Tagged.

Five things most people don't know about me. Because the wife said to.

1. My favorite food in the entire world is goulash. My grandma made it best.
2. Once, when I was short on cash, I let a company make a mold of one of my body parts. I got $500, which myself and a couple of buddies promptly blew in Vegas. My wife has seen the result. That was an awkward moment.
   
3. I am very good at cheating at cards. I can seriously clean up at Blackjack, but I always feel guilty afterwards.
4. Karma realignment plays a big part in how I spend my spare time. You know the Ten Commandments? I collected ‘em like baseball cards.
5. According to orthopedist, I have really, really dense bones. As a result, I have only ever broken one bone. My grandpa Charlie was a milk man- I grew up on a diet heavy on dairy products.
6. I have saved eight lives, including two of my three children. Ten if you count duplicates.

Yeah, so that is six. Toss out the one you don’t like.

Taa-Daa!

Yea! Floor!

As a bonus, see if you can find:

1. Green ball burping dinosaur toy
2. The old red watering can
3. The lego left out by the kids
4. The table my dad built
5. A DSL telephone line filter
6. Hanging tea candles
   
7. Waldo

Hey Everyone- Help the world.

Just when you thought the world couldn’t get any more bizare, I go and find this:

If you've got a few minutes to spare on 22 December, and fancy a quick shag for the advancement of World peace and harmony, then get yourself down to Global Orgasm - a mass coming-together of.. well, no, a mass coming together sums it up quite nicely.

Offical site here (complete with crap-tastic background music).

So you all, go and help the energy field of the Earth. Beats spending a couple of hours chanting, meditating, and hugging trees.

Of course, chanting, meditating, and hugging trees pretty much sums up my…. Oh, never mind.

Still Irritable

Three days with a damn headache. At least it moves around. Today, it was the sides of my head, yesterday the front of my head that wanted to pop off, before that… well who cares. My ears are ringing and it is hard to concentrate for long.

It is sinus related, so I know there isn’t a lot to do other than drug up OTC style. Unfortunately, the stuff that works for me requires a prescription here in Oregon.

In case you haven’t heard, we have a plethora of methamphetamine-addled pricks running amok across the state. Our fearless, ignorant legislators- in an effort to look like they’re doing something to fight the problem- made certain over-the-counter medications illegal without a prescription.

This will work because, as you know, meth addicts won’t drive to Longview. Thus, without a major ingredient, all the dope cooks will stop making drugs and magically become law-abiding citizens who will happily work for minimum wage at some shit-hole diner.

So, to get the drugs that work, I have to go to the doctor. The insurance where I work is expensive, limited, and generally sucks, so to go I have to spend around $100. For a sinus headache. I just can not justify it.

Which brings me to this:

I typically go to the doctor twice a year- once for a checkup / physical, and once for a cold or the flu. I am considered by my doctor to be in good health.

So why do I pay the same premium as the stoke victim who still eats at McDonald’s four times a week? Or the obese person with diabetes?

My car insurance rate is based on my history and habits- why not my health insurance? I get a discount for taking defensive driving classes- why not a discount for going to the gym?

The standard argument against this idea is the whole “well I’d die if I don’t get this care / medicine / procedure” argument. I’m sorry if you need expensive medicine to live. That is not, however, my problem.

If you live in the forest, your homeowner's insurance costs more. If you have lots of tickets, your automobile insurance rates are high. If you don't take care of yourself, your health insurance should cost more.

If we made everyone pay car insurance based on the same rules as health insurance, there would be riots.

Yeah, but my head hurts and I’m grumpy.

Flotsam

I put new floor down on about 25% of the front room. That’s one-fourth for those people that like fractions, and “about so big” for people from Tillamook.

Side note: I’m tired of picking on Knappa. So, if you live in the “The Land of Cheese, Trees and Tremendous Mounds of Moldy Cow Shit” you’re in for it today.

Well, maybe not so much- seems I like Tillamook.

Unlike so many other places on the coast, Tillamook County has an industry other than inbreeding or tourism. I guess I’ll pick on Warrenton.

Ah, lovely Warrenton. Proof that some people just don’t give a shit where they live. A town featuring zoning that makes Longview look downright “planned.”

Yeah. Whatever. Guess I’m a bit angry tonight. Two days with a headache was bound to have some ill effects.

So anyways, I’ve been putting down new flooring. The boy loves the new floor, keeps running back and forth on it, scooting, and so on. I asked my wife about this.

“Oh, he’s just happy to be able to move around without tearing his taint.”

“What?” I asked.

“Well, the floor was rough and had the staple things, so we had to worry about him, you know, hurting his business.” (She pronounced it “Bid-Ness” which sounds odd coming from a skinny blonde girl.)

“No, I don’t know.”

“Well, he could’ve torn his taint, or maybe punctured his scrotum. Whoo boy, bet that would’ve hurt!” She looked at me, smiled, and then went back to half-way baking flat oatmeal cookies (Yum, doughballs!)

I just walked away at that point.

My Grain

Worked way late yesterday, then took the day off.

I had planned on working around the house. I was just going to do little chores, here and there.

Instead, my head is trying to kill me.

Damn.

What I did on Sunday.

How many firemen does it take to change a lightbulb?

Four.

Three to hold the ladder and one that is stupid enough to climb in the rain up 25 feet on the side of the Aquatic Center.

Guess who went up?

Getting Started (Again)

Time to get to work. I’ve pretty much just sat around letting the dust settle since we moved in.

Now, I’ve hung curtains, and I’ve spread a little paint. I haven’t, as the kids say, gotten busy. Or is it biz-ey? Yeah, whatever.

I finally realized that it was time to get started again. It wasn't the wife or kids that spurred me back into action, it was an email. See, a job opportunity came up.

Yes, I have a job, and yes I am good there. The money, however, was rather nice. It was a big fat carrot with really good benefits that was suddenly dangled out before me.

I wasn’t serious about taking the job, but more importantly, I really couldn’t take it.

That was my problem. If I sold the house now, it would be rather stupid. A couple of dollars more and a bit more work and this place would be worth much more.

I do not like being tethered by things. That is what has happened. I have been tethered here by this house.

So, I ordered flooring.

Yep, it is the cheap stuff. Will it look good? Yes. Will it add to the value of the house? Definitely. Will it break that tether?

Absolutely.

That is the goal. I may very well live here for thirty years. Or not. It will, however, be my decision and not the result of an object’s condition.

So, it is time to get started. Again.

Inventory

We’ve been in the house for nearly two months now, I guess it is time to take stock and see how things are doing.

It seems the mighty, water-proof bathroom had an Achilles heal. When you build a room out of concrete, water-resistant lumber, latex, and ceramic you don’t expect water damage. Of course, I didn’t plan on a pair of hyper-active girls splashing an inch-and-a-half of water on the floor, either.

So, I’ve got water damage to one piece of trim, which happens to be to tile and grout. This will no doubt prove to be a tedious, messy, aggravating, pain-in-the-ass to fix. I should make the offending kids bath with a hose in the back yard until I fix it.

I can’t do that, however. That would be wrong. Stupid societal expectations of conduct.

Moving along, I find in the kitchen that the bride, in what can only be described as an impressive display of strength and clumsiness, has torn the front off of a cabinet door.

I hate the cabinets, so I’m over it. No worries. I am impressed, however.

The deep sink on the back porch was “Jerry-rigged” (see, we bought the house from a guy named Jerry….) and the drain got detached.

My wife came to the rescue by wrapping the offending pipe with a bread wrapper (yes, a bread wrapper) and flooding the mud porch. Thus it became “Carrie-rigged.”

See, her name is Carrie, and that rhymes with “Jerry”, which we use instead of “Jury” and ….. oh, never mind. At least I crack myself up.

I fixed the drain. In the process, I pulled out a pound of old Macaroni and Cheese.

I guess I’d better get a garbage disposal installed soon, as my bride apparently thinks there is one installed already. Easier for me to work than for her to adjust.

Finally, we have the hair dryer. The cursed, hated hair dryer.

My head is shaved, so drying my hair is accomplished with a hand-towel. My wife, with her long, flowing locks, needs to run a hair dryer for like 90 minutes. During this time, a breaker will invariably trip.

So, rather than replace the dryer, or even dry here hair in two runs (first with a towel), my Mensa-member wife goes into the basement and stands in an inch of water to dry her hair next to the breaker box.

Yup, she’s a smart one.

The positive? At least my next projects are all picked out.