Narrowband

I'm experiencing something that all 21st century, up to the minute, technologically advanced beings dread.

Dial up.

Well, not exactly dial up, but 'always on' dial up speed BROADBAND.

Maybe I should explain.

Some weeks back, my cable modem was exhibiting some annoying tendencies - such as dropping off completely for no apparent reason, staying off and then coming on again. Randomly. After much grinding of teeth, cursing at tech support and general annoyance I decided to finally switch to the 'other' broadband provider in town. (It starts with a V and ends in 'erizon').

All was well in broadband land for a while. Whizzy speeds were once more available and life was good.

Until last week. Technically, my DSL still WORKS. Just very, very slowly. More slowly than dialup, actually. Most annoyingly, it took over an hour on the phone with the tech weenies at V who make you do the whole 'Did you reboot your PC/Modem/Firewall/House' thing ad nauseum.

After finally persuading him of the reality of my situation and exhausting all possible reasons why 'this might be MY fault', they have grudgingly dispatched a technician (and by 'technician' I mean someone marginally trained in what a PC looks like who will come to my house and not fix it).

I'll keep you informed.

Stop, Drop and Roll

This week was more Fire Prevention Week (it's a long week). Even though our department isn't full time, we still take on the job of providing fire safety education to the schoolkids in town. Tuesday we were at the elementary school, teaching kids from Kindergarten (5) to 5th Grade (10) about the hazards in their home, and what to do if there is a fire.

We got to use a neat little thing called the Hazard House. This is basically a little dolls house with kitchen, living room, bedroom and so on. It has been wired with little 'smoke pots' that you fill with smoke oil, and then at the push of a button you can fill parts of it with smoke. Other hazards, like bad or overloaded wiring, gasoline stored in the basement, space heaters too close to curtains are all depicted and the kids can help you find and fix all of the various problems in the house. Then when they go home, they can 'educate' Mom and Dad to do the same.

We also talk a lot about what to do if there is a fire, having a family escape plan and meeting place and most importantly - having SMOKE DETECTORS. Every kid from the school took home a free smoke detector that day. Let's hope they all get put up on the ceiling and not just stuck in a box.

Anyway, it's a good thing to go out into the community and do something that can help to save lives, educates people a little, and is just plain fun.

If you have kids, I urge you to discuss with them what they should do when there is a fire - how to get out, and what to do if they cannot get out. Visit the fire station and meet a fireman. Kids die in fires because they hide under the bed or in a closet. The more they know, the better the chances of survival are. Yours, theirs, and also the firefighter's. If everyone gets out, we have to spend less time searching a building.

'nuf said.

The Fourth Season

Winter.

I'm not sure what happened to Fall, but it seems that Winter has brutally killed it and stuffed it under the rug. Tonight - a SNOW advisory. It probably won't amount to much, but that first time the words sneak into the weather forecast you realize that you can't kid yourself anymore. It's a reality. Only 6 months until Spring !

My folks took off back to England after a lovely 4 week stay. It's nice to have Mum & Dad around for a while. Sort of odd, too. Kind of like moving home again, but in your own house. I must say, though, that I enjoyed the taste of my childhood in the form of Mum's Steak & Kidney pie. Mmm.

I'm also a glutton for punishment, and have joined the Ambulance department here in town. I must enjoy getting woken up at odd hours. My first night on call we had a run at around midnight. Got home at 2:45 or so. Back in bed by 4 after a cuppa and some calming TV.

Frenzy

It's funny. You never realized that your home was either (a) so messy or (b) so tatty around the edges - until you throw a party.

We're now two days out, and my wife is beginning the female party ritual of micro cleaning every thing in sight, preparing enough food to last a hibernating pack of bears until 2007 and generally stressing about anything possible.

I, on the other hand, am Mr. Super Productive Handyman Person. All of those jobs that you think 'Oh, that'll take too long, I'll do that next week/month/year' are getting tackled, and many are EVEN getting finished. It's also obligingly been pouring/drizzling/rainy/misty for the last 5 days, so I've been halted on my main project (the porch - haven't you been paying attention ?).

My project frenzy is mostly because our house has been 'under construction' for going on 3 years, and for many of our guests this will be their first glimpse inside our little palace. It's fine that I can live with all of these half completed or 'just liveable enough' areas, but I wouldn't want our friends thinking 'Ooh, is that ALL that they've done' ?

Most of the work was below the surface, really. No, really, really. Come into the basement and I'll prove it.

Fire Prevention Week

This week (October 9-15) is Fire Prevention Week in the US. As a Firefighter, part of my job is public education. Here's my public safety announcement.




- If you don't have them, BUY SMOKE DETECTORS. They DO save lives.

- If you do have smoke detectors, change the batteries twice a year. Right now. Go on, do it.

- Use candles with care. According to the NFPA, candles started more than 18,000 fires in 2002 and claimed over 130 lives. They only romantic until you burn your house down. Click the link above for more info.

Sleepy epic

I generally take the opinion of movie critics with more than a generous pinch of salt, since I feel that they're jaded by watching too many bad films and have standards that may be higher than mine. If anything I tend to seek out the audience's take on a flick (usefully provided by many movie sites).

There are times, though, when the critics are 100% absolutely, positively right.

'Alexander' is one such cinematic cow pat.

Despite the impressive cast and directorial credentials, lashings of special effects and a semi true story of adventure it was an impossibly long, tediously dull experience. I actually walked away after about an hour and a half, had a drink and a nibble, browsed the web, read a few blogs and came back hoping for it to be over. It wasn't. I suffered as long as I could before realizing that it just wasn't worth staying awake for, turned it off and went to bed.

I don't see my job as that of telling people what to listen to or watch, but heed these words - DO NOT WATCH THIS FILM. RUN AWAY. Watch 'Antiques Roadshow' instead.

Use the power wisely, oh parent.

Alda's recent post on arcane Icelandic naming conventions brought to mind a concept - no a THEORY if you will - that bubbled into my brain when we had our first child (my wife and I, not Alda and I).

There's a lot of weight in a name, and especially so when it's your responsibility to PICK one that your child will be saddled with for the rest of their life. Not only can the silly name you might be tempted to bestow upon them be just plain embarrassing, I would suggest that it can actually DEFINE who they become.

What I'm saying here is that if you call you son 'Nigel', then he's going to grow up to be a complete NIGEL. If you don't know anyone called Nigel, then take it from me that anyone I've ever known with that name has always been something of a dimwit. Mandy is another such name. Think of all the 'Mandy's' that you know. Would YOU want to be one ? Somehow, carrying the name around makes you take on personality traits of those people. 'Brittney' - Ditzy. 'Kevin' - a bit slow and dull. 'Paul' - quiet, a bit eccentric and nondescript. 'Michael' - bit of an arrogant streak.

If you think about it long enough with all the people you know, you'll see that I'm right. There ARE exceptions, I know, but in general it works pretty well.

Apologies to anyone of a certain naming persuasion offended by this post. You could always change your name to something better. Like Robert, for instance :-)

Ah, Fall.

I must have a short memory, or at least my mind is good at blanking things out. It happens every year that by the end of Summer, I'm just ready for an end to all things hot and can't WAIT for the cooler days of Fall and Winter.

Of course, during mid March when we've endured almost 6 months of horrible freezing, snowy, melty, crappy weather I just can't WAIT for the balmy warm days of Summer.

I can't imagine living somewhere where seasons occur only on the calendar, and not particularly in the weather outside. Always sunny and 70 degrees must get tiring sometime, right ? Right ?

Anyway, Fall here in New England is shaping up to be it's usual dazzling display of woodland colors. Judging by the number of tour buses and tourists in town this weekend, we're about at our peak for both leaves and 'leaf peepers'. Best to stay at home and enjoy looking at the foliage from inside until the onslaught is over.

Now, where did I put that snow shovel ?

And the secret is...

Apparently, a winning chili recipe contains beans. Mine, on the other hand contained 50 pounds of beef but not a single bean.

The perceptive among you will probably note that I did NOT win the Chili Cookoff. I did come in a solid joint 3rd, though (out of 4, but who's counting).

Being my first year and all, it's something of a learning experience and these are some of the lessons that I can offer to any would be Chili Cooker Offer:

- Drink more beer while making the Chili. Have some friends over. It takes a loooooong time.
- Use beans. The philistine public just can't handle a meaty chili (unless you're in Texas in which case I believe they will rope you to a wild horse if you don't have 100% beef).
- Make more than you think people could possibly eat. Then double it. Running out of product seriously hampers votes.
- Pick the SHADY side of the tent.
- Cook it at someone else's house. 3 days of chili smell really doesn't make you hungry.

Other than that, everyone had a good time. Music by The Half Moon Jug Band was excellent, especially their banner number 'Dead Skunk in the middle of the road'.
No, really it was.

Chili

Being a big tourist destination, there are times when our town is just chock-a-block with events, and this weekend is one such occasion. In the big run up to peak foliage season when all of the 'leaf peepers' in out and about, every organization, club, charity, store and church is out to part these lovely people from their money.

For the last two years, I've attended the 'Chili Cookoff'. For those who aren't American (still quite a few at last count, despite Bush's efforts to convert everyone) a 'cookoff' is simply a competition where people enter foodstuffs and the offerings are judged. In this case, by the paying public.

This year, I've boldly thrown my hat into the ring and I have prepared my best effort Chili as an entry for the Fire Department (which, though you might think it should be, is NOT that hot). So, for the last 2 days I have been cooking up tons of beef and spices in a pot on the stove that would do Macbeth's witches proud (no eye of newt in the recipe, though). I'm getting a bit sick of the smell of Chili, to be honest. However, it does taste pretty good.

Results will be forthcoming. Fingers crossed !

No time, no time

Not that anybody is hanging on my every word, and not that I receive concerned emails when I haven't posted for 10 days, but I have been absent for a bit. Sorry about that.

I feel the weather window closing (quickly), and I'm working like a one-winged goose. Predictably, the porch is not moving as fast as I'd like and predictably the weather doesn't help. We're already getting frosts at night. My nicely applied finish went all crappy when the dew condensed on it before it had dried, so I was reduced to staying up until all hours heating the underside of the porch with a propane heater just to get it to dry. Thankfully, I did not set the house on fire (very embarassing) and the finish did dry.

In other, much more important, news - my parents are here from England ! Mum and Dad haven't been over in almost 18 months, so it's very good to see them. Our kids have grown so much since their last visit (number one son wasn't even walking when they left and now he's talking in sentences). Lovely to have them here, and be surrounded by English voices, foibles and endless cups of tea.

Today I went to have my fingerprints taken for my citizenship application. The FBI already has a set on file, so I'm not sure why they need more. I obliged anyway. Contrast today's visit with my original immigration process 12+ years ago in New York City. Back then, I was one of at least 500 people queueing by 6:30am. Today I was the ONLY person at the INS (now DHS) facility in St. Albans, Vermont - a mere stone's throw from the Canadian border. A much more pleasant experience.

I pity the poor security guard, though. He must get a rush of people from time to time, since the waiting room has a couple of dozen chairs. At this time on a rainy Monday, I was the only Alien in residence. You'd think, though, that this small corner of Vermont must be at great risk. After being requested to remove my keychain penknife from the building, presenting photo ID and an appointment letter and going through a metal detector I was able to take a seat. The guard continued to watch me warily, just in case I was planning some kind of high-jinks with my belt buckle.

After a lengthy 30 second wait, I was fingerprinted (digitally now - none of that messy ink) by a very cheery young lady, asked to fill out a 'customer satisfaction survey' and was on my way in a jiffy. Amazing.

Must be getting old

Boy - time flies when you're having fun. I can't believe my last post was a week ago.

Still, I have been VERY busy with my ongoing porch project. The new tongue and groove Douglas Fir floor is now mostly installed, and will look very spiffy when it's all finished with a clear coat.

After finishing up yesterday, I heeded the advice of the weathermen and covered the whole floor with plastic. Good thing too, because for once they were actually right !

Waking at 1:30am to the sound of a monsoon cascading from the rooves of houses next door (people in Vermont don't have gutters because they'd get ripped off by the snow), I lay awake in bed running through the mental list of 'things that might be getting ruined by the water'.

It must be blissful to either be a homeowner that never has such worries, or a cosy apartment dweller who knows that it's someone else's problem. For me though, with a house somewhat of a work in progress, it's a nightmare. No being lulled back to sleep by the patter of raindrops drumming on the roof for me. After an hour of trying to get back to sleep, I cave in and get out of bed. I must be getting old since I never had any problem nodding off.

Now I'll be one of those elderly thirty somethings who drifts off in front of the TV at 8:30 and wakes up at 4:30.

Flies

I hate flies.

I'm sure that they have some valid role to play in the ecosystem, but quite frankly they are not welcome in my house.

Not that I'm infested with them at this point (although, we did have Cluster Flies in the attic a few years ago), just that even a single fly can really PISS ME OFF.

I'll confess I'm no entomologist, but I swear that they have an innate intelligence and the ability to determine what would annoy humans the most. Sitting on the couch, a fly can combine the annoying 'round the head' flight path with periods of 'sitting on the TV screen' (are they watching it ?). To demonstrate their complete mastery of the 'head game', the minute you reach boiling point and jump up, magazine in hand - they disappear. Seated once again, they're at it in no time.

My kids (really my wife, but they presented it to me with great fanfare) recently bought me an old fashioned fly swatter. You'd think that given today's modern technologies and sprays these things would be obsolete, but let me tell you this - it ROCKS ! Think of it as the stealth weapon in your fly killing arsenal. Whereas flies can sense the approach of a folded magazine, cupped hand or other swatter - they're oblivious to this thing. THWACK ! Dead Fly. THWACK ! 2-0. THWACK ! Die, damn fly.

It's a satisfying thing, killing such a tiny but annoying bug. I feel all manly, like I'm safeguarding my family from peril. Probably what a caveman felt like after taking down a rabid mastodon.

Thoughts on stripping

Oddly enough, one of my more favorite pastimes is stripping paint.

After many years of experience with this, and having tried every method known to man, I still prefer the 'old fashioned' way. I like to use a heat gun and an array of scrapers, peeling the paint off layer by layer.

Despite the toxic fumes, lead dust and red hot paint chips falling down my socks, I find this somehow mind numbingly cathartic. With the hair dryer like noise of the heat gun and the focus paid to making sure you don't gouge the wood, it's sort of like being in a sensory deprivation chamber. There's also the satisfaction of being able to see just what you have accomplished at the end of the day (although in the case of my front door, it doesn't seem to be much).

As I scrape, peeling away the gooey layers, I like to consider the person that put the paint ON in the first place. In the case of my house, the layers of paint go back over a century, possibly longer. I learned recently that during World War II the house was white with red trim and blue shutters - very patriotic. I'm now scraping off the red layer, buried under successive coats of white, and it's not the earliest. It's a connection with the history of the house, and to the people that built this town. Let's hope that the paint I put back in its place will last as long.

Beside myself

I'm becoming angrier and increasingly sickened by the pathetic response to the disaster in the Gulf states. It just boggles my mind that we live in a civilized, developed country and our leaders will sit by and allow this kind of misery.

I just don't understand it. We can mobilize hundreds of thousands of troops in the gulf and unleash all kinds of 'shock and awe' to kill people, but when it comes to rescuing our own in a major American city, the wheels fall off the bus.

Every fiber of my body wants to go there and help. Being a first responder and seeing people without help in that situation makes my blood boil.

Let's pray that things change soon.

You know you live in a small town when..

The front page of the sports section is taken up with a one third page spread of very grey haired people playing croquet. (Headline - 'The Croquet Crew').

I should clip the main picture - a couple of elderly gentlemen, giving each other the high five over what must have been an exceptional play. I find such showboating in sports just deplorable. What's next ? Tossing their mallets in the air ?

It frequently amazes me that there are enough people to buy a copy to make a paper worthwhile, but they do. How else would you know when to attend the next Baked Bean Supper, or Senior's Bingo Night ?

Paint a mile

You never really consider how big something is until you have to paint it.

After spending much time and effort trying to save my porch, I came to the realization that it was just a pile of sawdust and rot held together by caulk and paint. Within a day, it was relocated into the dumpster (a Skip for those English readers).

Now I'm faced with the depressing task of rebuilding the thing, and all before the winter - which in these parts is only a short 2 months from now.

First on the agenda is a new floor. Being someone who likes to do things right the first time, I'm going with the same material that was used originally. A bit pricey, true, but worth it. It's recommended that you put two coats of base and one finish coat on all sides of the boards, and I have 1300 feet of them. So, by my shaky math that is 7200 feet of painting, or 1.36 miles.

This could take a while.

Lady Katrina

When I lived in England, I never really appreciated the scale of weather. This probably had something to do with the fact that it’s an island, and it rains all the time so you get used to the same sort of stuff (it really doesn’t, by the way, but all Americans think it does - just like London is still foggy).

Here in the US, since weather systems can simultaneously affect both ends of the country, you really have to marvel at the power of it all.

I feel badly for the folks down in the Gulf states, since they’re on the real ‘sharp’ end of bad weather. It’s also raining here, thousands of miles away and all from the SAME storm (I live in the small red circle in the top right). Incredible.

You can call him Al

I have an elderly neighbor - I think he's somewhere in his 80's, though exactly where in the decade I couldn't say. He is something of a spectator.

For the purposes of this post, we'll call him 'Al' *.

Al's wife, whom we shall call 'Dorothy' most definitely wears the trousers in their relationship. The most common phrase to pass Al's lips would be 'Yes, Dear' - usually in response to some command issued with megaphone like volume from their back door. Al is usually hiding in his barn pretending to 'work' on something or other.

The first year of renovations, most of the work was done on the back of the house. Al and Dorothy's elevated deck is at a convenient height and doubles as an observation platform for our entire back garden. I'd be out there banging and sweating away, and Al would pull up a deck chair, orient it for the best possible view and sit happily as if watching his favorite TV show.

Things have come a long way since then, and work has moved to a less convenient location (for Al anyway). I've also come to the conclusion that just about any distraction for Al will be better than being driven to it by his wife, and I'm happy to provide one.

I'll often be beavering away when, out of the corner of my eye, I'll detect a slight movement and Al will have silently arrived to check out my progress. It can be a bit disconcerting when you're up a ladder, or turn around without expecting it.

By general agreement, though, Al has gone from spectator to 'Consulting Engineer'. He keeps up morale with light hearted chit chat, dispenses the latest village gossip and provides historical facts about the residents of my house during the civil war (OK, maybe that's a tiny exaggeration). In any case, he's a part of the team.

Eventually, Dorothy will realize that Al's 'missing' and will come to track him down ('I hope he's not being a bother') and Al will trudge obediently back to his house ('Coming Dear'), until the next time he manages to slip away.

* This is in fact his real name, and his wife really is called Dorothy. Don't tell them I told you...

Sunflower

It still amazes me how something this large and beautiful grows from something so small. My daughter and I planted these back in the spring, and now they're taller than me.

If you've ever taken the time to really look at a sunflower - the inside part - it's just such a work of art.

Amazing.