Oh Man, I Should Have Stretched Out First

You know that feeling you get in your legs when you've been sitting for a long time, and then you stand up and take a few stiff strides across the restaurant's floor or through a parking lot to get to a bathroom? 

No? Well, then you must not be old. But if you do, then you know what my mind feels like right now. I haven't written anything in months, and now the process is slow and slightly painful. There are all kinds of ways you can get out of shape. Instead of the gym, I need to go to the blog for a mental workout. 

Like taking those first arduous steps, the hardest part of writing for me is simply starting. The ideas swirl around in my head like fall leaves in a strong wind. I can't pin any one down. 

I need to stop complaining and just start typing...

Okay, let's see. What have we been doing?

Charlotte is a drummer in the high school band, and now she's busier than ever. Char has early morning marching band practices, after school band lessons, evening percussion sectionals, and evening jazz band practices. Then there are the home football game performances on Friday nights, and marching band competitions on Saturdays - both at which Daphne and I volunteer to help move the pit on and off the field. Band... it's a family affair. When marching band is done, Char's jazz band practices will move to mornings, she'll have concert band during the school day, and her show choir practices (she drums for a group) will move to the evenings. Sports have seasons. Band runs all year long. 

I'm just glad that she is enjoying herself so much. When I asked, "How was your first marching competition?"

"Fire." was her one-word reply

When we're not driving Char to and from school/band, Daphne enjoys her sewing room and our kitchen. I enjoy my basement and our garage. Here's my latest garage project's before pic:

It's a Mongoose Hilltopper SX from 1997 (I think). Where it's at: I've got two flat tires and the grips are blown" (my apologies to Beck). I'm guessing Goodwill was only asking $15 for this bike because the index shifters weren't working, one pedal's toe clip was broken, the locked bike lock had no combination, and everything else was dirty, oily, or greasy.

That, my friends, can all be fixed.

Besides, it was sporting a bike shop sticker. That means this bike had been in the hands of a professional who was proud enough of their work to put their name on it. My guess is that Wayne Donohue assembled this bicycle sometime before he closed his shop in 2002. He owned and operated his business for 12 years, and I bet he knew his stuff (info provided by Linked In).

I've seen people on YouTube fix shifters like these with a can of WD-40 or B'laster. The idea is that the original factory grease in the shifters has become sticky, and the little pawls that help pull the cable are stuck in place. The old grease needs to be flushed out and new lube needs to be sprayed in.  

I pumped up the tires and then went shopping.

I found this generic-looking can of "Spray Lubricant" at our local Dollar Tree (which now charges $1.25 for everything). I'm impressed with this stuff. I used the thin straw that's taped to the can to shoot lube into the insides of each shifter housing. Then I flicked the shifter levers back and forth until the sticky pawls started catching. Both shifters took about 15 minutes to come back to life.

The tires were still holding air, and the brakes seemed to be okay, so I put on a helmet and took a slow test drive... alright! I had a bicycle that would go, stop, and shift. I could have stopped there and put the bike up for sale for a quick flip. But what's the fun in that?

I removed the toe clips, broken and whole, from the pedals. Then I used Super Glue Mounting Tape (also from the Dollar Tree) to adhere the toe clip's reflector to the "blank" sides of the pedals. That doesn't look too bad, and the mounting tape seems pretty solid.

 

For now I'm using these pedals that I bought for another bike, but didn't use. I think the pedal's blue does an okay job of matching the blue on the shocks and the kickstand.

I was surprised that this chain was not worn out. It was just dry and dirty. The same goes for the derailleurs, the cogs, and the chainrings. Those and the cables were cleaned and lubed after this pic was taken.

After a thorough cleaning and a lengthy tune-up, I added a new bell and new grips. 

Kickstands are pretty handy when you are moving stuff around a crowded garage. The pedals and the kickstand are from Amazon.

"Small Block Eight" reminds me of being a teenager with magazine subscriptions to Hot Rod and Car Craft. These 26x2.1 tires came from China via AliExpress. 

This stem cap, also from AliExpress, reminds me that my favorite holiday is right around the corner.

I think the cap is the rug that really ties the room together. 

A previous owner had a stem extender installed (I bet Mr. Donohue did the installation). That and the fat tires make the Mongoose comfortable to ride. I really enjoy bombing down our hill into our cul-de-sac. 

Speaking of tires... I liked the Small Block Eight tires so much I ordered another 26x2.1 pair for another bike, but I forgot to get tubes for those tires. But look what I found at Goodwill last week:

Trust me. This is weird. How often do you go into a thrift store and find exactly what you wanted? These tubes are the right size and have never been used.

Sure, they're older than my teaching career, but I think these tubes will be just fine. If they blow, I'll let you know.

Here's the "finished" bike. I did the math, and it owes me $110. Or $85 if I go back to the o.g. pedals. Either way, that's pretty cheap for how many times the Mongoose has made me smile. This isn't a bicycle that's going to make anyone jealous, but I won't be embarrassed to park it in front of our local brewery. 

Whoops, I almost forgot. I was able to figure out the combination to that bike lock by pulling it taut and turning the wheels at the same time. Sheesh. These locks really aren't very good. Although I suppose they could slow down a thief that didn't have bolt cutters in their pocket.

Okay. I feel better. I feel better just for getting off the couch and mentally working out for a bit. I probably should wait until tomorrow before I hit the "publish" button. I'm sure I made some grammatical errors and punctuation mistakes that I would catch later.

Nah. I'm gonna push it.

No Ball is an Island (update, again)

  November 18, 2019:

 You can see the baseball field at the end of the hallway on the second floor of UHS.

You can also see the top of this small roof.

Last year a foul ball landed on that small roof. The lonely baseball sat there during the summer, fall, winter, and spring. I'm sure the custodians are too busy to worry about retrieving it. I had thought about taking a picture of the ball during all four seasons. I've seen it covered in leaves and in snow. I suppose I didn't take the pictures because I felt a little sad for that baseball.

The ball was still there in August for its second year of school, but this time things are different.

Everybody needs a friend...

Update November 9, 2020: 

... or two.

Update March 28, 2023: 

... or three. 

"Hey guys, got room?'

Update September 3, 2024:

... or four. Glad to see they're keeping themselves hydrated. 

My Last Day of School Theory

I'm not a negative guy, but I do count down how many days of a vacation I have spent versus how many vacation days I have left. So, if I'm on a 10-day vacation, I go to bed thinking something like How can it be Thursday night already? We only have three days left...

But I won't be thinking that tonight!

Char was done with school last Friday, but the teachers in the Urbandale School District had to make up three snow days. That's okay with me. I remember how excited Char was for those snow days. They were worth it.

So, I'll leave the building at 3:30 and my '23-'24 school year will come to an end. And here's my theory about that: I don't think I'm officially on summer vacation until the calendar flips the page at midnight tonight.

So? 

Well, that means everything that happens this afternoon and evening is a freebie. I don't have work tomorrow, but I won't have spent even one second of summer vacation until 12:00 AM. 

And that feels pretty good.

On to High School!

These are the shirts that the 8th graders are wearing today.

Severe weather and power outages couldn't keep Charlotte from celebrating her last day of middle school!

Honestly, Char is more than ready to transition to UHS. I'm the one who is on the fence about it. Having a daughter in high school makes me feel all that much older.

One thing is for sure. The drive to work will be more interesting...

I Need to Reevaluate my Opinion of Wild Rabbits

 "Charlotte! You gotta see this!"That's what I said when I opened the gate to our backyard. 

We had just gotten home. Char was in the garage getting her stuff in our car. when I was about to turn and get the mower when I spotted the rabbits. There looked to be about five or six, but it was hard to count them because they were moving so fast. But they weren't jumping from me. Instead, they were chasing each other around our tree. I watched them run three laps as Charlotte stood by me with her hand over her open mouth.

"Oh my God," Char exclaimed, "This is the cutest thing I have ever seen!" 

The rabbits stoped circling the tree and split into three different, but intertwining, paths. I could count them now. There were three rabbits weaving, leaping, and hopping around a fourth, stationary rabbit who had its head down in the grass. More than once I watched a rabbit sprint at, and them leap over the stationary one. 

"Let's get closer," Charlotte requested. 

We did.

The three stopped their games and eyed me warily. I was sure they would evacuate, but they didn't leave. They instead zipped around from a safe distance. I pulled out my phone to capture some video while Char tried to feed the stationary rabbit some grass.

Then we spotted the baby bunnies. I appreciate that Char's first reaction was to protect them, "You can't mow!"

I suppose someone smarter than me would have figured out that the stationary rabbit wasn't just eating grass. She was a mom tending to her newborn babies. I have to hand it to momma rabbit. Char had to get really close before she backed away from her nest. Mom didn't go very far, though. She stayed in the yard, and when Char and I backed up, she returned to her little ones.

Not wanting to intrude further, Char and I backed up the hill and closed the gate. Char was right. I couldn't mow now. We went inside. I took Ellie for a walk, and thought about what we had witnessed. 

I wonder if we had interrupted a celebration? Maybe the smaller rabbits were brothers or sisters of the newborns, and they were expressing their excitement and joy at their siblings' birth? It could be true. And if it is, I need to reevaluate my opinion of wild rabbits. There's a lot more going on there that I knew.

That was last Tuesday. Our backyard was empty of rabbits by Thursday afternoon. I was disappointed, but I did get to mow.

Spotted on a Toy Shelf at the Salvation Army

 I have so many questions.

More Than Meets the Eye

I took this picture of Char's bedside table last week. The main point of this pic was the water tumbler. 

Char didn't want a trendy, Stanley Tumbler. She wanted a Stanley Dupe (look-alike) tumbler from Five Below. The problem is that Stanley Tumblers are so popular that even the dupes fly off the shelves. When someone at school told her that a new shipment would be arriving that evening, Char texted if we could go tomorrow after school?

I doubted they would still be there tomorrow, and I also doubted that the Five Below website was accurate. I drove over to the mall after school while Char was in Drama Club. Here's our text conversation:

Okay! That's a dad-win, and those are harder to come by with a teenage girl. I mostly get yelled at. To keep my streak going, we sat down at the computer and searched etsy.com for the right Stanley Dupe Sticker. 

Here's Char's pick:

Yelnats is Stanley spelled backwards, and instead of a royal bear, there's a royal lizard. That's a clever reference to the book and movie Holes.

I took the picture while the sticker was still in place, and the tumbler was still in good shape. Things like this don't last forever. But that isn't why I like this picture so much. It's everything else in the picture.

In the foreground on the left is Char's first case for her first set of eyeglasses. Picking those out was quite a task, and Char is still proud of her choice. 

Char has braces, and that's her headgear that goes along with them in the middle. 

To the right of that is my old Tomy Pocket Obstacle Course that I was playing with back when I wore braces and headgear. I didn't remember that Char even had it. 

On the far right is her folding fidget square. She's grown out of her fidget phase, so it's fun to see one pop up now and again. 

Above the fidget is a plastic turtle that used to float in her bathtub. He's always dry now, but he still makes an appearance in her room once in awhile. 

To the right of the dupe is a framed postcard from our trip to Canada last summer. It's from Dartmouth, and that's where Daphne and I sat for an hour on a park bench watching our daughter unsuccessfully trying to catch a wild, but mostly tame, duck. 

Above the dupe is a cat sticker that was applied to the wall in one of Char's first attempts of decorating her room all by herself. That was years ago, and I think this is the sole surviving sticker.

Some people might look at this picture and see a silly cup on a messy nightstand. Instead, I see our daughter's past, where she is now, and hints of where she's going. I can see my past on there, too. I'm so glad I took this picture.

Things like this don't last forever.

One Thing I Won't Miss

We keep a digital photo frame by our front door. My mother-in-law gave me the frame. It sits on a music cabinet that Daphne's grandpa made. That way we keep it all in the family. The frame displays pictures from Char's first day, her birthdays, her school days, our family vacations, holidays, and other fun odds and ends. 

The pictures are mostly in chronological order, and sometimes I'll get stuck standing in front of the frame watching baby pictures of Charlotte crawl by. 

It makes my heart ache with a mixture of love, pride, and loss. 

The feelings of love and the pride are easy to explain. The feeling of loss is a bit trickier. It stems from the passage of time. 

I'll use a running analogy. I used to be a runner: marathons, road races, running clubs... the whole bit. That was over ten years ago. I see people running now, and I think Man, I miss being a runner. That looks like so much fun. 

Here's the thing; it's been so long since I've run anywhere that I forgot how grueling running can be. You have to deal with unexpected injuries, sore muscles, endless hills, fighting dehydration, aching feet, and uneven pavement. I've fought my way through pouring rain, extreme cold, high winds, and even hail. It can be so exhausting. Running is not for the faint of heart. It is hard work.

The same goes for parenting. I look at those early pictures and I forget about all the tough stuff. You have to deal with unexpected injuries, unexpected illnesses, and unexpected dirty diapers. There's the endless screaming, the endless crying, and the endless nights that go with them. Your days are filled with binkies, bath times, and Bubble Guppies. And there's that real fear that you'll lose their favorite pacifier or stuffed animal, and your world will end. It can be so exhausting. Parenting is not for the faint of heart. It is hard work.

But then I walk by that digital picture frame and see baby Charlotte smiling at me. That's when all the memories of that work washes away, and I think Man, I miss having a toddler. That looks like so much fun. 

And that's when my feelings of loss kick in. I won't have a toddler again. Those days are gone. Time moves in only one direction, and each picture is a landmark that cannot be returned to. All those moments that I'll never get back flash in succession before me, and I start to fall into a rabbit hole of sadness. 

Do you know what saves me from my despair?

These damn things.

These horrible grocery carts remind me that having a little one wasn't always fun and games. 

Char had just turned three years old when we moved into our new neighborhood. She was about two years younger than the youngest neighbor living there, and she wasn't included in a lot of their playgroup games. One child had a battery-powered car that could carry two children. 

The kid would drive by our house with a passenger, and they would shout at Charlotte who was standing in our driveway. They'd yell, "Hi, Charlotte." Char would shout a hopeful "Hi!" in return, but they never stopped, and they never offered her a ride. It was just a quick wave and a giggle and off they'd go down the sidewalk. 

I hated that car. 

I also think that car was the reason we would have to get the "race car" every time we went grocery shopping with our daughter. It was finally her chance to get a ride. 

There are the three reasons why I also hated these carts.

1) The Competition. 

We usually went grocery shopping on weekends. There could be up to 15 little kids in the store and only three racing carts. Char would be crushed when we didn't get a race car and another kid in one would glide past us with a wave and a giggle. More than once I have stopped driving in the parking lot to let Daphne get out to run to the cart corral and grab a racer before some other parent did. That's way too much pressure on you when all you really want is a gallon of milk.

"Quick! Go grab it! Trip that other mom if you have to!"

2) They're unwieldily. 

Check out the wheel placement on this cart. The wheels in the middle (under the 32) are in a fixed position to roll straight. The front and rear wheels rotate. This makes the racer cart turn much differently that a regular shopping cart. It should be second nature to push one of these around, but it's not. I'd turn wildly into end caps, bang into freezer doors, and sideswipe other people's carts. Trying to turn around in the middle of the aisle was a nightmare. I could ram another customer or swipe boxes of cereal off of a shelf. It was embarrassing. I felt like an idiot. To make things worse, Charlotte would scold me, "Daaad! Steer better!"

3) They're uncomfortable. 

Look at that cockpit. There's hardly any room. If your kid's feet touch the "floor" their knees are going to be pressed right against the cart's basket. Despite her insistence, even at three Char's legs were already too long for her to easily fit in there. Her discomfort made her crabby, and she could dissolve into a teary fit. More than once I had to take our crying child out to our real car to get her to calm down. 

For me, these carts are a healthy reminder that sometimes a parent just can't win, and it's better to look forwards than backwards. 

But I'm not giving up my picture frame. 

Scratchy, But Very Playable

Before I begin this post, I'd like to state for the record that I do buy new records. I was a member of Vinyl Me, Please and Vinyl Moon. I buy new records from Bandcamp, Discogs, Amazon, and eBay. I also buy new records at local record stores and record shows. 

BUT, that's not as fun as scoring used LPs out in the wild, wild, west of thrift. The new and used LPs in record stores, at shows, and online are organized, categorized, and alphabetized. No surprises there. 

You never know what you are going to find out in the wild. For every 100 religious records, you might come across one or two interesting specimens. There's a How did you even get here? aspect that is surprising and fun. If the LP is great shape that's an added bonus. I've found pristine LPs that are actually worth 30 times or more than what I paid. There's quite a rush when that happens.

With this mind, I'll explain why I've stopped ignoring scratched up and beat up records.

Usually I'd skip this Shades of Deep Purple LP. The vinyl is visibly scratched. The worn, outer sleeve has splits on the top, side, and bottom. That used to put me off. Now I pause before I flip to the next LP in the box on the bottom of a Goodwill shelf.

I ask myself, Should I give this bad boy a chance? 

I also ask myself some other questions to determine an answer:  1) Do I know the artist? 2) What is the artist's genre? 3) What is their style? 4) When was this recorded? 5) What condition is the vinyl in? 6) What condition is the sleeve in?

Notice which questions are last.

Dirt and debris do not deter me. I wet-vacuum clean almost all of my thrift records before I play them. If I see a feel-able scratch or a deep warp, then I'll pass. I hate it when a record skips. I'll also move on if it's covered with a haze of scratches. The rest really is up to chance. Some scratched thrift store LPs sound really good. Others not so much. It's really hard to know just by looking. You have to buy it and test it at home.

Why throw good money at "bad" records? 

1) Why not? You're not throwing much. Used LPs around here range from 79 cents to $1.49. People throw more change than that into fountains. 

2) You are forcing yourself to focus on one artist and their one statement by buying a scratchy album. You can't fast forward or skip. Limitations can be liberating. There is just too much music out there to absorb. Narrowing your focus sharpens your perceptions.

3) It's a great way to test run a LP. A clean, scratchy record will have better highs and lows than anything you can stream. If you like the music, you can get a better idea how a nicer copy would sound on your system. 

4) These records were not created by accident. For major releases, there was a small army of people putting their record together. Most didn't put their effort and money into it because they thought it would stink. Independent records have even more loved poured into them because they were a passion project. I like to think that every record has at least one interesting track on it. 

5) There's also a chance you'll discover "new" music. Marvin Homes And The Uptights's Ooh Ooh The Dragon and other Monsters came out in 1969. I discovered it almost 50 years later as a scratchy record, and it's one of my favorite finds. I've since purchased a much better copy. I still love my original scratchy one because I listened to it like that for years. Sounds weird, but you get used to the surface noise, and it sometimes revisiting the scratchy one just feels right. 

6) You're saving a small piece of musical history. I like to think that I'm giving the record a final chance to fulfill their purpose to entertain someone once again. 

7) Used records are a good time. Grab 'em when you can.

Okay. So let's go back to the Shades of Deep Purple LP. I'm familiar with the band ("Smoke on the Water," anyone?), and I checked Discogs to see what their earlier genre and style might be.

Four styles of rock sounds good to me. I took Shades home, cleaned and air-dried it, and put it on the turntable. Man, there are some great songs on this record. I hadn't check the tracklist earlier, and I didn't realize "Hush" was on here. I forgot they even sang that song. I also didn't know they did a slow and brooding version of The Beatles' "Help" or a banger cover of "Hey Joe". 

What also stood out was the surprising sound effects. Hush begins with a lonely wolf howling in the night. "One More Rainy Day" begins in a storm, and "Help" inexplicably begins in a B-movie science lab. My favorite effect comes after the last track. When the music for "Hey Joe" ends, you can hear what I assume is a recording engineer say, "That's the one." Then you hear someone else reply, "Right." Then they yawn, stretch, and heavy foot steps travel from one ear to the other (if you're wearing headphones). A squeaky door is opened and then is slammed shut. At that moment the turntable's tone arm raises and slides back to its cradle. 

That's how you end a record.

(I find it difficult to photograph record scratches. But holding the LP in sun seems to help.)

And that's the good news. The other news is that side 1 is in decent shape. You can hear clicks and pops in-between the songs, but the music overcomes that. Side 2 is slightly rougher. That's a shame because the static almost overpowers the understated opening to "Help". The music is louder on "Hey Joe", and the noise is masked quite a bit there. 

So, I was reminded that "Hush" is a Deep Purple tune, and that they also do two cover songs that I really like. That's worth more than the $1.50 spent for sure. I'm on the lookout for a better copy of Shades, but this does work for now. 

El Chicano's self-titled LP is another example of a scratchy find. I hadn't heard of this band before.

Rock, Latin, Funk, and Soul? Sign me up! Also, this was recorded in 1973 - a sweet spot when it comes to funk records. I really like the lead track, "Tell Her She's Lovely" and the instrumental covers "What's Going On" and "We've Only Just Begun." I can say that I did not see a Carpenters cover coming. This record gives off Santana and Brazil '66 vibes.

The vinyl's surface noise wasn't obnoxious, but I found a much better copy on Discogs for only $10. The outer sleeves are really close in condition, but one on the right is the keeper. The guy on the left is going back to Goodwill so he can inspire another. 

Let's try again.

This looks a lot worse than it is. That's some serious ring wear on the cover, but that doesn't bother me. Inside, the vinyl is VG to VG+. I like this record as-is. I am not seeking out a better copy. As an added bonus, this LP is BoBo approved.

I need to explain that last part. BoBo is our cat, and he hangs out with me in basement. Years ago the Science Center of Iowa had an exhibit about sound. One of the displays stated that scientists believe that animals can hear music, but they have no idea what the animals are actually are hearing.  

I believe that animals can hear actual music although I haven't done any scientific research. BoBo leaves the room if he doesn't like what I'm playing. If he does like what's on the turntable, then he jumps up on the arm of my chair and listens.

He moves his head from speaker to speaker with the stereo effects. His ears twitch when the music changes. When he's really listening, and I try to pet him, he pulls back from my hand and meows a sharp rebuke. 

I bought the Johnny Winter album on a Saturday morning. Bo and I listened to the entire album when it was clean and dry in the afternoon. I asked him if he wanted to listen to it again when it was finished, and he just stared at me from the arm of the chair. I flipped the LP over, dropped the needle, and Bo settled in for another round.

This is what BoBo's stamp of approval looks like.

I need to point out that I'm not always successful. I like The Ventures, especially their Xmas album, but I couldn't connect with this record. I was hoping for surf music, but the instrumentals were a bit on the slow side for me. There are some interesting tracks, but nothing that I need to play again. The vinyl's scratches aren't bad, so this one will go back to Goodwill for someone else to hopefully try. Note: BoBo was nowhere to be seen when I played this...

I suppose a record snob would look at my thrift store finds and hold their nose, and that's fine. 

I think it's normal to wonder what people think about you and your interests. The thing is, you just can't let others' opinions change who you are, what you do, or what you like.

It's not easy, but you have to try to stop looking at yourself through another person's eyes and imagining how they would judge you. You can't read minds. You can't predict what people will say. And you'll never really know what they are thinking. Worrying about that is just a waste of your time. 

These records aren't, though. They're fun.