Papua New Guinea

Gary, in very un-Gary-like fashion, took a TON of photos in Papua New Guinea. He said that some were up high in the chopper and needed my Photoshop 'magic'. So I have been playing and perusing.

Turning this:

Into this:

But some of my favourites? This has to be my all time favourite ... HE TOOK A PICTURE OF HIS FEET!!

And for having very long arms - long enough to be able to take photos of himself without that 'look - I just took a photo of myself' look - he sure didn't smile or PRETEND he was having fun ...

The huts in all these photos (except where I point out a school) are their houses. A little too 'back to the basics' for me ...

And this canoe - is this just not precious? A hollowed out log? And a VOP to add character! (Very Old Person):

Loved this foggy one:

And the huts! How picturesque! How so not really where I would want to live:

For 30 horrifying seconds I thought this beautiful child had 3 legs - but then if he had 3 legs - he had to have had 3 eyes - and decided that there was a smaller, shy child hiding behind him. Gary verified this for me:

This is their walls - it is woven - and beautiful - I think it would make a great floor mat:

The Schoolhouse:

The people:

Some beautiful photos - and all taken by Gary Hurst ...

Home Sweet Home ....

Picking up where I left off in my last post. I am thoroughly amazed that I am in Brisbane. Gary and the apartment are just a taxi drive away. Well, after immigrations and customs but they were a breeze after 31 hours.

Plopped myself in a taxi and could barely keep my eyes open. But, as we whisked past the mural of the birds ... a big painted wall on the freeway that is dedicated to birds - an eagle, a cockatoo, some in flight, some in nests ... I realize that this might be the last time I see these things - so I try to keep my eyes open - soaking up now familiar sights that stand as beacons ... pointing the way towards home.

We turn a corner and I realize that Gary and the apartment are just minutes away! He was staying since the security fobs for the building were being swapped out or something the first of July and he was going to explain that mine was not available but see if it could be reset. If not - he would be there to let me in the building.

Pay the taxi driver, get out my fob, swipe it along the sensor ... and it works! I am in the building. Swipe it again in the elevator and it is still working - apparently Gary's request for it to be reset without it being available worked. Get off the elevator, unlock the door and yell:

"I'm Home!!!"

Nothing.

"Gary?"

Nothing

Look through all the rooms and he is not there. Since he was working such long hours in PNG, he said it was no biggie to take off the morning, so even though I was 3 hours late - it was only 10:00 and I wondered what had become of the man ...

Spotted my Australian phone and a note:

8:45

Lori

Waited for awhile but latest predictions show arrival at 8:55 which puts you here around 10:00.

- Phone charged
- appa juice in fridge
- love you
- call when you get in

*************

Was JUST going to type 'apparently my husband has ADD' when the phone rang - it was Gary wondering why I had not posted. Eery! But asked him about this. I thought he was taking off the morning, he said no - he had been gone for 2 weeks and really needed to get into the office - so NOT ADD and an inability to sit still for a morning - just me not understanding Gary when he says 'I'll just stay at the apartment and work on the computer in the morning'.

*************

So ... back to my post ... turned around and seriously did an 'Awwwww'. HE GOT ME FLOWERS! OK, and if you read this blog at all - you will know that he ALWAYS gets me flowers when I come - but THIS TIME he had just arrived from the jungles the night before - thus the 'Awwwwww'.

Called him and told him I was in, was fairly sane, and thanks for the flowers.

Appa juice? You are wondering? Yes - I have an addiction over here I believe I have mentioned before - their Berry brand Apple Juice. It is THE BEST APPLE JUICE IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD. Swear. Pinkie swear. It's about all I drink when I am here and I go through a ton. Apparently when we first had it we had run out, or Gary asked me what I wanted to drink or something and I was referring to it. For reasons known only to me at that moment in time - I referred to it as 'appa juice' - as in how a three year old would say it. I believe I was yelling "I want appa juice" and just trying to sound like a spoilt 3 year old - which is about what I am in reality - so it works. And thus, it has been referred to ever since as appa juice ... go figure.

Opened the pantry later and burst out laughing:

Stuff Gary had purchased from Papua New Guinea:

Wandered over to the table and saw my container (the item above) - picked it up admired it, set it back down (I collect wooden containers) and wondered where the rest of the stuff he bought was.

Knew I was very sleep deprived and in trouble when I found the stuff: RIGHT NEXT TO THE CONTAINER on the table. I did not notice this for AN HOUR. Not that I was actively looking, but ... still. Decided I needed a nap - so off to bed ...

... and wonder of wonders ....




... I FELL ASLEEP!!!

The Travel Gods Have Spoken ...

Well, here I sit, safely ensconced in our Australian apartment after what can only be described as “The Gods of Travel Want you to STOP … Now”. OK, that might be a bit extreme, but I have had about 4 hours of sleep in the last 60 hours and it has made me a bit … what? Punchy? Bitchy? Grumpy? Sleepy? Stupid? Psycho? Raving? Heck – why don’t we say ALL OF THEM. Lori’s own version of the 7 dwarfs …

Got out of Houston fine and into LAX. BREEZED through security and off to figure out what gate my flight was leaving from. There are no display boards showing arrivals and departures for Qantas anywhere. Also, when you check in on line you don’t get the gate number – so it is sort of a guessing game. “Go Find Your Gate” by wandering and looking at the sign at each gate. Not so hard … to date it has only departed from two gates in terminal 6 – Gate 41 and Gate 48B. It has only (for me) departed from Gate 41 once and that was my first trip out so I am assuming a permanent change to Gate 48B. See … not so hard.

I wander past Gate 41 and snicker to myself wishing those on the plane GOOD LUCK!!! It was a SOLID MASS of kids ranging from ages 10 – 15 all in the same outfit and all SO SUPER DUPER EXCITED!!! Chaperones seemed light and I wondered what level of hell THAT was. Got to 48B and it listed Melbourne as the destination of the flight leaving from that gate. Odd. I started looking: 48A, 47, 46, hmmm, 45, 44, 43, …. Getting a little nervous … 42 – and no go – none were headed to Brisbane.

Nervously, I head back to Gate 41 – off by itself and look, for the first time, at the monitor showing the destination and flight number.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

But, well, yes and sit down dejectedly in an open chair.

The woman next to me sort of laughs and, well, yeah – what do you say … anyway – you can’t hear each other over the din. Had to go show my passport to the people at the desk since I had checked in online – needed to prove I was me - and the lady kindly offered to watch my bags while I did – thus also saving my seat which were hard to come by. I thanked her profusely and up to the desk I went. So nice of her.

I had an ulterior motive for going up to the desk. For some reason I could only get a seat at the front of the plane this flight and I usually pick the back so I can board first – ensuring that my bag full of computers and cameras would have space in the overhead bins. I was worried that I would not accomplish this in the front – getting on last – on a full flight. So … and I am not proud of myself – I pulled the invalid card – said my leg was in severe pain (true, but, then again – it always is). Said I was having trouble navigating my bags and ‘needed extra time to board’ – totally prepared to pull out pain prescriptions to back me up. I am so ashamed. She said that was fine and I slurked back to my chair but relieved that my bag was not going to be forced to be checked and manhandled by baggage handlers – thus ruining everything in it. I am pond scum. I am the stuff that grows on pond scum – and I knew it.

About ½ hour before we were to board, my new ‘mate’ said that she needed a smoke and had to leave security to do so and would be back. OK … whatever. She gets up and LEAVES HER LUGGAGE - I am assuming in my care. I sit there and count the minutes down – really, really wishing that I had taken a potty break before cancer lady decided to dump so much luggage on me that I could not navigate it all to the toilet and back again. Fifteen minutes. Half an Hour (I’m going to KILL her). Fifty minutes …
They start to board and she is not back. I am fuming. If I leave the bags – they will become abandoned luggage and maybe trigger a shut down the airport … but … but (*whiny voice*) I GOT PERMISSION TO BOARD EARLY! A minute later she shows up and says she is going to the bathroom – I told her I was boarding and that she was on her own – didn’t even strangle her … which I think she deserved. Got on the plane – safely ensconcing my babies in an open overhead bin.

I start to relax. I am on the plane; my luggage is safe, what could possibly upset this delicate balance?

Apparently 50 or so 5th and 6th graders who surrounded me in their matching purple shirts – along with their 3 chaperones. The next 14 hours are starting to scare me … really scare me.

We take off … we don’t die – a point for the positive side (I think) and arrive at cruising altitude. Things are pretty calm … for a REALLY COOL Field Trip, that is. Think back to those buses when you took a field trip, now think about it going on for 14 hours. Now try to stay sane ….

Entertainment system is turned on, dinner is served … we’re doing good.

At 4 ½ hours into the flight an announcement is made that they are sorry to interrupt our sleeping (hah!) but there was a medical emergency on board and was there a doctor that could help? Pandemonium breaks out while all the stewardesses and stewards literally run up and down the aisles gathering the first aid kits and other medical stuff that they keep on an airplane.

So … are we close to Hawaii? Could they land there? Do we have to turn around? I decide that maybe I should offer my pharmaceuticals in the hopes that they will keep pointing toward Gary and not turn around. Don’t really … but thought about it …

And the plane keeps on flying ….

… I am assuming in the right direction. So, either:

a) There were some SUPER doctors on board – you know – doing surgery with a pocketknife, a plastic fork and a ballpoint pen (the MacGyver way),

b) The patient wasn’t as ill as the announcement and actions of the staff lead us to believe

c) The patient died and was stored in an overhead bin somewhere …

So – back to watching mediocre movies, watching kids be SUPER excited, and listening to music on my iPod when I notice on the status display that we had 23 minutes to our destination, and odd … all the words on the status pages have turned into French …

I turned to my neighbor, who, by the way was from Papua New Guinea working at Gobe – right where Gary had been for 2 weeks … and ask if perchance they had made some sort of announcement about fog in Brisbane. He said yes and that we were landing on a dinky island in Noumea the capital city of the French Territory of New Caledonia.

So … off to Brisbane via France …

We sit on the tarmac and get refueled. Did you know it takes an hour to fill up one of those Long Reach 747’s? Was terribly bored since the reason I was listening to music in the first place when the fog announcement was announced was because my Entertainment System died.

Entertainment. System. Dead. There are just no words for the boredom / frustration / panic this can generate ….

But – score a point for the positive! This was a real airport! We didn’t land in a field of cows like last time this happened to me! Take off was a breeze – none of that ‘we only have about a ¼ of the runway we need so we will just punch it to mach 4 and lift off’ nonsense …

Got to Brisbane, landed 3 hours late – but I was there.

And a little surprised about it ….

Off We Go Into the Wild Blue Yonder ...

At the airport ...



... early


... way early.



I blame my OCD and some super stress I am having right now for no apparent reason - just decided to get to the airport and surf here rather than wait at home. OK, and I only have an hour before I have to get to my gate so that is not like half a day or something.



Did the usual - wandered through the Spirit of the Red Horse store - cool jewelry - bought a pair of earrings (it's the law ...). Skipped the $798.00 pair and went with the $15 cool pair:

I seem to be addicted to buying earrings. I guess it could be worse ...

Now sitting in a very cool restaurant that has free refills on their drinks. Have a power outlet for my lovely laptop whose battery is not really up to snuff anymore and ABBA is playing on the overhead speakers. What more could a girl want?

I know I am in hour 2 of a 24'ish hour 'really fun time' - but now that the clock is ticking - I have calmed down, I'm in the airport zone and I have a sneaking suspicion that I forgot something.


But it ain't my underwear!

Threshold

Decided I wanted to study up more on the awesomeness of Photoshop CS5 while I was in Australia, but was being thwarted by the fact that my favourite author who writes Photoshop books is writing a book, but it won't be out until August. So I just decided to order the only one out there right now to take with me.

My thinking was if I left my mini computer behind (usually in my backpack) I would have plenty room for the book.

Mr Amazon politely and speedily sent it to me. Opened it up, and sure enough - it was the book I ordered:

What they didn't show on the web, was a side view:

Yeah - it is 745 pages and weighs about 100 lbs. I doubt that I will be taking it so I opened it up and started tackling the pages today. One thing lead to the other and wandered off on a tangent: the THRESHOLD command.

Looked in the index to see where it was discussed so I could sort of explain it to you - but it ISN'T EVEN LISTED IN THE BOOK. Photoshop has so many functions, the authors need to pick and choose what they will put in and won't put in their books so they don't get .... well .... really, really big.

So I looked "Threshold" up in the dictionary:

thresh·old   /ˈθrɛʃoʊld, ˈθrɛʃhoʊld/ Show Spelled[thresh-ohld, thresh-hohld]

1. the sill of a doorway.

2. the entrance to a house or building.

3. any place or point of entering or beginning: the threshold of a new career.

4. Also called limen. Psychology, Physiology . the point at which a stimulus is of sufficient intensity to begin to produce an effect: the threshold of consciousness; a low threshold of pain.

No go - none of the definitions have ABSOLUTELY ANYTHING to do with this function. But then again - MOST commands in Photoshop seem to just take random words and use them. In past books it has been explained that they are throwbacks from film photo developing days - which I know absolutely nothing about - so they could be telling the truth - or they could just be messing with all our heads.

As best as I can explain it: It takes your photo and converts it into black and white with a slider that will let you decide how much black and white are showing. I am assuming the dark places become black and the light places become white. All I know is that it makes for some funky, cool images. Also - since I am no artist - in this mode I can use a paintbrush with either black or white 'paint' and paint out portions of the image to make it look better (well, to me ...) - a regular artist paints in Photoshop all the time. That is something that I will NEVER master in this lifetime ...

So started playing. Went to my Paris photos because I thought that I could find some fun things that would silhouette rather well. I was not disappointed:

Randomly did an Ostrich to see if I could keep the hair and still keep the detail of the eye. With layers and separate threshold levels I was able to composite this:
But my all time favourites? Trees. I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE the shape of a tree. OK, certain shapes of trees - not ugly, scruffy, uneven trees - but a beautifully shaped tree. Man ... there is nothing more beautiful to me:

Not that I have found a use for this command or the final products, but it SURE IS FUN. And I am in the process of waisting time - just waiting for 1:30am to roll around to check in to my Quantas flight.

Since I am riding in steerage with the goats and chickens, my best hope for keeping my seat (they will not guarantee them except to people like Gary who have Gold or Platinum status, and - alas ... I am only Silver ...). My seat is an aisle seat and I NEED IT!!!! I have two discs in my back with no cushioning whatsoever and one herniated disc based on my last MRI and so getting up and walking around is MANDATORY every half hour. People sleeping for 8 hours or so don't really appreciate me AT ALL. I have been lucky so far - the one time I lost my aisle seat - I ... threatened ... the gentleman in the aisle that I would be up every half hour and if he wanted to trade me for the window he was welcome. Strange - he took me up on my offer! He then proceded to fall fast asleep for 12 hours. Got up only once - a VERY GOOD trade.

Anyhoo - what to do, what to do ... 3 more hours to go.

WARNING: MORE BLOGGING MIGHT BE HAPPENING SOON!!!

**************

Addendum: An hour and a half down!!! Spent my time doing something entirely tedious, but thought it turned out rather well. Hit our ill fated London trip photos and tried my Threshold command on Big Ben. Didn't turn out so well. When I would try to lighten it, I lost all outlines of all the towers. When I darkened it and got the towers, it was too dark. So - two layers - one light and one dark.

That's when the fun starts. Didn't really think people were this nuts until I started reading my Photoshop books and saw what people actually took the time to do. So - With the dark layer on top, I ERASED everything except the outline of all the towers so that the light layer would show through.

Apparently I got nothin but time ...

Trench Foot

Got a call from Gary last night at 9:00pm - his lunch hour ... on his Saturday. In 'The Field' they work 7 days a week and about 12 hours a day. If you cannot tell - I have been blogging for him - keeping him up on daily life, trying not to complain, changing the color of my blog text so he can read it while in Papua New Guinea, trying to sound sane and responsible and such stuff.

Phone calls have been short - he is up by 5:00am for a 6:00am meeting so just a brief 'hi'. He cannot call when he goes to bed since it is 5:00am my time. OK, well he has called at 5:00am to talk to me - but apparently I'm not all that nice at that hour and just being woken up (usually after only a few hours of sleep) so he has stopped doing it - sort of sad ...

So - yesterday was a treat - we spoke for at least 1/2 hour.

After laughing about a MONUMENTALLY STUPID thing I did yesterday - culminating with a final e-mail to him titled: "I AM AN IDIOT" (no, I am NOT telling) we got down to the day to day stuff.

He then tells me he is sitting in his room drying his feet out. Thus the long conversation.

What? Ick. Ick. Ick.


Here's the thing - 13 years ago Gary went out on a ship to watch his baby: "Diana" an offshore oil something or other be installed in the Gulf of Mexico. He needed steel toed boots and a hard hat to be on the ship at all - so he dutifully acquired a pair of shoes:

There they sat ... maybe being used every now and then - I cannot remember how many times he has been to a fab yard or when his GBS going off the shore of Italy when we lived in Norway - when he was at the site they built that, filled the divot full of water and floated the behomoth off - I am sure all these times required some sort of safety garb by the über cautious company he works for and so they came in handy.

Fast forward to the jungles of Papua New Guinea. Dressing gets complicated. Steel toed boots, insect repellent socks, insect repellent pants and, you guessed it - insect repellent shirts. I am assuming a hard hat is also required - he hasn't ever mentioned wearing it but owns it for some reason ....

He tells me that daily - he is slogging around construction sites - watching his 'planning a city' come to fruition. He didn't really design a city - but that is the best description. A wharf, roads, bridges, sites for the gas treatment plant, sites for where they will extract the gas, water treatment facility and that is only what I have heard of in passing.

So he has been visiting these sites that are in their infancy - some just being bulldozed to be leveled - some - like the wharf is farther along (I didn't even know he was working on a wharf until he mentioned it yesterday ....).

He says he is most often in ankle deep mud while walking. His two greatest wishes at the moment he had called me were that:

a) he had two pairs of boots

b) his boots looked like this:

Apparently the waterproofing he put on ... he can't remember when has worn off and the boots are soaked from the mud and cleaning. And they don't dry during the night - so if he had two pairs - he could trade off while one pair was drying. The higher boots are from the fact that he is in ankle deep mud and is coveting the other guys boots that can just hose them off and not get their socks and everthing else wet before coming back into the 'office'. I use the term 'office' loosely since I suggested that he just walk around in his socks for a few hours while he was inside. He described that all that mud doesn't exactly stay outside the office floors are not all that clean. He said he is so tired of walking around in grit ... fun, fun, fun and sounds like not much of an office and more like a 'mud room' with a computer attached.

He told me that the night before that his boots were caked with mud, but someone told him he had mink oil he could use - which meant somehow cleaning and drying his boots to get the oil on them. So (and here, dear reader, hold on to your hat ... it gets a little ... bumpy) he TAKES HIS TOOTHBRUSH and thouroughly cleans his boots off. No - I didn't EVEN DARE ASK ...

Addendum: Gary said it was a SPARE toothbrush ... I feel ever so much better ...

Next he sat down and for an hour and a half used a hair dryer on the boots to dry them out. Then slathered them with 4 or 5 coats of mink oil. I was impressed with his travel hair dryer - he said it only shut off once and blew the circuit once! Running it an hour and a half!

So .... problem solved ... right?

Wrong.

Put on his boots yesterday and his feet got wet again - he says he is so tired of walking around with his feet damp. Apparently he didn't use that little hair dryer long enough and now has sealed in the damp into the boot and the only way out is through the inside.

HE IS NOT A HAPPY CAMPER.

It sort of brought home to me that he is not just on a spa sort of vacation out there in the jungle. There are safety concerns from the various tribes in the area ... as much as I joke about it. He is on malaria pills, wearing clothing to help with the mosquitoes and apparently slogging around in ankle deep mud everywhere. No - not a spa vacation at all. And he goes back to do it all over again the day after I leave Brisbane ...

He left what I believe was called Gobe (since his e-mail says that is where he can be contacted) and sent me an e-mail that he made it (via helicopter) to Nogoli yesterday to check on that site. He will stay there a day or so, be choppered back to Morrow, stay the night then somehow - chopper / plane / hitchhike - I am unsure - make it to Port Moresby (the capital) by Monday morning. Then a half a day in Port Moresby (where I have begged him to shop for large wood carvings for me ... cool!) and on a plane to Brisbane. I believe that is two whole days to get out of the jungle and back to civilization. DANG!

In the meantime - he thinks he has cell phone coverage, but probably no Internet - thus no perusing my blog to access my sanity level for the next few days. MAN - I'M GOING TO TOWN!!!! Especially if 'radio silence' is the new standard for us right now. Hoping for a call after he wakes up (my afternoon) - if not - prepare yourselves for some rabid blogging. Kidding ... I leave tomorrow for Brisbane - how bad can it get in a little over 24 hours? Probably shouldn't have said that, huh?

Hopefully the last day he can wear his tennis shoes and get his feet dry -

I would hate to see him lose a few toes ....

kidding ....


sort of ....

Invading a Foreign Country ...

Woke up at 9:00am to the sweet sound of very large lawn mowers attacking my KILLER LAWN ...

Now, I know, 9:00am - yeah - about that - I stayed up until 4:00am reading a book - so 9:00am didn't seem so excessively slothful at the time ...

Just look at that pile of grass! I feel guilty I don't have a compost heap somewhere ... a little bit ...

Was well into my morning routine - which happened (not EVERY DAY mind you ... except as of late ...) to include CHARLIES RIDE where we just so happen to end up at Sonic and I get a drink. And while I am out, why not get the mail - because heaven knows I don't want to take that TWO HOUSE WALK to reach the mailbox later ... so the day going pretty much as normal ....

There was a package in the mail. Ryan had ordered a 72 pin connector for his brand spanking new 1985 Nintento NES system since as he puts it (and I have no idea what he is talking about) "The red blinking light on the screen says you have a problem with your 72 pin connector" but straightforward enough that we had ordered one a few days ago on ebay for $3.00. Took it up to him and he seemed a happy camper.

Later he came down and I heard him rummaging in the kitchen - I was assuming he was whipping up something for breakfast - so I walked in and found this:

Should have known that the kid would want to install the connector right away. This required taking out screws that had been snugly set in place in 1985 and Ryan was not a happy boy. They were not coming out.

Me: "I think you need some WD40"

Ryan: "Do we have some?"

Me: "Yeah, I think so ..."

Ryan: "Where?"

Me: (Gulp) "In DADS GARAGE"

Ryan: "Oh ..."

A Foreign Territory if ever there was one:

Cupboards everywhere - filled to the brim. Drawers. Shelves. Cupboards just dedicated to routers - drawers dedicated to like minded tools.

A place for everything and everything in its place. If there is one constant in Garys life is that a clean workshop is just a wee step down from Heaven itself ... and a clean workshop is how he leaves it as he departs for Australia ... always.

And off we went with the keys to PARTS UNKNOWN, to rummage around, touch his stuff, and try to find one lone - solitary can of spray WD40 ...

And what do you know - a cupboard with, well cans of all sorts of crap and sitting in the front was the WD40. We were happy campers.

I went back in and drew on my days of assembling circuit boards while going to college. I believe my soldering iron is still out there in that Foreign Territory that we sometimes refer to as a garage ... and I will BET you that Gary could tell me EXACTLY where it is sitting ... I have no clue. Why I was assembling circuit boards for some electrical company escapes me now - since I had a job in a lab in the Physics Department - I guess maybe a second summer job ... but taught me a few handy skills.

Dissembling a chunk of electronics made ABOUT THE TIME I WAS ACTUALLY IN COLLEGE seemed a piece of cake and with the WD40 the screws started to give.

I realized quickly Ryan had assembled the wrong tool for the task which meant another foray into LANDS UNKNOWN to find a REAL screwdriver instead of just the little pansy ones you could only pinch with your fingers to twist - we needed GRIP! And I was sure Gary had just the tool for the job ...

... somewhere


.... out there


.... in all those drawers


... of crap and stuff.

Being the clever gal that I am, I decided that maybe the ginormous Sears Craftsman Toolbox on his workbench would be a pretty good place to start. Pulled on a drawer - won't budge.

Me: "It's locked"

Ryan: "Why would dad lock his toolbox"

Me: "Maybe to prevent us from doing what we are doing - pillaging and plundering in his little fiefdom"

Ryan: "Man ..."

I open the top and tell him (since I am too short) to see if there is a catch or something that will unlock the drawers. He says no. I am frustrated - I mean - THE TOP IS UNLOCKED!!! Why would he LOCK HIS TOOLBOX? I pull on a drawer in total frustration and it slides smoothly open.

Either we are incredibly incompetent or the top of the box needs to be open for the drawers to slide out - go figure ...

Rummage around and find a Phillip's head that I proclaimed "would do the trick"

Out of Foreign Territory and back into the safe, familiarity of the kitchen we went to work and got all the screws out! Miracle of miracles. And, boy - they were tough!

Ryan got the connector installed, tacked a few screws in place so the entire system wouldn't fall apart and took it to test it. He has one game for it - something called "Super Mario 3" he tells me he is an Italian plumber .... what ever ... I'm not sure what the game is - unclogging toilets?

He comes back down beaming!

Ryan: "It works"

Me: (whispering) "You are really weird"

Ryan: "I think that is on a list of the top 10 things NOT to say to your son"

Me: "Well, could you get me that list, because apparently I missed that parenting class ..."

Ryan: shakes his head and walks off with his new/old prize:

Now I hear strange blips, bleeps, blorps, and blops coming from his room ....

I believe he is in Nintendo heaven ...

Sure ... It Stops Raining NOW ...

A lawn service mows our lawn. Why? Well, I'm not going to do it, and before that, Ryan did such a horrid job of it that we decided it was our best option.

They mow on Thursdays.

Last Thursday it rained - thus we have

The Attack of the Killer Lawn:

It was raining today, so I called and asked if they were going to mow anyway - since all our neighbors have lawn services and THEY ALL seem to have comely, shapely lawns, I just felt it was time we trickled to the top of their priority list.

They came out - rang my doorbell and told me that it was raining. Yeah - I could see that - but won't a mower work in a drizzle? He said he didn't understand. I sighed, thanked them since I don't speak spanish and he didn't speak much English - my - "When do you think you can get to my lawn?" question was not going to be answered.

It started to pour. The truck drove away - leaving me with my monstrous lawn.

It is now clear - and I am sure they are off mowing some lucky persons lawn ....



... but it sure ain't mine ...

Pardon my Colour ...

Gary wrote me and said he could barely read my blog - which means that the brown background will not show in PNG for some such reason - so I changed the font colour to 'brown' - why it looks red to me is ... well

disturbing.


Back to normal in a week ...