Guitar Town

There have been stories in the paper and on TV about the 10-foot fiberglass guitars strewn about the city, so we not surprised to encounter one at the City Hall (when we were shopping for the Owl Shack) but I had not realized how impressive they were until I got close to one. The concept is not original – I think it started with fiberglass cows in Chicago – decorated whimsically and then auctioned off for charity. That’s been repeated in Kansas City, Houston, and New York City, but fittingly for the “Live Music Capitol of the World” Austin has guitars, not cows.

The Gibson Guitar Company provided 35 oversized guitars and three dozen artists from around the country were chosen to decorate them, illuminate them, or somehow transmogrify (can you believe the spell checker okayed that word?) them into objets d’art (and flunked that one?). At some future date, they will be auctioned off, along with the 35 real Les Paul Gibson models that have also been decorated and signed – though less outrageously, I understand. And of course, they will have a big concert and party down at Zilker Park when they do. This is Austin, remember? We don’t actually need an excuse for a party but why pass up such a marvelous opportunity? Proceeds will benefit, appropriately, Health Alliance for Austin Musicians and several museums around town.

Here’s the guitar at the City Hall.

That’s the way cool New City Hall building in the background, by the way. The sidewalk coffee shop and the City Store where we went shopping are on the other side, so you’ll have to wait until I blog about City Hall to hear about them.

And if you want to see the rest of the guitars, here is the link to a photo gallery.

Photo gallery: 'GuitarTown Austin'

Now, I’m thinking: how cool would it be to have your very own 10-foot guitar signed by the Dixie Chicks? I could put it next to… no, maybe in the… well, maybe not.

I have no further comment

A question posed to the "Ask Jane" advice column in the Austin Statesman:

"A friend's fiancee attended a wedding in which the bride played "Wagner's Bridal Chorus" on her accordian as she marched up the aisle. My friend's fiancee has decided she wants to do the same thing. Is this considered taboo at a wedding, or at least inappropriate? If not, should the accordian and the bride's gown be color coordinated? Where should she have the bridal bouquet? If her father accompanies her down the aisle, what should he do because both of the bride's hands and arms will be busy moving as she plays her squeezebox?"

Mom says: "Breakfast/Grocery Choices"

We discovered this morning that when your street is all torn up with working machines, somebody has to feed the workers. We looked out and the taco truck was in front of the house. Dad said we didn’t need to go anywhere for breakfast – that we could just go out to the street. Of course, he said, I’d have to go because he didn’t speak Spanish.

We decided to go to Fran’s instead. And then since I needed English muffins, and we were out and about, we decided that we’d go to Central Market. I did get my English muffins – and $65 of other stuff that I didn’t even know I needed till we got there.

After we got home, and were unpacking our heirloom cantaloupe, scones and clotted cream, hummus and flat bread, extra large artichokes, etc., I said to Dad, “If we went to Central Market every week,” and he finished my sentence, “We’d double our food costs.” And I told him, “Yeah, but we’d feel obligated to eat at home after we’d spent all that money, and it would be much healthier for us.” I’ll let you know how the week goes.

Mom says: "Wish you were here."

There are so many “mighty machines” going up and down and back and forth on our street that I can’t help wishing the boys were here. As Dad said in his last blog entry, it’s a good time to see working machines up close and personal. In fact, I can often find him at the window watching everything!

Progress? Report

They're here!


They finally began digging up our street Wednesday. Not with the big trenching machine that throws dust 40 feet in the air, but with "smaller" backhoes. The result is the same, however; there would be no driving on our street. We had to leave the cars parked out overnight wherever we could find a place. I listened all night long for the sound of a car alarm, knowing I could not do anything about it if I heard it. The car was too far away, and while I might get up and run around the house in my unawares if there was an intrusion alarm, I draw the line at running up the street! And all the neighbors said, "Amen."

They promised us we would have access to our driveway Thursday night, but if it rained heavily - as was predicted - they wouldn't make any progress up the street and it might stay blocked. Well, the rain didn't come Thursday - but ( you knew there was going to be a but, didn't you?) when Mom got home after meeting me for lunch there were fire trucks and Gas Company trucks and red warning tape all over the place! They hit a gas main!

They turned off the gas for the house and dug another big hole directly in front of the house and parked their trucks in our drive and otherwise impeded our return until finally, about 9pm the Gas Company turned our gas back on, lit the pilot light on the water heater and went away. I drove around the barricades and put our cars in the garage. Yes! Today the rains came and they are not working (and might not tomorrow) so our neighbors up from us are blocked out probably for the weekend, but we are not.

Here are more pix of the ditch-digging. I wished several times that the boys could see all the machinery up close. Really up close, like in the driveway!

Squirrel Wars

It all started with our searching for - and finding - a bird feeder that was not squirrel-friendly. It's bad enough that the birds could empty a feeder in a matter of hours, but the squirrel could do it in minutes! When we told the man at Home Depot what were looking for he suggested we visit the shotgun department at Wal-Mart, but we finally did find a spring-loaded feeder that discouraged Mr. Squirrel so much he finally stopped trying.

What he did then was stand out in the backyard and chunk pecans at the patio window. At least we think that's what the thumps were that we kept hearing. When he saw that was ineffective, he took the ultimate squirrel revenge - and early one morning chewed through the alarm wire for the patio door.

This was effective. One Sunday morning about 6am that sucker fired off and began to wake the dead, let alone those just sleeping. And what, might you ask, is one's response to the intrusion alarm going off at 95 decibels on a peaceful Sunday morning? Why, it's to leap out of bed and run frantically around the house in one's underwear - a move guaranteed to frighten any would-be intruder into immediate flight! It certainly worked, because we found no intruders, but we did find a thoroughly chewed wire outside the back patio door.

A visit to our favorite do-it-yourself store provided metal wire chases that we used to cover and protect the exposed wiring and once again Mr. Squirrel was defeated. Until he finally gnawed away enough of the wooden block that covered where the wire went into the attic, pulled a foot or so out, and cleanly chomped through the alarm wire again. Now back then, we had decided that we would rather be murdered in our bed than to endure another middle-of-the night fright (not to mention the very real risk of any intruder breaking a leg or something when they fell over from a laughing fit caused by the sight of me running around the house in my unawares) so we only noticed the problem when we tried to set the alarm as we were leaving the house the other morning.

The wire has been patched, I've taken my sisters advice and stuffed steel wool all around the wooden block and as a last resort I've added the ultimate weapon in the squirrel wars. Take a look:

Lady Bird Johnson — 1912-2007

I have been strangely touched by the passing of Lady Bird Johnson, and I’m not sure why that is. Certainly she deserves all the accolades that are being heaped upon her by the press and those who knew her. She was a remarkable woman who made a significant and lasting impression upon our nation, but while the Johnson era covers a large part of my own history, that’s not what I think of when you mention Lady Bird.

I benefit from the beauty of the wildflowers along our Texas highways, and while I don’t go there often, Town Lake is a remarkable part of what makes Austin unique, as is the Wildflower Center I’ve never been to. No, that’s not what touches me.

I know that the media prepares in advance and stockpiles obituaries and in-depth articles and edits hours of film and photos long before there is even a hint of the passing of some important person, and there has been more than a hint as Mrs. Johnson’s health has declined rapidly in the past couple of years, so it was not surprising that on the evening of her death all the TV stations could air hours of retrospective and analysis of her life.

The last couple of mornings I have taken Mom to her class at AGST, and I return by way of the upper deck of I35. From there you can see the LBJ Library and get glimpses of the parking lot which is full – absolutely full – of TV news vehicles, antennae pointed skyward. You can’t see the people who have been in line since early this morning, waiting to pay their respects. Somehow I think I should be doing that.

I saw Mrs. Johnson only once, at a ceremony at the LBJ Library when the Postal Service issued a stamp for the late President. The only thing I really remember from that occasion is the Secret Service agents – the guys looking at you, and not at her. So I really have no idea why her death is so touching to me personally.

I just know it is.

Overheard

Overheard during a lengthy, heated debate between two co-workers over Heaven and Hell - one Christian, one Muslim;

"Can we at least agree that if we both end up in the same place, that's Hell?"

Someone should write a book on “How to Retire”

No, I’m not talking about the “How Much Money Do You Really Need?” or the “Ten Financial Traps to Avoid in Retirement” though that is important information. I’m not even talking about “How to Navigate the Social Security/Medicare/Insurance Parts A through ZZ Morass” though goodness knows that would be extremely useful. I’m talking about a book that helps you know how you are supposed to feel and act after you retire.

Now off the top of your head, that would seem like a no-brainer, but I think it might be a short book:

Chapter 1. Stop Going to the Office.

Chapter 2. Now What?

It’s that first item that gets you – the part about going to the office, or to the classroom, or to the jobsite. See, for most of us – to one degree or another – that’s what has defined us for the last 40 plus years. That’s where we got our validation, or our purpose, or our direction, or our identity, or all of the above. We were a teacher, or a programmer, or a minister or something! Now we are… retired. Now what?

And it’s not just “What do I do with my time now?” It’s more like “What am I now?” Even though I stay home four days a week now, I still think of myself more an employee than a retiree; it’s hard to break that habit. But it feels different now. I no longer attend staff meetings so I no longer know the status of every project – I don’t even know what the projects are anymore. I don’t attend the planning meetings now – I’m lucky if I get told the plans at all. I no longer get any affirmation that I am an important part of RSI. That’s because I’m not. Twenty years of dedicated work not withstanding, I am now a for-hire contractor, along with Anuij, Deepa, and Madj. Hi, I’m Bobba Guru.

At first I joked with my coworkers about how Thursday, was really my Friday, but I’m a little embarrassed to do that now. There’s just so much work to be done that I really feel guilty about getting up and leaving for my long week-end, like I’m not doing my fair share. Hello! What part of cutting back do you not understand? Maybe it would be better if I didn’t go to work at all, but that brings up other issues, like money. Contracting is lucrative. I joke that if I had known how lucrative, I would have done this a long time ago. But the reality is I find that I miss being a valued employee. Mom addressed this issue by immediately enrolling in Austin Grad and embracing a new identity as a student and scholar and theologian. I’m still working it out. Then too, she’s never been as paranoid as I am.

And speaking of paranoia, where is the chapter about letting go of what you have worked so hard to save? I mean, we can’t spend our money for foolish and frivolous things, like trips and doing things we enjoy! We might run out, and then where would we be? On our children’s doorstep, that’s where! I can hear it now – the sound of frantic searching for just such a book as I’m describing.

And then there really is the issue of what to do with your time. That’s been sharpened in focus recently by something going on at church. But that’s for another time.

Let me know if you find any good books.

10 Attributes of the Newly Retired

1. Lack of desire to put forth the effort required to complete any task.
2. 
   

Nothing is Ever Easy!

There are some basic tenants about home repairs. One is the title of this blog. Another is that these projects can be quantified by the number of Home Depot trips needed to complete the project. Still another is that you cannot fix one thing without it leading into another project, and then another. All of these things are true.

It all started when the maid service people ripped up the carpet in the bonus room. Evidently their vacuum cleaner was faulty because it snagged the Berber carpet and pulled out long strings of fiber, leaving 7 or 8 gashes in the carpet. Not good. We noticed the gashes the next day and couldn’t think of any cause except the service, so Mom called, thinking they would surely deny any involvement. To our surprise, they admitted that they were aware when it happened and took responsibility (after we called them on it).

So, project one was to get the carpet repaired or replaced. Folks came and looked at the gashes and said repair was not possible, so after several phone calls and trips to the carpet place the guys came last Friday and replaced the carpet. Oh, did I mention emptying all the shelves and disassembling the computer, etc. to get to the point where they could move the furniture?

Okay, the carpet is good and everything is back in place, but the lower hinged part of the panel that covers the water heater space won’t completely close now because of the carpet. This is the industrial strength panel that Rob crafted out of railroad ties and left-over 4x12s. Okay, maybe it only seemed that heavy. I’m thinking that maybe the thing to do is replace that heavy panel with some lattice-work or filigreed paneling of some sort. So Home Depot trip One was to determine that they didn’t have anything like what I had in mind.

Next idea is to cut a little of the panel off the top, so I took the panel down and here’s where the whole thing spiraled out of control. Not only would Rob’s careful and thorough craftsmanship make this a near impossible task, I found that the water heater stove pipe was not in place and the heater had been filling that little space with hot gasses since probably the last time we had the roof repaired (See? Everything is linked.) Grateful that the house had not burned down or we had not been asphyxiated, I examined the situation and noticed that the hole in the sheet rock where the flue passed into the attic on the way to the roof was gaping; any critter in the attic could pass through that gap and shinny down that now-cool pipe and come right in the house, thank you very much.

Now we do not at the moment have critters in the attic, but I could write about times that we have had. Nevertheless, the gap needed to be plugged and my standard remedy for gaps into the attic is hardware cloth, of which I just happened to have a roll in the garage. Oh, that’s right. We cleaned out the garage. Trip number Two. Except this time we went to Lowe’s and I found some plastic lattice work that could be made to work. All we needed was to saw a 4x8 sheet down the middle and offset the two halves a little so that the holes were appropriately small. If you don’t get the picture here, just trust me on this. Over to the lumber aisle and get the friendly Lowe’s staff to rip that panel on their humongous saw that has a big “out of Order” sign on it. Oh well, surely I can saw it at home. All we have to do is get the 4x8 panel in our 3x6 vehicle. Have I ever mentioned that the loading docks of places like Home Depot and Lowe’s are prime locations for marriage counseling services? There’s a real ministry just waiting to happen right outside those big doors!

We did get it home because we found that because it was a thin sheet of plastic material it would bend and curl. The bad news is: have you ever tried to saw a big sheet of thin plastic material in half? You can’t put it on saw horses; it just bows down between them. You can’t put it on the Workmate because whatever portion is not clamped just flops to the ground. This is like sawing a sheet of Jell-O. About all you can do is lay it flat on the garage floor, but that’s sure going to be hard on the circular saw. Oh, wait. Someone who shall remain nameless borrowed the circular saw and “lost” it.

While I’m thinking about how to saw this panel, I’ll cleverly craft a hardware cloth patch and cover the hole in the ceiling. The hole that’s in the back of a two-foot square closet space that I can’t get to without standing on the water heater, never mind that there is nothing substantial there I can staple this patch to. And did you know that while you are snipping and trimming the patch you can easily jab yourself with the sharp wires. Do you have any idea how hard it is to do this with a Band-Aid on every single finger? And if you cut the hole for the flue in the wrong place, you have to start over?

Once the hole was plugged, I focused on sawing the panel and found that I could raise it up just a little and hand saw one lattice connection at a time. Success! Now I have two panels that I’m going to overlap and connect…. How? I, know, Liquid Nails! Trip Three. Oops, too messy. Now what? Drill holes and bolt it together? Yes! At last – a doubled panel 8 feet long by 2 feet wide that should just fit the 8 foot by 23 ½ inch opening!! Argggh! How much are circular saws? That much? Mom saved the day by suggesting the saber saw. The doubled panel was somewhat less floppy, so with two sawhorses, the Workmate and many clamps, I got the panel in place, and here’s the finished project!

Now, does returning the unused glue count as Trip Four?