I did this.

 When we arrived in S GA in 1978 we couldn't understand why our neighbor said 'I built that!' when we knew it was the three old men (employed by Daddy's great uncle since they were teenagers) who did the work.

Now we know. Whenever I have left workmen to finish a job, even though I think we see eye to eye, they screw it up. If I want to be sure the job is done right I have to observe. (this also means I have to know how to do the work).

For example, the patio on the north side of the house slopes IN to the shelter. We had a little bit of cement leftover from pouring the slab to the east and, after filling old barrel rings to use as stepping stones, there was just enough to fasten cement pavers to channel the water. They put down two pavers. One fellow saw that it sloped beyond those. I agreed we should add two more and went back in the house. Sure enough! We have a row TWO pavers HIGH now (not four long). They didn't even fill in the old foundation from the post that was moved. Sheesh! The water still seeps in over and around the mat to the left. 

Daddy 'Poked Me' From Beyond the Grave

Our dogs just loved my dad. He grew up with dogs worthy of the long stories he repeated whenever we asked.  But he only owned one during his adult life, and that great dane, Missy-dog, stayed at home with Mom while he lived in a apartment to teach at the University during the week or traveled.  At times we couldn't tell if he'd come to visit his house, us, or our dogs.

Birt, our newest house dog would've been especially enamored.  We've been taking him to work with us at our office/studio.  Although we provide rawhide chew sticks to keep him occupied, Birt prefers paper towels and napkins out of the office trashcan.  If Daddy was still around, Birt would have a handy supply at every table and in every chair because Daddy left a trail of tissue.  Whenever Daddy wiped his beard clean he'd put the napkin in his pocket so he'd have one to go with the rest of his kit, a pocket sketchbook and pen. And there's a limit to how much a pocket will hold.

Last weekend I finally got around to moving obstacles from the concrete pad in front of the ancient garage we use for storage.  In 1997 we had hurriedly  unloaded a mess of 16ft. long heart pine boards torn out during renovating our buildings where the office/studio is now.  We'd planned to return that week with a crew to put the wood up on racks and then use it for sculpture crates.  The strong young men who worked for us soon moved on to other jobs, and then the European Union passed a law that all wood shipping crates must be stamped 'kiln dried'.  That put that project on the back burner. For 16 years.  True, most of the wood had been eaten by termites and I could throw it on the truck by myself, but enough boards were heavy enough for me to welcome having two teenagers to direct.  Troy and Ka'Harie have been helping me clean up all the abundance ever since they moved to Parrott three years ago. It has been a long list.

With visions of "American Pickers" invading the garage, and room to park and fill up (finally! because we re-cycle) our curb side trash bin, the first storage item I got rid of was Daddy's suitcase with summer clothes.  I remembered seeing him in each shirt, pair of pants and even the turquoise swimming trunks, on our trip to Mexico the summer of 1966.  That trip was before he discovered guyaberras. Those were distributed to family members when he died in 2005. All these shirts were dacron polyester/cotton mixes no good for rags and too hot for us to wear even if we overlooked the paint stains.  Still, I set aside 2 and the only pair of cotton pants, tan classic bell bottom corduroy Wranglers, knowing it would be a miracle to get out the funky old garage smell.

I put the shirts and pants in to soak over night in 20 Mule Team Borax and Wool Light. 

This morning I finished the cycle on the heavy-duty agitation mode and spun out the water.  I pulled out the pants.  There were little pieces of paper stuck to them.  I checked the right pocket.  Sure enough, an ancient  much agitated wad of paper napkins. 

Hi, Dad!

Start of a Fungus Affair

For a few years I've been fascinated with the colors of various fungi  outside our 'front' door.  This video I shot in January 2012 shows one reason why I'm paying lots of attention.  

When tucked up in bed, be careful how you take your ipod earbud out of your ear.  In the dark, the cat at your shoulder may mistake it for a bug and snatch it, claws out!

Leaf blower haiku

Leaf blower, ginko
leaves fly off roof edge in waves.
Yellow rains below.


Leaf blower, ginko
leaves fly off roof in waves.
Yellow rain, not snow!


Leaf blower, damp limbs,
inspired, coals become inflamed.
Stand-by, chaperone!

'Black Friday" in Parrott

As most Americans do, we cooked and ate a fabulous turkey, then took Thanksgiving Day off; just lazed around the house or walked the dog.
However, unlike most Americans we did not spend the next day with the bargain hunters; we battled a clog in the drain to the septic tank because water came out of the shower drains when the washing machine emptied. We fed a snake and then a garden hose down the former kitchen sink drain.  Mom finally told me (after I'd lived in the house 33 years) that they'd moved the kitchen because there wasn't enough pitch and the drain clogged up several times that first year. Their solution worked as this was the first time I'd had any problem with the drain clogging.  But WE were unsuccessful.  Our snake and hose couldn't go far enough.
The next day we decided to look for a clean out (or put one in), and found it after vacuuming a few gallons of fill dirt out from around the shut-off valve under the front porch, a brick patio.   Termites had eaten the plywood that held back the dirt. It didn't help at all that our stack of replacement doors rests against the wall over the hole.
'Finding' and 'getting into' are not the same thing.  None of our tools were big enough to fit the end plug.  We called Laing's Hardware in Dawson (still open as it was before noon) and Jim told us they had no tool too, and we may as well make our own.  Bond set to work designing and building the tool (upside down in the picture above) out of plastic 'wood' screwed to the ends of 2, 2x4's with a dowel handle.
We got the plug out but not the clog.
Until we rent a powered snake, we 'll put corks in the ground floor showers and keep laundry loads small.  Perhaps the clog will fix itself......
We are still puzzled why the darned thing backed up all of a sudden in this year of drought.  Water has come up in the lowest shower twice during heavy rains when the ground was too saturated for the drain field to work (BOTH ALSO DURING HOLIDAYS!)   And we'd had the tank pumped out one time, just six months ago.
In my research I found that the day after Thanksgiving is Roto-Rooter's biggest day of the year for emergency calls.  Looks like we WERE having the same kind of Black Friday as many Americans...or was that a "Brown Friday"?

Tonight I learned that if you put the kitten's medicine in canned catfood, inside a cat crate, with the door shut, (on accounta the kitten is busy playing on the floor with a Q-tip) the dog can still eat it!