O, holey ceiling!

 I made a hole in my ceiling on purpose, and here's how and why I did it.

Last week, I noticed that there was a bit of indication of water damage in the living room, which I eventually traced to a very crumbly pipe leading into a radiator on the second floor. I called in our plumbers, who looked at the situation over, and who said, 

"Yup, it's a crumbly pipe! We're going to need to replace it . . . but before we do, we need to figure exactly how the pipe gets from the boiler to the radiator, so you're going to have to hire somebody to put a hole in the living room ceiling.  We don't do that, but we need to see how the pipes twist and turn there. So call us after those other people make the hole, and then we'll come back and work on replacing the pipe."

I suppose I could hire somebody to make the hole for me, but I know that several times in the past I've seen the repair bill and shuddered, and thought I could do that myself.  . . . So (steels self to destroy part of the house I live in . . . ) So, yeah, I figured I would do my best to make the hole myself.

Tools I gathered

• Drop cloths for the floor
• Stepladder
• Hammer
• Flat head screwdriver (I don't have a chisel).

Our home is old enough that we don't have drywall; I'm already pretty familiar with the fact that our walls and ceilings are plaster. I made like Michelangelo and used my hammer and screwdriver (like a mallet and chisel) to start chipping away. After knocking down about a centimeter's thickness of plaster, I came to a surprise: it looked like metal grating with metal rods.  Oh, heck!  Was there a set of steel bars holding up my ceiling?!?  Because there's no way I could saw through steel bars . . . 

Okay, here I want to say two things.  The first is that, for people, who've done a lot of construction, you probably already knew what I was about to find in my ceiling. I've done plumbing and electrical work around modern homes; I've even put up drywall myself. But I haven't done a lot of construction on older homes, I really didn't know what I'd find---hence the trepidation.

The second thing is that putting on a theater show two years ago gave me a lot of psychological help with knocking a hole in my ceiling. This theater show that I put on met with one roadblock after another: cases of Covid flared up; several actors took other jobs in the middle of rehearsals and we had to find new actors; the administration had numerous bouts of worrying about the suitability of the script, or of the timing, or of the general wisdom of being funny in an academic institution. There were many times that I really figured that the show was doomed, but I made it my mantra to not look too far down the road, and rather to just keep doing what I could to move ahead for now. I promised myself I'd keep trying until there really was no other choice. . .  and miraculously, the show happened, and it was a huge success. 

So as I was looking at my ceiling, and thinking, oh my gosh, I'll never get through that next layer, I remembered the show, and I decided that I would just keep doing what I could until I could make no more progress.

I chipped away a whole bunch of the plaster underneath that metal mesh, and in doing so discovered that the metal mesh was much more pliable and breakable than I had thought initially.  I could get through a bunch of the mesh using my hammer and screwdriver; I also then brought along

• a bolt cutter,

which worked quite well at making snips so I could bend the mesh around and away.  

In the middle of this, I also got

• a bandaid
• work gloves.

Pro-tip: do not get blood on the ceiling.  A ceiling that drips water is one kind of annoyance; a ceiling that drips blood is an entirely different kind of horror film.

I was feeling pretty dang impressed with myself for getting through the plaster, and then the metal mesh, and then another centimeter of plaster, when all of a sudden I discovered . . . wood.  Uh-oh.  Had I reached the floor of the room above?  What was this sheet of wood doing there?

I'm going to say, I nearly gave up and got ready to call in the professionals at that point, but I remembered thing #2 above, and decided that even if I couldn't get through the wood, at least I could clear away all the plaster and grating from the hole from where I wanted the hole, leaving only the wood visible.  So I set back to work with my hammer and screwdriver, and lo and behold, I discovered something wonderful: a hole!  There was space between some of the wood. I hadn't reached a layer that was a solid sheet; it was strips of lath.  A solid sheet of plywood to cut through (above my head, mind you) is really daunting; little strips of lath I can totally handle.  So I added a few tools to my excursion:

• Extension cord
• Jigsaw

I kept working with my hammer and screwdriver, clearing out all the plaster under and between the laths, and then with my handy-dandy jigsaw, I cut through the laths themselves. And, voilà! 

There is a hole in my ceiling, and with a

• bikelight

you can see how the pipes rise up and turn the corner. I hope the plumbers will be happy!  

All that remained to do was to use the 

• broom
• dustpan
• vacuum cleaner.

Tomorrow, when the plumbers come, I'll also get to use my

• wallet

but today's work was completely wallet free!  

update, bowled over this week

Life continues to be rich and full here in Enoughsville.  In the hustle-bustle-swirl of events, the one event that really stands out was Christmas Bowling, so I'm just going to dwell there a bit.

This has become a treasured family tradition, to which we often rope in other enthusiastic bowlers, several of whom genially whomp our butts (looking at you, Connor!).

We had a very happy crowd this year.

One of my fave aspects this year was seeing C-child, just barely a year old, totally get into it all.  

She really, really, really wanted to pick up the balls.

C-child is not only walking these days; she's running -- if you can call teetering left-to-right, from one foot to the next, with her arms spread like that of a scary monster, while moving generally forward, "running".  All the big burly bowlers several lanes away flirted with her as she hurtled past, heading toward the racks where she would attempt to co-opt their balls. 

This was fun, too, she thought.

After the traditional round, most of the kids left; then Inkling and I celebrated the "challenge round" together.  In this version, we put up the bumpers and give each set its own rules:

1. Use your non-dominant hand.
2. Use the dinosaur stand.
3. Bowl between your legs
4. Bowl backwards (also between your legs)
5. Hop on one foot
6. Bowl blindfolded; the other person guides you.
7. Bowl singing ("Jingle Bowls")
8. Bowl while doing the Charleston
9. Bowl using the bumpers.
10. Bowl holding your breath.

Hopping on one foot.

Inkling outscored me this year: I'm looking forward to a rematch in future years!

Lots of other stuff happened besides this: I pulled a muscle in my back running early in the week; I had a paper accepted (with minimal revision! that's a real treat); the semester came to a close; I started some major money moves to get ready for my transition to retirement.

I don't know if the twelfth day before Christmas involves radiators piping, but that was another little adventure this week.  I realized we were getting a bit of condensation on the living room ceiling, probably because of a crumbling cast-iron pipe leading to a radiator in the room above.

I don't think the pipe is supposed to look like that . . . 

We had a plumber come who agreed "this doesn't look good", and explained we'd have to open up holes in the walls and ceilings to trace exactly where this pipe goes.  The plumber explained they don't do that ourselves; we'd have to have another handyman come in for that.  Well, guess what?  I think I can knock holes in walls/ceilings myself.  It's possible I can even close the walls up myself again after the plumbers have replaced the cast-iron one with a new copper one.  So, oof, this'll be a big, expensive Christmas present to ourselves.  

In some much prettier pictures of water, here are three of my favorite photos from OfSnough on his travels.  

Here are some photos of Marina Bay (Singapore)--
the richest part of the city and the site of the Formula 1 race. 

At night . . . 

. . . and by day.

My guy'll be home in about a week.  As he gets ready to take plane-after-plane to return to his loving wife, I'll share this xkcd comic as an homage to his voyages.  He totally wants to be in the rear of this plane!

And that's the news from our family, which continues to be radiant in our adventures.  May you and yours be similarly bowled over.

Paper or (in) plastic

My newspaper carrier left me a note in the paper on Thanksgiving day thanking me for being a subscriber, and also delivering the news that he was stepping down, retiring. 

He's been a great carrier. After we moved to this house I sent him a note asking if he could please deliver my newspaper "naked": that is, without wrapping it in a plastic bag. He enthusiastically agreed, and even reached out to all of his other customers, offering the them the option to likewise get their papers delivered naked.  I give him a big tip every December, and this December will be no different.

I'm glad for him that he's done -- after all, look at me heading into my own retirement.  I love it!!  But I'm also biting my nails about the next newspaper carrier, and for good reason.

To whit:  

• We didn't get a paper on the Saturday after Thanksgiving. I filled out the electronic "missing paper; please deliver tomorrow" form. 
• We didn't get a paper on Sunday (neither Saturday nor Sunday). I filled out the electronic "missing paper; please deliver tomorrow" form. 
• We didn't get a paper on Monday. I filled out the electronic "missing paper; please deliver tomorrow" form, and then I called the office.  

The very nice person (let's call her Sylvia) on the other end of the telephone line looked at our route, and realized that we have a new carrier who already has a bunch of other routes . . . it has to be so, so hard to be a newspaper carrier now that people like me who get physical papers are so few and far between.  Sylvia offered to bring me the papers herself, and so I got Saturday, Sunday, and Monday papers on my porch on Monday afternoon.

• We didn't get a paper on Tuesday. I filled out the electronic "missing paper; please deliver tomorrow" form. 

I got a very nice email from another person saying that my Tuesday paper would be (re)-delivered on Wednesday, and suggesting that maybe my previous papers had gotten stolen.

• On Wednesday, I got the Wednesday paper, but not the Tuesday paper. I replied to the very nice email letting the person know what had happened, as a FYI, and also saying that newspaper theft isn't really an issue I'd ever had, so I don't think that was the reason for my non-delivery.
• On Wednesday afternoon, I got a second Wednesday paper.  But no Tuesday paper.  Sigh.

Since then, I've gotten my newspapers delivered every morning just fine.  But, not surprisingly, they all come in plastic bags.  I really, really want to reach out to my new carrier to ask if I can ditch the plastic, but I also don't want to jinx the delivery.  I'll be traveling for a bunch of January and might put a hold on the paper during that time (not sure, because my husband will be home), and that adds extra complications for a person who already has a bunch of newspaper routes to keep track of, so I think I'll wait until I get back from my travels and then reach out to the carrier to ask about de-plastic-ifying my paper delivery.  

I continue to be grateful that my community continues to support a local newspaper.  I've seen other local newsrooms fold, one after another.  Our own region is fortunate beyond reckoning to continue to have coverage of local events, local politics, and all sorts of interesting items of nearby interest.  (One of my long-time-but-long-lost friends just published a cool book, I just read in the paper the other day!  And she's having an author's event at a nearby bookshop!)  I suppose I could read much of this online instead of on paper, but browsing a website is just not as satisfying [to me] as holding up and folding large sheets of paper, being able to tuck down a corner or clip something out, and put it somewhere in space (as opposed to somewhere on my computer).  Plus, I love love love the crossword puzzles: another huge reason why paper trounces electronic for me.

Because of all that, even if I can't figure out how to eliminate/reduce the plastic that it comes in, I'm going to keep getting the paper that comes inside the plastic.  But I do hope that eventually I can convince yet one more hard-working person in the world to accommodate my quirks, and get back to naked papers sometime in 2024.

Family update, early December

Life continues to be rich and full here in Enoughsville.  It's also rich and full on the other side of the world, apparently.  Early this week, my guy wrote to say,

[I'm flying from ] Istanbul on the way to Kuala Lumpur. A half hour ago we flew over the south end of the Caspian Sea. Tehran was a hundred kilometers south of our flight path. . . . We will also fly over Pakistan turning more southeast to avoid Afghanistan airspace. Then it will be India, the Indian Ocean and then Malaysia.

He's been wafting lovely descriptive emails my way of what he's seeing.  He's also having interesting ("interesting") travel adventures.  The most recent is that he's traveled so danged much that he doesn't have a blank page in his passport to go to Vietnam, and they won't let him in with only partially-filled pages left.  Since staying in Malaysia would be a waste of . . . actually, I don't know what it would be a waste of, but it's apparent that some extra trip, any extra trip is imperative. He writes,

So I looked again at the rules for travel to nearby countries that do not require visas for Americans.  The only southeast Asian country that does not require a visa is Thailand.  So I may go there.  

But not directly. The flights from KL to Thailand are expensive on the weekend, so I am staying in Malaysia until Monday when the flights are cheap. I will be in Penang until Monday or maybe longer. Toward the end of the week, I will fly to Singapore as planned.  I was able to cancel my hotels in Vietnam. 

At any rate, that's a little of what my guy is up to.  Somewhat closer, but still out of the country, Xson tells me that he's recovered enough from his terrible motorcycle accident that he's walking again.  Life is still very hard in Haiti, but I'm so glad he's back on his feet (literally, if not figuratively).  From a different distant -- but closer-than-Haiti-- location, Nelson sent a pic with an explanation: 

Nelson:  At work just got done with the front

I myself expressed surprise at what the ground looked like in Minnesota.  In comparison (bringing it back to my home state), here's what it looked like outside my bedroom window this Wednesday.

Snow on the branches! 
There were gorgeous snow flurries as I was walking to the office.

And indeed, December is here. Per the family advent calendar, this is what we did this week

• Make Springerle
  
  

  

  Many elves make light work

  
  
• Put out Santa statues (including the TP snowman outfit my sister gifted me, augmented by a TP sweater a friend foisted on me).
  
  



Well-dressed toilet paper

• Decorate the tree
• Give St. Nick's day donations to charity
• Saw a fab show at our local theater

  

  Ready to head inside for
  Joseph and his Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat

  
  
• Mailed some Springerle
• Went to a ballet concert

Achild and Bchild were quite the performers!

The Little Farm library had new occupants come and go (there was some pretty quick turnover in the cow population this week)!

And I know that's a lot, but even so, there was more!  For one, I got an email from the Fulbright folks.  I knew that in December they'd decide whether to pass my application along for further review, or to decline it.  Basically, they're deciding whether to vote me off the island, grant-wise. I'd been steeling myself for hearing "no", preparing myself not to take the decision personally.  So I put all that practice to good use when I got the email saying "a decision has been made".  I took my big breath and opened the email . . . to read that I had to log into the Fulbright site to actually get the decision.  I let my breath back out, logged into the site, and finally found the link to the decision letter.  I took another big breath, opened that letter, and got to read this:

Thank you for applying to the Fulbright U.S. Scholar Program for the 2024-25 competition. It is a pleasure to inform you that your application is recommended to proceed to the next phase of the review process for a Fulbright U.S. Scholar award (Science, Technology and Education, 24289-PA, Panama). It is being forwarded to the proposed host country, the U.S. Department of State, and the Fulbright Foreign Scholarship Board for review . . . 

So, maybe I'll go to Panama next year?  With my guy, of course, since there are lots of nearby countries he can bop around to while we're there, provided he gets a new passport with many more pages.

Finally, just a cute story.  When my kids were young, instead of saying "Don't push all the elevator buttons!!!! No, don't!!", I'd say, "Once the elevator starts moving, we have to hold on the handrail for safety!".   My daughter Inkling, now in her 30's, says she still holds on.  Well, one of my running buddies just sent me this cute photo, which I pass along with an anonymizing star.  

Becca writes: 
"We aren’t old enough for seatbelt races yet,
but we have fully embraced your tip for having
the kids hold on when we ride in an elevator!
No excessive button pushing. Such a win! 

And that's the news from our family, which continues to be wealthy in our adventures. May the elevators you're holding onto all be going up. 

Semester is ending, advent is starting.

Life continues to be rich and full here in Enoughsville. Even though I'm not teaching classes, nearing the end of the semester gives me that usual sense of rushing and striving to wrap things up.  I'm guessing this feeling arises now partly because the work that my two independent study students are doing is coming to a close, and we all want it to close well.  It's probably also because I'd been pulling together a talk on Salvador Dalí (whose life I didn't know very well before I started the project) and in particular about his painting that illustrates the fourth dimension (which I did actually know well), . . . and figuring out how to give this talk in Spanish in the class I'm auditing.  "Suelos de baldosas": tiled floors.  "Puntos de fuga": vanishing points.  All sorts of things that I didn't know how to say before prepping all of this, but now I do.  Of course, part of the sense of rushing and striving is because my office, where I do research, is sandwiched between colleagues who are teaching and doing regular committee work, and the vibe carries.

What else did I do this week?  I drove my husband away.  More specifically, I drove him to the train station so he could head overseas for a few weeks.  Some snippets from his letters home:

• A month ago, I picked an aisle seat for my first flight from New York JFK to Kuala Lumpur via Istanbul . . .  when the flight attendant announced “Doors closing” no one was moving down the aisles toward the back of the plane. I slid to the middle seat, fastened my seatbelt, and watched for that one last person hustling down the aisle. She never appeared. . . As soon as we soared over water, I lay down, seat belt fastened, and smiled myself to sleep.
• Istanbul Airport has sleeping lounges . . .  A glass wall surrounds the space. Inside the wall fake plants hides the sleepers from view through the translucent walls and give the enclosure a more peaceful feeling. Around the edge of the rows of chairs, there is enough space on the floor to  lie flat. That’s where I slept for a half hour or so off and on throughout the day.
• I just arrived in Malaysia.  I am seeing glitter reindeer and tall purple Christmas trees.

Jeannie, my husband's sister, did a different kind of traveling -- fewer sleeping adventures, and even more connections, although for her, it was connections with people.  She writes,

This was a milestone. I flew back to Boston Thanksgiving weekend to attend my 50th reunion. Thought you may want to share it in the next weekly newsletter.

Thought you may want to share it in the next weekly newsletter.  (Yes, yes, I do!  What a happy looking gathering!)

Kinderling has been torturing her kids with fun stuff.  She says:  

We took C-child to an amusement park today (it was her bday gift from a friend) Her first ride- turtle whirl Bchild was not in a great mood today, as she didn't nap. C-child was not phased by the spinning turtles

Later, we went to Tuba Christmas, which was indoors this year, and therefore not quite as kid-accessible, as you can see Bchild explaining adamantly.   

Tubas!  Christmas carols!  Fingers in your ears!

Speaking of Christmas approaching, it's been good to break out the family advent calendar and get cracking on opening those flaps to reveal the days' activities.

December 1: Tuba X-mas
December 2: Bring up boxes and get out Christmas clothes

Perhaps you are wondering how the Little Cow/Farm Library is going.  (Perhaps you're not wondering, but I'm going to tell you anyway.)  A rain blew through that soaked the cow card someone had left last week.  The colors all ran together.  When the cow card eventually dried out, it looked like a very cool tie-dye cow, and eventually someone took it.   

Rainbow cow beanbag, Tie-dye cow card,
and plain cow beanbag.

Finally, I wanted to share the expected, but still sad, news that our family has said goodbye to the faithful Watson.  Gosling writes, 

Watson passed peacefully by my side this afternoon. He left this world with so much love from those near and far.

About 15 min before the home euthanasia crew arrived, he settled in for a final rest with his mama. As we sat on the bed we had put outside, and I gently stroked his soft head and ears, his eyes closed peacefully and he seemed to tell us he was ready. Thank you to Colin for getting these final special moments on camera. Colin said his goodbyes and let me and Watson have our final talks, kisses, love, hugs, and tears together. And don’t you worry, his final meal included chicken-fil-a nuggets and pupperoni. He left surrounded by so much love from near and far, and a happy full belly.

It's hard to know what to say, so I'll just close with a photo that seems to capture what we're feeling.   In the park near my home the trees have lost all their leaves for the winter, but the rose bushes are still bearing flowers, and they still smell as sweet as when I visited them with friends in June.

And that's the news from our family.  Hugs.

Rubbish Rescue (and Repair) | A few recent projects

Three quick peeks into my avocation as a Rubbish Rescue Artist:

1.  On trash-night, some neighbors put out cheaply made furniture that was -- not surprisingly -- falling apart.  Even though it was cheaply made, it wasn't particularly bad looking, and so I swooped in to do some rescuing.

There was a bed frame, which I brought into the basement and then disassembled, unscrewing stuff with my much-beloved cordless drill and removing sharp nails with pliers and hammer.  I do love taking things apart!  In this case, what remains is a couple of potentially useful planks of wood and the always-weclome hardware -- screws, nuts, and bolts --, plus four boards that are probably not useful unless I can figure out how to remove the weird metal screw/bolts embedded in them.  

Most of what was left of the bed.

2. The same curbside heap had an under-bed rolling drawer thing (a trundle?), which I initially rescued only because I wanted the wheels.  But I quickly realized that the only thing wrong with it was that a panel had popped out of its groove.  A quick gentle tapping with a mallet popped the panel back in, and then I used the screws rescued from the first project to attach a piece of scrap wood to the brace bar for a little bit of extra support, to discourage further popping. 

The underside of the trundle;
the white bar is scrap wood that I attached
to the existing bar, for a bit more support. 

So now the under-the-bed trundle is under a bed.  And it has awesome wheels.  We're thinking it'd be a good place to store extra blankets.

For both of the above projects, I'm trying to be careful to avoid being a packrat, but it seems like we definitely have space for these and that if I don't need this trundle or the wood slats, I can either (a) send them into the world in a more useful form than when they came into my house or (b) send pieces of them to the landfill after all, where they were headed anyway.  No harm, no foul.

3.  This next quick repair wasn't a curbside trash-pick, but it's a save just the same: when I was untangling aprons fresh out of the dryer at our soup kitchen, there was one apron whose strap had come detached.  It's a matter of moments to fix it with a sewing machine, so I brought the apron home to reattach it.  I love these easy fixes!

Thanksgiving update

 Life continues to be rich and full here in Enoughsville.  I've been grateful lately for the things I can take for granted -- for late November showing up, and my tickler spitting out the "how to shop/cook for the big dinner" list that guides me thought massive meal preparation, and for the family sending greetings and even (if they're close enough) sending themselves my way.  

And what a lovely family!

Sizzling kicked off the greetings for the day.

Kinderling, David, and my grandkids are just so good at
taking photos to keep track of all the changes as they grow.

Nelson shared the cheery news that things are going well at his work; his boss sometimes cooks for him, which sounds like a lovely community-building ritual.  He and I have been trading phone calls and texts about organizing our living spaces; he's the most like me in appreciating the power of checklists and labels on shelves, and so it's a bunch of fun to strategize with him on smoothing out wrinkles and also making a good life run even more smoothly.

As for the family in my neck of the woods, we celebrated Thanksgiving on Friday instead of Thursdays to accommodate many schedules.  Both Jason and Inkling worked Friday morning, but made it over in the afternoon (yay!).  We had a sizable crew over for dinner -- family, friends, students.  

And after dinner, Prewash went diligently to work on keeping grease and chunky food particles out of the dishwasher.  

She tells us that Thanksgiving is her favorite holiday of the year. 

Speaking of Jason, he's working on getting more tattoos.  He didn't show us the latest addition in person, but he did share this photo of his most recent ink.

My little boy has grown and flown; that's what this says.

Gosling sent some amazing photos of constructing Beef Wellington; I'd share those but apparently I'm just too squeamish about photos of cow meat.  So I'll substitute in stunt doubles. 

A bunch of new cow beanbags, to restock the Little Farm Library.
You can pretend this is Gosling saying,
"Colin and I are attempting a beef Wellington"

A cow card that joined the Cow Library this morning.
or
"Watson enjoying a beef marrow bone from the butcher
... if it's his last Thanksgiving ... he should get all the fun!
The other pups got them too." 

This leads me to share the hard news that Gosling's beloved dog Watson, who has survived so much, is facing new (or returning) challenges:

but the cancer he had, in most dogs, comes back in his lungs, and despite my hope and prayer it would never happen for him, it has. He also may have a touch of pneumonia, this is a little less clear.

I'm sad for Watson (and his humans), but I'm truly grateful that he has such a caring and loving owner watching over him; he's a bit of a Bionic Dog, who's been put back together over and over by Gosling, and if he's got to go through hard times again, he's in exactly the right place to do so.  

And that's the news from our family, which continues to be thankful for the ordinary things.  May you and yours be similarly prosperous.