I was up until 2 last night working on drawings for the 9-5 gig, so I’m dragging ass today.
So apparently the child bike seat we got for free is still usable, but there seems to be a conspiracy among manufacturers to make their installation as difficult as possible. I’ve been up to Loch Raven twice in the last two weeks to measure out the rack that goes along with the seat, but I left without it because I was under the mistaken impression it would not fit. It turns out I was orienting the rack backwards and not fastening it to the seat the right way. So I have to go back (none of the shops near my office our our house carry the rack) at some point over the weekend to try one last time.
Sounds like the stock market took a scary dip yesterday, based on fears that Spain is heading the way of Greece and Portugal may not be far behind. NPR did a great piece on the problems Spain is facing, which was an eye-opener, as well as the issues Italy is dealing with in order to prop up its own crumbly finances. My question is this: Does anyone in Europe (besides Germany) pay their income taxes? Fuck’s sake, people.
Jen’s potatoes seem to be growing out-of-control crazy, which meant I needed to hit the Home Depot for more vegetable dirt. While I was in the garden section, a young couple was very earnestly asking one of the employees if bees are harmful to plants.
I’ll repeat that.
They were asking if bees were harmful to plants. Apparently there were a lot of bees flying around their flowers, and they were concerned that something might be wrong.
It’s enough to make me want to move to a survivalist compound out in the midwest somewhere so that we can teach Finn what to do when our society of ignorant morons collapses around itself.
We here at the Lockardugan compound like to pack a lot of stuff in on the weekends. It’s not unusual to have a couple of trips planned, some kind of home project involving gas-powerd or rented machinery, at least one dinner with friends, a grocery run, and visitors to the house—which then requires a housecleaning—all packed into two days’ time. This past weekend was no exception, and because we had Grandma and Aunt R. coming in from out of town, we decided to celebrate by spending Friday getting our taxes done!
For most people, this yearly routine simply requires an hour with a copy of TurboTax and a cold beer, but because at least one of us has always been self-employed, we (wisely) seek professional help. This year I was a little nervous based on my spreadsheets, but it turned out that we’re in pretty decent shape, which is a huge relief. Huge enough, in fact, that we can finally exhale and get a few things done around here, including some preliminary work on the side porch.
In the meantime, we had a fantastic visit with aforementioned family. Finn was a little unsure at first but warmed right up to Grandma, who has been twitching for some baby time since we left her driveway in December, and she showed off her talking, running, reading, and stairclimbing skills all weekend.
And while Aunt R. was here, I took the opportunity to shanghai her into helping us till the garden—lifting a rented tiller is a two-person job, but not for two people and a toddler—move compost, and pull a water pump from the Scout. She was good-natured about getting mud and antifreeze and crud from the floor of the garage on her jeans, and so we made sure to reward with a diner of shish kebab and homemade blueberry pie. Inside, Grandma got some long awaited hours of one-on-one Finley time, and at the end of the day I don’t know who went to sleep tireder.
Sunday we bid goodbye to the family and took the girl off to her swimming lesson, and to her credit she braved the cold water very well. So well, in fact, that she didn’t cry once! She enjoyed splashing, swimming, floating on her back, and even having her head dunked several times underwater. When we got home she was so whupped she slept for three and a half hours, allowing us to get some work done for a friend.
I always get bummed out when family leaves town. At one point Sunday afternoon, I asked Jen if it would be ok for me to go wake up Finn just to give her a hug, but we quickly agreed that might be a bad idea.
So I have to back up to last Thursday and describe my birthday, which was very low-key and enjoyable. Mama woke me by bringing Finn in to lay on my chest, and she nestled up to my chin for a few minutes before we all got up for breakfast.
After work, Mr. Scout and I went to peek at a diesel Scout over in Lauraville, after being tipped off by the Toddfather. The truck was pretty beat, but the running gear was nice, and after I took it for a spin around the block (unintentionally winding up out on Harford Road in a balky diesel with sketchy brakes) we advised the seller on some pricing adjustments for parts he didn’t know he had.
Then, taking advantage of our proximity to The Big Bad Wolf, we ordered some tasty barbecue and brought it home to share with the family. After I helped put a sleepy girl to bed, we dug into dinner and discussed the developments on LOST before slicing into some delicious homemade blueberry pie. Mr. Scout surprised me with three boxes of Al’s Liner, an off-the-shelf bedliner product that’s hundreds of dollars cheaper than Herculiner or Line-X. Thanks guys!
Saturday morning we had Finn’s swimming lesson, which went a little less smoothly than weeks past. Mama was in the pool for the first time with us, and I think Finn saw that as an opportunity to complain and fuss for attention instead of focusing on having fun and relaxing. I felt awful for Jen because she wanted to be in the water with Finn, but I don’t think that’s going to happen next week.
After we got back, the girl went down for a nap and we got to work out in the yard, taking advantage of 70° and sunshine to clean up what four months of frozen inattention have left us. We cleaned up and pruned back the grape arbor, raked about a million leaves, and dumped 32 cubic yards of mulch on the front hedge. I chopped vine and hauled away dead growth around the stump in the rear of the yard while Jen cleaned out several flowerbeds and made a place for the daffodils to breathe. I also moved the final vestigal hedge from the backyard up to the front; here’s to hoping it will root as well as the two I put in last year did. In the evening, after having some grilled steak and potatoes and putting the girl to bed, we watched The Hurt Locker, which was as good, and as intense, as everyone said it was.
Sunday was full of sunshine, so we kept at the yard. More mulch, more raking, bagging leaves, and cleaning beds. I took a break at noon to go to a free class at Jen’s yoga studio, thinking that the stretching might help my shoulder problems (which have been getting slowly better). I was nervous, and as the class started it seemed to me like I was the only one who was unfamiliar with the poses, but I hung in there and made it through. The only thing I couldn’t do was one of the final sitting poses because my hamstrings were so tightly wound. I have to admit, I felt a little silly being one of only three men in the class, but I felt much better after one of the other guys fell asleep during the final relaxation period and began snoring loudly, prompting snorts of laughter from the rest of us.
(compare and contrast):
On my return, we continued cleaning the yard, getting the vegetable garden organized, and turning the mulch in each of the three piles. The humus in the end pile was ready to go, and after the three of us removed the roots, bark, and other large items, we wound up with a good-sized pile of rich, black soil to add to the garden. (Finn dove right into the pile, covering the front of her shirt and pants with dirt. I think we have a future gardener on our hands). Next we’ll pick up some manure and then till the whole thing up to get it ready for planting. After dinner and some books, Mama and I put Finn to bed and enjoyed a Berger’s cookie in front of The Order of the Phoenix. Then we laid down tired, happy, and content after a productive weekend together.
Saturday we treated Finn to her first IKEA visit, venturing down to College Park in search of picture frames and some other minor items. Even though she was disappointed at the lack of merchandise in the downstairs marketplace (they’re remodeling, so there’s about 1/20th of the usual stuff available) she bounced up and down excitedly in the cart and flirted with everyone she saw.
Sunday I took her shopping with me right after her morning nap, and we hit a grand total of five stores before it was time to head home. We shopped for gel repellent to combat the infestation of tiny ants we’ve had since the rain started, bought some small items at the Home Depot, hit two different auto parts stores to find a fuel hose for the Scout, and the grocery store. Everywhere we went, she got smiles and laughs and waves, and she was content to bounce in the backpack, sit on my shoulders (and eat my hair), or simply ride on my hip while I took care of business.
Our garden is coming along nicely. We’ve got three healthy broccoli plants bearing fruit, our cukes are all flowering and climbing, and we’ve got tomatoes coming in. The asparagus seems to be doing well, although the first trench we dug is flooded completely. We took some time last week to pinch the tomato plants back drastically in the hopes that they won’t get leggy and grow out of control as in years past, and it seems to be working. We also took some time last night to wrap the grape arbor in netting to prevent the birds from feasting; it looks like we’ll have another bumper crop of grapes this year.
In the afternoon, I replaced the aforementioned fuel filler hose on the Scout. After some wrangling with a balky hose clamp, I got the new one in place and took it for a test fill in the afternoon sunshine: success.
As noted elsewhere, this weekend was another milestone in Finn’s development: She moved into her own big-girl room on Friday evening, after a whirlwind installation of cardboard blackouts over the windows and frenzied crib relocation. She sat on the floor and played happily with her toys as we hustled around, moving and hauling and organizing, and seemed keenly interested in examining our pizza and beer when we finally stopped for dinner. Her first night was uneventful and quiet, and she slept through until 6:30 without an hour of talking and fussing like she’s been doing for the last several weeks.
On Saturday, Mama and I began the long and arduous task of planting asparagus in our garden. Planting asparagus sounded, at first blush, like it would be cool. It’s a native plant in Maryland, we like it grilled, and it’s good for us. This was all before we realized what a pain in the ass it is to plant asparagus. The best way I can describe this to you is that it was like burying giant prehistoric spiders in a drainage ditch.
Most of the soil beneath our ratty lawn is pure Maryland clay, so I had to dig a 12″ trench and throw the dirt/clay onto a tarp spread on the lawn. After installing the asparagus, we covered them over and watered everything heavily while Finn kept an eye on us from the comfort of her blanket.
Sunday morning we took advantage of Finn’s early breakfast schedule and hustled out to a restaurant for Bloody Marys and an anniversary breakfast before the church crowd set in; she was in a wonderful mood for our whole visit and crashed out on the car ride home.
Most of the the weekend was consumed with yardwork, from mowing the lawn for the first time in two weeks, cutting saplings down on the property line, fixing gutters, and repotting a ton of seedlings in the greenhouse. Two of my tomatoes and two of my eggplant have aphids already, so they got moved outside and away from the other plants. Four cucumber seedlings got their own tub of dirt, pepper seedlings got moved to their own pots, and the radishes (which are remarkably leggy) got placed outside so that they’ll acclimate quickly. As the sunlight dimmed and turned to stormclouds, we moved inside and began cleaning out the front porch, which was relegated to a dumping ground last year during the remodel and hasn’t been touched in months. There are about three Scoutloads of debris to be hauled to the dump next weekend, which will free up a ton of space around here.
Finn was patient and understanding throughout the entire three-day weekend, spending time on her blanket, in the backpack carrier, in her car seat, in the bouncy chair, and on the floor while we planted and weeded and mowed and cleaned and vacuumed and moved. While we were outside hauling dirt from one side of the yard to the other, she watched as I piloted the wheelbarrow back and forth, and each time I passed she smiled and held her arms out: TAKE ME FOR A RIDE. So I scooped her up off the blanket, placed her on an empty bag (and my folded up T-shirt) and she got a wheelbarrow ride around the back lawn while Mama held her hand.
There was a lot of activity this weekend at the Lockardugan compound; in between feedings and naps, we got the lawn mowed for the first time in two weeks, a garden plot dug in the backyard, more seedlings planted (and cucumber sprouts showing), doors on the garage and the Scout started (cough cough), attended a 1st birthday party, and found a secondhand backpack carrier for Finn. All that activity must have worn on me more than I expected, because I’ve been dragging ass ever since.
Alas, I forgot to take my Claritin this morning. Yesterday I was about 80% OK with the combination of rain and pharmaceuticals, but today I am at about 50% and tired of this throaty Brenda Vaccaro voice. I will have to walk over to the local pharmacy to see how much they gouge inner-city denizens for allergy medication depending on how many tissues I go through in the next two hours.
This is the opening shot in what I hope will be a successful battle to make our greenhouse productive and useful. I’ve got a source for a temperature-controlled fan to add air circulation ( and hopefully pollination) throughout; the plan is to add more tomatoes, eggplant, peppers, cucumbers and radishes.
Among the more annoying symptoms of increasing age, my ability to recover from short excursions with alcohol had to be my least favorite until this weekend. It’s been a slow progression from four beers to three beers to two that used to give me a righteous headache in the morning, but now I can have one stinkin’ Corona on a Friday night and wake up feeling like there’s a midget swinging a hammer at my skull on Saturday morning. What gives? Corona is just beer-flavored water, for Christ’s sake. What have I done to deserve this?
Of course, this could be a symptom of the passive-aggressive weather patterns we’ve been living through the past couple of months; every time we have a new front blow through, it feels like I’ve had cement poured into my sinus cavities, and this phenomena has only gotten worse as I’ve gotten older. So it should come as no surprise, then, that the sudden spike in temperature kickstarted pollen production around our house, which caused my nasal cavities to start leaking snot at prodigious and embarrassing levels—all weekend long.
It didn’t used to be this way. I never had allergies as a kid (not that I can remember, anyway) and last year’s pollen dump didn’t affect me as badly as it has this year; in fact, I remember shoveling green pollen off the cars last year by the bagful and not blinking an eye. So what gives? Has the pollen mixed with a new and more potent brew of toxins and swine flu, or has my body decided 38 is the year to finally see if we can transform into a flesh-covered snot monster?
Whatever the case, I mowed the lawn for the first time since last September (coincidence? I THINK NOT), trimmed the sidewalks, watered two hedge plants (moved from the backyard last weekend to fill a huge dead spot), and attempted to repair our back gutter, which has sagged and leaked for the last two years. We also took the girl on an epic journey to find organic starter vegetables but were thwarted by poor selection and the commercial dominance of Miracle-Gro. Having the window in the Jeep fixed could not have come at a better time, though, because Her Highness spent most of the day in a onesie and still wore a rosy pink glow, even though I put the air conditioners in the windows and chilled her cave to a comfortable 72°.
Plans are afoot to purchase a fan for the greenhouse, and I will have tomatoes planted within the week, but finding other organics to grow indoors remains a problem. In the meantime, I will continue to blow my nose and fill wastebaskets and curse all of the pretty trees and shrubs and flowers that herald the arrival of springtime in Baltimore.
70° days are rare in Maryland this early in March, so this weekend we tried to balance spending as much time as possible with Finn and as much time as we could outside in the fresh air. Saturday was dedicated to long-overdue yardwork, which consumed a good portion of our afternoon, but, what a beautiful afternoon to do it!
I made the mistake of wearing work jeans, and after a half an hour raking leaves off the foundation, I had to switch to shorts because I was too hot. We had five inches of snow last Monday. I am surprised I did not blind the pilots of overflying passenger jets with the sunlight bouncing off my pale knobby knees.
Anyway, while Finn slept off her second breakfast, Jen and I filled twenty bags of leaves from the back of the house, the driveway bed, and the odd area under our back porch, which seems to attract all of the loose leaves in this zipcode like a great sucking vortex.
Once that was accomplished, we three got a bite to eat, changed our diaper, brought the swing outside, and commenced to cleaning out the sad, dilapidated tangle of weeds that was our garden while Finn supervised. I cannot describe to you the sense of satisfaction it gives me to look out on that bare patch of earth and know the neighbors aren’t cursing us under their breath anymore.
While raking up the leaves, I reflected on the sad harvest we reaped last year (mainly due to the toll taken by varmints), and decided that this would be the year I modify our greenhouse to grow vegetables properly. Doing some research, I found online suppliers who sell polycarbonate glazing and ventilation systems, which will be an up-front investment and take some engineering to install, but should turn our useless sealed hothouse into a productive greenhouse.
Meanwhile, I straightened up the pots and barrels and soil and made way for seedlings.
Then, I moved out to the garage and straightened up as much as I could around the Scout without actually diving into doing something on it. I did break down and disassemble some of my new parts–but I’ll go into that elsewhere.
Sunday we got the girl up early—or is that the other way around?—and made preparations to take a long walk around a lake in Columbia before doing our grocery shopping. After her first bottle of the day, this child, who almost never stops moving, did something she’s never done with me before—she leaned her head down onto my chest, under my chin, and quietly nestled up against me for three of the longest and best moments of my life.
Once we got out onto the trail, she was fine for the first fifteen minutes or so, but soon decided she wanted to be facing forward, which meant we wound up carrying her like a football for two and a half miles. Once out of the stroller, she was her usual observant self, appraising each new passerby with a taciturn stare, careful to warn away strange ladies who, no doubt, were plotting to rush over and pinch her chubby pink cheeks. Touch my face and I will projectile vomit all over your track suit, that glare said. And it worked.
Jen and I are afraid nobody will ever see the inside Finn, the girl we get to see who is giggles and smiles and gets so happy her entire body spasms repeatedly like she’s hooked up to a car battery. When she’s around us, she’s Miss Congeniality, and when she’s out in public, she’s Steve McQueen, staring down a hostile world with those steel-blue eyes and a .44 magnum. I will show you proof that she can smile:
After our return to the car, we hightailed it over to the grocery store, where Mama stayed with her in the parking lot while I hustled around and got our shopping done. A quick trip to the health-food store, and we headed home for a three-hour nap and some more yardwork: the front hedge got cleaned out, the greenhouse got a final sweep, and the toolbench in the garage got cleaned off.
About the time I was finishing up for the day, Finn woke up for dinner: avocado and pears. MMMMMMMMM, avocado. And then it was bathtime, and as soon as she was diapered and dressed, it was time for sleep. I’m exhausted just writing about it all.
Need to soften the blow of a harsh message about restroom etiquette? SLAM. There I am. Need to spice up the directions to your graduation party? WHAM. There again. Need to convey your fun-loving, approachable nature on your business’ website? SMACK. Like daffodils in motherfucking spring.
Hmm. I think I might install this and use it on Wednesday (when other, larger and well-know sites will be down in protest): SOPA Blackout Plugin.
Wes Anderson's new movie is called Moonrise Kingdom, and it looks great.
User Hippybear put together an exhaustive, and I mean exhaustive history of the Art of Noise on Metafilter, full of links and info: Don't Be Afraid Of The Art Of Noise.
