I Think I’m Gonna Make It
We’ve had a hectic month, but it’s finally over. The geese are honking as they fly overhead. The school bus just picked up some education-bound denizens, and there’s enough of a chill in the air that I’m seriously considering slinking back into the house. I would put my sweater on, but it’s in the car and I don’t feel like walking all the way out there.
Summer has wound down even before Labor Day. We got the Farm Girl off to the airport just fine, and she got home safe and sound with no problems. The Perfects went back to their busy world, taking the Perfect Prince with them – to the frustration of everyone else in the family, of course. Mr. Fixer got the canopy back on the Jeep Eater. Mud Dog has his post-summer/post-camping trip hair cut appointment set for Tuesday.
And I’m tired.
This has been one of the busiest Augusts I’ve ever experienced.
As you read this, I’ll be in Featherville for a brief, let’s-watch-the-fat-girl-try-to-get-up-off-the-ground camping trip. I’m both excited and very nervous about this trip. I haven’t gone camping since March of 2001, and I’ve gotten fatter since then.
I have this thought that I’ll wind up on my back, like a little beetle, waving my arms and legs around as I try to roll over and realize that I’m stuck and can’t get up.
We’ll see…
As a bonus, and because of a comment about the various nicknames I choose for those about whom I write, I figured I’d give you an abreviated cast list of sorts. These are the folks I have already mentioned or will mention in the near future. All others will be dubbed when the need arises.
My Side
Me: D. S. Vic
Mom: Mom aka the Farm Girl
Dad: THE DAD
Maternal Aunt and Uncle: The Muckleshoot Gang
Maternal Uncle: Hippie Dippie Weather Man (Taken from George Carlin’s comedy, of course)
Brother: WonderFink
Childhood Friend: Lady Grace
Adulthood Friend: The Preacher
Husband’s Side
Husband: Mr. Fixer aka Dearest Heart
Father and Lady: Super-Dad and the Vet
Paternal Aunt and Uncle 1: Queen and King
Paternal Aunt and Uncle 2: Princess and Bus Driver
Paternal Uncle and Aunt: The Tax Man and the Witness
Mom and Husband: Pie Lady and Galloping Gourmet
Maternal Aunt and Uncle: Laughing Koi and Jewish Goat
Maternal Uncle and Aunt: Tempered Glaziers
Brother, Wife and Baby: Mr. and Mrs. Perfect and the Perfect Prince
Best Friend: the Carpenter
Workmates: Jedi, Almost-Stumpy, Baby-Sitter, Dewey, New Guy but-not-really and Not-Quite Speed Racer
As I mentioned, most of these folks have already been introduced to you. Many will be mentioned in the near future. Most, of course, have no clue that they have these names. Hopefully, they’re descriptive enough to be entertaining but vague enough that few people will know to whom these monikers actually refer.
Suffice to say, this is the cast of my life. All are loved and admired, except, maybe, the WonderFink. Though I know the truth, that he’s a fink, everyone else seems to think he’s wonderful. Eventually the truth will be revealed!
PS Saturday’s column may be delayed. While I’m hoping to post it on time, I might find myself sleeping through Saturday entirely.
Until next time…
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Please include Northwest Journal in all correspondence. DSVic@ymail.com
Copyright © 2009-2010 D. S. Vic
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Big Things Afoot
Big things are coming.
Besides the fact that it’s just now dawn and already I’ve done the dishes, made coffee, packed Mr. Fixer’s lunch and set the chicken out to thaw for dinner, big things are happening this month. And yet, August is vanishing before my very eyes.
Back at the coast it’s Kite Festival week. In three more weeks Rod Run will be over and the locals will be cheering with abandon; thrilled that the tourists are finally going back home! The sleepy little peninsula will be able to settle in for its long, winter’s nap… in order to amp up for next year’s tourist attack.
And, lest you think I’m painting the coast locals in a negative light, they aren’t cold or unwelcoming. Think about how you would feel if, in your household of four, you had between 350 and 400 guests from mid-June through mid-September (that’s not a total of 400, that’s up to 400 EVERY DAY). See, the off-season population of the seven towns on the Long Beach Peninsula totals approximately 12,000. During the tourist season, however, on any given day, the population spikes to 120,000 – ocassionally more, like during the Kite Festival and Rod Run.
The locals of the peninsula are welcoming and desirous of such tourist traffic. After all, if you don’t get the summer tourist business, it’s very likely that you won’t last through the winter. Still, it is a relief when all the guests finally go home. Trust me, the day after Rod Run ends, the peninsula seems almost dead by comparison.
Anyway, here in Southwestern Idaho there has been plenty of activity. I haven’t missed the busy-ness of the coast at all. I’m eagerly anticipating my birffday this year, though. Not only does it mark the end of an extremely busy and hectic summer, but it’s also a tremendous milestone.
I’m going to be 40 this year!!! There was a time when I was pretty sure I wouldn’t live past the age of 20. I guess I made it. *grins*
Still, the month of August has been slipping away. From the first day, as Mr. Fixer and I were driving back from Super-Dad’s pool party in Spokane… Hey, how come is it that everywhere I travel is about 8 hours from Boise? Here to the coast is 8 hours. Here to Spokane is 8 hours. Here to Sunriver, Oregon is, you guessed it, 8 hours. Funny that…
Coming back from Spokane started the mayhem. The first week of August was spent in recovery – both from the pool party AND the long drive – and playing with my new toys. (Super-Dad gave me a stock pot the exact size I’ve been looking for, and a red, pristine Pontiac GTO!!!) Mr. Fixer played with his new toys too, but those were just silly tools and stuff.
Okay, okay, the GTO was actually just one of a collection of die-cast models, but it’s still MINE and extremely sweet!
The second week of August was spent in preparation for the Carpenter’s BBQ – which will be detailed later – at which it was made apparent that I am a disappointment to some of Mr. Fixer’s acquaintences because I haven’t given him children yet. Oy!
The third week of August was spent in recovery from the aforementioned BBQ and in preparation for my Dearest Heart’s birffday. Unfortunately, he had to work on his birffday, so there wasn’t any extravigant party or anything. I did make a cake though.
The fourth week – the one we’re currently in – begins the intensive cleaning for the arrival of The Prince. This weekend Mr. Fixer’s brother, sister-in-law and brand-spankin’-new infant son are coming out here for a weekend visit. To say the least, Mr. Fixer is absolutely beside himself! But that’s not all, no. My Mother is also coming for the extended weekend. AND, Super-Dad is coming down for the extended weekend!
There’s the BBQ/reception/baby-shower thing for Super-Dad’s side of the family Saturday night. Sunday morning the Prince and his parents are coming to our place for breakfast. After that, we’ll be going to the home of the Pie Lady and the Galloping Gourmet so that the other side of the family can ogle and coo and fuss over the Prince.
THEN, Monday is our second anniversary, followed by taking Mom back to the airport Tuesday and packing/preparing for our Wednesday departure for a three-day-two-night camping/fishing trip at Featherville.
The two weeks between the end of the camping/fishing trip and my 40th birffday are, I sincerely hope, going to be filled with a LOT of naps, very little cooking and a whole lot of sitting splay-legged on the couch checking to make sure that the remote control isn’t broken by repeatedly flipping through the channels pausing for less than ten seconds on any one scene.
Sometime in all that activity I have to remember to mail the bills at their proper times so that we have a home, electricity and water to come home to after camping in the woods. I’m most definitely certain that one of the first things I’m going to want upon my return is to take a shower!
So, August is vanishing before my eyes. Soon it will be a milestone birffday for me. And I can’t wait. Unlike so many I hear about, I am actually excited about turning 40. Finally, I have attained sufficient chronological age to be considered a real adult. Maybe I’ll start acting like it.
But I doubt it.
Until next time…
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Please include Northwest Journal in all correspondence. DSVic@ymail.com
Copyright © 2009-2010 D. S. Vic
All rights reserved.
Westward Ho!
I don’t know if it’s sheer laziness, a side effect of “settling in” or a harbinger of something far more serious, but I’m beginning to wonder if my Dearest Heart is damaged. Don’t get the wrong idea; Mr. Fixer isn’t stupid, incompetent, unskilled or a democrat (just teasing, folks). He is, however, showing signs of being helpless.
My husband is one of the smartest, strongest and most capable men I’ve ever met. He can carry in ten bags of groceries without squishing anything. He can barbecue a steak that would melt in your mouth. He can listen to an idling engine and tell you whether the tapping is a lifter, the fan blades scraping the shroud, or that funny sounding part I can’t ever remember the name of doing that thing that means there’ll be a very nice paycheck next week.
My wonderful husband can be so exhausted that he can’t think straight, but scrape up the brain power to listen to me prattle. And, he can remember what I said. Well, he does that often enough to impress my socks off!
What I mean to convey is that there is no doubt in my mind that my husband is brilliant. Yet, I still feel this sense of trepidation.
You see, I’m leaving for the coast today. This means that Mr. Fixer is going to be alone for a whole week. He won’t even have Mud Dog to lean on! What happens if the Carpenter is busy? Will my hero be completely alone? Will he be completely and utterly without support?
Okay, so I might be dramatizing this a bit, but…
Wait a sec. I just realized something. It isn’t Mr. Fixer’s being ALONE that bothers me. It’s the possibility of the Carpenter being the “voice of reason”. After all, it was the Carpenter who suggested turning the refrigerator into a meat smoker. What if, in my absence, The Boys decide to make a smoker out of the recently-deceased dryer?
It’s the landlady’s dryer, honey. Please don’t add it to the Carpenter’s collection. At least, not until you get her permission to do so.
I’m half afraid that the next time I see the Carpenter’s yard, there will be a myriad large household appliances in various stages of deconstruction; all of them on their way to becoming smokers, grills or other such non-moveable testaments to Manhood.
Regardless of the potential appliance parade, what if the two of them turn my dinky little kitchen into a carburetor rebuild station? You don’t know them as well as I do! It could really happen!!
Seriously, my concerns about leaving are these:
First, since we got married, Mr. Fixer and I haven’t spent more than 18 hours away from each other. How will he manage emotionally? It’s always harder for the one who stays behind. Granted, he’ll get real, solid, decent sleep for the first time in 18 months, but still…
Second, since we got married, there are certain tasks that I just took over. I’m the one who cooks. I’m the one who makes sure the alarm is set every night. I’m the one who makes sure the coffee is done in the morning. How will he survive – and get to work on time – if I’m not here? Will he just waste away to nothing?
Okay, so maybe I’m the one who will miss him too much. I’m eagerly looking forward to this little trip, but I’m going to miss my dear, darling husband; the great love of my life.
Sigh.
If only there were some way he and I would be able to communicate while we were so far away from each other… *
Until next time…
Please include Northwest Journal in all correspondence. JD_DSVic at Yahoo.com
Copyright © 2010 D. S. Vic
All rights reserved.
*Mom will get a chuckle out of that, as she saw (and paid) the cell phone bill while Mr. Fixer and I were dating!
Smoking Celebrity
From the time I was knee-high to a grasshopper, I have been passively hunting celebrity. I think I’ve finally found it.
Most weekends Mr. Fixer and I can be found at the Carpenter’s house. Rather, I’m usually in the house while the Weekend Heroes are doing what they do in the garage. Still, we see the Carpenter and his brood about once a week.
Wherever the boys are, there’s always something on TV. Since the Carpenter has one of those fancy satellite deals where you can rewind the TV program, the unspoken rule is that no one changes the channel. This means that when it’s not NASCAR season, UFC is on TV. – Before Mr. Fixer came into my life, there was no such thing as NASCAR or UFC. –
Anyway, it has long been my habit to have a notebook and pen with me. This has come in very handy as most of the weekend fights on UFC… well, you’d see more action watching grass grow. How anyone can call two men dancing around an octagon “fighting” is beyond me.
Sigh
On occasion, as the Carpenter walks past on his way to the grill or back to the garage, he will pause, look at my notebook and query, “Writing the next column?” or “Waiting to see what strange thing the Carpenter does next?”
The answer, to both questions, is almost always, “Yes!”
Anyway, sometimes I’ll heft my bulk out of the recliner to observe the goings on in the garage. This is nearly always a humorous thing. Why? Let me tell it this way:
I walked into the garage to find Mr. Fixer opening the door of an upside-down refrigerator. Oh, this can’t be good. Seems this week, the project is to prove that smoking can, indeed, be cool. Seems the Carpenter saw the plans on the internet. Seems those plans suggest that one could make a meat smoker out of an old refrigerator/freezer. One is supposed to be able to turn the appliance over, remove the compressor and other electrical doodads, remove all the melt-able plastic parts and… Voila! There’s your smoker!
So, I’m sitting in the frigid garage because these two men, engaged in their Man Work, are so incredibly entertaining. The Weekend Heroes are alternately sitting and laying on the very frigid cement floor. They’re alternately pushing and pulling various things in the freezer portion of this upside-down fridge. They’re alternately breaking, twisting and bending various plastic things that were never meant to be broken, twisted or bent! And, it’s all in the name of great barbecue!
“Guess we didn’t need that piece.” Says Mr. Fixer after slamming his fist against the plastic door of the butter tray in the topsy-turvy fridge-come-smoker.
“Huh. That’s got a couple little screws.” Says the Carpenter upon breaking off semi-large portions of the fridge light cover using sheer muscle strength.
“Wow, those blades are sharp.” Says Mr. Fixer as he tries removing the odd, metal grating/tubing thing that made the freezer into a freezer. “Real sharp.” He adds, pulling his hand back and examining it briefly. “Good, no blood yet.” He mutters under his breath.
“Ooohh, I’ve got red fire caulk around here somewhere…” utters the Carpenter.
“Hmmm, that’s gotta be useful for something.” Mutters Mr. Fixer in regard to the sharp, metal cooling thingie.
“Yeah, this is it!” says the Carpenter about the caulk. Then, reading the tube, “‘Heat and flame resistant’. Excellent.”
A brief ogling of the freezer-come-heat source – where the red-hot coals are going to go – then a quick glimpse back at the tube of caulk. “Oh… ‘highly flammable’. Guess that won’t work so well.” Continuing to read the tube. “‘Fumes highly explosive…’”
No, there’s nothing to fear. The Weekend Heroes are here!
There are people who pay dearly for various escapes. Hundreds of dollars get used for such things as concerts, sporting events, artworks and the like. Some people spend upwards of a thousand dollars for an evening’s entertainment.
Me? I get all this for free. I’m the luckiest woman in the world!
I’ll let you know if the smoker ever gets completed.
Until next time…
D. S. Vic
Please include Northwest Journal in the subject line of all correspondence. JD_DSVic at yahoo.com
Copyright © 2010 D. S. Vic
All rights reserved.
Latest Project
Saturday’s column had me talking about the propensity of some of the Northwest’s denizens toward “playing in the garage”. I figured I would enlighten you, my glorious, two-member readership, as to what that actually entails. Therefore, we catch up with our heroes, Mr. Fixer and The Carpenter, as they continue work on the latest “playing in the garage” project.
The latest project is a small dirt bike purchased for The Carpenter’s son. This small dirt bike weighs no more than 40 pounds. It’s small. But, it won’t start. Therefore, there’s a REASON to be “playing in the garage”.
Now, the guys have spent two consecutive weekends working on this little bike. They’re trying not to “let the smoke out” which has something to do with a power source known as a “magneto”. (I don’t know what it is, what it means or what it does, but I think it’s funnier if you don’t know!) And they’re hoping to get the thing started so that they can troubleshoot the rest of the issues (ie: why the throttle is slow to return and why the gear box thingie is doing something it’s not supposed to).
The Carpenter is suggesting pull-starting the dirt bike. This is a bad idea. There are only two ways in which someone can do this: A) pulling the little dirt bike with the slightly-but-not-by-much bigger dirt bike, or B) pulling the little dirt bike with the big-as-a-house-by-comparison Dodge truck.
Hmmm, how could this possibly be a bad idea?
The Carpenter says, “Mr. Fixer,” k-shhhh (the sound of a beer can being opened), “we really need to pull it. If ya can’t get somethin’ started, stick it in gear and force it!”
My dear darling husband, still sober enough to refuse, says, “There’s gotta be another way. Did it ever start?”
Looking at the two of them, I put a quiet-voiced query to my husband. “What does a combustion engine need to run?”
He thinks about it for a long time – maybe .015 seconds – and says, “Spark, compression and fuel.”
The look of confidence in his eye tells me this is the right answer. (Hey, I know words, not motors and engines and tools.) So I ask which of those three things the little dirt bike didn’t have. It had all of them. So I then – following the logical progression – asked which one/s Mr. Fixer was certain were good. That’s when the Weekend Heroes decided to check the fuel-to-oil mixture.
It seems that a dirt bike has what’s called a “two-stroke” engine. It also seems that two-stroke engines require that their owners mix oil with the gasoline. Instructions for doing this are, supposedly, on the back of the two-stroke oil bottle. The bottle the Carpenter had suggested a mix of 34 to 1. This could easily be interpreted to mean 34 parts per gallon, right? So, the person who works with hammers for a living mixed 34 percent oil with 66 percent gasoline.
That’s not what the bottle means. The bottle means, Mr. Fixer calmly stated, that the recipe calls for 34 parts gasoline to 1 part oil. Hmmm, big difference. And, lo and behold, upon draining the old gas and adding freshly mixed gas, the little dirt bike started.
“Hooray,” you think. “This is great news. We’ve had success! Yippee!”
Yes. The little dirt bike started. At 9:30 pm. And it was LOUD! Very, very, very LOUD!!!! (I hope the excessive use of exclamation points gets the point across.)
The Carpenter, “K-shhhh”ed open another beer and grinned with pride. Mr. Fixer did not “K-shhhh” open another beer. Why? Because he was ON the little dirt bike doing a test drive.
Yes. Mr. Fixer sat perched upon the barely-eight-inches-off-the-ground seat of this little, LOUD dirt bike at 9:30pm. Yes. He took a victory lap of sorts, three-quarters of the way down the street. He then walked the silent bike back to the garage stating that figuring out the gear box and brakes would have to wait for another night.
It is times like this when I truly begin to understand the line from that old Country song: “Old enough to know better, but too young to care.”
Until next time…
D. S. Vic
Please include Northwest Journal in the subject line of all Email. JD_DSVic at yahoo.com
Copyright © 2010 D. S. Vic
All rights reserved.
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