errands « Kenny Smith | A remarkable thing happens …

errands

errands / Thursday — Comments Off
8
Jan 26

It’s true, you really can — and also moats, and a hardware store

There were actually more interesting parts to yesterday. I just didn’t tell you about them because I had the parts that I wrote about on my mind. Also there were parts that weren’t worth telling, so I didn’t tell them. The opposite is also true.

But the other parts of the day were like this. I had to drive somewhere to return something. The recipient was not home, which was my fault. We’d vaguely said “afternoon” and that was it. So I left the thing on the guy’s front porch, just beneath his Ring camera, which I’m sure saw me walk up, press the ring button, ran a series of not-at-all-intrusive algorithmic searches and cross-database and multinational platform searches. Also, three satellites were contacted in informing the guy that a person was on the porch.

People, you can just get a dog.

It was not intrusive because I was, of course, in this person’s yard. On his porch, to be specific. I very carefully avoid the yard in case people are put off by that. If a man’s house is his castle, then his yard is his moat. His driveway and sidewalk, though, are asking for it.

So ring the Ring. Rang the Ring? Rang the Rang? I pressed the button and waited for an appropriate amount of time. Left what I came to leave, and then returned down the sidewalk and driveway to my car, and tried to exit the neighborhood in a different way, in case I just caught him off guard and he came out and we had to have an awkward yard exchange. “Good to see you, and, dude? You’re standing in a moat right now. I mean, it’s your own moat. This is embarrassing for both of us, I should think.”

I composed a quick text message apprising him of the situation his non-dog doorbell had already told him about. I complimented the holiday decorations. It’s a classic white house, black shudders style, and they have really tasteful wreaths on the windows. Nicely done. You deserve compliments even after Epiphany, I think.

Anyway, I could not exit the neighborhood the way I went. So I had to turn around and race up the street, just in case he was on the porch, or in the drive. Or in the moat. I ducked down low, holding my cell phone up, with the camera acting as a periscope as I drove by because, please no eye contact, not now. None of this will look suspicious. None of that happened.

Except the part about having to drive right back by. That part definitely happened.

An hour or two later he returned my text. He’d had to run an errand which took longer than normal and nice job staying on the sidewalk.

Part of that text didn’t happen, either.

I went to the hardware store. I had two things on my list. Two! And this is where the day gets interesting.

Oh, now, 493 words in, now it gets interesting?

Hush, you. Just read the thing. Comments go below.

I walked up the stairs of the porch to the hardware store, because it is designed in that style.

“Riveting.”

Seriously.

Walked in, and at first glance it looked like they’d taken away the checkout island. That threw me right off. Now there’s a guy there, leaned all casual on a stack of whatever and we’re doing the eye contact thing and he is not in a moat, and now we must speak.

Some warm kinda day out there, I said, because it was that precise level of mild that, standing under the sun made you feel like it was a perfect temperature.

“Wait until you see tomorrow,” he said, “and the next day. I was going to go skiing, but not now.”

Sure does look like great weather ahead, I said, or something like that. I don’t know. I wasn’t taking notes. I agreed that forecast was surprisingly wonderful for early January, and what am I even doing here anyway?

(Update: What I am doing here is shaking an ancestral fist at the forecast algorithms. Nothing of what we’d been promised for days came to pass on Thursday, Friday, or Saturday. First it was cold. Then it turned gray, and also damp.)

I was there for two things. I wanted to stock up, perverse as it sounded with weather like this, on snow blower oil.

They did not have snow blower oil.

I wondered if all oil is the same? Sure, there are different weights of oil, owing to viscosity and their purpose, this part I know. But is there snow blower oil? Is that different than car oil? Does that suggest there are snow blower oil tankers? And car oil tankers? Are there snow blower oil fields somewhere? How far away are they from the car oil derricks?

So I wandered over two aisles to look for brad nails. The hardware store had two options for brad nails on their shelf. Neither of those two sizes will suffice for the intended project. (I did the math.)

So I left the first hardware store empty-handed.

(Told you this was the interesting part!)

I did the math twice because this means I’ll now have to go to a big box store. I’d much rather just go to a hardware store. But everyone’s needs are different to the point of exotic, and every store’s inventory space is finite.

Well, there’s one other ma’ and pa’ hardware store I can visit first. Its name hearkens back to a time when you went into town to pick up your order of coal and/or ice. The marquee out front, the last few times I passed by, proudly boasted of having Ivermectin in stock. Surely, they have the longer brad nails.

And, then, back home to the emails I can’t do anything about, and also the ones asking ‘Should we meet?’ And also the class prep. Most of today has been in that same vein. These are lost days, then. I’ve hit a bit of a wall, this week. I’m predicting a breakthrough tomorrow.

It’s interesting, how you can see motivation coming.

errands / Monday / photo — Comments Off
14
Jul 25

Just a little pinch

This week I’ll get back into school work with a gusto! he told himself, until he told himself something else, different, a bit later. It’s really just a question of which day I tell myself that, and the gusto which takes place between now and then.

Let us begin with the site’s most popular weekly feature, checking in with the kitties.

We have a nice picture window in the library, which sits on the front of the house. And there’s a little bench or a shelf there. I thought about putting some cushions down and turning it into a pleasant little reading area. Phoebe beat me to it.

She sits in this box, on a little cat blanket, and enjoys her afternoon naps in the sun. It’s adorable, of course. And reliable. At certain times of day, that’s where she is. (Usually I don’t disturb her as I did for this photo.) And of all of the jealousies between the two cats, this is one place where her brother leaves her alone. And so there will never be a reading nook there, because that is going on.

And here she is looking all cuddly on top of the comforter.

The theme here, then, must be comfort. Here’s Poseidon, who usually tries to eat the plastic, using a resealable bag of trail mix as a pillow.

(Keep that life hack in mind, hikers.)

He came out from his usual afternoon napping spot, wherever that is, to watch a bit of the Tour with me. He likes bike races. Must be the colors and the motion.

So the kitties, you can see, are doing well. We all are just peachy keen. My lovely bride is nursing a calf twinge she got on a run. I am suffering through a bad streak on the bike. Let me tell you about it.

I went out Saturday evening, intending to do about two hours or so. Instead I did 4.3 miles. I got a flat on my back tire. This is the calculus you go through.

Item 1: I am close to home. Given the hour of the day, and the PSI limitations of my small handheld pump, I can’t change the tube and complete the ride I’d intended.

Item 2: Given the hour of the day, and how close I am to home, there’s no need to change this tube here, in this little neighborhood. I’ll just re-inflate the tube and nurse it home. And stop and reinflate as necessary. (Never let me talk myself into that again. — editor.)

So I pumped the tube to about 50 PSI, owing to the limitation of my pump, and set out for home. A quarter of a mile later, I’m doing it again. And in another quarter of a mile, again. Now we know the rate of air seepage. It’ll be every quarter of a mile. The direct route is 3.5 miles home. OK then.

Some kind soul stops their car asking if I’m OK. I’m OK. Another cyclist comes from behind and checks in. He patiently waits to see me on the road again and I take off, knowing he’ll be catching me again in a quarter of a mile. And what do you know!? There I am and there he is. This time he uses his pump, which is better. More air. Maybe I can go a bit longer. Another car stops. Still great! Anyway, my new cycling friend, a pleasant fellow named Mike who rides with a speaker lashed to his handlebars, helps me inflate the tire and off I go again. Now we both know the score. I am just trying to ride this flat to the top of the hill to stop in the shade once more. Because, after that, it’s a downhill and an uphill and, anyway, I stop and he catches me for the third time. He is very kind and if I’d known he’d been back there I would have just changed the stupid tube three miles ago because this has gotten awkward. One more inflation, one more round of sincere thanks and my encouraging him to not stop for me next time because I’m almost home and, anyway, he’s trying to go somewhere too. And so I mystify him with the parlance of my people …

“Ppreciate it.”

… and we each pedal on.

So my 30-some mile ride Saturday turned into a 4.3-mile ride and a 3.5-mile return farce.

This set up nicely for a Sunday afternoon ride. The Yankee has decided that she can try riding again with her calf and so off we go. She’s fine. I know this because she passed me at one point and I said What happened to taking it easy? She looked down at her computer and said “I’m only doing 130 watts.” I looked down at mine and said, I ask because I’m doing 21 miles per hour and getting dropped, so …

And about 10 miles later she did drop me, and I started feeling the heat.

Or, put another way, it was hot outside. I went through three water bottles in an hour, which is a really high rate for me. And I eased up a bit on the way back home because I didn’t like how it all felt and I know better. And I still had a (relatively, for me) good speed.

This evening we were supposed to go for a ride with a neighbor, but then the lightning and the rain showed up.

So, then, the highlight of the day was heading over to the medical laboratory this afternoon. They have the right sort of name to be a thinly veiled, not-very-well-thought-out evil henchman front in a movie. It’d be cooler if they had a few Tesla coils with surging electricity zipping through the place. Instead, it’s an old brick building, sharing space with a tanning salon and a kids dance studio. It’s a five-star dance studio, though, and that somehow offsets the two stars that the blood lab receives online.

Does anyone take online reviews seriously? I don’t. I would say something like “Is that really a four-star pizza place, or is that a Martinsville four-star pizza place?” Meaning, all of this is relative. That’s usually a good joke and a wry observation, but in this case, a woman is going to stick a needle into my arm …

Anyway, standard issue blood draw. Checking the numbers. Prove I’m healthy and blessed, well, not beyond measure because every one of these tests is measuring something or other, and all on different scales — including a Martinsville scale! — to throw you off as a patient and consumer.

I had the paperwork. The website for the testing place said I needed an appointment. My lovely bride, who has been there before for similar basic tests, said that’s not necessary. So I fasted the requested amount of testing time and then went in. The woman at the desk finally got around to me. I said, I have these orders, but otherwise no idea what I need to do. She pointed me to a little tablet kiosk. So, on the one hand, I don’t have to hand over my documents, and on still another hand, she did not give me a clipboard. On a third hand, the check-in process was done at my speed, which is reasonably fast. But, on a third, another place to scan your insurance card and type in more emails and phone numbers and … look, last year some place scanned my palm to establish my identity in the system and, off putting as that was, maybe it was better.

Anyway, a young man was called back for whatever was required of him there. When they built this office they did dry wall about 80 percent up to the ceiling, so you can hear everything, both over the lid and through the thinnest gypsum board on the market. He was having a tough time. The woman said, “Stay with me. Stay upright. I’m here by myself and don’t want to pick you up.” She kept his attention. He kept complaining. Which, I guess, gave him something to focus on. But it was pitiful when he said “Can we just pause?” and she the technician said “You can’t stop blood.”

And he was just doing a simple blood draw. I know this because the technician, who was also working the desk, was the woman who drew my blood. And don’t you know I wanted to cause a scene so as to cover for that young man. I did not, though. This poor woman, working solo while her trainee was actually out to lunch, was dealing with enough.

Instead, when I exited through the lobby I looked to the old man in a neck brace awaiting his turn and said, It’s brutal back there!

He just smiled and pointed to his walker.

After which I raced home to have lunch because my food fast was about 15 hours old.

He wrote, just before dinnertime.

cycling / errands / Friday / photo — Comments Off
28
Jun 24

The quiet parts are always the best parts

As a friend of ours says, I have been underneath the weather. Sinuses. Allergies. Head cold. Some combination therein. All three. Who knows. I think I might have been running a slight fever at times yesterday. I didn’t feel quite as bad today.

I had an early lunch, mid-day cuddles with kitties, read a bit. it was relaxing.

This afternoon the tree people came by to chip up the brush from last weekend’s storms. They were fast, efficient. It’s a time-is-money business, one supposes. And it was just the first step in a process that will later break my heart. I’m dreading all of it.

Later I visited a store, a mom-and-pop shop. I’ve been in four times in the last year. The first three times I met the wife, who is very kind and struggles with the technology. Today I walked in and … no one was there. I walked to the back office. No one. I walked back up to the checkout counter to make sure no one was in a heap. No one.

The door was unlocked. No signs of struggle, other than the open sign sitting on the floor. I stood there for a minute or two, long enough to pull out my phone to see the time, and wonder how long I should stand there before beginning to call people.

I saw a camera just above the cash register, and if it is real, there are probably others, so there’s that.

And then the restroom door sloooowly cracked open and a man walked out.

“It’s always a risk, picking a time to go to the bathroom.”

He needs a BRB sign, and a door lock. I have, after all, been told by Republicans that the country has gone to hell. Over and over.

Anyway, he seemed like a nice fellow. We conducted our brief business and I left for my next stop. I hit up a Walmart. I don’t go to Walmart that often, or any great big store, really — nice, medium-sized grocery store is my biggest shopping experience these days. So this isn’t snobby. Probably it is my routine. Simon Pegg should set his zombie sequel at Walmart. Any Walmart. Maybe the most charming and disconcerting thing about the store is that customers are exactly the same, everywhere in the country. They are out and about, living the lives Springsteen sings about.

“Born to stand in the crosswalk, as a family, staring up into the sky as if looking for an eclipse for 45 seconds” is a great song. Everyone thinks of the classic, “Dancing at the end caps.” And, of course, “Sad eyes can’t see that I’m in the way of everyone” is an underrated deep cut.

And then I visited the medium-sized grocery store. Aisle one for granola … they’ve apparently stopped carrying one variety I prefer. Aisle two for raisins. The produce section for strawberries. In, out and on to the car wash. Ahhh, the finer points of life.

When I got home I set out for a bike ride. It’s been two weeks — our recent trip, the weather, the aftermath, being underneath the weather — and I have lately realized that if I don’t go, I can’t ride.

And maybe, I rationalized, this will help my nose and cough.

I set out around 6 p.m., by which time everyone has gotten to where they need to be and all of these country roads are free of traffic and it is quiet. There’s just the breeze, a perpetual headwind, the humming of the wheels, and the creaking parts of my rusty old bike. I love that feeling, those minimal sounds. Well, maybe not the creaking my bike makes.

Even the cows were quietly appreciating the silence.

This was the big traffic jam, and not the biggest tractor I saw.

Not too long after that, I had a flat. Rear tire, and there was no inflating the dead tube to limp home. So there I stood, swapping out Contis, pumping, and failing at pumping, until I was finally able to get a little air in the new tube. I need to add a mini-pump to the things I need to buy. Mine is almost 12 years old, I guess, and it’s served it’s purpose. Hand pumps fit in the pocket. They are small; they are light. Most won’t fully inflate a new tube. What you get is enough air to ride carefully home. And a good bicep workout. This one has become a frustration. It seems now I have to hold it just so to get any air into the tube at all. Just another thing on the list of old and worn out things I need to replace. It’s a list that’s now far too long.

The scene of the re-inflation … sort of.

So now I’m shopping for a pump. If anyone has any recommendations, or wants to buy one for me, the key features are they must fit in a jersey pocket, and it shouldn’t make me want to quit riding bikes when I have to use the thing.

Anyway, have a great weekend! Riding and swimming and cleaning around here. Back to normal next week.

adventures / errands / photo / swimming / Thursday — Comments Off
6
Jun 24

The Smith Zoo and Nature Center

We had three-plus inches of rain last night. Everything stayed dried that needed to, I think. I still try to walk around and check most things after the big rains. This was, I think, our third overenthusiastic participation.

This afternoon I had yet another adventure in the 21st century’s second most annoying innovation: planned obsolescence. The details do not matter. You, too, know how these stories go. This is my third such instance in the last few weeks. It’s tiring and bothersome.

Here’s the fun part, the experience today took me to somewhere I hadn’t been. When I left I had nine percent of my phone battery and I needed to use that for the map. Also, I was running low on gas.

I worried about a scenario where my phone died, and then I had to improvise a fueling strategy. I bet you can’t even buy a paper map anymore. Lewis and Clark explored the continent with more resources than I had today. They’d be proud of how I overcome the adversity. It involved getting to the interstate, choosing the correct direction, avoid the interchanges to other highways, and then guess where my station of choice is located, which is one or two exits down from the house.

I made it to the station with 50-some miles in the tank. I got home with two percent of my phone’s battery.

The Smith Zoo and Nature Center got a member today, this cute little box turtle.

Last month this frog, a big chonky specimen, stopped by for a while.

Before the frog, we heard from a noisy fox for a few nights in a row.

In between the frog and the turtle, the reptile wing was completed by two visits from a 4- or 5-foot rat snake, twice. (Not pictured, for snake reasons.)

The frog I escorted to some woods. The turtle moseyed it’s way off all by itself. I took the snake away the first time, and then two or three days later it came back. I annoyed and startled it off. If it comes back again I’m going to herd it into a bin and drive it to the woods, some miles from the house. Maybe I’ll drive him around in a circle for a while first, to dissssssorient him.

Splashed around in the pool today, and then I did some swimming. It was another day of 1,000 yards. Three of those in the last week. So I’m going to up the distance next time. Because, I thought, when I’d finished, That was easy.

And later in the evening I thought, Maybe it wasn’t.

Of course, the only thing I’ve eaten today was a bowl of granola this morning.

Now I just have to remember how to use the underwater camera again. Not every button’s purpose has been memorized by my thumb and forefinger. I guess I should use it more.

adventures / cycling / errands / photo / Wednesday — Comments Off
29
May 24

Every item achieved — though there were only a few

I did that thing this afternoon where you leave the house in order to accomplish a series of goals. I believe this has a name, but it escapes me. Whatever it may be, I bundled up three items together, because they were more-or-less convenient to the route.

First, I drove a short distance to a place that repairs cameras, for I have one in need of repair. You fill out the form and get a standard reply: mail your camera to the address below. Serendipitously, their office was only a half hour away. Cut out the middleman, I say. So I found myself in a nondescript industrial center, you know the type. The map got me close, and a second try got me a bit closer, still. I asked some guys hanging out around their office about the address and they had no idea what I was talking about. This is an area for work, and not personal investment. And most of the work from the many companies leasing space, you imagine, is done off-site. This is a place for morning meetings, day old donuts and misapplied Tony Robbins quotes. And sales reports. You know the sort.

So I dropped off the camera, and then visited a nearby retail store, a giant place named after an object that is used to test accuracy. Granted, it was the middle of a work day, but that place looked and felt dead. Circuit City dead. Open, but unaware of it’s demise. The only thing that wasn’t there was a scent of musty despair. And some items on shelves. And employees. The last three times I’ve been in one of these stores it felt like that, but it could be a question of timing.

I found the thing I wanted, thanks website, but decide it wasn’t what I wanted, so I left.

And then I went to the grocery store. I needed to get some granola and, of course, once I’ve found one I like they seemed to have stopped carrying it. This is the height of first world problems, hilarious in its predictability. There was also a small list of other things we needed, Ketchup, aluminum foil, corn meal and the like. And this probably says as much about our house as possible, grated cheese was on the list twice.

When we consolidated our houses when we married, we had a lot of extra things. Each of us had a house full of stuff, of course, and in some respects we had more than one copy of things. Somehow, our two houses became stocked like three homes. When it came to consolidating refrigerators we had five or six different canisters of the grated cheese. (She brought most of it.) It took ages to use it all, and we still laugh about it. I’m sure that’s why it was on the shopping list at the top and bottom. I only purchased one container, because we don’t need surplus everything.

I got home in time for a bike ride. My lovely bride was off for a ride with a friend and I decided to ride over to the friend’s house with her. I just needed a recovery ride, anyway after several hours in the saddle yesterday.

The science is still up in the air, but the suggestion is that the benefit is minimal, though people do feel better after the effort, which is meant to be short and low-intensity. They are meant to be almost casual, flat. Zone 1 or Zone 2, with a reasonably high cadence. Easy. You’re not stressing yourself.

It should be so, I’ve read, that you wind up feeling almost guilty about how easy you went.

Let me tell you about trying to stay in Zone 1 or Zone 2 when you’re following someone in Zone Infinity over here.

She gets in her aero bars, puts her nose in the wind and will drop you, or me, in a hurry.

Anyway, they went off one way and I doubled back for home. It was a 15-mile recovery ride, one where I found myself sprinting through intersections because it felt good. I blame her for that, somehow.

And so here is one of the views I saw along the way.

Tomorrow, I’ll just go for a swim.