethan drama by being so goddamn dark it nearly comes around to being funny again. Bloody revenge is a common theme, obviously, but it's sometimes hard to tell whether it's reveling in it or warning against its dangers. Sure, it's viscerally satisfying to see evildoers go down hard, but the "good guys" tend to not survive, either. Sound familiar? Mark Blankenship at The Critical Condition posted about this (and I participated in the comments thread), talking about how it could be read as a cautionary tale about revenge. In the Shoshannah plot, as Mark correctly points out, her plan for revenge results in her death. I'd go even further and add that even had she physically survived her revenge plot, carrying it out would have left her with almost nothing left of herself. She would have destroyed the theater, which is her home, as well as everything else she owns, including her aunt's film collection (and don't get me started on QT's idea of literally winning World War II with movies), not to mention she's already living under an assumed name and eating non-kosher desserts to pass as a gentile. Revenge may be sweet, but it ain't cheap. You want more? Fine. It has five acts. I rest my case. Yeah, sorry if that got a little heavy there. This wouldn't have happened if I'd found time to take M. Edium to Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs last week. posted by M. Giant 9:27 AM 0 comments 0 Comments:Friday, October 02, 2009 Thanks and Giving Trash here. Several of you have e-mailed or commented, asking which projects we are picking as part of Tomato Nation's fund drive. This year our process has changed a bit, since M. Edium is old enough to care and contribute his opinion. Thus, as shown in the photo below, we sat down with him and showed him some of the projects (some, not all. There are over 600, and he's four.) We decided to let him select a few projects, and then a few days each week we would donate to those projects. How is our plan working? Well, it's day two, and we have donated to six projects. At this rate we will be broke by mid-October, and that's BEFORE we have his big birthday/halloween party - complete with haunted house and his entire class at school (he *surprised* us and invited everyone.) We don't care - it's worth it. We love the fact that he is so willing to donate and help those in need, so we are willing to stretch the budget. We're even more willing to kick it up a notch when we see projects for classrooms that need pencils or desks because there is something SERIOUSLY WRONG when teachers have to go begging for every day items. BTW - there is still some room on the second project. Just sayin'. Since you are interested, and because I love this fundraiser, I'll list the other projects we've been working to fund. Most of them are already finished, but there's a new project we found tonight that still has plenty of need: a teacher who wants to give her class books as Christmas presents this year, since most of her students won't receive any gifts OR books. M. Edium has also picked a Volcano project and a reading project, as well as his favorite: Preschool Scientists because, of course, that would describe him. (Just ask him - he will tell you he is an expert in all things space, dinosaur, and electricity related. Oh, and Star Wars.) And for the person who wondered if I was getting the shaft, since my name isn't listed - thanks for asking, but I derive a great deal of satisfaction from the fact that I get to select the projects. Trust me, I'm getting the best part of the deal. Labels: trash talkin' posted by M. Giant 9:39 PM 5 comments5 Comments:Really nice blog I like it ! ... if you want the best free hosting details at http://hubpages.com/hub/hosting-ms-sql-web and much much more ...
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I actually don't read Tomato Nation (no offense meant) but last year I got involved in this through Linda H.'s blog. Looks like this year M. Giant, Trash and M. Edium are leading the way.
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1. You guys are amazing. I love seeing your donations come through the giving page.
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Yeah, unfortunately, I'm not the personal blogger I was this time last year because of massive overcommitment to work projects, but don't assume I won't pitch in somehow. I have my crafty ways, but I firmly believe that Sarah should be supported by as many other people as possible, because asking one site to create and sustain the momentum it takes for a month-long project to work is unrealistic, I think.
By You guys are amazing. I can't believe how much you care about these kids. I will be kicking in a little something in honor of M. Edium come payday.
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