This Olde House - Part 5.5

Time to say goodbye to my new friend, The Dumpster. I certainly couldn't have done it without him, but it is time to part ways. (Has it been a month, already?)

Most of the visible bones are either jack-hammered pieces of tile or ancient wooden slats that framed the living room and dining room. Buried in there somewhere are the antique, 1960s gas heaters as well as several deep maroon wood panels and dozens of plastic Powerade bottles. None of it will be missed. All of it is destined for landfill.

The departure of the dumpster marks the highpoint of the construction. We've done most of the hardest parts. The rest is cosmetic. Finishing the walls, finishing the floors, nailing up the crown molding and the floor boards and the casings. Caulking. Sanding. Painting. And then we can rest.

Goodbye, my friend. You don't have to go home, but you've got to get out of here.

This Olde House - Part 5

So the next big project is the floor in the kitchen / dining room. Liam is modeling the existing tiles. By themselves, they aren't bad. But the grout lines are nigh on an inch wide, so they collect dirt like stink on a pig. Combine that with the fact that we've removed the wall between the two rooms and plan to unify the flooring in both of them, and the inevitable conclusion is: the tile has to go. And of course, I am the one doing it. With my charming assistant: Boo Bear.

The empty spot Liam is standing on (above) was formerly a cabinet. He's facing where the wall used to reside. With such a massive gap already leering at me, I started there.

Liam fired up the camera and snapped a couple of action shots as I began the adventure. It is a bit blurry but that is how it began: a twenty year old weight belt cinched around my waist, knee pads bearing my bulk, and a thirty five pound jackhammer chattering away in my fists.

At first, it was really really cool. I love power tools. And I absolutely love the personal application of destruction to the world around me. High carnage means high energy from me. I gnawed through the first dozen tiles in fifteen minutes. Last weekend, it took me and my father together almost an hour to do it. Today I'm doing it by myself in minutes.

I'd knock up several tiles. And as I'm shifting around the floor, Liam hops to it. He's picking up the big pieces and throwing them into the wheel barrow. He's pushing smaller pieces into a pile with the broom. He's snapping pictures. Answering the phone. It's amazing. And I actually have a problem keeping up. At least for the first hour.

By the second hour, my charming assistant was running out of steam. I was holding my own, but the buzz was beginning to fade as the bones in my hands began to grow numb. We started to figure out shortcuts to help ease the burden. Liam grabbed a little shovel and filled up the wheelbarrow in scoops rather than one piece at a time. And I started to get a feel for the proper angles for the hammer.

By the third hour, we were half way done. But Liam had jumped ship. He put in a good couple of hours and was an enormous help. So I let him head to the front yard and play with the neighbor kid. But one last photo before I fly solo. Notice the diving line Liam is straddling? And the shovels? And the full wheel barrow?

When I had to do it all myself, I would hammer up an entire row of tiles, fill the wheel barrow, haul it outside, and shovel everything into the dumpster. It took about half an hour per row. And there were six rows to do.

Around the last hour, Mom came over. She bathed the kids and took them to dinner. With everyone out of the way, I pushed through and finished the whole kitchen. But I could barely move by the end. My hands had no feeling, my arms were like rags, and I could barely aim the hammer. I think it took me half an hour to do the last six tiles. And Mom came home just as I was shoveling the last of the debris.

Then she dusted for two hours.

And then Cindy came home and dusted for two hours.

And then I had a stiff drink and prepared to sleep like the dead.

Kudos for Kiddos

Meg & Liam both go Bayou View Elementary. Seeing as Cindy is the school nurse, I guess you could say she goes there, too.

Today, they officially announced they had been awarded the US Department Of Education's Blue Ribbon award. Only four schools in all of MS received the award. Bayou View was the only elementary school among the four, the rest were high schools. So out of the entire state, only BVE was the only Blue Ribbon elementary.

We moved here because of the quiet neighborhoods, the proximity to a good school, and the short trip to all the Grandparents. (Gigi is only a little more than a mile away!) Knowing that the kids' school received one of the highest honors in the nation makes it that much better.

Good job, kids. Great job, teachers. The whole school has set an example that the rest of the Gulf Coast needs to follow. In the wake of Katrina you proved that where there is a will, there is way.

Remembering Roamer1

Stanley Cline would have turned 32 today. He shared a birthday with another famous Georgian: Jimmy Carter.

I sent a couple of Instant Messages to the folks who knew him. Maybe somewhere in the ether, he felt the karma of our thoughts nudging the memories of him. It is still so unreal to have lost him. I get odd calls from strange area codes, and I think: "I'll call Cline to see where that came from." But Cline is dead. Somebody asked me today, "Which are the Top 5 cell providers in the US." And I thought to ask Cline. But, Cline is dead.

I visited the ghost of Stanley for a little while. What we have left of him. Scrolled through his Live Journal page. Trying to figure out how we arrived at this point. Adam said Stanley's house was completely normal. Nothing out of place. No notes. No signs of foul play. Did we miss something? Were there obvious signs we should have seen? I don't think so. I still don't see it, if he left something on his blog.

Stanley's website is gone, already. But I found copies on TheWayBackMachine. It isn't the same. But it is all we have left for remembering Roamer1.

This Olde House - Part 4.5

I decided to take most of the weekend off from construction work. I'm just burned out. Between the kids and the house and the job and working out, I needed some time to decompress.

The only thing I did this weekend was rip up the tile under the washer and dryer and 'fridge. I thought it was going to be a simple affair. I thought wrong. Very wrong.

It took my father and I forty five minutes to dash up a dozen tiles. Both of us with hammers and chisels and crowbars. Especially difficult to get it out of the corners. Bad angles. Didn't want to bash up the walls. So our backs paid the price. And I had a huge throbbing blister on my right forefinger within an hour.

And that was only a dozen tiles.

I'm gonna rent out some kind of jackhammer or at least a sledge hammer. That tile was a beast.

There's at least another six dozen to go. Between now and next Friday. And I haven't even started to think about the demo on the small bathroom.

My achin' back.

MOVIE: Eastern Promises

It is a grim omen when your movie begins with a hemorrhage. Eastern Promises starts with a torrent of blood and continues the flow for nigh on two hours. Gritty. Remorseless. And untroubled by anything clean or sane. It's a disease of a movie, slowly gasping out its last breaths until it has nothing left to give.

I think it was about counter-balances. It all begins with a violent death, the end of a life. On to a dying mother and the struggles of her child as it fights for life. A feeble newborn, slick with her mother's blood. One character is a nurse (who tries to bring people health) and a mid-wife (bringing new lives into the world.) The other main character is referred to as an undertaker (preparing the dead for the next world) and a Russian thug (bringing anything but health to several people.) The love and forgiveness of family members contrasted against the loyalty and dedication of an organized crime family. The two worlds co-mingle while conflicting on multiple levels.

One character's loss is another character's gain. And in the end, there is always some form of balance. At least that's what I think it was trying to express.

Short version? Good flick if you don't mind the rough edges. But you're put off by violence, nudity, or rampant vulgarity, you may want to skip this one.

Vegan vmail

Left on my voicemail:
"Hey, Daddy. It's Liam. I tried salad today. Mommy made me one. With cheese and Goldfish. It tasted like leaves. I tried ranch dressing, too. It tasted pretty good. I dipped my fork in it. And had three bites. Anyway, call me. Or talk to me when you get home. I had salad. I love you. It's Liam. Bye!"

How does he know what leaves taste like?

The Wounded

Cindy inflicted a pretty gnarly flesh wound upon herself today. She was cleaning up some of the debris from the gap in the master bathroom, when she brushed up against a jagged piece of tile. By jagged, I mean "sharp enough to slice right through her."

I dashed home. Her mom dashed her to a nearby clinic. The doctor stopped the bleeding and doused her with some Superglue. So she lucked out and didn't get any stitches. And we both lucked out because I guess the doctor had a crush on her and decided not to bill her. If he had, it would have been $300 for the use of his eagle eye and a couple of drops of glue.

If a clinic can get a hundred bucks per drop of adhesive, I'm in the wrong business! Nothing like making a tidy profit off the wounded.

Sweaty return

For the first time since I started renovating the house, I managed to slip into the gym. Felt great! Pilates went pretty well. Except for the stretching I did before class. I've lost soooooo much flexibility that I'm almost too embarrassed to being attempting some of the moves.

But it all started to click again once I fired up the iPod and hit the free weights. Lots of reps. Lots of sets. Lots of difference exercises. Chest and triceps. Everything worked out better than I planned and I imagine I'll be back in full force next week.

I wrapped it up with a 3.5 mile run/job on the treadmill. I didn't really get up to full speed, but only halfway through, I was perspiring like the fat bastard that I am

It was quite a sweat return.

My kingdom for a nap

"Insomnia is a gross feeder. It will nourish itself on any kind of thinking, including thinking about not thinking. " ~Clifton Fadiman

Sleep never came. For the second night in a row. What came were endless obsessive diagrams and schematics. Over and over. Plans for building M.C. Escher-esque walls and corners. Impossible designs that I had to unravel and construct in my living room. And as the night continued its slow endless creep toward morning, I couldn't stop the thoughts. I couldn't snap out of maddening fugue state.

I couldn't put the pieces together. I couldn't make them edges meet. And though I know I wasn't awake, I don't think I slept.

Our little narc

An actual email bouncing around the household:

From: Liam McDougal
Date: Sep 18, 2007 4:01 PM
Subject: Meg chewing
To: Cindy McDougal
Dear Mom, Meg was chewing on her ponytail holder and now it is all
slobbery.From,Liam

Couple of thoughts:

1. The boy is 8, and he's emailing tips to his mother?
2. Slobbery?
3. Where was Meg while he was composing this bit of prosecution?
   
4. Why didn't he CC his Daddy???
   

This Olde House - Part 4

Another fun filled weekend. By fun, of course, I mean "Back breaking manual labor and trying to convince Cindy to chill out and trust me on this whole "renovation" thing.

Per the new norm: Click any picture to enlarge.

The living room and dining room have been primed with two coats of drywall primer. Five gallons of the stuff. We are glad to be rid of the red wall panels! Now, the wait between stages of the project isn't nearly as bad, since we don't have to suffer through crimson walls burning our retinas.

Cindy went ahead started painting the ceiling in the living room. I gotta admit, at first I didn't think we needed to burn cycles on the ancient popcorn. But once Cindy started rolling it on, the difference was staggering. Check the photos, but we didn't have a white ceiling, we had a gray one! Not for long, though. Cindy put her back into it and covered up the haggard old thing. Quick note: popcorn ceilings suck up paint at a phenomenal rate. Two gallons for just one room!


After Cindy cleared some space, I whipped out the rollers and dropped the big green hammer. Check the furniture all covered in plastic. Loads of fun there, too. We pretty much haven't been able to use the living room for two weeks. But that just helps encourage us.

Anyway, the green paint went down pretty slowly. It's a fairly dark color and any thin areas showed up quickly. I'd start rolling new lines and notice old places where I hadn't put it down thick enough. So I'd roll back over that a couple of times. Two steps forward, one step back. But once it was down, nobody would ever know the horror of the red wood panel walls!

Of course you can't keep the kids under wraps for too long. And it was only a matter of time before they came up for air. Which means they fired up the Nag Machine and switched into Full Auto Fire mode with "I Wanna Paint!" and "Can I Paint!" A few thousand rounds later, I had to give in to the fullisade. First up was Ms Meg. Couple of the finer details from the picture: 1) Check the safety glasses that Cindy made her wear, 2) She's barefoot and still wearing her PJs, 3) Check my sharp flipflops!, 4) Yes, I'm sweating like a stuck hog, paintin' hard work! Anyway, she slapped down a couple lines of the green paint and quickly grew bored.

As you can imagine, The Boy didn't want to be left out of the equation. He threw on some shoes and joined us on the front line. By this time, I'm about half way done with the living room. He had the floors covered with paper so I left him go to town. He did a pretty good job and stuck it out longer than his sister did. Unfortunately the picture doesn't do any justice to the scope and magnitude of his Bed Head. The whole mass of his hair was pretty much one fluffy cow lick, but it doesn't show up very well. It looked like he'd stuck his toe in a light socket!



Once the kids were spent, Cindy wrapped up the ceiling and I wrapped up the walls. Here's a shot of the long wall with the windows. No more panels. No more Little House On The Prairie casings. It does look a bit TOO green, but the white of the windows and the white of the crown molding will offset everything. Fix up that old ass door one day, too!

Several hours after we got started. And here's the opposite wall, with Lady McD tidying up the mess. Her safety glasses came off long ago. And check her favorite Braves shirt. See the green paint? Heh heh heh. The back is even worse. I don't think that one will see the light of day in public again.

And that's our weekend. Painting, painting, and more painting. Next steps: level the floor in the dining room, rip up the old tiles, put down the new tiles, and new molding for everyone.

SSDD

Had a really bad ending to a conversation with a friend of mine today. Most unexpected. One of those twisted Stephen King endings complete with green peals of lightning and exploding corpses and all manner of villainy that I never saw coming. One minute we're discussing the endless woes of parenting, and then next it looks like I'm going to get violated by a wine bottle.

For me, exit stage left. I've exceeded my drama threshold.

However it did reinforce a tenant of mine: I chose to define myself by the way I overcome my problems than to define myself by my problems.

This Olde House - Part 3.5

Some early mid-demo shots of the bathrooms. We're not planning on doing much with these in the short term future, but since I have a dumpster ($250/month!) in my driveway for only two more weeks, we decided to go ahead and get under way with some of the work.

First shot is the current Master Bathroom. The gaping hole is the former home of a 1960's gas-powered wall heater. Point of conjecture here. I'm not sure exactly which Southern Mississippi this house used to be in, but the one it is in now has Winters that are so cold we usually wear shorts up to Christmas. And in thirty years it has snowed down here a grand total of... um... TWICE! So I imagine the heater saw action less than a dozen times since Nixon took ofice. And speaking of the 60s, check out the sweet color scheme we have in here. Yellow tile, green fixtures, and a white linoluem floor. One day, dear friends, one day I'll breathe new life into this humble salon.

Second shot is the smaller bathroom off of the Master Bedroom. Aside from the lovely hole (yes, another heater!) of interest we have pink flooring, powder blue tiles, mustard yellow walls, and a fine fine fine wooden toilet seat. News flash: pee & wood are not the best of friends! Anyway, we barely use this bathroom and never shower in it. So I'm going to go ahead and demo the whole thing and get it ready for an overhaul once the living room and dining room are completed.

Any progress is good progress, in my book.

MOVIE: Dragon Wars

About once a month, the Sci-Fi Channel hauls out a really nasty, low-budget crapfest composed of grotesque acting, pitiful dialogue, and insane plotlines. Fortunately, those shows are free and I can change the channel.

The fact that I not only paid to see this movie, but that I didn't walk out after the first fifteen minutes speaks poorly to my intelligence and theatrical tastes.

The plot was limp. Liam & I couldn't have been more confused. Fortunately, Liam got to eat popcorn, the last 10 minutes had some fairly interesting special effects, and it was a short movie.

Final verdict? One of the characters said said best: "What are you talking about?" Unless you're into Korean folklore and half-ass acting, keep away, keep away, keep away!

MOVIE: 3:10 To Yuma

My father and I caught the evening show. Just the two of us. My brother, Jason, was supposed to join us. But he backed out. We missed him.

I can't say I saw the original 3:10 To Yuma. (Considering it was from something like 1957!) And I can't say I'm a big fan of Westerns. But I do like Russel Crowe. And I'm a big fan of Christian Bale.

The acting saved the flick. The writing wasn't bad, but it was predictable in some places and over done in others. And it rapidly degraded to a full blown shoot-em-up in the final minutes. Complete with a horde of villains expending hundreds of rounds against a hero that can effortlessly dispose of a dozen of them with pin point accuracy simultaneously running across rooftops on horseback and rustling cattle.

Good characterizations, great direction, and gorgeous settings. But it required too much of a willing suspension of disbelief. And I couldn't relax enough to enjoy the movie while suspending so much.

Final verdict? Worth renting to see the "extras" but no reason to pay more to see it on the full screen. Unless you're a Western fanatic...

Counting my blessings

Cindy drove up to Jackson yesterday, for a Nurses' conference. I woke up with the children and did the dance: make the bed, get dressed, get fed, make lunches, brush teeth, and be nice to Daddy while he throws off the fog of sleep.

It made me realize how fortunate I am to have Cindy. The kids are great, but they're a handful. And they're usually filling Cindy's hands each morning.

And that's on top of tending to the house, shopping for the groceries, and fixing dinner.

I should count my blessings more often.

Here there be pain

I don't know how. I don't know why. But I can barely walk. Maybe it was the squatting in the attic. Maybe it was the demo work. Maybe hauling sheet rock. I dunno. I just know it hurts.

I'd ache when I had to get out of my chair. I'd winch as I'd walk to get something to eat. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. Like a gang of really angry midgets punching me in the quads.

And since I pretty much didn't get more than three hours of sleep last night, there's pain and there's exhaustion. And there is little else.

This Olde House - Part 3

Eighteen more hours of work on the house. This time we dropped the wall between the kitchen and the dining room. And put up a 14" header. Something to match the one we blew out last week.

Couple of pictures to mark the occasion. (Click them to enlarge, I think.) The first is the "before" shot. The cabinet is going to come out. The wall is going to come out. And there is a large standing cabinet barely visible on the left that is going to come out. As a bit of foreshadowing, the big Spanish tiles on the floor (along with the huge grout lines) are next on the hit list.

The next shot (click to enlarge?) is half way through the demo process. We removed the cabinet and most of the sheet rock. Now, exposed for the first time in probably a decade, you can see the original color of the wood panels. I think it is pea green. Darker than lime. Lighter than grass.

Those are wooden tongue-and-groove boards we're about to smash. They were as hard as rock. "Seasoned" Dad said. "Old," I said. I wish I could have re-used them, but I beat them silly and they're resting outside in the dumpster.

Last shot (click to enlarge!) is the finished product. The goal was to open the space and create a natural flow between the kitchen and the dining room. So there's now a 14" high by 144" wide header where there used to be a wall. Mission accomplished?

In the background of the second and third shots, you can see the results of our adventures last week: lots of new sheet rock and lots of dried gypsum mud. There used to be painfully red wood panels back there. They hurt Cindy's eyes. They made me almost sterile. But now they're gone. Never to see the light of day again.

I diced up the sheet rock. Dad did the electrical action. We both did the demo and carted off the scraps. Not bad for a weekend's work.

Improvised Colon Grenade

Under normal conditions, I'll pass on greasy food. I'm not usually partial to eating a fast food burger that has been simmering in a puddle of its own juices.

But today wasn't normal. I've been prepping for tomorrow's battle royal with the kitchen wall. Much of my morning was spent in the attic. The airless, sweltering attic. Stripping off tiles and boards from the old roof that was covered with an extended roof when the former owners enclosed the garage. I had to cut through the old roof to get direct access to the ceiling joists.

It wasn't fun. It was brutal. It was sweaty. It was cramped. And dank. So I loved it.

And then, on a ride to Lowe's, I passed Checkers. I haven't eaten a fast food burger that wasn't flame broiled since we moved down here. But it was there and I was hungry. And HOLY JUMPING CHRIST IT WAS GOOD! A triple thick triple cheese Nascar grease bomb with a side of fries that tasted like God Almighty himself fried up for me.

I've spent a long time trying to convince my friends and family of the dangers of fast food. And know I realize why they've been laughing at me for a very long time. I crave another one, already.

This Olde House - Part 2.5

Many times, little things make a difference. Take for example this little project. The subterranean moles that used to own the house not only had an affinity for disgusting paint colors, but they also loathed light. In our bedroom, the ceiling fan didn't have any sort of attachment for light. So I added this subtle little piece to it. And now, we have light. One less thing on my Honey-Do list.

My other experiment with lighting was outside the front door. We used to have a faded, 1960s plastic light that had amassed two inches of gnats under the bulb. I replaced it with a rustic looking piece that had a lot more character and a lot fewer bugs concealed within. (Click to enlarge!)

When I say, "I" did it, it actually means "my Dad." He does the electrical. I do the heavy lifting or demo work. And, of course, everything was picked out by Cindy.

Two projects down. Ten thousand to go.

September 9th

My younger brother celebrated his... um... 34th birthday, today. Mom, Dad, and I went over there for a while. Liam was running a fever, so Cindy stayed home with the kids.

Jason's friends and their kids were there and we all sat outside talking about our adventures and life in post-Katrina Mississippi.

Sadly, I don't remember what we did for Jason's birthday two years ago. I'm not even sure what we did LAST year. It's all a gray fog behind my old eyes.

Sorry, Jay! But I'm sure you'll understand now that you have Morgan to eat up your spare braincells. It's all down hill from here, bro.

This Olde House - Part 2

Another day of toil and strife. But it we reached all our goals and I'm extremely happy with the results. First up is the next view of the front door. Click to enlarge and you can see the new light switches Dad installed. Notice the lack of raging red wood panels. How about the missing wood trim? All new sheet rock in place and the first layer of mud is down.

Next up is a new view of the long wall stretching toward the kitchen. All new sheet rock. And click to enlarge to see the new outlets along the bottom. It'll look much better once the mud is finished and smoothed and we get to the painting. But even like it is now, we're happier than we were with the wood panel and the red paint job. Maybe it is a trick of the mind, but I think the acoustics have changed. And the lighting is greatly improved.

Remember the white wood paneling around the dining room window and the big thick trim? All better, now. New dry wall in place. A new outlet below it, which isn't visible because of the my camera angle. And some temporary contractor's blinds in place to keep out the voyeurs.

Barely visible at the bottom of the picture (click to enlarge) is the gap that will have to be filled with new cement. I hung the dry wall all the way up to the ceiling, so there's space where the floor needs to be raised. I'm still trying to find a contractor to do that. And I'm not at all happy with the quotes so far. We're talking about a 12' x 15' room here, but the first quote came in at $400 and the second for $550, just for the labor to finish the concrete. The materials alone will be $250!

Finally, a picture of the expanded wall between the dining room and living room. The gap used to be barely ten feet wide. Now is it ten feet. That's my surprised bride about to say something profane!

Still a lot of work to do. The mud has to be skimmed and sanded. We'll probably put up two coats of primer. At least one coat of flat paint. And then the floorboards and crown molding. Sometime thereafter, I'll replace all the ceiling fans.

And miles to go before I sleep.

Her own waves

Cindy called and told me about the scores for Meg's literacy test, today. The average score was around 100 points. Meg scored 133. Even though she's only in Kindergarten, she's already reading on a second grade level.

So, much like her brother, Meg (click the images to enlarge) is well ahead of the game. Five, going on fifteen. And she's turned out to be a magnificent artist. I'll post some of her amazing artwork if I can get a decent picture of it.

This girl doesn't follow in anybody's wake. She's going to make her own waves.

This Olde House - Part 1

Labor Day is supposed to be celebrated mainly as a day of rest and marks the symbolic end of summer for many. At Chateau McDougal, it marked the beginning of This Olde House. A project to overhaul our living and dining rooms, and to re-do the floors in the dining room and kitchen.

The first Before Pic shows an example of 1) the red paint in the living room, 2) the wood panel lurking under the red paint, 3) the Little House On The Prairie molding that trimmed and cased everything and cleverly accentuated the freakshow red wood panels. IT ALL HAS TO GO!

The second Before Pic shows the white wooden panels in the dining room and the thick wood trim. That ceiling fan is out of there, too. And it doesn't show, but the floor is almost three inches lower in this area. I'll probably have to get it filled with cement and finished to be level with the kitchen and living room. Maybe I can convince Cindy I have cement finishing skills? Well, maybe not.

The third Before Pic is looking from the dining room into the living room. Notice the red wood panel walls? Won't be with us much longer. The trim around the everything? Next on the list. Once the walls are pretty and there is new molding, I'll send those two old school ceiling fans packing. First, though, I'm going to demo the left side archway in the picture and expand it to at least ten feet, maybe twelve. Right now it is only six feet of opening, and it constricts the space. I'm gonna open it up. Let some more light shine through.

* * *

Several hours later. The first After Pic. We've removed all of the trim (Liam was a huge help. He hauled all the pieces outside after I ripped them up.) And we tore down the wood panels on the entryway. That's my Dad on the left. He's measuring to see how wide we can safely make the gap. Thankfully, it is not a load-bearing wall.

That's my Mom on the right. Not sure what she's up to at the moment. But most of her day was spent cleaning up our multitude of messes and bringing us Powerade.

And the second After Pic is looking from the living room toward the dining room. Meg wanted to contribute, so I use here she is. Shortly there after, the wooden studs on the right were removed and the 2 x 10s overhead with them went with them.

It is hard to see, but my father re-wired all of the light switches. For example, the switches to the left of Meg used to to be on only one side of the wall and controlled the ceiling fan in the dining room. Now, there's one switch in each room and each switch has a really cool LED that faintly shines in the dark, so it is easier to find them at night.

And we more doubled the number of electric outlets in both rooms. There used to be only 3 outlets in the living room. Now there are eight. There used to be only two in the dining room. But now there are four. Now we don't have to hunt for power and string extension cords across the floor.

So much for my long, relaxing weekend!

GMA - Katrina revisited

ABC's Good Morning America sent Robin Roberts down South to broadcast live, from the Gulf Coast, this morning. I captured the show and edited out the non-Mississippi parts. This will mark my first attempt to mess with captured video. I had to muscle my way through a couple of programs before I could get it close-to-right. I'm not super impressed with the final product, but I am proud of my efforts. If nothing else, it was a learning experience.

Two notes about the show. Robin initially broadcasts from Trinity Episcopal Church, in Pass Christian, Mississippi. I was married in that church. It was beautiful. I also held my High School Graduation Ceremony at that church. It, however, was unremarkable. Shortly after the storm, Cindy inched her way to the site, to see what was left. There wasn't much. Only the frame of the building and a few chandeliers survived. The rest was gone. Outside of it, only a large brass bell remained on the grounds. Nothing else was salvageable. Seeing the remains again touched both of us in uncomfortable places. Rekindling feelings we had thought we were past. Like suddenly realizing it is the anniversary of a dead family member.

Also, early into the first episode, Robin flies over the border of Long Beach and you can see my brother-in-law's subdivision. It's the graveyard of streets with bare foundations in all but a handful of places. A fairly new neighborhood, mercilessly wiped from the face of the earth. It's still unrecognizable as you drive past. And sun-bleached "For Sale" signs occupy almost every lot.

Otherwise, I think the rest speaks for itself. We're still rebuilding. It will be years before we're able to say, "We're done." But we'll get there. One day.

Downtime

Stanley's death hurt. I've never had a friend die. And now, he is gone.

He is gone.

That's Stanley, now. Gone.

I was starting to get my head around it, when MacArthur Wright died. A friend and coworker from Tunica, MS. On Saturday, August 4th, after celebrating my son's eighth birthday, I got a call informing me that Mac had died of a heart attack earlier that evening. I'd had lunch with him two weeks earlier. Met his wife, and his youngest son. And while doing some yard work with a friend, his heart stopped pumping.

That's Mac, now. Gone, too.

And in his wake, I had to spend a couple of weeks in Tunica. Picking up the pieces of his puzzles. Everyone on eggshells. Everyone slow and quiet. I had to check his voice mails. I had to check his emails. And sometimes I'd have to call people to give them the news.

It all burned me. A dull ache behind my eyes. No energy. Too much sleep.

So, I took some downtime.

I miss you, Stanley. I miss you, Mac. But, I'm gonna get on with living.

RIP - MacArthur Wright

Liam's birthday, he turned eight.

MacArthur Wright's last day on the earth. He was helping a friend spread some fresh mulch across the yard, when said he had to sit down for a while. His friend walked around the corner. Mac told him, "Don't get too hot!"

When his friend came back, Mac wasn't there. His friend went around the corner of the house, and found Mac on the ground, clutching his chest. Mac kept asking, "Why isn't it working?" But his pace maker never went off.

His friend called 911, and called Mac's wife. She and her youngest son were only a couple of blocks away from him. They made it in time to speak with him for a few minutes.

The medics showed up. They put him in the ambulance. But that was it. They called the coroner and he pronounced right there, in the vehicle.

So now my son's birthday is forever entwined with the death of a friend and coworker of mine.

Rest in peace, Mac.