August « 2010 « Kenny Smith | A remarkable thing happens …

August, 2010

books / hobby / photo / weekend — Comments Off
8
Aug 10

Meet the new neighbors

We’re beginning to have regular visitors at the bird feeders. Here are two of them:

Pretty bird

It’s hardly nature photography — sitting in the shade on my porch, trying to be very still, waiting for the birds — but I figure if we’re going to ask the birds to come visit the least they can do is pose for a picture.

We’ll soon be doing this to our human friends, as well. Just be prepared.

For a quality reference on the local birds, including pictures, maps, descriptions and CD calls, check out the Birds of Alabama Field Guide. As soon as I buy mine I’ll know what I’m looking at. Until then, I’m woefully deficient in bird identification.

friends / weekend — Comments Off
7
Aug 10

Older than I look, apparently

We are trying to decide where to hang our pictures and posters and various other decorations. The first question, as far as I see it, is “For which look are you aiming?” You could choose the sparse, open spaces style of an art gallery (work with me here) or you can stuff the walls full of frames of the artifacts of a life well lived.

If I could afford the frames I’d fill the walls with pictures and programs and all manner of souvenirs. You’d never need to paint if you never moved the frames. There would be no poses, but every piece would have a long story. Think of the old restaurant filled with black and white shots. Someone knows all of those details. If you caught them on the right day they’d probably share them all.

We’re not doing that, obviously, but I’m planting the idea. Maybe after a few more years my argument will be a bit more refined. Until then we are assigning wall space for the already collected diplomas, souvenirs signs, posters, portraits and scenery shots.

There are stacks lingering about the house, and we showed a few of the pieces to company this afternoon. Jeremy Henderson brought his family over for a visit. His daughter is getting ready for kindergarten. She’s a little pistol, terrifying the cat, leading tours of our house, getting into everything and mortifying her mother, but entertaining us endlessly.

Until she said we were like grandparents. We are old, don’t have kids, but have a cat.

Also, we learned, there are consequences. Not sure what those might be, or whether she was talking to the non-grandparents or the terrified kitty. I was too busy pretending to be a doddering old man.

So we made jokes about that for the rest of the day. And taking citracal. Larry King told me I should. Now to find Nancy Grace on cable … oh, terrific. They have a graphic that reads, and I quote: “Breaking News: Outrage.” So there it is, cable news has come full circle, able to now generate faux shock at themselves for magnifying faux controversy.

The story was, I believe, about Lindsay Lohan. I’m outraged already.

adventures / Auburn / Friday / photo / Pie Day — Comments Off
6
Aug 10

Our first Auburn Pie Day

Our Pie Day options

I solicited recommendations for pie in Auburn. There was a tie. One of them I’ve tried before, and did not enjoy. So we went to Mike and Ed’s, which is new to me. It is owned by a lady who is named neither Mike nor Ed.

Mike and Ed’s uses the Zaxby’s model. Place your order, wait for your number, have a seat, get your drink and so on.

Tea?

Give them this, they do the drinks right.

The Yankee debated between ribs and a pork plate. I talked her into the pork, just in case she didn’t like it. This was her first experience with mustard-based barbecue sauce. She did not care for it much. I don’t blame her. I had the chicken, which was tender and reminded me of a good dry rub. And then they poured the sauce on it.

(Barbecue sauce is a regional thing. Your mileage may vary, but the Carolina sauces just don’t carry the same appeal for me. People that like the style are fans of Mike and Ed’s, we just have a different taste. We prefer the Texas and Kansas City styles.)

You saw the pie choices above. The presentation leaves something to be desired.

The pie

We tried the peanut butter because, really, how often do you run across that? It was rich and true to the name. It isn’t the sort of thing you would order too often. The restaurant itself is decent enough. It has an eat-and-go atmosphere, though, and Pie Day has always been more about the people — eating and lingering and fellowship — than anything else. So we’ll keep looking. That’s half the fun!

Give ’em this: Mike and Ed’s is displaying what they say are the hands to the clock on Old Main. It was built in 1859 and burned in 1887. I have a copy of this image and I’m not sure where the clock was, but that’s a cool piece of history if it is legitimate.

Any suggestions? Leave ’em in the comments.

In other, happy news, we’re finished with the unpacking. The boxes in the garage have been moved and emptied. So, I suppose, that means we’re settled. Now we just have to decorate.

Thursday — 3 Comments
5
Aug 10

The story of our air conditioner

The Yankee decided she’d like to have a digital thermostat for the house. So we picked one up the other day and that was going to be one of our little chores for today.

So I open the open-proof packaging, find the instructions in the proper language, pull out the parts and settle in. Step One: Discontinue power to the air conditioner. OK, no problem for most.

The one difficulty in the new house being that the circuit breakers were vaguely labeled. I’ve been exploring the electricity and have figured out the circuit breaker layout, but there’s no air conditioner. Outside, below the main, there is a faded A/C inscription. Success! So I flip it, go inside and we removed the old thermostat for the new.

Only the new thermostat isn’t the right model.

So off comes the new, and back on goes the old:

The old thermostat

Only it now doesn’t work. So I take it off again, reinstall it once again. Still nothing.

On the air conditioning unit itself there is a phone number. I call to see if they’d offer a little telephone troubleshooting. It seems I shouldn’t have turned off that circuit, but rather a different one. I’ve probably blown a fuse in the attic. The guy sends me back up into the attic and tells me it should be in here:

Where's the fuse?

Fuses can take on many appearances. The attic light doesn’t penetrate this portion of the room. It is dark, hot and this is all stored in a section that isn’t exactly comfortable. The roof slants down at a significant angle here. There are exposed nails to duck, rafters to dodge, plywood to step on. It has to be 115 degrees up there, so I’m sweating a great deal again.

My abilities as an electrician reach just far enough for me to know when I’m about to become a danger to myself. So I start calling people that might know a little bit more about this stuff than I do. I sent photographs. We discuss possibilities. (No, the round thing with the yellow and white sticker isn’t it. Yes, the thing just beneath it is hot.)

I take my pictures to Lowe’s, because I’m going to have to buy a new fuse anyway, I figure. So we head out, my mind imagining the heat rising inside the house. The trip to the fix-it store is always slower when you have something to fix. The Yankee returns the thermostat that is the wrong model for our situation. I find a guy who knows electricity. I tell him the story. He says, “Sure. You look here, flip this, do that, and the fuses are there. It’ll look like this.”

So he shows me the example. He sells me fuses. I pick up a voltmeter, because I have to be a grown up eventually. We head home. I’m eager to solve the problem, turn the air back on and get back to the day. I go back to the attic. I find this:

Is there a fuse in there?

I pull the black handle, flip down the gray panel and … no fuse. So I’m back to calling people for advice. I decide to close this little box up, so I flip up the gray panel, try to click the black handle back in place and dislocate my thumb.

I have weak thumbs. I haven’t done this in a long while and, to make up for lost time, I did it but good. (You can tell by the blinding white hot light and the mutterings I uttered and the exclamations I exclaimed.) My thumb goes right back, but it’s going to hurt for a good while.

And that’s when I gave up. We called for an air conditioning guy. Our home inspector suggested someone. We called that gentleman and he showed up within the hour. I explained the story, we climbed into the attic. He told me where I should have turned off the air — that switch above — and said there was a reset button in that jumble of wires. Turns out I was very close to finding the button. And pressing that button would have solved the problem. He reached in, pushed the magic button, sealed the giant box of wires up tight and was on his way.

This took all day, lots of aggravation and a now aching hand. We have fuses we don’t need. We feel less than intelligent, missed the farmers market and gave an HVAC guy an easy laugh and a few bucks.

Stupid thermostat.

We walked through the new neighborhood this evening. We are within walking distance of the Publix. We have this stream nearby:

The neighborhood creek

We met five people — also walking, running or biking — they all said hello.

Wednesday — Comments Off
4
Aug 10

Almost not unpacking

I did a little research recently about creating an in-home television studio. Some things, I figured, you just needed to know in case someone asked. Since I’m not handsome enough for video I don’t plan on building a studio, but it is good stuff to know. It seems you need to be able to control the light and the sound.

In my hypothetical scenario I was going to build one in the attic — I know, I know. That isn’t happening. The attic has been taken over by storage needs and, also, heat.

I do have enough room to put a few chairs up there, and it would make a good sauna. I’m not storing any candles or electronics up there, for sure. The garage, since you asked is now down to the last few boxes. So we’re almost settled, right on schedule. We should be done in the next few days and, next week, decorate and returning to normal.

Normal … hmm.