Cop Car's Beat

What has happened this week?

Safety Deposit Box Project:

The big thing that happened was that Dudette met Hunky Husband and me at the credit union so that we could get her onto our safety deposit box as a co-owner. Yay! She and Bogie will need to be able to access the stuff in that box, eventually. Unfortunately, despite what I had been told, they would not issue another key for Dudette.

In order to have Dudette put on as a co-owner, she had to provide a photo ID (her driver's license did nicely) and her Social Security card. As happened, Dudette could not find her Social Security card. She, instead, brought her birth certificate and her marriage license (to show her name change), knowing that her original Social Security card is among the papers that we do keep in the safety deposit box. That worked nicely, too. Why we still have Dudette's and Bogie's original Social Security cards is beyond me; but, there they are - and Dudette chose to place hers back into our safety deposit box when the paperwork was all done.

Come to think of it, Dudette also used the opportunity to return the Half-Pint microwave oven that we had loaned the girls. I need to retrieve it from HH's car trunk. [I got it, only to find that Dudette or Wonderful GrandDaughter had slipped a pint container of home made cookies into it. It's a wonder that I opened the door of the microwave. Otherwise, who knows how many years the cookies would have stayed there?]

Similarly, I used the opportunity to take a twig, that is to become an oak tree, that I had potted up a year or two ago - for Dudette & Wichidude or for the girls (Wonderful GrandDaughter and Rachie).

Yard Work:

Slowly, maybe not so surely, I am making progress on yard work. A week ago yesterday, I mowed the good grass. I had actually been checking the status of the mower battery; but, when it proved to be alive and well, I went ahead and used the mower - thinking that Jim's Tire & Auto would be picking it up that day for its 1st annual servicing. As it turned out, Jim's was swamped. They will call us when they have time to do the servicing - in about three or four weeks, they thought.

 

 

Trees:

Our crabapple tree that was planted last May is showing some color. The tiny leaves are unfurled.

The weather has provided so much moisture in March (yes, we're supposed to have rain in April) that the nursery has been unable to get their trees out of the ground on their tree farm; thus, the two trees that I bought last fall will not be planted in March - maybe April. The first photo shows, in the foreground, a yellow flag marking the spot in which the new cherry tree is to be planted, eventually replacing the North Star Cherry tree that is enveloped in yellow, in the background. The second photo shows the location at which the new Oklahoma Redbud tree is to be planted, replacing the redbud that had been encroaching on the neighbor's fence.

And then there are narcissi:

 

Money well spent

In my youth (which I consider to extend to a greater age than did it 50 years ago), I transferred schools during my senior year of college. The transfer was from University of Missouri School of Mines & Metallurgy¹ (MSM), basically an engineering school, to University of Wichita² (UW). The strange thing about WU was that, although they had a School of Engineering, as a physics major I matriculated into the School of Liberal Arts & Sciences. Woo hoo! In so doing, I lost most of the hours I had earned in "engineering" courses (10 semester-hours were allowed to transfer), I lost the minor in electrical engineering whose requirements I had completed (no minors allowed outside one's school), a bunch of non-technical (humanities) courses were required to be fulfilled in order to earn a degree in liberal arts & sciences, and a couple of humanities courses that had been accepted as substitutes for over-crowded required basic courses (one in economics, the other in English) at MSM were disallowed and the "required" basic courses were added to my requirements at UW. As I recall, by the time the dust settled, the part of my previous college work that would count toward my degree from WU amounted to but 118 semester hours. Yikes! (Please note that, in order to earn a BS degree at MSM at that time, I had to earn at least 150 semester hours of credited work.

I needed only four physics courses (12 semester hours) to complete my technical requirements for a BS from UW, but I needed to complete four semester hours of physical education (not offered to female students at MSM), introductory courses in public speaking, psychology, sociology, philosophy, and those basic courses in economics and English literature. Actually, I rather enjoyed some of those courses; but, tonight the money I spent taking the required English course - Introduction to American Literature - paid off. I got bragging rights, tonight.

Hunky Husband was watching some old episodes of Law & Order. I walked into the room in time to watch the last couple of minutes of one episode in which a sleazy lawyer was saying (my quote probably isn't exact), "Sometimes a guy has to dare to eat a peach." Ah, yes...from 1962 I recall The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufock by T.S. Eliot. [Yes, the same man who wrote, Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats.] Of course, even though I claimed bragging rights for knowing about the poem, that bit of knowledge has come in useful down through the years. In the copy of the poem, below, I have high lighted the appropriate phrase.

The Love-Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

By T.S. Eliot

 

Let us go then, you and I, When the evening is spread out against the sky Like a patient etherized upon a table; Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets, The muttering retreats Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells: Streets that follow like a tedious argument Of insidious intent To lead you to an overwhelming question. . .                               10 Oh, do not ask, "What is it?" Let us go and make our visit.   In the room the women come and go Talking of Michelangelo.   The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains, Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys, Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,                               20 And seeing that it was a soft October night Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.   And indeed there will be time For the yellow smoke that slides along the street, Rubbing its back upon the window-panes; There will be time, there will be time To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet; There will be time to murder and create, And time for all the works and days of hands That lift and drop a question on your plate;                                30 Time for you and time for me, And time yet for a hundred indecisions And for a hundred visions and revisions Before the taking of a toast and tea.   In the room the women come and go Talking of Michelangelo.   And indeed there will be time To wonder, "Do I dare?" and, "Do I dare?" Time to turn back and descend the stair, With a bald spot in the middle of my hair—                               40 [They will say: "How his hair is growing thin!"] My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin, My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin— [They will say: "But how his arms and legs are thin!"] Do I dare Disturb the universe? In a minute there is time For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.   For I have known them all already, known them all; Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,                       50 I have measured out my life with coffee spoons; I know the voices dying with a dying fall Beneath the music from a farther room.   So how should I presume?   And I have known the eyes already, known them all— The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase, And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin, When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall, Then how should I begin To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?                    60   And how should I presume?   And I have known the arms already, known them all— Arms that are braceleted and white and bare [But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!] Is it perfume from a dress That makes me so digress? Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.   And should I then presume?   And how should I begin?         .     .     .     .     . Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets              70 And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows? . . . I should have been a pair of ragged claws Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.         .     .     .     .     . And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully! Smoothed by long fingers, Asleep . . . tired . . . or it malingers, Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me. Should I, after tea and cakes and ices, Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?                  80 But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed, Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter, I am no prophet–and here's no great matter; I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker, And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker, And in short, I was afraid.   And would it have been worth it, after all, After the cups, the marmalade, the tea, Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me, Would it have been worth while,                                             90 To have bitten off the matter with a smile, To have squeezed the universe into a ball To roll it toward some overwhelming question, To say: "I am Lazarus, come from the dead, Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all" If one, settling a pillow by her head,   Should say, "That is not what I meant at all.   That is not it, at all."   And would it have been worth it, after all, Would it have been worth while,                                           100 After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets, After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor— And this, and so much more?— It is impossible to say just what I mean! But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen: Would it have been worth while If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl, And turning toward the window, should say:   "That is not it at all,   That is not what I meant, at all."                                          110         .     .     .     .     . No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be; Am an attendant lord, one that will do To swell a progress, start a scene or two Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool, Deferential, glad to be of use, Politic, cautious, and meticulous; Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse; At times, indeed, almost ridiculous— Almost, at times, the Fool.   I grow old . . . I grow old . . .                                              120 I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.   Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach? I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach. I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.   I do not think they will sing to me.   I have seen them riding seaward on the waves Combing the white hair of the waves blown back When the wind blows the water white and black.   We have lingered in the chambers of the sea By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown               130 Till human voices wake us, and we drown.                                                               [1915]

From a Virginia website0

 

¹ Now Missouri University of Science & Technology

² Now Wichita State University

It takes teamwork

I've checked our county's COVID-19 vaccination scheduling website every few hours for the past couple of days - ever since I saw on TV that the county had received some vaccine and were signing up people who were 83 years old and older. Although I'm just shy of 83 years old, Hunky Husband is 84; thus, I wanted to get him signed up ASAP. No dice. Everything was booked up.

I thought that, since we are well situated for waiting, we wouldn't worry as long as he received his first dose before March 1. Even better. I don't know where he chanced upon it; but, HH came across an announcement that some more slots had opened up. Rushing to my computer, I pounced on the website. Still nothing. However, this time I kept checking every few minutes. Lo and behold, not only did a bunch of slots open up, but the minimum age had been lowered to 80. Quickly, I signed HH up for his shot, next Monday. There was a way to set up an "account". Not seeing a downside to it, I signed HH up in an account. Not thinking about the need to sign out, after that, I went ahead and signed myself up for a shot. I was able to pin one down 45 minutes after HH's shot. This should work!

 

Picking up our groceries

Since mid-March, I've been grocery shopping at the small WalMart Neighborhood Market that is just a mile (as one walks or drives) from our home. In addition, I set up an account with walmart.com and have been having delivered to us things that the small store (or, even, that WalMart) doesn't carry. On the 22nd, I did our normal grocery shopping at 6am (which the store sets aside to allow us really old people shop on Tuesdays, before they open to the public). As I walked toward the store from my car, I noticed a large notification sign about their newly instituted shop online/pickup service. With the 100% occupation of COVID-19 ICU beds in all Wichita hospitals, the new variant of COVID-19 that spreads more rapidly, and the schedule that seems to place HH and me in line for getting vaccinated no sooner than early April, I decided to take advantage of no-contact delivery to my car. OK.

Yesterday's being my established grocery shopping day, I tried to place an order for pickup last night. Nope. They weren't having any of it. Some of my order they would ship to me; but, most of my order was "buy in store, only". Grrrr. I gave up and toddled off to bed. This morning, while waiting for it to be time for me to go to the dental office, I decided to try again. I switched from using IE11 to using EDGE to try to place my order. I can't remember how I got there; but, I do recall searching with DuckDuckGo on how to pick up groceries from WalMart. Eventually, I did get my order placed - for pickup between 1pm and 2pm.

At 1:00pm, WalMart sent me an email to let me know that my order was ready for pickup. They wanted me to text them or to download their app on my phone to let them know that I was heading out to make the pickup. Well...that doesn't work. I don't have either capability. I tried to call the store, but received no answer following 10 rings. I drove the mile to the small WalMart store. Upon arrival, I couldn't find any of the specially marked parking spots that I had been advised to use. Around and around I drove. Eventually, I tried calling them, again. Fortunately, I received a prompt response, and they told me where to find the special parking stall - around the corner at the left side of the above photo - up against the building in the employee's parking section rather than in the customer parking lot (foreground of photo). A special phone number to call upon arrival was listed on a sign at each of the four parking spaces.

Jay brought out my groceries, loaded them in my trumk, and I was on my way home.

Now that I know how to work with the system, I like it. I may never go inside another WalMart store in my life! BTW: WalMart does not allow its employees to accept tips. I had learned that some time ago, but I tried to tip Jay nonetheless.

____________________________________

Disclosure: WalMart has no knowledge of my blogging nor am I encouraging people to patronize the company stores or online presence. While I own a few hundred shares of WalMart, that holding does not comprise a significant percentage of my net worth nor produce a significant percentage of my annual income. I do not/have not/will not/shall not receive remuneration from WalMart for my posting(s).

Some days things go well

At about 11pm yesterday, I placed an online order with WalMart. They immediately sent confirmation with the information that the order would be split into two parts - one to arrive today, the other to arrive tomorrow. Good. This morning, I received another email saying that the item that was supposed to have arrived tomorrow would be delivered today. Well and good.

Hunky Husband and I drove up to Wichita to leave a box of stuff (mostly family's Xmas cards) on Dudette's front porch. As we were leaving her place, I texted her that we had left the box. (We knew that, although she works from home these days, she had wall-to-wall meetings today.) A few miles down the road toward home, HH's phone binged to let him know that he had a message. Dudette had acknowledged retrieving the box. (No, HH didn't read the text. He handed me his phone to pick it up.) A few miles farther down the road, there was a loud ding. I ignored it thinking it was a different type of notification on HH's phone. When the loud bing repeated a couple of minutes later, it dawned on me that the bing was telling me that I had received a voice message on my own phone. Digging my phone out, I saw that I had received a couple of phone calls from an apparently local number. I would have, as usual, ignored those calls were it not for the fact that I had also been left a voicemail. In order to pick up a voicemail, I must delete the phone numbers that had been displayed.

The voicemail was from a (young-sounding) woman saying that she was trying to make a delivery to me from WalMart, but had not been given my address; thus, she wanted me to return her call to provide the data. Oh, me. She was smart enough to not rely upon my phone to tell me who called and gave her phone number, verbally. The big question was: could I remember that number long enough to call her back. Victory! I contacted her, gave her our address, and our journey proceeded. I checked the front porch upon arrival and...there was the package - one bottle of olive oil. I shake my head that someone was actually dispatched to deliver that single bottle!

The photo at the top of this posting is one that was included in an email that I received from WalMart confirming delivery. Cool beans.

One of those mornings

It can't be our uniqueness that, on rare occasion, we have one of those mornings. Everyone has those. For instance, this morning....

5:45am - I emerge from my basement lair to find the upstairs bedroom hallway light on (above the hallway closets). That's a very unusual occurrence as Hunky Husband uses that light so seldom that he can not remember the location of the switch that controls that light. Do I check in his bedroom to assure that HH is alright, or do I leave to do the grocery shopping and let the light go? I decide to don shoes and hoodie to leave for the groceries.

6:04am - HH opens the doorway into the garage just as I am ready to punch the button on my sun visor to open my overhead door to start my car and back out. HH just wanted to check that everything was OK with me. He had arisen, read my note about my going to get groceries, and checked the garage - surprised that my car was still in. After assuring HH that all is well and opening the overhead door, I drive down the dark driveway noting that, although it has usually been delivered by this time, there is no Wichita Eagle newspaper in our driveway.

6:32am - I return home to find the newspaper still has not arrived, HH has returned to bed, and the hallway light is turned off. After unloading and putting away the groceries, I go back to bed.

8:30am - I arise to find HH in a stew because we still have not received a newspaper, for the second day in a row. He has called about the omission and received the same satisfaction as he had received yesterday - an imperceptible amount. It has been a few years since HH last had to fight this battle - a battle that lasted for two or three weeks at that time.

8:40am - Being a complete klutz, I knock my bottle of water over, spilling 1/2 cup of ice and water over my cluttered computer desk.

8:45am - HH comes up from his den in the basement, handing me his check book and two most recent statements from his credit union, and asking me to figure out whether his $538 check to the Wichita Eagle that he wrote on 10/10/2020 has cleared. (Unfortunately, it has been about 15 years since that particular credit union's online services have been available to me - partly because I tend to procrastinate and partly because they make it difficult to communicate with them.) It takes me a few minutes, but I finally find the appropriate entry that confirms that the check cleared on 10/16/2020.

8:55am - HH readies to visit the nearest convenience store in order to, again, spend over $2 for a replacement newspaper. HH cannot find his wallet. I spot it on the table next to his reading chair - in the spot on that table which is diagonally opposite to where I would have expected he might have laid it, regardless of the fact that he never puts his wallet on that table.

HH and I agree that the rest of the day can only be better.

Week in Review - 10/17/2020

Raking:

As we were unthinking enough to build a house on the southeast side of a street, at a bend in the road, I have been paying the price. (Since this house is compass oriented the same as our previous house, I should have thought about that!) The winds manage to scatter the leaves that the neighbors don't get raked up, into our yard. You may recall that, this summer, our sugar maple and redbud trees were removed from the front yard leaving only a gingko tree. The gingko tree has not yet started to turn. Within a few nights of its leaves' turning yellow, the leaves will all fall off.

In the photo, below, which shows about one-fourth of our front lawn, one can see that I've started raking in the foreground. It took me two days (and filling/emptying my 28-gallon leaf bin several times) to "clear" the yard. "Clear" is in quotation marks because the wind has already replenished the supply. BTW: I must admit that there was one (green) gingko leaf in the raking. Raking is part of my exercise program during the fall months.

Yellow Rose:

This is a blossom on the mistakenly-labeled rose that was supposed to have been a (red) Mr Lincoln. I really like it!

Carolina wren:

At least two Carolina wren are year-round residents. That species is one of the few bird species still hanging around. The hummingbirds left a couple of weeks ago, at which time the Eastern phoebes also disappeared. The house finches haven't put in an appearance for a while; but, they are probably still in the area - someplace.

Redbud trees going, going....

When Benny & his crew took out our dead sugar maple, they also (at my request, of course) took out the clump of redbud trees in our front yard - shown, below, as they bloomed this past spring.

A couple of weeks ago, neighbor Fred's dead trees fell into our yard. When he finally got them cleared away (except for a 20-foot limb that remained hanging from one of our trees), I could see the damage done to our redbud tree near the steps to the woods - shown, below, as it bloomed this past spring.

Below are photos showing how Fred left the little redbud tree - with a less-than-adequate attempt to splice back the main header.  Note the duct-taped "splice" that Fred attempted to hold one of the main limbs to the header and to let the split header grow back together - to the left of the pink tape.

Tell me how well you think a splice works that is attempted more than one week after the damage. In the photo, below, the split extends 20-25 inches to the right. The photo was taken after I started unwrapping the tape to assess the damage (two weeks after the damage and one week after Fred attempted the splice). As one may see, the main branch had been held to the header by a couple of wraps of the tape. Note that the split of the header extended down-trunk (to the right) for about two feet and that, at best, there was a half-inch air gap between the two surfaces of the "splice" - with bugs already eating away at the heart wood.

There were two other branches that could have benefited by the timely application of a real splice. IMHO, by the time the dead trees were removed, only some very fancy sawing and fitting and splinting could have saved the three branches and leader of the little redbud. Well...bless his heart...Fred tried. The tree was a volunteer that I had nursed for at least 15 years, so it has only emotional value.

I clean-cut the header below the end of the split and lopped off the three main branches that were hanging. It doesn't look like much, but it should be healthy. In time (which, at my age, I don't have!) I'm guessing that the tree will become lovely, once again. BTW: The apparent offshoot from the trunk, about a foot off of the ground, is actually a stump from a tree that I sawed down. It is marked with yellow paint to tell Benny & his crew (scheduled to do their annual work, this coming Monday) that the stump is to be taken out.

There is one more redbud of concern in our yard. It is the only redbud that I actually paid for and paid to have planted - in 2000. Unfortunately, it grew...and our neighbors changed...and our latest neighbors decided (rightly) that they should install a fence to corral their small children and dogs. Further, the neighbors decided upon a dog-eared board fence and set it just enough closer to the property line that my redbud tree was in the way. Adam asked permission to take off a couple of branches. I suggested that, since he is young and strong and owning of a chain saw, he take the tree down, totally. He chose to remove the two branches and that section of the fence was pretty much installed that day.

This past spring the tree bloomed, beautifully - as in the photo, below.

Do you see the problem? The fence had been installed in February. The added weight of the blossoms (and, later, the leaves) caused the large branches to rub against the fence. Monday, I will have Benny and his crew remove the tree. I hate to lose the tree; but, I cannot have it troubling our neighbors. I had thought to ask Benny to just remove the half of the tree involved in the interference with the fence; but, I've decided that such an operation would be difficult and that, at some later time, the rest of the tree would become bothersome. I will have another redbud tree planted 20-40 feet from the fence. I'm sure that it will become just as lovely and, who knows? I might, at least, live long enough to see the new tree bloom if I can buy a large enough tree to start with.

Health Update:

Flu Shot

When Hunky Husband got his Flusone quadrivalent flu shot in early September, I did not go with him. I habitually wait until October on the theory that the shot is only effective for a few months and I want to cover the deepest part of the flu season. I got a Fluad quadrivalent shot on Monday (the 12th). The following two paragraphs are taken from Cover-Tek.

Trivalent

There are hundreds of A-strains that are mutating constantly and hard to predict, while there are only two B-strains. The trivalent vaccine protects against three different flu viruses: the two most common A strains (H1N1 and H3N2) and one B strain (either Massachusetts or Brisbane), whichever is predicted to affect citizens most strongly in a given year.

Quadrivalent

This form offers the same benefits as the trivalent vaccine, with the added bonus of covering  both B-strains, so four strains total. Experts see this as beneficial since both B-strains have been detected within the United States in the past 10 years.

Tooth Crown

Friday (the 16th) I had the crown re-cemented on my #9 tooth. I had been warned by Dr Shahzada that the installation might not last long since, this being the 4th crown to have been installed on the tooth since 1966 there wasn't much tooth left on which to anchor the crown. The original installation of this 4th crown, accomplished five weeks ago, had always felt wobbly and didn't seem to me to be properly aligned. I was led to wonder if it had been seated properly and/or if the cement had not properly cured around the perimeter. Thursday night, in cleaning my teeth prior to going to bed, the crown had come off.

I must say that, although Dr S wants to have an implant put in the #9 position, and is consulting a colleague who does implants, this cementing job feels different than did the original. I'm wondering if this installation will prove more durable.

Cecil's been at it, again.

When, first, Handyman Cecil came by, I gave him a list of things I wanted done around the house. I made sure that he understood I was seeking a long-term relationship, not just that he would do a job and disappear forever. He could work in my jobs around the jobs he had to do for other people because there was nothing urgent on the list. By the time Cecil could start on my list, COVID-19 had become a "thing" with which to contend. I told Cecil that he could do any/all of the outside jobs; but, he could not do any of the inside jobs - until a vaccine or a cure was developed.

Cecil started on the outside jobs by installing a permanent ladder (of which the bottom two rungs may be seen in the photo, below) in our basement escape window well.

A little later, Cecil installed a new storm door at the personnel door to the garage (photo, below), new gaskets around our three over-head garage doors (no photo), and a window well and bubble at one of my (basement) bedroom windows (no photo).

Cecil's next venture was painting the house - shown in this posting. Unexpectedly, we needed a new dishwasher installed and Cecil came to the rescue - shown in this posting.

This past week, Cecil and his son installed window wells and bubbles on the remaining seven, small, basement windows. I had wanted to try out the installation on one of my bedroom windows for a few months before committing to the time/effort/expense of having Cecil make installation at the other seven windows.

Photos (below) are with window wells, only, installed. (The one bubble is the "trial" installation.)

        

Photos (below) are with window wells & bubbles installed.

    

   

Advantages of having the window wells & bubbles installed: 1) The windows stay clean much longer (You know that I spent a lot of time cleaning those windows, don't you?) and 2) I can have the windows open - even while it is raining (There is an air gap between the wells and the bubbles.) Another thing that I've noticed is that I don't hear the nocturnal critters (voles?) or the early morning critters (usually, wild turkeys) rubbing up against the screen fabric that is the outer-most of the three layers (inner pane, storm pane, screen) of each window.

One last thing that Cecil wanted to do this week was to have a safety grid made for installation over the top of our basement escape window, intended to prevent someone's falling into the deep window well. He called me about it several times; but, I finally turned him "off" on that project - for now. I was getting too stressed over the whole thing. He was talking about a 50-pound welded steel grid which I thought would be a bit heavy since I would, while on the ladder, have to move the grid with one hand. Unfortunately, I had Cecil install the ladder at the end of the window well that would have provided me a clear space to slide the grid into. The other end has the gas meter and the sprinkler system's back-flow protection valve installation that prohibit sliding the grid that way - the shorter slide. (Cecil had wanted to put the ladder to that end, but he didn't give this as one of the reasons: he just wanted to put it opposite the stationary pane of the window.) My fault. I had told him to check into having welded aluminum, instead; but, that requires TIG welding, of course. So...I'll think it over for a while. It may have to wait until Cecil and I can sit at a table with pencil and paper for drawing sketches.

Cecil did have a point that I really needed to get that window well covered - its already having been uncovered for three years. In the meantime, I fished the old grid from under the compost pile, hosed it down, re-drove most of the nails (yes, our builder had used nails), and re-installed it over the window well (photo, below). After a few rains it will look a bit better even if it won't cure the slat that is slightly decomposed. (The grid was shown under a pile of masonry in this posting back in August, 2017.)

What was in the box

Handyman Cecil made it out, today, to install the dishwasher that had been hiding in the box in our garage. Now, to learn how to load the racks and work the controls. I would know more about either issue by reading the morning newspaper than by reading the owner's manual. Not at all informative!

Note that the design provides three racks, the middle one of which is adjustable vertically. I must say that two things about the machine please me: 1) The old dishwasher, like the refrigerator, gas range, and electric oven, was a baked on enamel finish in off-white. As far as I could tell from my online forays, no one offers that finish/color these days (nor do they offer the avocado, sunflower gold, or Coppertone enamel finishes of previous generations.) This dishwasher was offered in black stainless or satin stainless. Having opted for the satin stainless, I feared that the dishwasher might stick out like a sore thumb. It does not - probably because it blends in with the stainless steel that is above and to the right of the dishwasher. 2) As the dishwasher that I bought is middle-of-the-line in price, the apparent quality of the appliance is high and the machine is quiet (advertised as 44 db).

 

Hunky Husband and I hid in the basement while Cecil worked in the kitchen and I wore a mask to let him into the house and to pay him. I hope we didn't exchange any vital viruses.

ADDITION OF 7/26/2020 - 12:24PM - In response to Liz's comment

With 2.7 days' worth of dirty dishes loaded, this is how the three shelves appear.

 

Week in Review - 7/18/2020

Such fun I had last night - NOT - 7/17/2020

Since we are waiting for Cecil to get out here to install our new dishwasher (item at bottom of page), I have been washing our daily dishes by hand - just before toddling off to bed. Last night I finished up a rather goodly batch and toddled down the stairs. Hmmm...what is the strange odor tinging the air as I reach the bottom of the basement stairs? I look around. Good grief! The kitchen sink had obviously met a clog, and taken the path of least resistance - flooding the bar sink, inundating the whole cabinet/drawers/doors/contents/carpeting with relatively clean water that had chunks of green floating about in it. Two hours later, the scene looked like that in the photo, above; but, my oh my what fun I had getting to that point - bailing with a quart measuring utensil into the waste basket that had been under the sink, moving stuff off and away, and sucking up water with the wet Shop Vac. I went over the wood and stainless steel parts with ammonia water, sopped more water out of the carpeting with towels, and set up a fan to (hopefully) blow away some moisture. And...oh, yes...I turned the air conditioner down to 76 degrees. It had been set to 78 degrees; but, the outside air temperature was 78 degrees (at midnight) and the humidity was about the same and I wanted the air conditioner to help dry out the area.

This (photo, below) is about 40% of the stuff I took out of the drawers and cabinets - stashed on a table at the other end of the room. (Bogie, is that your Monsster Energy Drink?) The only real use that the bar sink gets is when HH uses it to mix up a few quarts of Gatorade from powder every week or so. He keeps the Gatorade in pint-sized bottles in the basement refrigerator. When he goes for a run/jog/walk and/or works out with his weights, he re-hydrates with that Gatorade.

The one good thing to have come from all of this is that it convinced Hunky Husband to let me recycle a bunch of plastic bottles that he had been saving (forever) - photo, below - which comprised another 40% of what I removed from the cabinet.

 

 

What about the other 20% of the stuff I removed from the drawers and cabinets? It is in the sink or on the washing machine in the laundry room. I had neatly folded HH's bar towels and the towels with which I had soaked up the water from the carpeting after washing and drying them, last night. It was about 2:30am when I fell into bed. You can imagine my joy when, an hour later, I was awakened by HH standing at the top of the stairs yelling down to me, "[Cop Car!] Is everything all right?" He had been met with the sight in the photo, below, when he had gone into the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee. It was one of those mornings when he had awakened early. Not early enough to help with the cleanup, mind you - lol. At any rate, I had not wanted him to use the kitchen sink, causing another overflow of the bar sink. The plumber is due to be here between 4pm and 6pm, today. Just in time, since Cecil may install the dishwasher, tomorrow.

 

UPDATE of 7/17/2020 - 3:12pm -

 

The Plumber arrived early. He had finished another job, early, so called to see if he could come on over. When I opened the front door to him, I asked him if he would like a mask (I was wearing one, of course). He cheerfully returned to his truck to retrieve his own mask, donned it, then used the hand sanitizer that I keep near the front door before donning his gloves. Thirty minutes later I paid him and sent him on his way. He did his job well and efficiently, and he was pleasant but not chatty. (I stayed upstairs while he worked in the basement, of course.)

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Slashdot.org (News for Nerds) reminded me of a report I had heard, yesterday, on the radio. - 7/15/2020

BTW: I can't be the only one to have noticed that, always, an after action meeting/review includes at the top, "Problems with Communications".

Bottleneck for US Coronavirus Response: The Fax Machine (nytimes.com) 179

Posted by msmash on Monday July 13, 2020 @11:32AM from the closer-look dept.

Public health officials in Houston are struggling to keep up with one of the nation's largest coronavirus outbreaks. They are desperate to trace cases and quarantine patients before they spread the virus to others. But first, they must negotiate with the office fax machine. From a report: The machine at the Harris County Public Health department in Houston recently became overwhelmed when one laboratory sent a large batch of test results, spraying hundreds of pages all over the floor. "Picture the image of hundreds of faxes coming through, and the machine just shooting out paper," said Dr. Umair Shah, executive director of the department. The county has so far recorded more than 40,000 coronavirus cases. Some doctors fax coronavirus tests to Dr. Shah's personal number, too. Those papers are put in an envelope marked "confidential" and walked to the epidemiology department. As hard as the United States works to control coronavirus, it keeps running into problems caused by its fragmented health system, a jumble of old and new technology, and data standards that don't meet epidemiologists' needs. Public health officials and private laboratories have managed to expand testing to more than half a million performed daily, but they do not have a system that can smoothly handle that avalanche of results.

 

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Eye exams - 7/14/2020

 

Today was interesting. Hunky Husband drove me to my appointment with an eye surgeon up in northwestern Wichita. My visit with the surgeon was delayed by my undergoing various types of scanning/photography of my eyes. Although it was my left eye that sent me there, every test/photo series was accomplished on both eyes. Having been given a heads up by Bogie, I asked to see the images of my floaters. The images were not at all what I expected: they were actually profiles of the retinas (see image, below, from Internet). There was a definite difference between the right and left retinas. In the image from the Internet, below, the "pinched" area at the center is a normal feature of one's retina; however, the other hills and valleys are peculiar to the individual eye.

 

 

The most interesting procedure was an eye angiogram (image, below, from Internet).

 

Eye Angiogram

Test Overview

An eye angiogram uses fluorescein dye and a camera to take pictures and evaluate the blood flow through the vessels in the back of the eye (retina).

See a picture of the structures of the eye.

During an eye angiogram, the dye is injected into a vein in your arm. Once injected, it takes about 10 to 15 seconds to circulate through your body. As the dye enters the blood vessels in your eyes, a series of photos are taken to chart the dye's progress. More pictures are taken after most of the dye has passed through your eyes to see if any of it has leaked out of the blood vessels. Any dye that leaks out of the blood vessels will color the tissues and fluid in the eye. Filters in the camera allow the areas colored by the dye to show up in the photos.

Unlike other angiogram procedures, an eye angiogram is not an X-ray procedure, so you are not exposed to any radiation.

Fortunately, the technician warns her patients of an untoward side effect of the dye injection (other than 16 listed possible side effects). The technician said that the dye turns urine bright yellow. Had she not told me, especially since the effect lasted for at least 30 hours, I would have panicked - thinking that I had pancreatic cancer.

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Who would believe a Sunday delivery? - 7/12/2020

 

When I placed my online order for a dishwasher, on 7/2/2020, I shortly received notice that it would be delivered on 7/12/2020. I didn't even think about the 12th's being on a Sunday - especially since the email also mentioned that they were having a hard time filling all of the orders during these times (normally, I should have expected delivery within three days of placing the order.) This morning, I just happened to check my phone for voicemail - a rare occurrence. There was a message left yesterday that I should expect delivery after 3:00pm, today - perhaps as late as 6:00pm-7:00pm. Hmmm...

 

At about 2:00pm, as I was closing my eyes to take a nap, I heard a truck outside. Thinking that perhaps deliveries were running ahead of schedule, I peeked outside. A Lowe's truck was parked up-and-across the street - offloading a clothes washer and dryer. About 45 minutes later, when the two guys had loaded the old washer and dryer for hauling away and seemed to be ready to leave, I caught their attention, asking if they had a dishwasher for me. "I don't know. We do have a couple of dishwashers in there. I'll check."

 

They checked. They carried our dishwasher across the street and deposited it in our garage. I was happy to get the delivery and they were happy that they would save the extra driving that would have been required had they needed to come back. Who knew that the truck hadn't been loaded with an eye toward efficiency of travel. Amazingly unthoughtful of someone.