The 1440 - It's Almost as Good as Being There!

Back in the Saddle Again

2011-11-19T10:54:00.001-05:00

It's been a long time since there were reports from The 1440. This is not to say that there was nothing happening in the last three months; this is far from the reality. The news black-out was not due to the havoc-wreaking effect of Hurricane Irene: the 1440 was without power for 30 hours, but Randall was in his glory as he hitched up the generator and ministered to it tenderly. The silence was not caused by the other regional weather headline, the record-smashing Nor'easter that walloped the area with October snow, ice and catastrophic tree loss. No, aside from some significant tree limbs that visited from a neighbor's tree and blocked in the cars on the driveway, The 1440 was unscathed. The real reason for the unplanned hiatus was life itself. The editor was corralled into an unfortunate number of public-speaking engagements during the month of October and she needed virtually all of September to prepare for them. She has already made a solemn vow to herself not to let that happen again.

After cleaning up all of the projects that were left to flounder during September and October, the editor now finds that she has time to devote to the important things in life: namely, home projects.

Readers might recall that early in the year, there was the unfortunate discovery that bathroom plumbing does not have an infinite life span. Months later, Randall and the editor learned that, in the course of house-settling, bricks were pulling away from the top front corner of the house. This discovery was made as John and Ralph began some routine re-pointing. As they removed a marble keystone, they noticed daylight coming through the interior of the building - never a good sign. The corner of the house under discussion originally featured a open portico for the front door. Some years later, it was decided to enclose the area with bricks which were laid only only the pilings meant for much less weight. The result? An underpinning job that will result in huge piles of dirt and expended cash sometime in early spring 2012. Stay tuned.

Meanwhile, Hugh and the crew have shown up, after a summer of outdoor porch and addition projects, to begin work on the bathroom renovations. The editor spent her summer cruising by Hugh's projects trying to estimate the approximate start time for the bathroom. She kept praying that the work would be completed quickly or that the homeowners would run out of money. Neither happened soon enough. Now that work at The 1440 has begun, she has quit her sniveling and embarked on recording the progress; progress that will now be shared with her readers.

First, Hugh had to devise a way to demolish the bathroom without demolishing the house. He decided to use a window in the editor's dressing room for debris evacuation. After pricing out evacuation chutes and determining that their quality was not up to snuff, he decided to design his own method for emptying tons of cement, tile and old fixtures into the massive dumpster that has taken up residence in he 1440's driveway.

First there is a chute made from garbage cans attached to the window:

The debris travels down the chute and into a happy little cart with a hydraulic dumping bucket:

The cart then travels across the yard down a plywood path to the street, up the driveway, and into the dumpster where it expels the debris:

Yes, that is snow. This photo was taken on November 1st, several days after the Nor'easter and following a string of 50-60 degree days.

pathway to the dumpster

The editor wanted to be helpful, so she has offered to drive the cart:

Inside, the demolition has looked like this:

As it turns out, the bathrooms in The 1440 sometimes come in sets. In this instance, there is a guest bathroom directly above the master bath. It was decided that, as the two bathrooms share the same supply lines and the same birth date, it might be a good time to make some changes there as well, before a failure in the guest bath plumbing has an opportunity to ruin the new bathroom. Besides, the chute was already on the premises. So here is what the guest bath currently looks like:

Pretty empty, right? But where is the bathroom window? The vintage sink that is being salvaged? All the construction tools?

The guest room is currently occupied.

Hurricane Duncan

2011-08-25T17:49:00.000-04:00

While the folks at the 1440 prepare for a potential direct hit from Hurricane Irene, they have another storm with which to contend: Hurricane Duncan.

Then

Over the past few weeks Duncan has grown from the adorable wavy-haired puppy that fit in the crook of an arm to a much larger pup that Randall has nick-named Galumpagus.

Now

While Duncan's size belies his youth, his energetic joie de vivre more than compensates. At almost six months of age, some of Duncan's favorite activities include:

eating
playing with soft toys
biting Rue
playing with rubber toys
sleeping
playing with clothes
going for walks
playing with shoes
cuddling
playing with rolls of toilet paper
sitting in puddles
sitting in the rain
sitting in the path of sprinklers
and decorating

While Duncan's attention span does not allow him to sit through a complete episode of anything on HGTV, he has self-taught design skills. It seems as though just about every day the editor discovers a new domestic tableau.

Sometimes Duncan just rearranges the objects on hand. At other times, he adds his own special elements.


Artfully arranged toys in his dog bed.

There are some things Duncan is not crazy about - like literature.

And there are his big favorites.

It's not always a good thing to be a favorite.

How to Get There From Here

2011-07-15T16:56:00.003-04:00

With the saying "It isn't the destination, it's the journey" in mind, Randall and the editor took a slow boat to China. Actually, it was a moderately fast ship to Southampton, but it doesn't seem necessary to split hairs. After all, vacations are for relaxing not quibbling.

The ship, the Queen Mary 2, left from a scenic port section in Brooklyn - meaning that all graffiti on the way to the dock lacked explicit gang reference.

Randall and the editor caught their first glimpse of the ship as their car joined the long line of limousines that had been similarly engaged to drop off their fellow passengers. It was a good thing that the editor cast off all remnants of decorum while hanging out of her limo's window to take the photo, because it was literally the first and last time that she and Randall were able to see the entire exterior view of the ship. On a transatlantic cruise, if all goes well, one boards the ship once and leaves the ship once.

As is mandatory on all cruises, one prepares for the possibility that all will not go well.

Fortunately, Randall and the editor had a lifeboat sitting directly outside their balcony so there was extra reassurance.

There was a lot to do on the boat, but not much to see. Here was the view upon departure:

If one looked carefully, the Hoboken skyline (such as it is) could be seen through the summer haze.

Once on the open water, the temperatures dropped from the New York 90's to the Atlantic 60's. the view changed as well.

While the editor had originally envisioned long hours on a deck chair reading in the sun and looking out on the water, she had not anticipated the stiff winds and less than accommodating June temperatures. Instead, she and Randall managed to fill also every moment of every day. Here is a sampling of activities:

Randall worked out in the gym
the editor worked out in one of the pools
deck-walking (carefully bundled up)
astronomy lectures (during which the editor always fell asleep)
chamber music concerts
jazz performances
a waltz class
a line-dancing class
a movie in the planetarium
planetarium shows in the planetarium (during which the editor always fell asleep)
song and dance shows in the evening (during which the editor dozed off)
performances by a troupe from the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts
Story-telling classes conducted by the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts (during which the editor earned a certificate)
and the editor's personal favorite - daily tea

Dr. Ruth was on-board as a resident speaker/scholar (both of which are open for discussion). Randall and the editor attended both of her talks while they waited for the dining room to open for lunch. She was a charming, if uninformative, speaker. At both talks the editor was struck by the inappropriateness of the the one "live question" audience member who kicked off the discussion prior to the presentation of written questions that others had submitted. It became quickly apparent that anyone who is eager to ask a "live" question regarding one's partner's (or mother's) sexuality in front of the people who will continue to share the ship with him/her for the remainder of the trip is generally not of a sound mind. Thankfully, Dr. Ruth was adept at fielding questions from those of questionable mental health.

Once in England, Randall and the editor were speedily disembarked from the ship and bundled aboard a coach bus to London. They spent a weekend in London regaining their land legs while they visited the National Gallery, took in a performance of "The 39 Steps", sampled a bit of "West End Live" an outdoor festival that featured excerpts from the West End musicals, walked to Westminster Abbey, Big Ben, the London Eye, Picadilly Circus, Trafalgar Square and Hyde Park. And yes, it rained. A lot.

The pair also visited about a hundred coffee shops that touted free wifi. Unfortunately, it was almost impossible for the editor and Randall to connect to wifi service, and when they did the service was weak and slow. But really, is connectivity the point of a vacation?

The point of a vacation is shopping. And thankfully there were abundant opportunities. The editor was particularly taken with the shops where they were staying in the Mayfair district.

No need to select a favorite - any one would be just fine.

Fortnum & Mason had a sale going on.

Lindsay came to mind.

An M&M's World had just opened its doors, so for the purposes of research, it was important to visit.

The editor thought that it was more fun than the one in Times Square. The staff was happy to hear it. Besides, Randall made a new friend.

And really, isn't that what vacations are all about?

Additions

2011-05-24T21:40:00.001-04:00

It took three attempts to get a working washer into the 1440, but it finally happened. After the Miele was delivered it managed to spill enough water onto the basement floor during the recommended pre-use wash that the editor had to spend a good portion of the evening with a wet-vac and an impassioned call to Appliance Arama. The Miele was only in the house for an hour and it never saw a piece of clothing. The editor was waiting outside Appliance Arama as soon as the doors opened the next morning. They were great there and two hours later a new Whirlpool washer was delivered. While it is not a finely crafted German machine, it cleans clothes without leaking on the floor. It has an excellent "whitest whites" cycle option and plays musical tones when selecting settings.

The washer has been getting a lot of use lately because only days after its arrival, this arrived:

Sure, he's cute, but don't let the good looks fool you, he's a handful. Duncan arrived from a RI rescue organization just shy of 11 weeks of age. Listed as a "puppy mill survivor" on Petfinder, this second generation labradoodle came with spunk, confidence, a chill attitude and friends -lots of friends. A week and a half later, Duncan is still being treated for friends. If that weren't enough, he developed an upper respiratory infection, likely the result of his transport in a car filled with other dogs heading to their new homes. He shared those germs with Rue. In an completely separate incident, Ben developed a life-threatening infection. So after six trips to the vet in the last eight days, there are three dogs on antibiotics and serious hygiene regimens at the 1440.

How is Duncan doing with the other dogs? Ben won't put up with puppies and Hannah will endure almost anything. Rue? Rue was jealous and not particularly happy to give up her place as the "baby" of the family. But gradually Rue figured out that this puppy could be used as an excellent moving chew toy. Duncan discovered the same thing.

Apart from the germ-sharing, they've been happy ever since.

On How to Have an Operational Washing Machine

2011-05-11T11:55:00.001-04:00

If your washing machine breaks down on March 30th, trapping a load of white towels and undies inside, these are the steps you need to take to resume normal laundry activities in your home six weeks later:

Call B*sch customer service and report problem.
Beg B*sch customer service to send someone sooner than a week from call by explaining what happens to wet clothes that are trapped in a washer for seven days.
Set up service call yourself.
Enjoy four loads of laundry in repaired machine.
Call repair service when fifth load is trapped.
Beg B*sch for needed control panel which is back-ordered for six weeks.
Talk to a half dozen customer service reps, two supervisors, and a replacement coordinator.
Write complaint letter to B*sch.
Get authorization for a replacement washer.
Wait for washer.
Learn washer is backordered.
Wait for installer who will not return phone calls and who sets installation appointment for four days after finally getting replacement.
Clean bulkhead steps going down to basement in anticipation of new washer.
Discover water has collected at base of steps and that little soggy centipede bodies litter the puddle of rainwater and mud.
Pull out wet-vac. Do not bother to see if sawdust filter was installed.
When dry-vac filter saturates and clogs, get sprayed by sawdust, mud, water and soggy centipede parts.
Strip off clothing without concern because new washer is coming.
Wait for installers to be several hours late.
Discover that replacement washer is damaged. Refuse delivery.
Get promises of expedited replacement for replacement.
Learn that replacement for replacement is backordered.
Have mental breakdown (optional).
Demand full refund.
File complaint with the California Division of Consumer Affairs (where B*sch USA is headquartered).
Buy Miele washer, wait for next day delivery.
Write to President and CEO of B*sch Appliances. Enclose 5 typed pages of notes documenting contacts.
Wash, spin, rinse, repeat.

Editorial Correction

2011-04-30T15:58:00.000-04:00

Today the editor was reminded by a testy caller that April 29th was not a date open for royal weddings. The editor's sister Aunt Diane was married on April 29th twenty-one years ago. Her marriage entered the age of majority on the day of the royal wedding's birth. So both the editor and her sister have a royal bone to pick with anniversary snatchers across the pond. The house of Windsor should be ashamed of this flagrant poaching.

In an effort to stay calm and carry on, let's leave readers with an image of the original blushing bride and her freakishly tall matron of honor:

Note that, as in all British weddings, Laura Ashley was worn.

In Honor of the Royal Wedding

2011-04-29T21:16:00.000-04:00


hearts everywhere

The editor and Randall were married exactly two years prior to the marriage of Prince William's parents. As the editor held the date first, she always considered it rightfully hers.

She has no hold on today's date. She is quite willing to cede it the young couple married today. In celebration of the event, the neighborhood decided to decorate.

They Know Me Here

2011-04-27T22:19:00.000-04:00

There are good things about laundromats. Hit a laundromat at the right time of day and you can load up as many machines as you need to get all your wash done at once. When you slip a ten dollar bill into a change machine, the cascading quarters sound like you hit a jackpot at a slot machine in Atlantic City. Laundromats are warm, they smell like fabric softener and they have cool rolling carts that offer so many possibilities to a fertile imagination.

The editor spent many hours in a Providence laundromat when Randall was in medical school. It was located in a small shopping center next to a Rhode Island Blood Center and across from a M*Donalds - both institutions were big favorites for her. The editor was offered a job at the laundromat. The manager there told her that she seemed like the kind of responsible person who could manage a room full of washing machines. The editor, while flattered, politely declined and went on to work for the RISD museum where she managed slide projectors and errant sculpture students.

Last November, almost thirty years later, the editor purchased a new high efficiency B*sch washer and dryer. About a month ago, the washer started to lock loads of laundry inside the machine while blaring out error messages. The washer could not be reasoned with. It would not respond to the editor, Max, or the authorized repairman who was summoned on two occasions to liberate the clothing.

It has been a month since the editor has been talking to B*sch. Let's not go into the gory details. Let's just say that the editor has been going to the laundromat for the entire month of April. Let's also say that the editor is expecting her new washer any day now.

Until then, there is always the laundromat. They know her there.

The Mice at Play

2011-04-10T19:02:00.000-04:00

April Fool's Day had more than its share of usual charm this year.

First, the editor had to chair a 7:30 a.m. meeting. Early morning meetings are always good times, and this one ranked involved discussions of material that the editor didn't want to hear. The kind of conversation that makes one want to clamp both hands firmly over both ears and start humming loudly so as to drown out the information being shared. Didn't work, it still filtered into her head.

As soon as the meeting ended and the editor returned home, she and Randall headed to the airport and to catch a flight to Kansas City. Randall's cousins were hosting a big bat mitzvah celebration, and the pair knew from past experience that this was an event not to be missed. Randall has many cousins, comprising what the editor assumes to be about half of the Jewish population in Kansas, but this is another story for another day. The gist of today's story took place on the flight and the subsequent drive to Overland Park.

April 1st was Max's last day of work at his first job out of college. While everyone knew it was a "starter" job, it was still a momentous event; made even more significant as it fell on a day that typically sees his desk and computer plastered with images of turkeys by rambunctious co-workers. As a mother, the editor worries about these things and she was not pleased that she was halfway across the country when her oldest child was making a life transition.

Her younger child decided to make transitions of her own - on the very same day. The day prior to Randall and the editor's departure, Lindsay revealed that she herself had had a job interview. What?! "I didn't want to say anything before the interview in case it didn't work out", she said. Well, apparently it worked out as she had a second interview scheduled during the time that Randall and the editor were skimming across the clouds in an uncomfortably small airplane. As soon as they landed, the editor decided to deploy her limited texting skills to find out how the interview went.

"So how was the interview? Did they offer you a job? Did you accept?" she wrote.

"Quick flight! The interview was OK!"

"So did they offer you the job? Did you accept?"

After what seemed like prolonged silence, Lindsay texted that she was offered the job but she had some worries. After a phone conversation during which she weighed her concerns and strong prodding to make up her mind, Lindsay accepted the job offer and proffered notice to her current gig. She starts at the new place on the 18th. Max, who began his new job last Monday, couldn't be happier.

Both are working in midtown Manhattan and their offices will be a mere two blocks apart. As Randall noted, "Two kids, two jobs, two weeks [and two blocks apart].

When the cats's away...

Dear Rue

2011-03-24T12:20:00.001-04:00

Note to Rue:

This is not a bone.

This is not your lunch.

No, I don't want to wear this. You can take it off me now.

Love,
the editor

Safeguards

2011-03-23T15:12:00.000-04:00

There has been a security breach at the 1440. According to residents, at some time during the week of March 7th an aborted break-in occurred. A resident discovered a large wooden-framed storm window lying across some supply lines for an air-conditioning compressor. Thinking that it had been blown off its hinges by a particularly strong gust of wind, there was little initial concern. It was only after further reflection (why was there no damage to the glass panes or the frame? How did the storm window land neatly at a 90 degree angle to the house?) that the police were called. The investigating officer confirmed that there have been numerous break-ins in the area. Almost all have taken place during the day and involve the theft of cash, jewelry, and electronics. None, to date, have been violent.

Before leaving, the officer inspected the perimeter of the house and advised an occupant of potential safety breaches. Since his visit, a number of precautionary steps have taken place:

Additional window locks have been installed on several windows.
The local neighborhood watch was alerted and an email message was sent by them to its distribution list.
The editor called all proximate neighbors to advise them of the incident.
The editor posted the news on her Facebook status.
As a result of items 2-4, the editor spent a long time reassuring friends and neighbors that there had been no actual breach of the premises.
The backyard gate is now locked at all times.
Randall installed a new motion detector in the vicinity of the attempted break-in entry point.
The editor is backing up the contents of her computer with an online service. It is a painfully slow process: about 2-3 GBs are uploaded a day. A total of 65 GBs are being backed up.
The dogs were given extra treats for being loud and obnoxious barking fools.

The most fun new precaution involved the activation of the 1440's safe. The responding officer had explained that thieves are able to quickly and effectively target the places where people hide their valuables. "People don't understand that sock drawers are not safe places to hide things", he said. So the editor decided that she needed to clear out all of her various "sock drawers" and put into use the ancient safe that came along with a giant freezer for storing venison when the house was purchased in 1993.

The freezer was dismantled and carted away several years ago; but the safe, as the editor has recently learned from the locksmith who came to visit last week, will require special machinery if it is ever to be removed from the house. This sounded great to the editor as she did not relish the thought of storing all of her valuables in the safe deposit box housed in the bank several miles away. The locksmith fiddled with the combination that was left on the ancient paperwork found inside the safe. To the delight of all involved, the combination worked and the safe is completely operational. The editor was trained to open the safe. She has since trained Randall and Max. All of her many fabulous jewels, tiaras, and secret recipes have been safely stored as well.

Only the finest in safe technology for the tiaras.

An unrelated postscript:
It has snowed twice in the three days since Spring arrived. The editor is zen. If there is another break-in attempt, there will be footprints this time.

Springing Forward

2011-03-03T18:24:00.001-05:00

Ten days until daylight savings time begins.

Seventeen days until Spring. It can't come too soon.

In an effort not to miss an important minute of her favorite season, the editor has sprung into action. There has been yard clean-up to do. The editor steps around the remaining piles of crusty snow to pick up branches, leaves and the assorted winter jetsam. Stuffing it into tall brown paper lawn bags, she stores the collected debris in the garage, giddily anticipating visits by the city's clean-up trucks. They made an initial pass through the neighborhood a few days ago, collecting branches downed by high winds and prickly Christmas trees that have been patiently anchored to snow drifts for the past two months. The editor was able to dash out with the first set of bags in time to see them swallowed by the gaping mechanical jaws of one of the street cleaning trucks.

Over the past two weeks, the raised garden beds were raked clean, the trellis netting was re-hung, and the obelisks, which were set askew by the shovelfuls of snow thrown off the conservatory balcony, had to be re-positioned.

Grass seed was spread and the editor spread 440 pounds of topsoil among the three garden beds - by herself. While all of this cleaning has been taking place, Randall has been gallivanting between Taipei and Istanbul. There had better be souvenirs at the end of this.

With the stage set, the editor was able to plant her early spring crops: several varieties of lettuce, radishes, and two kinds of peas. Indoors, she is starting basil and tomato plants, also from seeds.

When discussing planting of any kind, one must consider crop threats: both indoor and outdoor. Outdoors, Rue poses the greatest challenge. Rue stole the package of radish seeds, dancing around the pool waving the envelope from her mouth. Once the seeds were retrieved, she took the one of the editor's leather gardening gloves. Unlike the seed package, the glove was tasty. It took much more time and several tennis balls to reclaim the glove.

The indoor threat is named Cole.

Cole isn't satisfied with his cat food: dry crap. No, he prefers additional ruffage in his diet. He likes flowers, especially roses. Cut flowers are constantly under attack, making the editor dread the arrival of Teleflora trucks. Bouquets of flowers simply translate to constant surrviellance, broken vases, and soggy paper towels. She was recently given a dainty little live plant for Valentines Day.

Lovely, no? How did this plant escape the jaws of Cole? Look closer, it didn't.

One little rose, lots of bare stems.

In an effort to save her baby seedlings, the editor planted a decoy crop: catnip.

Cole has yet to discover it.

Maybe a couple silk roses would help.

March Resolutions

2011-02-28T20:02:00.000-05:00

As the February resolutions worked pretty well, the editor decided to draft a list of resolutions for March. Monthly resolutions are fresher and easier to keep than annual resolutions.

For the month of March, the editor has decided that:

She will be zen about moisture of all kinds, including: snow, rain, water heaters, tears, leaks and animal issues.
There will be no memory lapses in the middle of the night regarding the loss of two bathrooms.
Weight Watcher points will actually be tracked versus rough mental calculations done when convenient.

In the loss of the bathrooms department, Hugh estimated that the job to renovate the master bath will be every bit as excruciating as the editor imagined. No problem: moisture issues no longer faze the editor. The job will be every bit as expensive: who didn't see that coming? Hugh estimates that he can start work mid-summer. Oh yeah, six months without two bathrooms. That's a long time to hold on to resolution #2.

While the bathroom renovation might be a long way off, the shopping for fixtures has already begun.

The editor likes this vanity in polished nickel and with different hardware

One of these is needed

and probably one of these

After the initial shopping trip to scope out possibilities and prices, the editor needed to self-medicate:

She opted for raspberry sorbet.

It's easier to track the points.

Unexpected Water Feature

2011-02-21T09:33:00.002-05:00

Is it snowing at the 1440? Yes, of course. Is the editor zen about it? Yes, it's all part of her February resolutions. Just as almost all of the snow was gone from the backyard and headway was being made in thawing out the front lawn, a new blanket of fresh white is covering trees, yard, and walkways. It's okay, it's February and precipitation doesn't bother the editor.

Let's put that to the test.

On Saturday, just as the editor was drifting off to sleep, Randall summoned her downstairs. This was unusual on two counts: first, because Randall used her first name - something he tends not to do because he is not good with names; secondly, because when she asked why she had to come downstairs, he replied that something bad was happening. Randall never considers events to be emergencies. So after the editor trundled down the stairs, she looked for the problem. The growing shiny puddle in the living room doorway was the cause for concern. Looking up, it was clear that the leak was not contained to one spot. Water was dripping all along one of the beams in the living room ceiling. One of the beams that sits directly under the master bath. The master bath that had no water in use at the time.

Being experienced at water containment in an almost 100 year od house, the editor started wiping up the water and placing buckets under the most egregious leaks while Randall shut off the water supply.

Good look, right?

The next morning after checking to see if all the leaking had stopped, going to the gym and stocking up on supplies to send to Hoboken, a message was left for Hugh. No need to call John the plumber just yet, the water has already been shut off. Besides, this looks like more than a simple repair, this looks like a serious project. An ugly, expensive, serious project. Hugh, who is currently enjoying some sunshine in a southern state, was kind enough to pick up his messages and call Randall and the editor. He will be visiting the future demolition site upon his return.

Randall will be in Taipei then, but that's okay. It's February and the editor is zen.

The advantages of having cats is obvious.

Breaking News

2011-02-04T16:54:00.000-05:00

There is something more interesting to post about than the weather. This is going on outside Lindsay's office building:

Rally In Times Square To Support Egyptian Protesters « CBS New York

By the way, tomorrow's weather: crapfest.

Chicago 20 - 1440 1.5

2011-02-02T11:26:00.000-05:00

When will the editor stop writing about weather conditions? When there is something more interesting to report. Until then, let's have an outdoor update. Don't be concerned, it's all good. It's February and the editor is zen.

For the first time this season, Chicago is the epicenter of storm news. With an anticipated snow total of 20 inches, some awesome snow thunder, and blowing winds, it is being called a monster blizzard. At the 1440, they call it "last Wednesday". Still, the editor feels your pain.

While the 1440 didn't get 20 inches of snow from the storm, an additional inch of snow fell. Yeah, in the snowfall category that is chump change. More significant: the half inch of ice that accumulated on top of it. If, by the road clearer standards, an inch of ice is worse than a foot of snow, then the total precipitation burden was closer to seven inches. Quibble if you will.

In preparation for this lastest weather event, the National Weather Service recommended that snow be removed from flat roofs. Apparently there have been several collapses under the weight of the current snow pack. The editor complied. She's good that way. Randall and the editor spent an hour and a half shoveling snow off of the conservatory roof and Lindsay's balcony. It hardly pays to go to the gym anymore.

Before:

During:

After:

Water heater update: still broken, but Lindsay is on top of the situation.

Tax preparation: slow but sure. Still waiting for lots of documents to arrive in the mail.

Randall travel: leaves Friday for a leisurely weekend in the Big Easy. He heads out to the West Coast next week.

As Puxatony Phil predicts an early spring this year, the editor would like to leave you with some of the scenes that will soon be left behind:

Swim and Ski

2011-01-27T13:17:00.000-05:00

Inviting pool

Want a multi-sport vacation this summer? Over at the 1440, there are specials on our "Swim and Ski" Package. Enjoy the comfort of a temperature-controlled salt water pool just minutes after shushing down the slopes. Thanks to the 20+ inch snowfall in the last 24 hours, all this is available in one backyard.

Adventure Ski Slope

Our slopes are likely to remain bunny trails as Ralph has determined that he cannot add additional snow to the mound. He is in the process of making new mounds, or as we like to say around here: additional trails.

The adventure for this latest storm began at 2:30 this morning when the dog discovered that they could not leave the door - at all, and the editor discovered a snow-laden Arborvitae branch leaning on a power line.

She gingerly cleared the now off the top of the branch using a broom extended from a second-floor window. Then she went back to bed, but not to sleep. The resolution to be zen doesn't kick in until February. With Randall in London and it still being January and all, she was free to lay awake ruminating about falling power lines that would certainly kill John and Ralph when they came to plow and her cleaning lady when she came to clean. No concerns, the cleaning lady was smart enough to stay home. John and Ralph? Another story. Those snow-plowing powerhouses made it to the 1440 in time to let Max get to work for his delayed-opening job. What would have certainly been a snow day in any other winter, was not making the newly-raised bar today.

How does the yard look post-clean-up?

A huge branch is crushing an 8 foot bush.

The driveway

The backyard

The pool (pre-season)

The front yard (it's there somewhere). Note almost-buried tree on left. Good skiing!

The reservation desk is open. The snow is guaranteed to last.

February Resolutions

2011-01-26T10:46:00.001-05:00

As the forecasted half inch of snow this morning edges toward three inches, and the National Weather Service suggests that another five to nine inches is possible, the editor decided to list her February resolutions. Yearly resolutions just don't seem to be doing the job. Monthly resolutions might pinpoint good intentions with more laser-like accuracy.

So for February:

The editor will be zen about snowfall. She will not be concerned about the giant Norfolk Pine falling into the house. She will not fret about running out of heating oil. She will not envision car accidents involving family members who insist on going to work She will not calculate the months it will take to melt the six foot mound of plowed snow at the end of the driveway.
The editor will be zen about the 1440 North. She will fight the urge to battle her way up to Hoboken through the current snowstorm to figure out exactly why the hot water heater seems to be on the fritz again. If everyone else can remain calm in the face of certain hot water heater catastrophe, so can she.
Book selections for the book club will be completed prior to 20 minutes before the start of the club meetings.
The editor will stop, after catching her reflection in the mirror, thinking "Who is that old, tired-looking woman?" She will just avoid mirrors.
More time will be spent petting dogs.
More time will be spent on food journal.
Less time will be spent on the internet.

Over and out.

Typical Day: January 2011

2011-01-21T12:44:00.000-05:00

Wake up do visual analysis of depth of latest snowfall
Take boots out of front hall closet
Put on boots
Chase Rue to retrieve stolen slipper
Clear side porch of snow
Wipe snow off car
Shovel path in back yard
Wave to John and Ralph as they plow the driveway
Wonder if John and Ralph will be purchasing vacation home in tropics with plowing money
Do "clean up" shoveling after John and Ralph leave
Go back in house
Take off boots, put on slippers
Chase Rue to retrieve stolen boot
Dry out gloves, hat and coat
Eat lunch
Determine if ibuprofen is needed for arms or back
Do laundry
Search for missing gloves and hat
Cook dinner
Go to sleep
Repeat

Still, it is very pretty:

Passing Time Between Storms

2011-01-11T19:35:00.001-05:00

Is there anything more boring than watching television broadcasts of plows load up with salt prior to snow storms? This is the suffering that one must endure while waiting for the accumulation predictions.

As the 1440 braces for the third storm in as many weeks, the editor started to take familiar precautions. She rescheduled her dentist appointment after learning that the office will probably be closed on Wednesday. She called the municipal utilities authority to see if they will be posting cancellations for recycling pickups (they won't). She made certain that there are french toast ingredients in the house: bread, eggs, milk (or milk substitute). The editor chipped ice off the driveway from last week's storm, and she emailed her children to certain that they were taking necessary precautions (they are).

Then she went to Hoboken.

The editor has an issue with property taxes. Especially in New Jersey. The property taxes for the combined 1440s exceed $25,000 a year. Every year. This must stop. Shoot, 1440 North doesn't have property that extends beyond its 1151 square footprint. So when the new year dawned and the doors of the Hoboken Tax Board opened for appeals, she was first in line - literally. At least she was first in line at the agency that handles 2/3 of the City appeals. To do this she had to show up to sign papers and checks. If the projected savings materialize, it will be well worth the effort.

Once in Hoboken, she walked up the street to the condo to check on the progress of the water-damaged bathroom and utility closet. Velour, they are complete as shown in the before and after photos:

Before

After

Before

After

Before

After

With the tax appeal, shoveling, ice-chopping, and shopping out of the way, the editor can look forward to a snow day. She doesn't need to concern herself about Randall insisting on battling the snowplows on the road tomorrow as he propels himself toward the office. Randall is in London, having left on Monday and he is scheduled to return Wednesday evening. We'll see about that.

Thank heavens for limos.

BREAKING NEWS:
First turkey sighting for 2011. A hen turkey was seen skittering across the Lord & Taylor parking lot in Westfield this morning. There must be a sale.

No Really, Thank YOU

2011-01-09T14:50:00.000-05:00

Now that the holidays are over, there is not much to do except put away decorations, eat the last of the seasonal treats so that they will not be in the house and dieting will be easier, and write thank you notes.

Sometimes the notes are gifts in and of themselves. The best thank you note that was received at The 1440 this year - or perhaps in any year - came from the editor's nephew thanking them for an online gift certificate. While it is pictured above, the text might be hard to make out. The transcript is below:

Dear Aunt [editor], Uncle Randy, Max and Lindsay,

The consistancy [sic] of your gifts is a shinning beacon of hope in a world of surprising and sometimes disappointing gifts. Thank you so very much.

- [nephew]

Thank you. Your note is a keeper.

When It Snows It Pours

2010-12-27T10:56:00.003-05:00

This is AFTER the snow removal

Texas has nothing on the 1440 when it comes to doing things on a grand scale. Take the 26" of snow that came down over a 12 hour period yesterday into last night (please - badump bump). Or the swell 50+ mph wind gusts that continue into today that are making snow swells of their own.

The residents of the 1440 and 1440 North are all doing fine. Lindsay was dispatched back to Hoboken Sunday morning prior to the arrival of the first flakes. Max was already back at the condo. The editor was assured that they had plenty of provisions, but as it turns out, Lindsay reports this morning that they are indeed out of milk. Milk, bread, eggs: aren't these the staples of any snowstorm (as well as french toast)? What was she thinking?! Ah, the follies of youth.

Anyway, the editor and Randall spent yesterday morning at the gym, and then after filling up the gas tanks on the cars, they settled in for a game of Scrabble, a N@tflix movie, and leftover Chinese food. Grateful that there were no power outages, the editor awoke this morning to a bunch of snow and more adventurous news from the neighbors.

Seems that one of her walking buddies decided to go hiking yesterday, and she and her husband were dismayed to learn that the travel back home was long, treacherous, and nearly impossible (really?). They got stuck three times, once only yards from their driveway. The daughter of her other walking buddy went into labor at about midnight. After a 140+ block cab ride, they made it to the hospital. Whew!

John and Ralph have been out twice to plow out the driveway. The blowing snow made their initial attempt almost completely futile. The editor found this bird's nest on the side porch this morning. The same porch that had been shoveled clean last night.

Another view of the porch.

Unable to resist joining in on the fun, Randall is currently out expanding the plowed area with his snowblower.

If you click on the photo to enlarge it, you can look for the icicles that formed on his mustache.

First he had to clean off his car.

See the car? Try looking very closely for the top of the wheel well near the snow-covered bush on the left. See it? Good.

Of course, prior to working on the car, provisions had to be made for the pooches. The snow got a bit too deep for them to navigate on their own. A puppy corral needed to be dug.

Ben and Rue contributed to the effort.

It's a look.

While the editor offered to help with the efforts, truth be told, she didn't press too hard.

Her duties lie in photo-journalism.

Girls' Day out - Christmas in New York

2010-12-24T16:50:00.003-05:00

Lindsay and the editor had a girls' day out on Thursday. The event was preceded by weeks, nay months, of badgering on the part of Lindsay. She insisted on a mother/daughter day of strolling through the city. Every time the editor suggested a possible day, Lindsay was unavailable. Finally, both time and opportunity presented themselves. The editor met Lindsay at Penn Station and they began their day.

First a trip to City Bakery on 18th Street.

They had the bakery's famous hot chocolate with homemade marshmallows and a pretzel croissant.

The hot chocolate, which truly tastes like melted candy bars, was a fine way to begin a morning of walking, shopping, and a bit of eating.

Reinforced, the two made their way to Union Square Park where the editor purchased a hat.

A pretzel and evergreen holiday tableau

In addition to hats, the Union Square Market had arts and crafts, socks printed with different dog breeds, jewelry, cookies and spices.

As it turns out, Lindsay needed socks, but chose N*rdstrom Rack for her purchase over the the animal-themed footwear at the marketplace. Go figure. Once at Nordstr*m's she found another item or two of interest. Go figure.

Laden with a shopping bag or two, the pair headed to Second Ave and the Black Hound Bakery. Yes, another bakery, but this time the mission was to bring something home. The editor had been looking forward to a visit to the Black Hound ever since she tried a slice of one of their signature Busy Bee cakes at a baby shower last month. It's a culinary highlight:

and pretty cute too.

Back on the village streets with one more bag, the pair threaded their way toward Fifth Avenue, stopping once or twice at stores along the way.

The holiday street and window displays were impressive:

Presents, a fire hydrant and a nutcracker.

The Lord & Taylor windows were swathed with lit pine boughs

The Lord & Taylor windows

More Lord & Taylor displays

A quick detour to Bryant Park offered more shopping:

Dog clocks make excellent holiday gifts.

The carousel at Bryant Park.

Heading up toward Times Square, Lindsay treated for lunch.

Lindsay's favorite salad place.

Lunch in tow, the editor and Lindsay turned the corner to her office. While a photo ban has been placed by Lindsay on her actual place of employment, photos of the neighborhood are still allowed.

The injury-wrought production of Spiderman

The view from one of the office windows.

After Lindsay did a teeny bit of work involving a movie star - once again a banned topic - the pair caught a train back to New Jersey.

And real life.

Happy Holidays.

Before and After

2010-12-16T21:22:00.002-05:00

Lindsay's bathroom has always been a source a pride, a refuge, if you will. Remember the efforts to hang her chandelier?

Not every bathroom has a chandelier. Good news: it still does.

Bad news: it has some other stuff now as well.

It has weeping walls.

It has a new multi-colored ceiling.

Make that a multi-textured ceiling as well.

In short, it has water damage.

Water damage? From where you might ask.

Water first began leaking through the vent.

The one right next to the chandelier.

Then it spread, and spread.

It moved into the utility closet.

The utility closet was never an attractive place, but hey, it was clean, and dry, and one color. Now it is damp and a little runny.

Let's just say that the who incident hasn't gone down well with the residents of the 1440 or the 1440 North.

The initial call came from Lindsay on Sunday.

Sunday was a day of torrential, driving rain and fierce, gusty winds. Lindsay awoke, sometime around the crack of noon, to discover that her bathroom rug was soaking wet. She looked up and saw the leaking vent. She took immediate action. First Lindsay devised a water containment system.

Then she called home. She also left word at the property management company that oversees the building.

Upon advice from the editor, she took photos. "Do I really have to?" she complained, "I don't have a camera."

"Yes, you do," the editor told her. "We need to document this. Go ask your brother if you can use his camera."

Lindsay took pictures on Sunday. When the water stains began to appear on the ceiling, she took photos on Monday. When the walls around her vanity looked like they were starting to melt, she took photos on Wednesday. That was the day that the real estate management company sent out a plumber. They must have figured that they had to before the whole place started to crumble.

Meanwhile, there were the emails and telephone calls that were being exchanged between Lindsay, the editor, and the property manager. Communications that centered around the possible causes of the problem. The editor voted for either a roof problem or a problem with the vent. The property manager was leaning toward plumbing, but was open to the roof suggestion as the roof is under warranty. Lindsay would't speculate on the cause, but kept insisting to the editor that the problem be fixed NOW (and this was even before the weeping walls).

Turns out that the property manger was right. Strike one for the editor's long-range diagnostic skills. A plumbing inspection revealed that the hot water heater in the unit above 1440 North had failed. A sudden failure? Probably not. The editor had asked for water damage just above the shower in Lindsay's bathroom to be examined Thanksgiving week. As she never heard anything back from the property manager she figured nothing was found. Three weeks later it became more obvious.

So, where do things go from here? Today Randall went up to do his own investigation and take more photos. He also wanted to buy more fresh mozzarella and check out an Italian bakery that was recommended to him. He paid an in-person visit to the property manager who told him that everything will be taken care of. First, they will allow everything to dry out. An inspection will be done for mold, and repairs will then be made. From Randall's understanding, they will take care of the costs.

Stay tuned.

Odds and Ends - Mostly Odds

2010-12-02T17:24:00.001-05:00

There hasn't been much reporting lately, not for lack of news- on the contrary- things have been hopping at the 1440. The problem has been that the editor has been busily involved in so many of the events. The eternal conflict between real life and the web. Here's a glimpse of the disparate doings over the last two weeks or so:

November is birthday month at the 1440. Max celebrated his quarter century mark, while Lindsay- who now refuses to disclose her age - also celebrated the anniversary of her birth, an event that took place less than 13 months after her brother's.

Max selected three small birthday cakes,

while Lindsay settled for one ice cream version (Ignore the number on the cake. It's just an estimate).

Thanksgiving always falls quick on the heels of Lindsay's birthday; and this Thanksgiving, like so many others, was spent with friends. In addition to the tradition of playing charades after dinner and before dessert, there was napping, parade-watching, dog-show watching, Miracle on 34th St-watching, football-watching, popcorn-ball decorating, and leftover-packing. Popcorn-ball decorating was a new feature this year. The editor decided that it's important to keep things fresh. While the participants grumbled about it, they still spent over a half hour on the project. The results? An impressive array:

Don't try to find Max's popcorn ball among the pack. His ball broke and he quickly gave up on the effort. [Insert your own tasteless joke here.]

In continuing with the holiday spirits, Randall took a week of vacation time. He spent the week doing home repairs. The ones that the editor would allow him to do. Yes, it was a week chock-full of adventure.

One of Randall's tasks was touch-up painting.

In addition to the trim work, Randall painted

one of Rue's ears,

the other one of Rue's ears,

the carpet (no photo available),

and a container of kitty cookies.

The real kitties wouldn't get within arm's length.

The Three T's and More

2010-11-16T13:39:00.004-05:00

So much to report, so little time to do it. There have been a number of doin's here at the 1440. Autumn is flying by. The Halloween pumpkins are gone and the turkey - the king of all lawn ornaments - is back.

Also gone: Hugh et al. After a mere three years, construction is finally finished. The copper gutter, scheduled to be attached last December - only to be delayed by weather and other projects, was installed while Randall was in Atlanta.

The obsolete satellite dish was removed from the roof (free giveaway! just ask), holes were plugged in the garage, new steps were made and installed for both sides of the side porch, the gutter repair work was completed and the trash was hauled away. The editor is going to miss Hugh. A lot.

Randall's travel is at a lull for the next two weeks. There is a toss-up regarding his next trip: he'll being going to either Budapest or Orlando. Hard to choose, right? The Budapest trip is the new Prague trip. The editor had been planning to go to Prague, but decided not to go to Budapest when plans changed. Now that the sights are on Orlando, there is no way on earth that the editor can be hauled out of the house.

Finally, with the advent of the holidays comes holiday food. Yes, the editor will be hosting Thanksgiving, but the holiday season at the 1440 begins with Halloween. Here's the festive holiday fare that the editor served at a pumpkin-carving party to which she and Randall were invited:

Devil eggs. Both art and a play on words. Tasty too. And easy to eat.

This last attribute was particularly important two weeks ago. As the editor was enjoying a hearty breakfast of Trader J's low-fat kitty cookies, marshmallow fluff, and dried cherries, she felt something hard in her mouth. Harder than a kitty cookie. It was a tooth. Darn.

Good news though: the tooth, along with its handy little post, fell out at 9:00 am and was cemented back in by 11:00 am. Thank you Dr. H. best dentist in central NJ. Since then, the editor has been very careful with food. She has to be. Her dental converage with Dr. H. doesn't kick back into effect until January.

Candied apples anyone?

Vacation's Over, Pumpkin's back

2010-10-28T18:37:00.000-04:00

Randall is now in Tokyo on the last leg of his tour of the Northern Hemisphere. He is scheduled to arrive back at the 1440 early Saturday evening, just in time to attend the two Halloween parties to which he and the editor have been invited. While the editor is not so certain that Randall will actually be attending either party - he has to deal with jet lag, the change in time zones, and packing for his trip later next week - the editor is planning to robustly celebrate the holiday. She is hoping that the final touches to her costume arrive in time for the festivities, but if it doesn't happen, she will improvise. That's what glue guns are for.

Now that Randall is on the verge of returning (his flight will arrive in Newark five minutes prior to its departure from Tokyo), the swinging singles life for the editor and the dogs is coming to an end. No more no-cook dinners, staying up until 3:00 in the morning, or drunk-dialing fast food restaurants. Rue will have to relinquish her claim to Randall's pillows (or as Rue states, "former pillows"). The editor will no longer be able to keep everything in place. The Syfy network might make a reappearance. Life, as the editor knows it, is about to change.

The changes have already started to take place. The editor saw an opportunity for an extremely affordable (virtually free) continuing education workshop. With less than 24 hours to make a reservation, she cancelled her morning walk with friends, sent her regrets to her aquatics instructor, and mapped out the route to her glatt kosher brunch and three credits. She could make due without the brunch. When one forgoes recreation for education, vacation is over.

While the editor learns about the emotional needs of the dying and bereaved, Hugh and Eric will be working on the 1440. They have called in Frank to act as a reinforcement, and the three began to set up equipment for the punch-list of exterior jobs that the 1440 needs before winter sets in. The first thing Eric did was to repair the Tower of Pumpkins. An excellent job.

The reinstalled Tower of Pumpkins

Great, right? The editor was tutored in the lore of replacement fuses. Ahhhhh.

The amazing performance didn't stop there. One of the gutter scuppers will need to be replaced, and scaffolding was erected so that the job could be approached. As the editor worked in her second floor study, this was the view out her window:

It made her so crazy that she had to leave the room and play a quiet game of Chicktionary on her iPad. When her breathing returned to normal she was able to resume her seat at her desk. Has she made much progress on her filing job? The answer would be no.

So with Randall on the verge of return, when will the filing get done?

There's always Atlanta.

Life in the Meanwhile - Part 2

2010-10-27T17:21:00.001-04:00

Along with the losses mentioned in part one of this post, there have been gains as well.

The editor's presentation at a large state university went well. She knows this because people told her so. Also, after the six hour long workshop, she took time to pour over the evaluations before turning them into the continuing education staff at the Instatoot for Familys, the people who hired her in the first place. She went home tired. No, she didn't feel relieved. As with the completion of many of her graduate school courses, that emotion took time to slowly settle over her. In the meanwhile, her schedule was filled for several days afterwards with meetings, the Fall Fair, visits from Max and Lindsay, court hearings, and a medical check-up. The editor felt a bit cheated at the lack of time to wile away aimlessly. She had counted on idle hours during which she could relish the solitude of business trip 2761. Sadly, it was not to be. She is waiting for the promised remuneration for her efforts. It will certainly be a gain.

While everyone was away from the 1440, the editor was able to ~~throw out~~ donate family members' clothing to the semi-annual clothing drive at her temple. The timing for this event was especially fortuitous as there was no one to pull discarded items of clothing back out of donation bags, unless one counts Rue. Rue is very good at retrieving items from trash bags.

Rue is also pretty good at working in tandem with the indoor-cat-who-thinks-he's-an-outdoor-cat with yard adventures. Said cat escaped from the house at 6:00 in the morning yesterday when the editor was letting the dogs outside during the thin light just before sunrise. He arrived back home, of his own volition, later that morning. He was mum regarding his activities. Shortly before the editor took the other cat, the good cat, to the vet for a checkup, she discovered what he might have been up to. As the editor called the dogs into the house before leaving, she saw that Rue was sitting happily on the grass licking something. This is always a bad sign. Upon closer (but not much closer) inspection, the editor discovered a dead bird. It looked like a Magpie, but honestly, the editor was trying not to look very carefully.

She removed the bird, double-checked that birds don't carry rabies, and carried on with her day. Upon being released back into the yard, Rue tried to carry on with the bird, but it wasn't going to happen. What does happen? Deadstock removal events when Randall is away.

What else has been in store at the 1440? The editor laid claim to the best aquatics class Halloween costume for the second year in a row. She shared the title, and the costume idea, with a fellow classmate. Already known as DMT 1 & 2, they appeared at class as sticks of Doublemnt gum, therefore fulfilling their true identities. Photos were taken, photo releases were signed, and the two now fear eternal embarrassment. But then again, they asked for it.

Back at the 1440, the editor has taken on a file re-organization project. It will be massive and boring, but it is long overdue.

This is what happens with idle hours and solitude.

Life in the Meanwhile - Part 1

2010-10-25T19:31:00.000-04:00

It has been two weeks since Randall left for business trip 2761, and there is almost another week until he returns. In the meanwhile, life at the 1440 goes on, albeit more quietly and with less Syfy channel viewing. Here at the 1440, it's all about HGTV and the Food Network now. That and the Angry Birds app for the iPad; but that's another story for another day.

Back to real life, a number of events have taken place in Randall's absence. Among them have been losses, sad losses.

The Tower of Pumpkins, the editor's crowning touch in Halloween decorations, deflated on the morning of the Fall Fair. She noticed that the tower was struggling against the fierce winds of a passing N'or easter as she prepared to sally forth to Max and Lindsay's alma mater. Determined not to waste any valuable shopping time that could be spent at the fair's vendor displays, she decided that she would right the structure when she returned home, versus trying to repair the positioning before she left. If she had attempted the repair prior to her departure, she would have had to put down her purse, and we all know that that wasn't happening. Upon her return, the tower was completely flat on the grass. It had given up the ghost - literally.

In her efforts to revive the pumpkin tower, the editor did some quick diagnostics. She determined that there was no power going from the light pole to the pumpkin. She called the electrician. She then remembered that she had forgotten to flip the switch for the light pole. The tower was still dead. The electrician came anyway.

Rich the electrician put the final touches on the two alternative circuit boxes for the generator. That's right - the two boxes. He gave the editor a quick tour of the equipment, apologizing as he explained that the editor would need a flashlight to go downstairs to the basement. "Why should he be apologetic?", the editor thought as she descended the stairs, "After all, it will be a power failure, of course it will be dark." She was wrong. In their "plan for any potential disaster" strategy, Rich and Randall had decided to install emergency lighting - the kind the one might find in a football stadium. It will never be dark again.

The second loss during Randall's trip: all disposable income.

Technical Difficulties

2010-10-11T22:37:00.003-04:00

It shouldn't have been a difficult day. A busy day maybe, but not a hard one. Randall spent the morning at work and planned to be back at the 1440 at noon. He wanted a little organization time prior to the limo pickup for business trip 2761 at 3:00. For her part, the editor had a CASA visit this morning, a stock selection report to write up for her investment club, and an appointment at a large state university this afternoon to go over the IT needs for her workshop on Thursday.

By noon, Randall was running late. Shanghai had just been added to his travel itinerary and he needed to make some phone calls while at the office. Apparently Randall doesn't read The 1440: his trip to Shanghai was reported here several days ago. Once Randall got home, he and the editor had lunch. By the time 3:00 rolled around, there was no limo. Randall called and was told that the car was scheduled to pick him up tomorrow, a good 21 hours after his flight was departing. He turned to the editor and announced that she would have to drive him to the airport. No, she quickly replied, she was due at the large state university which was in the opposite direction from the airport. After some quick phone dialing, the neighbor across the street offered to take Randall to the airport. Bless her. Really.

The tech appointment, that should have taken a few minutes, took an hour and a half. The IT guy kept repeating that it was a good thing that the editor wanted to have a run through of the set-up as it needed special prep work. The tech guy couldn't open the handout file that the editor had on a flash drive, so she offered to print out a hard copy of the handout at the 1440 and bring it in for duplication on Thursday. Easier said than done.

The editor's printer ran out of ink. The editor's printer produced fuzzy copies of her slides. The editor's printer spilled teal ink all over her fingers. The editor's bathroom sink clogged when she tried to wash it off.

Frustrated that a task that should have taken a few minutes was lasting over an hour, the editor decided to use Lindsay's old college printer for the handout. She brought her computer up to Randall's study. She dragged Lindsay's printer out of storage. She waded through the sea of electrical cords under Randall's desk. She plugged the printer into a power source. Here is what fell out of the back of Lindsay's printer:

That's right - Class of 2009 glasses and a Hello Kitty candy necklace. The editor shook her head, but went to look for a port to connect it to her computer. This was sticking out of the port:

A "The Office" themed pen.

She pulled out the pen, she loaded paper into the tray. As the editor shut the tray, a DC metro card fell onto the desk.

At this point, nothing surprised the editor. She turned on the printer and felt relief as it hummed to life. She pressed print. Nothing happened. The "paper" light came on. She checked again, there was plenty of paper. She shut the drawer but the light remained lit and the printer remained frozen. The editor pulled out the drawer and found this neatly wrapped at the rear of the tray:

So that's where her earphones were. Shoulda known. Lindsay's printer: aka a personal storage system.

How did this girl ever graduate?

Trip 2761

2010-10-07T20:41:00.004-04:00

The Great Wall of China

On Wednesday, the editor and Randall spend the day in midtown Manhattan. Yes, the editor was there over the weekend, but on Tuesday evening Randall called and invited her to accompany him on a trip to the Chinese Consulate. Why? Randall needed a rush visa and the application had to be made in person. Why? Because it seems that yet another destination has been put onto Randall's upcoming itinerary for business trip 2,761.

So where in the world is Randall? Let's see...
On Monday Randall flies to Geneva. Later in the week he goes to London on the first leg of his trip to Sydney. After a couple days in Australia, Randall will be off to Beijing and Shanghai. Upon leaving China, Randall will be traveling to Tokyo. This pretty much finishes up the month of October. Randall will spend five relaxing days back at work in New Jersey before heading down to Atlanta for a week.

The editor? She's staying home. Randall will never be in any one place long enough to merit a "go-with" effort. Besides, someone has to take care of the dogs and the electrician. She is just happy in the knowledge that Randall's frequent flier miles ensure that she might never have to purchase another plane ticket again.

Rush visas at the Chinese Consulate require a complex choreography that reminded the editor of her own time in China. One has to arrive at the consulate early - Randall and the editor got there 90 minutes ahead of the 9:00 opening. They stood in line along the side of the building waiting and watching the early morning traffic. Once the consulate opened, they passed through security and stood in line for one of three visa windows. The line moved quickly and efficiently, in part because the women staffing the windows did not take time to argue or negotiate. If applications were incorrect or incomplete, they politely but firmly explained the problem and turned to the next person in line. Soon after 9:00, the line extended almost an entire city block. Once Randall's paper's were processed - he had to leave the window to complete them and then return to the line - he was given a time and a window number to return to later in the day. Once again, he and the editor waited along the outside of the consulate building until they re-opened for the afternoon's business. After they got inside, there were masses of people everywhere; but once again, the lines moved quickly and efficiently and Randall retrieved his passport with a shiny new visa attached.

In the hours of waiting between consulate visits, Randall and the editor ad breakfast, did some walking and shopping, and took Lindsay out to lunch. The day seemed to be spent almost entirely within a few blocks of 42nd Street - both east and west.

East and west - a fitting metaphor for the month ahead.

Let's Do Lunch

2010-10-05T17:45:00.000-04:00

A cousin flew out from LA for a film premiere. A cousin that the editor, Max and Lindsay haven't seen in person for more than a decade. The last time they were all together they looked like this:

Okay, that might be a tiny exaggeration, but not a lot. Anyway, it has been a long time, and Max has gotten a lot taller in the interim. Lindsay, not so much. All three have also gotten much more sophisticated and worldly. The editor, not so much.

Max and Lindsay took a quick PATH ride into the city and the editor, who was traveling from a greater distance, took a lengthier train ride, made all the longer by having missed the train she planned to take. She was busy trying to assemble her new refrigerator/freezer that had arrived only hours before. By the time she arrived at the midtown restaurant to join the trio, they had already ordered appetizers and beverages and were casually chatting. The editor, who took a wrong turn off Broadway and Sixth, was a little frazzled and exhausted from having run like crazy to catch the train that she ended up missing.

Lunch was great. The cousin is a fun and lively young woman who seems to know absolutely everyone. She is the older and more experienced West Coast version of Lindsay. On the other hand, the editor is the younger, and slightly less OCD version of their grandmother. Max is Max. Some things never change.

The editor hopes that our next lunch date won't be a decade away.

Someone Please Tell Randall

2010-10-01T15:22:00.001-04:00

The editor loves her refrigerator/freezer except for a few issues:

The ice dispenser stopped working about two years ago. It was repaired at a moderate expense, worked for a month or so, and then quit again.
The air lock on said faulty ice dispenser is one of the problems with the unit. The leaky air lock means that the editor no longer has a frost-free freezer. Ice formations are constantly growing inside the freezer and must be chipped away.
While the freezer still makes ice cubes, the ones at the bottom of the ice bucket, those closest to the air leak, all meld together to make interesting, but useless, ice blocks. Only the top layer of ice cubes can actually be consumed.
The interesting ice block sculptures have a tendency to melt, leak through the water/ice dispenser, and spill onto the kitchen floor, creating invisible, but substantial, puddles.
The editor has a habit of unknowingly stepping into these puddles. She doesn't like it.
The leaking sculpture problem is gradually getting worse. The freezer door sports a trickle of water (that makes it look like the freezer is in mourning) on a regular basis. Again, the editor doesn't like it.

There are lots of options to address this problem, but the editor chose the easiest and most direct one. She called up her favorite appliance store - the one that knows her on sight - and ordered a new refrigerator over the phone. Conveniently, she had scoped out a replacement model months ago and had Hugh measure the space for it last summer.

It's being delivered tomorrow.

Someone should tell Randall.

The Sports Page

2010-09-24T17:56:00.000-04:00

The first two days of autumn have been hot, hazy and humid - not unlike most of the summer. Still, thoughts have been turned toward the exciting line-up of fall sports. Randall and the editor are avid player/spectators and have been gearing up for the upcoming games.

Football? Don't be silly. Randall's big activity is disaster prep. Rich, the electrician, paid a visit last night and the two laid out a game plan. Over the course of an hour, they walked the property, poked in and out of the 1440, and huddled over circuit panels. At the end of the visit Randall was giddy. This morning, Rich returned, the editor was pulled from the bench, and Rich shut circuit breakers on and off while the editor shouted over her cell phone when the master bedroom and bathroom lights went off. She then moved down to the kitchen where she shouted similar score information from a different field. These were just the first plays.

In the coming days/weeks, Rich will be rewiring a number of power lines. As nothing can be easy, the 1440 boasts four breaker panels. Lines will be rerouted among these panels to prepare for the big event: generator hook-up.

Unsatisfied with the thought of running extension cords from different appliances to the new generator, Randall is looking for the creation of a central power backup. Rich is more than happy to see this dream come true. Using the interlock of the circuit panel, Randall and the editor will be able to transfer power for a select team of players from the power grid to the generator with the flick of a few switches. Both Rich and Randall are delighted with the number of appliances and outlets that can be powered while all the neighbors enviously peer out at the 1440 through their darkened windows. Score!

Meanwhile, the editor's favorite sport is adjusting the thermostat. The house is too hot, the house is too cold. Sweaty, chilly, sweaty, chilly.

She refuses to believe that her internal thermometer might be to blame.

The Editor's Loose Thread of a Life

2010-09-21T17:59:00.001-04:00

It all started with a portable generator. Randall ordered it, and as it weighs almost two hundred pounds, the delivery people were reluctant just to leave it on the side porch as they do with all of the other packages. Instead, they scheduled a day for someone [i.e. the editor] to sit home during a six hour delivery window to accept possession of the large box.

Portable generators are outdoor toys not indoor amusements. While waiting for the delivery of above-mentioned generator, the editor decided to make a home for it in the garage.

It seemed a shame not to have a nice open space for the box, and as the garage was filled with large paper bags filled with branches, leaves, and other yard waste, the editor decided that it was time to tote the bags out to the curb.

She finished this task just as the delivery van pulled up to the house.

With the box situated at the rear of the garage, the editor surveyed her surroundings. Bits of leaves and grass were left on the garage floor, and filmy cobwebs were draped over windows, bicycles, and corners. A fine layer of sooty dust covered almost every surface. (At this point, the reader should be reminded that the garage - along with the basement, and his office - are "Randall territory".)

Really, there was only one thing to do: use a blower to clean out some of the debris that had accumulated since the garage was last cleaned - a long, long time ago.

As with many things, this was easier said than done. Randall has three blowers: two gas-powered and one electric.

To this day he denies having a hoarding problem, but that is not relevant to our story. What is germane is the sad fact that the editor could not get either of the gas-powered blowers to start. She tried and tried with no success at all. After hunting down a heavy-duty extension cord, she found that she was unable to plug the electric blower into the receptacle. She needed a plug converter to act as a conduit.

Taking a trip into the house, the editor began to look through the kitchen drawers that she thought were most likely to house a plug converter. As she rooted through two of them, she discovered - to her horror - that the garage was not the only area in need of cleaning and a little organization.

Unable to contain herself, she emptied one drawer and then turned to another.

Then she remembered her original mission. She located the plug converter, left the kitchen strewn with rolls of plastic wrap, tape, and storage bags and returned to the garage.

Ten minutes later, the top layer of dust and cobwebs had been removed. After the air cleared and the editor decided that the new generator could rest comfortably, she went back into the kitchen.

She relined the drawers, sorted out their contents, and threw out as much as she possibly could. With this accomplished, the delivery was complete.

Who knew that waiting for a generator would lead to a wastebasket full of old air fresheners?

New Year and New Business

2010-09-12T21:16:00.001-04:00

With Labor Day and the New Year falling within a few days on the calendar, time has expanded and contracted at a dizzying pace this week. The editor gave up trying to remember which day was which around Tuesday. To complicate matters further, both Randall and Lindsay prepared for international business trips: Lindsay's first, Randall's 2,759th. Randall was traveling to Sweden to meet with governmental authorities, Lindsay was winging it to Toronto to hobnob with film folk. The editor likes to think of herself as managing domestic logistics.

Part of the editor's role involves transportation coordination. She helped arrange for Max to get Lindsay's 90 pounds of luggage to the 1440, she promised Lindsay a ride to the airport after services, she informed Randall that he would be doing the driving. The last task proved to be the most labor-intensive.

Early in the week, Randall readily agreed to take Lindsay to the airport. On Tuesday, she reminded him.

"When's Lindsay leaving?", he asked.

"Thursday"

"Thursday?"

"Yes, she's coming home Wednesday, she leaves on Thursday."

"Oh, okay"

After a long day of cooking on Wednesday, a successful dinner, and services, Randall asked if Lindsay was going home. Max had already hightailed it back to Hoboken.

"No", he was reminded, "she's going to Toronto tomorrow."

"How's she getting there?"

"You're driving her."

"I am?"

"Yes, you agreed to, remember?"

"Oh"

Thursday dawned bright and crisp. As the first day of the year progressed, the three remaining members of the 1440 moved in their individual orbits, coming together for a late lunch. During lunch, Randall turned to Lindsay.

"So when are you going to Toronto?"

"Today"

"Today?"

"Yes"

"How are you getting there?"

At this point, the editor began to seriously try to recall the early signs of Alzheimer's. Either the time warp of the week was also effecting Randall or he was in need of some serious evaluation.

Lindsay got to the airport with no further problems. Two days later, Randall got to the airport as well. For Randall, it's easy - a car picks him up.

Travel Plans

2010-09-01T13:33:00.001-04:00

Travel, vacation, or the lack thereof, has been a controversial topic at the 1440. Randall, who was recently told that he has four weeks of vacation time every year, has yet to take advantage of most of this year's allotment. Vacation time does not roll-over, it cannot be bought out, it is strictly a use-it-or-lose-it proposition. So far, eight months into the year, Randall has used a day and a half.

Randall's lack of vacation does not indicate a lack of travel. So far this year, he has traveled abroad to Malaysia, Switzerland, England, and Italy; domestic travels have taken him Washington D.C., California, Colorado, Ohio, Louisiana and other assorted places. He will soon be heading off to Sweden, followed by a trip to Australia, and then back to Europe. So while, there hasn't been much time off, there has been a significant accumulation of frequent flyer miles in the event that a vacation ever comes along.

Meanwhile, Lindsay is preparing for her first business trip: a week-long jaunt to Toronto for their annual film festival and bug fest. She has purchased a new suitcase, some clothes for the multiple premiers she will be attending, and has been working insanely long hours in preparation for the festival. All the work and planning has made her keenly aware that she has not had a proper vacation since her trip to the Dominican Republic during spring break of her senior year at college. This tragic realization has launched long conversations regarding her desperate need for some R&R, preferably a cruise.

Lindsay's discontent merges with the editor's general ennui and her growing frustration at the prospect of seeing more than three weeks of Randall's vacation time vanish into nothingness. The editor had been engaged in some preliminary travel planning, but each effort was thwarted by another business trip or meeting. She has given up trying to schedule any travel, and has handed the responsibility over to the person whose work calendar is comprised of shifting sands. Randall is now in charge of shepherding his own leisure activities.

Meanwhile, Lindsay has drawn up a list of possible travel destinations for her own future days off. She's like to take a trip to Los Angeles, she wants to visit her grandparents in Florida, and she wants to go to some other hot spots. Lying in the pool last Saturday, Lindsay explained to the editor, "I want to go to Vegas. I've never been, and I'm not getting any younger."

Neither is the editor.

Peter Peter Mater Eater

2010-08-27T13:45:00.003-04:00

This has been a tough season for many gardeners. The lack of rain has meant miserly, curled cucumbers, wilted lettuce, and feeble squashes. There have also been reports that tomatoes have been under an unusually virulent attacks by pests. Lots of insects are preying on a struggling tomato crop.

Over at the 1440, the crops have suffered, but not to the extent that others have. The tomato crop has been abundant and basically healthy, although the editor admits that she has had to sacrifice a number of 'maters to insects who worm their way into the fruits before she has a chance to harvest them. She is constantly engaged in a classic bit of gambling: one more day to ripen on the vine, or pick it now before it comes under attack and let it go to maturity on the windowsill?

The tangle of plants characteristic of late season tomatoes.

Now the editor has a new adversary. She heard a rustling in the vines when harvesting her daily crop of vegetables this week. As with most issues that might cause her concern, she ignored it. When the plants shook at the end of one of the raised bed, she could no longer attribute the disturbance to her vivid imagination. She moved a step closer to the source of the action. All was quiet. She stood still. She weighed her options. She made a noise. The tomatoes made a noise. She jumped back. The tomato plants shook in response. She looked for the dogs to protect her. They were laying in the sun.

Knowing that she was about to go mano-a-mano with nature, she gingerly stepped over a trailing vine and moved closer to the source of the action. Stretching out her arm as far as it would go, she tentatively pushed aside the plants closer to her. She bent down and this is what she saw:

Yes, there was a rabbit in the garden. Thankfully, it is not of the attack bunny variety. She replaced the vines and went into the house. The dogs stayed out to enjoy the sunshine.

The next day, the editor again went out to harvest produce. She checked the tomato plot and her garden rabbit was still there.

Apparently the little guy, who she has named after the Beatrix Potter character, lives happily in the tomato plants. He does not mind sharing, nor is he opposed to be photographed. Peter and the editor have a mutual understanding that there are enough vegetables for both of us.

One question: why won't anybody eat the eggplant?

Irving, you gave Joel 20 f-ing million dollars! *

2010-08-22T13:22:00.002-04:00

Restaurant karma. It exists, and for the editor, it's bad. At times, really bad.

Last week, after a long, hot day when guests had been entertained and the editor did not feel like cooking, she and Randall decided to go out to eat. Their wants were simple: something close by, inexpensive, and casual. As dusk was beginning to settle, they drove off to pick up some household staples and grab dinner on their way back home. They stopped at a large, glitzy establishment that hosts weddings and private parties on the upper floors, while serving more casual food in a downstairs restaurant. The restaurant features a large salad bar, perfect for a summer meal.

Well it would have been perfect had the salad bar still been there. In its place was a large buffet bar extending across three walls and featuring an intimidating number of covered chaffing dishes. Not wanting to eat the equivalent of a wedding reception menu, Randall and the editor hightailed it back to the car and went up the block to a tavern nearby. The same tavern restaurant that offers free all-you-can-eat barbeque on summer evenings to accompany its all-you-can-pay for drinks and side dishes. It is a popular promotion. So popular in fact, that it is all you can do to find a parking spot. Having no luck with that, the weary couple decided to drop by the Italian place across the street. Also across the street: a free live band performance on the town green. It was a popular concert. So popular in fact, that no parking was visible for blocks in any direction. Finally, Randall turned to the editor and said, "Let's just go to the diner."

As all of the town folk were either eating ribs or listening to Do Wop music, Randall and the editor decided that only a few customers could be at the diner. They were right. A host promptly seated them in a booth in a large dining room where only a half dozen tables sat occupied. Three waitresses moved among them. Seated in the booth adjacent to Randall and the editor was an elderly couple. The wife, a small severe woman, with the taut skin of cosmetic surgeries past, sat hunched over in her seat wearing a broad-brimmed hat and sunglasses. Her husband, tall, lean, and a bit stooped, sat opposite her wearing slacks and a golf shirt.

Motioning to the waitress, he asked, "Hey, how's that iced coffee coming?"

As the waitress left, his wife complained loudly, "Why didn't you just ask her for iced coffee? What's with the 'How's the iced coffee coming'? She doesn't know what you want. Why not just ask her?"

The waitress returned and asked if he wanted milk in his coffee. "Cream", he replied, "I take cream."

"For God's sake, why not just die?!! You're going to f-ing die" screeched the wife. "Cream?! You're going to kill yourself. Oh f-ck it".

From the editor's perspective, they were both pretty close to their expiration dates anyway, but she found the whole exchange very amusing and she leaned over to Randall and exclaimed, "This is the best restaurant ever!"

While waiting for their order to be taken, there was little to do but to listen as the conversation in the next booth continued. Actually, it was impossible not to listen as the decibel level of the couple bounced their exchanges across the dining room.

"What should we give Zach for his bar mitzvah?" the man asked.

" F-ing nothing. You gave all your money to Joel."

"You don't want to give him anything?"

"Irving, you gave Joel 20 f-ing million dollars! You gave away all of your money. You gave Joel 20 f-ing million dollars!"

Irving grumbled under his breath as his wife continued, "The whole thing makes me sick! 20 f-ing million dollars. I can't even eat my egg now, I don't want it anymore. Get the waitress. Tell her I don't want the egg. You gave Joel 20 f-ing million dollars."

"What about the bar mitzvah?"

"You gave away all of your money Irving. You gave Joel 20 f-ing million dollars. You want to give more away?"

At that point, much to the editor's disappointment, the couple pushed themselves out of the booth and shuffled to toward the cashier where they waited for their order to be packed "to go".

Randall and the editor sat waiting for their order to be taken. And waiting. And waiting. They watched as their waitress glanced at them and then seated herself at a booth across the restaurant to take her break. The host/cashier shook his head sadly as Randall and the editor left to leave. He explained that he had twice mentioned to the manager that no one was serving the table with no results.

After four attempts to dine out, Randall and the editor headed to a drive-through window and ate at home. Food in wrappers: it seldom disappoints.

*Names in this story have been changed to protect the oppressed and the bar mitzvahed.

Girls' Weekend

2010-08-19T16:48:00.001-04:00

Lindsay and the editor went on a three-day weekend trip to Chicago. Chicago is the home base of the editor's entire family. While the editor grew up in Cleveland, and spent the first 23 years of her life there, the rest of her immediate family-of-origin up and bolted to Chicago while she was in college and have remained there ever since.

Chicago is a nice town, not as nice as Cleveland, but it will do. They have some excellent hot dogs, which the editor will no longer be eating, and they have a mighty fine roadway along the lake, but nothing really compares to Cleveland's University Circle and Tommy's Restaurant. Besides, while most other major cities settle for their fireworks in the air, Cleveland has the distinction of both a river and a mayor that have caught on fire.

Anyway, the weather in Chicago was much like the weather at the 1440: sunny, hot, humid and uncomfortable. There is not much to be said for the weather this August (or July or June) except that we've saved a lot of wear on umbrellas. The editor's father braved the heat to pick up his granddaughter and the editor and escort them into the city. There they were met by Aunt Diane, Erin and Ross. At least they thought it was Ross. He was taller and quieter than either Lindsay or the editor remembered, but the rest of the family seemed to accept him as one of their own, so Lindsay and the editor kept their suspicions of an impostor to themselves. The group was joined by Uncle Kerry for lunch at a riverfront restaurant for lunch (good, but not as good as Tommy's). More walking after lunch convinced the group that the weather called for a movie. After about two and a half hours of air-conditioned entertainment, everyone headed up north for a lovely dinner, pleasant company, and rest before fueling up with a big pancake breakfast. Okay, maybe Chicago has something over Cleveland.

A highlight of the visit was meeting Sam, the newest addition to the family. Sam is a particularly handsome Siamese cat who has been trained in a variety of feline martial arts.

Aunt Diane and Erin drove the editor and Lindsay to a farmer's market, where they picked up assorted fruit and baked goods, stopped in the see Uncle Kerry and Ross - or at least the person posing as Ross - and then the four girls went west to visit their mother/grandmother.

Lindsay sampling pickles and drinking ice coffee while Aunt Diane talks Garlic Dill

Another furry - very furry- friend greeted Lindsay.

The weather in Chicago continued to be sultry, so the foursome took in a movie and then went out to dinner. The next day Grandma Janet made an excellent brunch and the girls watched a double feature prior to leaving for the airport.

Sadly, there was no movie on the plane.

Hot, humid weather met them back in New Jersey. So good to be home.

Editorial Note

2010-08-10T12:37:00.000-04:00

As a teenager, the editor dabbled with being a vegetarian. It didn't last very long.

As a adult, the editor gave up veal. Apart from very limited occasions, she never ate pork. Still doesn't.

Last year, she stopped eating lamb.

Last month, she stopped eating beef.

She's still eating chocolate.

She'll let you know how it goes.

All I want for Christmas is My Two Front Doors

2010-08-10T11:27:00.000-04:00

After the brief detour in Hoboken and coverage of the wedding celebration, it is time to turn back to the doin's at the 1440. As reader might recall, when the driveway was being prepared there was a problem discovered with the garage. Hugh and Eric have returned to the house in their professional repair capacity to fix it.

First, the garage doors needed to be removed so that header could be installed. A temporary wall was erected to support the structure. As was noted earlier, there was precious little holding up the front of the garage before. So while the temporary wall, pictured above, makes the garage look like a jail cell, at least it is a secure one. Ever see the inside of the garage? No? Want to? It's part of Randall's domain. Randall's domain consists of the garage, the basement exclusive of the laundry room, and his third floor office. Randall's domain is different from the editor's domain. Randall is a pack rat, the editor is not. The editor is organized, Randall is a pack rat. The editor likes to keep things clean. Randall is a pack rat.

Here are the garage doors folded up behind the ladders.

Here is Randall's collection of aerial hoses, extension cords, and lone picnic umbrellas.

This is the view of the 1440 as seen from the garage.

This is theft deterrent system Hugh devised when work is not in progress. Examine the gutter line in both of the photos below. The sag in the center of the first photo has been remediated in the latter picture.

Turning to the front yard, the editor planted flowers in the newly created beds along the walk.

It took only a couple days for the deer to find them.

Deer prints next to the breakfast hosta

The parched earth next to the bed is an indication of the summer-long drought here.

Over at the 1440, flowers only grow well under protected circumstances.

Nuptials

2010-08-07T21:54:00.004-04:00

Contrary to previous reports, Max has not gotten married, but recently one of his close friends did. This event was shocking on a number of levels. First, Max's friend is less than one month older than Max. Clearly, they are at much too tender an age to be wed. Secondly, Max and the groom have known each other since six years of age, and during the editor's long acquaintance with the groom, she never took him for the marrying kind. The heart-breaking kind, the dallying kind, the subject-of-the-bail-bondman kind, yes; but the marrying kind, no. But in circumstances almost as far-fetched as Max's courtship with Shoshana Goldenberg, our young groom met a winsome, mature, and intelligent woman who has set him on the path of straight and narrow.

So to celebrate the union of this young couple, Max was invited - via a tuxedo-shaped cookie - to be a groomsman, and the rest of the family was invited - via multiple invitations- to join in the year-long festivities. There was an engagement party last summer, a bridal shower last spring, and the wedding ceremony last week.

All of this celebrating came at a cost. Apart from the obvious tangible congratulatory tokens presented at each gathering, the editor forced her feet into uncomfortable shoes with imposing heels, had to purchase two dresses appropriate for their respective invitations, and spent about a week's allotment of calories at each of the three functions.

Then, of course, is the cost of humiliation.

The editor, uncertain of the level of formality for the wedding, spent several weeks fretting over the type of dress that she should wear. It was clear that the wedding called for an "occasion" dress, but should the dress be floor-length? Given that the wedding mass was at 4:00, that seemed unlikely; but knowing that the reception was at 7:00, it seemed almost certain that a garden-party frock was ill-suited as well. While shopping, almost all of the cocktail dresses that she saw were black, and she was reluctant to wear black to what was certain to be a very traditional wedding. After several purchases and several returns, she settled on a vibrant knee-length water-colored floral print with a satin sash. The dress has a crinoline underskirt which made it immediately endearing to the editor who last wore such a skirt as a young child in the early 1960s.

The editor had a manicure, pedicure, haircut and blowout in preparation for the event. She mused that she hadn't spent half the amount of time or effort in grooming for her own wedding 31 years earlier. All the same, looking presentable in public was easier then than it is now.

So as she settled into the car on the way to the chapel, she felt that she was as prepared as she was ever going to be. Randall remarked that the dress was very flattering. Then he added one caveat:

"You might want to get rid of that thing though before we get there."

"What thing?", she asked.

Then Randall pointed to the security tag securely fastened on the editor's skirt.

In an instant "oh-crap" moment, the editor knew that this might just ruin the look.

Thinking quickly, she directed Randall to drive directly to the Lord & Taylor's store where she purchased the dress. While he waited in the parking lot, the editor tottered quickly over to the first sales desk that she saw. She discretely interrupted a conversation between the clerk and a customer by explaining that she had an emergency. As she shared the story with both women, the clerk looked at her sympathetically, shook her head, and said that there was a problem. She held up the tag removal device and demonstrated it was tethered to the counter with a six-inch cord. "Not an issue", the editor replied, and she stepped behind the counter, hoisted up her skirt, and the security tag was removed.

After apologizing for the interruption once again, she raced, as fast as four inch heels would allow, back to the car.

The wedding itself was beautiful. The bride was lovely, the groom was handsome, and the groomsmen looked great.

Max had a number of tasks during the nuptials, one of them was handing out tiny bells that guests rang as the bride and groom left the chapel.

He was also forced to pose with his father during the reception.

The entire experience provided the editor with valuable tips regarding wedding planning.

Like she'll ever need them.

Has it been forever?

2010-08-05T21:56:00.002-04:00

Or does it only seem that way? The editor has had lots of news to report but she has been sorely waylaid by that pesky Rutgers presentation. She is feeling the pressure of a full day of yapping at an audience this coming October and has decided that she really needs to buckle down and crank out some more slides for her presentation. She has currently finished over 50 slides, but the editor figures that she is only about half-way through the misery. The reasons for her disdain when considering a career in academia are all coming back to her. In November, she officially returns to her goal of keeping her head as empty as possible. Now, on to the current news:

It has been almost two weeks since Randall and the editor have visited 1440 North. The reason for this is simple: all the pressing repairs and furniture assembly are complete. Let's take a look:

Viola! Max's bed has been assembled and his room has been put in order.

These photos were clearly staged, as it will never be this clean again.

Moments after these photos were taken, Max started to "live" in his room.

Velour! Lindsay's chandelier, which was originally meant for her bedroom but was later relegated to the bath, was finally hung.

Before the chandelier could be put in place, the ceiling had to be patched and repainted, the walls had to be patched and repainted, the towel rack had to be rehung, and two sets of bulbs had to be purchased. Let's hope the toilet never has to be replaced.

Voila! The final result. Lindsay has effectively ensured that anyone with a Y chromosome will never want to use her bathroom. It was all part of her master decorating plan.

As far as the editor's duties go, she ensured that the refrigerator and freezer were stocked.

And that there was some food in the cupboard.

Violet! Her job is complete (for now).

Some of the best news: there is still hot water.

Pink Cadillac/ Blue Heaven

2010-07-27T19:22:00.003-04:00

You may wonder how come I love you
When you get on my nerves like you do
Well baby you know you bug me
There ain't no secret 'bout that
Well come on over here and hug me
Baby I'll spill the facts
Well honey it ain't your money
'Cause baby I got plenty of that
I love you for your pink Cadillac

`Bruce Springsteen

The editor grew up in a "car" family. No getting around it. Her father, a mechanical engineer prior to earning his master's degree, worked for most of his career in or around the automotive industry. As a result, the editor grew up with racing patches, caps, pens, calendars and other ephemera bearing the logos of auto parts companies. She heard fabled stories of exquisite pieces of automotive machinery. She watched as her brother and father made an annual pilgrimage to Indianapolis the way that some travel to Mecca. It is no wonder that, when able, family members made purchases befitting their love of the automobile.

Behold the first 2011 S4 to be purchased and delivered in the State of Illinois:

This choice piece of machinery was recently bought by the editor's brother and his (lady) partner.

Here is the editor's father's current pride and joy (apart from the editor, of course):

And finally, here is the Buick Opel that Randall bought from a colleague:

Randall spent many hours trying to beat back the rust on this baby before turning his attention to fence posts.

There's a lot to be said about the influence of nature over nurture.

Good News, Bad News Part II

2010-07-21T20:46:00.003-04:00

In yesterday's installment, the editor's car was sideswiped by the resident backhoe (pictured above) during the removal of the old asphalt. While the asphalt was being excavated from the front of the garage, rot was discovered at the bottom of the center post in the garage.

After Hugh and Eric provided an estimate to make the needed repairs to the garage, the rest of the asphalt removal went smoothly. Smooth does not mean easy. It took a crew of over a half dozen workers almost nine hours to spread new asphalt on the drive. First, the boundaries needed to be marked out and the pitch needed to be established:

Then the drive had to be compacted:

And the asphalt was spread:

It will be over a week until a car can be driven on what one neighbor now refers to as "The Garden State Parkway North Annex". If Randall has his way, it will be closer to two weeks. Foot traffic is currently permitted, but wheeled trash cans and lawn mowers are not allowed. Nor are high heels. So all foot traffic apart from Lindsay is allowed.

The river of asphalt that is the new driveway.

What to do while the tar is drying? Spending time as a landlord of course. Monday was spent once again looking toward the promise of hot water. The editor cleverly arranged to have both the HVAC repair person and the delivery of the missing part of Max's bed scheduled for the same 1:00-5:00 service window on the same day. Her train pulled into Hoboken terminal at 12:30 pm, she strolled into Energy Kitchen to pick up her lunch, and was at the condo by 12:45. Five minutes later the HVAC guy Vince called to say he was on his way. Good news.

An hour later, Vince arrived and began the repairs. The week prior, the ladder that provides access to the building's roof was missing a bolt that attached it to the wall. The editor had called the building management company to request that it be fixed, and it was! Good news. After the air conditioning condenser on the roof was fitted with a new inner coil contact, the burner assembly on the hot water heater was replaced. At this point, the editor was feeling like a truly competent landlord. The cost of this self-esteem was only $552.

As the editor settled back on Lindsay's couch to enjoy Comedy Central reruns and wait for the furniture delivery, she emailed Randall and the tenants to apprise them of the progress. Then she called to confirm that the bed piece was actually going to be delivered: yes, it was on the truck and would be delivered before 5:00. Then the editor went back to admire the pilot on the hot water heater. What pilot? The editor checked her watch, it was less than an hour and a half since Vince left, and it seems that he took the soul of the hot water heater with him.

After speaking to an emergency technician on the phone who talked her through the re-ignition of the pilot light, the editor was informed that the earliest that a service technician could return would be the next day. The next day? The editor explained that she would not be there the next day - nor would the tenants who work during the day. Crap.

While ruminating upon the high cost of hot water, the editor found it hard to concentrate on the television, her book, or almost anything else except the time. The time that was ticking by without a furniture delivery. Finally, at 4:45 she broke down and called again for a status update. The delivery was still on its way. Good news.

Even better news: when the seven-foot box arrived at 5:30, it was not delivered to the sidewalk - as was the "back of the truck delivery agreement" - the driver brought it up on the elevator and unpacked it. He was a balm to a harried soul. He also mentioned that the box was crushed. Oh. Maybe the editor wanted to inspect it prior to accepting it? Yes. When it was removed from the box this is what the editor saw:

Bad news.

The good news? The break is probably not in a weight bearing area and the break will not show as it is on a location that sits under the bed slats.

The bad news? There was only about half of the promised hardware needed for the assembly of the many pieces of bed strewn on Max's floor. Randall had to purchase the nuts, bolts, and screws on the way home to the 1440 as it was now too late in the evening to put anything together.

The good news? The editor got the store from which she purchased the bed to give her $100 back and promise to exchange the broken piece if it turns out to be necessary.

More good news: the re-lit pilot is still burning.

Cross your fingers.

Good News, Bad News

2010-07-20T22:37:00.001-04:00

Basil harvested from the garden

While this basil has absolutely nothing to do with the report below, it is pretty to look at. Please admire it for a moment or two before venturing to the summary of the latest events at 1440 and 1440 North. The basil made four batches of pesto shortly after this photo was taken.

Now that you are fortified, dear reader, by the image of greenery it is time to travel the ups and downs of the last week (or so):

Work continues on the 1440. Consider this good news. John used the resident backhoe to start removing the old asphalt from the driveway.

Unfortunately, in the process of excavation he discovered that the bottom of the center garage post had some area of rot.

Garage roof being shampooed last fall

This was no huge surprise as the garage has always had its share of tough times. Randall has reinforced the center post on at least two occasions, but as he is busy with the gate posts in the basement, it was time to call in the professionals - the carpentry professionals.

Hugh and Eric drop by the 1440 on a regular basis to check up on Ralph and John, just to ensure that these guys are doing their jobs. And to answer the question that must be on your lips: no, this monitoring does not come at an additional fee. It's all part of the salon atmosphere that has developed since the conservatory project. Workmen like to visit - often. So when Hugh and Eric appeared later that same day, the editor asked them to scope out the post. They are scheduled to replace a window in the garage and do some other minor garage work anyway, so the post repair could be slotted right in. A few minutes later, much to the editor's chagrin, Hugh asked her to follow him to the garage. This is never a good sign. It was then that Eric demonstrated that the entire front post could be kicked out of place. She was also notified that the header beam supporting the front of the garage was conveniently absent. Was it safe to be standing in the garage? she asked. "For the time being" was the reply.

"What might this cost?"

"We have to think about it." (Once again, not a good sign.)

So the editor returned to the house with the certain knowledge that all of her budgeting plans had just been shot to hell.

Later in the day, John rang the bell on the side porch.

"Could you come with me? I have to show you something."

The editor, now reluctant to follow anyone anywhere, felt her heart sink a little deeper into her chest. As she followed John trying to calculate what might have been unearthed at the end of the drive, she saw a silent Ralph pacing back and forth. This had the potential to be bad, very bad.

But in a stroke of luck, it was good news! John reported gravely that the resident backhoe had side-swiped the editor's car and she needed to inspect the damage.

No, the damage to the car - which required a week in the shop - was not good news, but the fact that it didn't cost the editor a cent was excellent news. John and Ralph were mortified and distraught over the incident. The editor simply felt relief. After all, it was only an accident. Here is Max standing next to the editor's car:

Okay, may this isn't the editor's car, but it's close.

With the repairs complete, the editor's car looks as good as new.

Work on the driveway continued. Last Friday, the editor returned home from the gym to find the street populated with trucks.

So many trucks that it was hard for her to believe that they were all there for a simple driveway project. But is anything really simple?

To be continued...

Procrastination, Thy Name is Editor

2010-07-06T14:13:00.001-04:00

The editor has a history of being talked into commitments that she later regrets. The list of these activities is long, too long to fully elaborate, but let's just say that they include everything from purchasing coordinating linens for students going off to college to helping organize conferences and assuming leadership roles in non-profits organizations. The editor has a hard time saying no - although it should be noted that she is getting better at it - often times because the pitch that it given is so effective.

What makes these requests so compelling? On reflection, they often involve common elements:
1. First, the editor is told how much she is admired (at this point, she is willing to agree to almost anything).
2. Then she is told that she has a particular skill or skill set that is in short supply, but is sorely needed (she is one step closer to saying yes even before a question has been posed).
3. She is told that the obligation will not require much work, money and/or that it will be "fun".
4. Finally, the requesting organization and/or their representatives will forever grateful for the assistance. At this point, she has been captured.

Once the deal is done, the editor frequently experiences the painful feelings that come with second thoughts and the knowledge that there is no worming her way out of the trap that she has let herself fall into. With the exception of the purchase of coordinating linens, these jobs are rarely fun and they almost always involve much too much effort.

The most recent, and one of the most onerous, assignments has been in agreeing to conduct a six hour workshop involving ethics in adoption for the continuing education program of a very large state university. Doesn't the very mention of the topic put one to sleep? The editor is tired just typing about it.

In addition to the organization, research and writing that is involved, the editor has to teach herself a new software program to compile a slide show. Since she switched computer operating platforms almost two years ago, she's had to learn/relearn a lot of stuff.

Best of all, the editor agreed to do all this work without even asking how many magic beans they were willing to pay her for her efforts.

Anyway, in an effort to do anything but work on this presentation, the editor has come up with a number of alternate activities. They include:

Cleaning - sadly, she doesn't like it.
Cooking - ditto
Reading her book club book - once again, it's no bueno
Taking the recyclables out to the curb - this can only be done in moderation as it is very hot outside
Exercising - ditto
Checking for the mail
Playing games on her computer - unfortunately, she can still see the tabs for the presentation on her screen while scoring points on solitaire.

So she decided to write this blog.

The presentation is in October. Expect a lot of complaining from now until then.

The Tale of the Gate Posts

2010-06-28T14:40:00.001-04:00

The last edition of the 1440 detailed efforts to assemble furniture for 1440 North. 1440 North is not the only location where assembly efforts have been required. There is a long-standing home repair project that is just about to mark the fourth anniversary since its inception. Now presenting "The Tale of the Gate Posts":

Once upon a time, the 1440 had a privet hedge that featured a wooden gate and supporting columns. There is also evidence that matching columns once flanked the driveway, but that was long before the current owners were in residence.

It must be said that when the current owners settled here in 1993, the gate was in rough shape. It needed significant repair and a workman once remarked that the gate itself looked as though it might impale someone. Opinion noted.

As the years progressed, the gate and posts became harder and harder to maintain. The ravages of nature were winning in their battle against wood putty and paint. It eventually became evident that the whole structure was going to need to be replaced.

Before the demolition, Randall took meticulous photos and measurements so that an exact replica could be made.

Great measurements, right? Sadly, they were for naught.

Sometime between July 2006, when these photos were taken, and the present, Randall's artistic vision changed. At the 1440, everyone seems to have an artistic vision of some sort or another. Unfortunately, Randall kept his to himself. He began to buy decorative moulding

and tools

in an effort to implement the new design. The one that was in his head. The one that keeps changing.

Currently, there is no gate, only posts. The posts live in the basement. They are very tall. Much much taller than the originals.

They also appear heavy.

They have capitals that are going to be assembled at some point, but theses pieces keep undergoing design trials.

The decorative moulding? Who knows where that will eventually land.

Speaking of landing, there is one more minor problem. Remember the original gate?

It lived at the end of the brick path. That's right, the brick path that John and Ralph demolished when the editor was at the gym.

And when the walk went away, so did the cement supports for the posts.

The cement supports had 36 inch footers

John and Ralph just knocked those babies down.

Without the supports, the posts won't stay up.

New supports can't be dug because one side would be much too close to the new gas line. The editor won't even entertain the thought of more digging in that area of the yard.

So what will become of the gate posts?

So far, like the St*r Trek franchise, this story has no ending.

1440 North

2010-06-25T21:58:00.003-04:00

It's been a long week at the 1440. Way long. Mind-bending, bone-tired, adrenaline-pumped, and muscle-aching long.

The final inspection of 1440 North went well last week (was it only last week?), at least as well as could be expected. The new handle for the microwave was at the condo, just not on the microwave. The other repairs were more or less done and the place was as clean or cleaner than the editor expected. Score!

What all the toilet-flushing, window-opening, faucet-testing, and light-switching didn't reveal was the lurking hot water issue - but more on that later. It was fun to see the unit stripped of all remnants of previous owners and looking like a pretty blank slate.

Entry hall

Living Room/Dining area/Kitchen

Kitchen

Max's bedroom

Max's bathroom

Max's room again

Lindsay's room

The window that qualifies Lindsay's room as a bedroom

Lindsay's room again


Lindsay's bathroom

As soon as the editor got the keys at last Thursday's closing, she promptly had the locks changed. She handed one of the new keys over to the painter and waved goodbye. The following day she checked in on the progress of the painting with her good friend Hilary, had lunch on the riverfront, and beat it back to suburbia.

Saturday was a break in the action, as the painters had to finish, the paint and repairs to the walls had to dry, and the fumes had to dissipate. Honestly, there was nothing to do but lounge by the pool with friends and then attend an excellent Summer Solstice Party (thanks Billy and Charlie).

But alas, while Saturday was a relaxing break in the action, it was both short-lived and not to be repeated. Sunday, the official Let's-do-Cleaning-and-Make-Repairs Day was blighted by the news that Randall's flight from Italy was going to be two hours late. No, make that two and a half hours late. Sorry, it's actually three hours late. At that point, the editor knew in her heart that Randall was not going to be joining them. She knew that Alitalia had some serious 'splaining to do. She knew that she was going to have to rally the troops and head to Hoboken. She did, but first she had to explain to a perfectly coiffed and manicured Lindsay that white shorts and a cute blouse might not be ideal cleaning clothes. She also had to tell Max that his dream of watching a World Cup game at a friend's house that afternoon was as deflated as her once high hopes of having Randall's assistance. Everyone suffered.

There are no photos of the cleaning efforts on Sunday as Lindsay is unwilling to be photographed looking like a regular person and Max was surly enough to break any decent camera lens. The reader will have to use his/her imagination. While they both scoured their bathrooms, the editor tackled the kitchen, cleaning all of the shelves, cabinet doors, and the refrigerator/freezer.

Wearing gloves to protect her hands, it took the editor a while to notice that the hot water was taking quite a while to heat up. In fact, it didn't seem to be heating up at all. Max confirmed that there was no hot water in his bathroom and that the shower he took in the condo on Friday, as he prepared for an alumni party down the street, was tepid at best. This is when the editor knew that the hot water she tested in the sinks on Monday was the last of its kind. She was not is a charitable mood. She called the building management emergency hotline, risking a $100 fee should the situation not be deemed worthy of the term "emergency". She was told that unless she wanted to pay a plumber for an after-hours call, it would be best to wait until the next day for a service visit from the plumber who was referred to her. She left the plumber a message. As of this writing, he still hasn't responded. The editor then remembered that one of her very best friends is a master plumber! How could she forget that? Apparently, frustration, exhaustion, and anger contribute to reduced cognitive functioning. This is handy to remember. So she called this plumber who graciously walked her through a check of the pilot, which indeed was unlit. Unwilling to play with attempts to relight it herself, she was talked through turning off the hot water heater and calling it a day.

Randall arrived home five and a half hours late. Happy Father's Day.

On Monday, the movers arrived right on schedule. They loaded the boxes lickety-split and hit the road back up to Hoboken.

Randall and the editor beat the truck up to the 1440 North by about ten minutes - just enough time to call the parking authority to explain that the No Parking permits that the editor had paid thirty dollars to procure were of no effect. They graciously sent over a traffic officer who was able to locate the owner of one offending car and who had the other violating car towed.

Life was looking up when the movers informed the editor that they could uncrate and assemble furniture if she wanted to pay the hourly rate. You know she did. After all, it took Randall an entire afternoon to assemble a pot rack and two days to put together a shoe cabinet. There were two beds to assemble. It might mean weeks.

In the process of bed assembly, the movers discovered that Max's bed was missing a piece - a big piece. Borrowing a little internet service from an unlocked account, the editor was able to use her iPad to track down the vendor who sold her the bed and request a replacement piece. It should show up by the middle of July. The mattress delivery was a bit smoother. At least Max can sleep on something - if he ever moves in. More on that later.

The rest of the day was spent assembling furniture, breaking down boxes, and checking for hot water. Uh oh. The pilot light went out again. And again. And again. This prompted another master plumber call. After several possibilities were offered, it was suggested that perhaps dirt was clogging an air intake at the bottom of the heater. Randall cleaned it, replaced the air filter that the editor had found floating loose in the closet the day before, and re-lit the pilot. It has remained lit every since.

Tuesday was spent with more assembly, a Fios installation (which was later interrupted when someone cut the wires in the basement), and lots and lots of cleaning. By the time Lindsay came home on Tuesday, the condo looked like this:

Somebody has excellent landlords.

Max hasn't seen the condo since the move. Sure, he's glanced at photos, but he's still living at home. Why?

It's closer to work and the Fios hasn't been fixed. But more on that later...

C Day

2010-06-16T19:12:00.001-04:00

Tomorrow is the scheduled closing day for the condo. The editor is ready. She's got the hideous amount of money for the remainder of the balance and the assorted closing fees in the form of two cashier's checks sitting in a secure location . She looks in on them often, checking and double-checking the amounts. She has scheduled the locksmith to arrive in the afternoon. She has arranged to meet the painter to give him a newly minted key once the locks are changed. She has packed toilet paper, her iPad, a cell phone charger, and granite cleaner for use during the hours between the closing and the locksmith. She's prepared - a least she's pretending that she is.

During the inspection of the repairs on Monday evening the editor saw two tenets of 1440 North entering the building. From watching them and trying (unsuccessfully) to greet them, the editor picked up some hipster tips. They are as follows:

1) Be an ash blonde.
2) Walk as if you see nothing in your peripheral vision.
3) Understand that your allotment of cool is a limited quantity and others can take it from you. Therefore, interact with no one.
4) Assume an expression of slightly annoyed indifference to your environment.
5) Ignore middle-aged women who wear polo shirts. They could not have anything of value to offer you; indeed, they might be costly to acknowledge (see rule 3).

Both of the tenets were women, so it is hard to gauge how male hipsters should act.

If the editor hangs around the front stoop a little longer, maybe she'll find out.

1440 North

Anniversary Weekend

2010-06-13T19:35:00.000-04:00

An anniversary has a bigger meaning here than in many other places. Sure, the 1440s celebrate wedding anniversaries, but they also commemorate the anniversaries of the additions of family members. This weekend, two anniversaries were noted: yesterday marked the 24th anniversary of Max's arrival home from Korea, and it was one year ago today that Rue joined the family.

Not to suggest that one occasion was more important than the other, but Rue did get a present and lots of treats all day long. Just sayin'.

Max spent his special day getting a haircut, watching the World Cup match between the US and England at the home of a soccer-crazy friend, and having dinner brought in from an Indian restaurant.

Returning from his haircut, Max's car was approached by a wild turkey. It was five feet from the vehicle! Thankfully, the encounter was in the middle of a well-populated town center and Max was not forced to be alone with the bird. Max cited the very fact that the bird was strolling down Broad Street in the middle of the day as evidence of the bird's limited intelligence. Who's arguing? Again, Max took this encounter as a clear sign that he must leave the area. To his knowledge, a wild turkey has never been seen in Hoboken - with the clear exception of upon a bar shelf.

On the other hand, Rue lives for the day when she can see a big wild bird that she can chase around the yard. The resident bunnies have gotten so tame that they don't even bother running away when the dogs are outside. They sort of meander into the underbrush.

Bird sightings or not, the dogs don't plan to leave.

At Logan Airport during Max's arrival

Baby Rue

Things a Friend Taught Me

2010-06-11T21:21:00.000-04:00

A guest entry to the blog:

I had a young friend, well actually more of an acquaintance, that I met last fall. She felt like a friend because, from the moment we were introduced, she acted like a friend. She smiled broadly. She took me aside and asked me to help her make decisions. She rolled her eyes in my direction when someone told her something that she didn't like, as if she and I shared a secret understanding. All of this within about 30 minutes. To be able to be this engaging is a gift.

She had many gifts: a contagious sense of enthusiasm, a wicked sense of humor, a dead-on understanding of duplicitous behavior, an ability to love madly and deeply, a sense of loyalty, and a sense of fun.

She also had a terminal disease.

She understood her options, she knew her limitations. She didn't allow either to stop her from living as full a life as possible; and sometimes those possibilities were extremely limited.

After our brief meeting, I knew of her more than I actually knew her. To say that our relationship was anything more than peripheral would be an overstatement. Still, I learned from her even though she never sought to teach me anything. I don't think that she ever considered herself an example, but she was.

What she taught were incredibly simple things: it is good to be mobile; it is good to feel good; it is good to have control of your choices; it is good to enjoy home, family, friends and bourbon. It is good not to forget that these privileges won't be ours forever.

May she rest in peace and may her family find comfort and strength in her memory.