Sole Mates

When you run in large, organized road races, companies like Marathonfoto.com will have photographers stationed throughout the course to take action photographs of you.

I'm usually in a lot of pain when the shutter clicks, but I try to smile. Lord knows why; in every photo I look like I have a stick up my wazoo. At first I thought it was just bad timing, but after running in several of these races, I've found that all of my photos look like this:

My chest sticks out too far, my head is tilted at a weird angle, and I look like I'm being pulled by a rope attached to my chin. It's hard to admit to myself, but I must look this awkward when I'm doing training runs, too. No wonder neighbors eye me suspiciously.

Last night Daphne pointed out how Char has already worn down the soles of her tennis shoes. Charlotte may not yet be a runner, but like most kids her age, she runs everywhere she goes. What I noticed was the excessive wear on the outside of the heel of her shoes. You can see the raised hearts on the inside of the sole, but on the outside the hearts have been worn away:

I wear down my shoes in exactly the same place. This is called oversupination, and it's a problem for runners because the foot is far less able to provide shock absorption when it is landing on the outside edge. Ankle sprains, shin splits, and stress fractures are all problems associated with oversupination, and I have experienced all three.

Poor Charlotte, she inherited my step and all the troubles that come with it. I just hope she doesn't get my goofy gait, too. But if she doesn't escape that fate, then maybe the two of us can be running partners. We could look awkward together.

Actually, that would be pretty awesome.

As Seen at My Dahl's Grocery Store

It's official, no matter what your interest is, there's a magazine out there just for you. My friend Boris likes to point out that I have a lot of interests that are out on the "fringe".

Looks like I'm not the only one out there.

In case you were wondering: http://www.basspro.com/Strike-King-Slab-Hammer-Tooty-Fruity-Tubes/product/10221570/

Also:

I remember when being "almost funny" was a criticism.

This makes me want to place "almost" next to other advertising slogans.

A diamond is almost forever.
Subway, Eat Almost Fresh.
Almost Hungry? Why Wait?

While googling for ad slogans, I came across this:

Whatever they're selling, I'm buying. When Charlotte's really crabby, we can use all the help we can get.

http://www.thesurrealist.co.uk/slogan.cgi?word=Monson 

I Love This Kind of Stuff

Awhile back I bought a dead iPod Mini at a Goodwill store for five dollars. For fun, I drove over to Target to see if it would work if I plugged it into one of their demo iPod players. The iPod did spring to life, but the battery wouldn't show that it could take a charge.

I researched battery replacement  http://reviews.cnet.com/4520-11293_7-6378822-1.html, and then bought a five dollar battery through Ebay.

Pair that with another Goodwill find, a three dollar boom box with RCA connections, and you've got something that sounds pretty good. This stereo was probably donated because the cassette player was broken, but the open cassette door provides a great stand for the iPod Mini. I also dig the old school LED display.

After Charlotte goes to bed, I'm quietly rockin' out to this setup in the garage.

A Family Tradition

For the past three years, Charlotte has gone to the "Disney on Ice" with her mom, her two grandmas, and her aunt. They meet downtown for an early dinner, and then they head over to the Wells Fargo Arena for the show.

I think this is an amazing opportunity for Charlotte. I also think these ladies should take her every year they can. Why?

BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE TO GO!

Sorry for shouting, but I get pretty excited about this night. Take a look at that guy in the Nemo outfit. After waving goodbye to our car backing out of the driveway, that's me jumping around the basement.

In the past three years, I may have spent three evenings alone in our house. Sure, I'll miss the girls after a few hours, but boy, I will have fun for awhile. I can surf the net without being told to switch to Starfall Camp. I can make an unhealthy meal choice and eat while watching a horror movie. I can leave the bathroom door open, and I won't traumatize anyone. The possibilities are not endless, but at least a few exist.

I'm not the only one excited for this night. Charlotte has already chosen her outfit, and she'll happily model the dress for you.

After Charlotte was born, I don't know how many parents told me, "They sure grow up fast." Initially, I would mentally roll my eyes, but now I know that line isn't a cliche. It's the God's honest truth. You know what?  I'm actually relieved that I have only spent three evenings alone. I wouldn't want to miss any of this...

But I'm still not going to that ice show!

Bug Update

Tick, tick, tick goes the clock. Flip, flip, flip goes the calendar.

This car hasn't moved under its own power since late June, but that's about to change. I finally finished the brake job, and I'm ready to take a test drive. Unfortunately, this is one of the busiest weeks in the school year, and I'll have to wait a few days until I can cruise around the neighborhood.

I spent most of July and August under the Bug's rear fenders. 

Once school started, work on the car slowed to a glacier pace, but by the end of October I was seeing some progress. Everything black and tubular is new:

Pull the camera back a little, and you can see my new brake hardware. That black ring in the center is an axle seal that also had to be replaced. I screwed up the first seal, so I had to wait a week for the new one to arrive. I got so sick of the smell of transmission oil.

I also learned that when you replace anything having to do with the brakes, you have to do it in pairs. So any work performed on this side was repeated on the other. Obviously, this doubles the size of and the time for the job. 

Hmmm. Four months of work quickly summed up in three pictures and a handful of sentences. That doesn't seem very impressive, but since I'm spending only one hour a night on the car, it takes me awhile to get much done. I'm just glad I hung in there and kept plugging along, even when I had unexpected problems.

My "oil slingers" had holes worn into the tubes, and I couldn't find replacements for sale online. Sometimes 50-year-old parts can be rare. I ended up taking my slingers to the Village Blacksmith in Valley Junction to be repaired. The work was high quality, and the price was right, but these things take time.

When I was finally ready to install the brake drums, I noticed the inside of one the drums was pitted and scored. I posted this picture on the Samba forums and asked if I should get the drum "turned" (i.e. the inside of the drum is ground down to a smooth surface).

I was told by many members that the drum needed to be replaced, and turning wouldn't cut it. I needed a brake drum from 1964 or earlier that would have the correct hole for my repaired oil slinger. Through the Samba classified ads, I found one for sale in Whittier, California. Here's the "new" drum installed.

The axle nuts that hold these drums on are notoriously difficult. The nuts require over 217 pounds of torque to remove, and they are often overtightened and/ or rusted to the axle. So, no, they're not coming off with a pair of pliers. I soaked my nuts for a day in Kroil penetrating fluid, and then used a socket the size of your fist, a 1/2 inch breaker bar, and four feet of pipe to get them to turn loose.

Early into the brake job, I ordered the "Torque Dude" tool to help me tighten the nuts back to 217 pounds of torque. But by the time I was actually ready to use my "Torque Dude", I discovered that the holes in this Chinese-made tool didn't line up with the holes in the German drums. I was well past the date I could return the tool, so instead of wasting $84, I spent the next evening with a hand file slowly enlarging the holes until they matched the drum's. After that, the Dud was back to being a Dude.

Luckily, time and labor are free at the "Bent Wrench Garage". Plus, I'm getting better at handling these delays and disappointments. Instead of throwing things against the wall, I first try sitting down and figuring out a solution to the problem. Sure, I'm learning about car repair, but I'm also becoming less impatient, better at problem solving, and maybe a little more mature.

Or not, I did giggle after I wrote, "I soaked my nuts".

I have only made one cosmetic change since I began this project. In the early 90s, I opened the hole in the dashboard and installed a crappy, AM/FM radio that needed a voltage converter to work with the Bug's weaker 6 volt system. The converter drained the battery, and the Chevy radio looked out of place in the painted dash.

I must have thrown the original "radio delete plate" away when I installed that dorky radio, but I found a replacement in the correct color (pearl white) for sale on the Samba. I'm really happy to see the dash look like this again.

Years ago I couldn't imagine owning a car that didn't have at least a radio. Now I don't really care. I want to drive this car. I don't want to be distracted from it.

That's all for now. I'll write more after I turn that key and shift into reverse.

Fingers crossed.

Ack!

What's the Joker doing in our copy of The Helpful Little Puppy?

What's the Date?

Yep, my old school alarm clock talks. 

Happy Halloween!

Here in the Des Moines area the kids trick or treat a day early, and it's called "Beggar's Night". I'm still not sure how I feel about that. It's a little anticlimactic to have nothing happen on All Hallows Eve, but I'll live. In fact, after we get Char to bed tonight, I will not venture out into the garage. Instead, I'm going to turn out the lights in my movie room and fire up my favorite scary movie, Halloween.

Here, you can watch it with me if you want (warning, it's rated R): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2_cPwONsKu8

When the movie's over, I'll go downstairs and also turn off the lights on our Halloween display for another year.

October's almost gone, but that's alright with me. It's only the first of my three favorite months. Besides, I don't care for October's tenuous grip on fall. There's too many backward slips into September's weather. I don't want to rake dead leaves in 80 degrees. Days like that play tricks on you, but then again, what you would expect from October?

What a week. We start with Halloween candy, and we end with an extra hour to sleep...  does it get better than that? 

Well, yeah, it does. 

The Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year's Eve celebrations are still around the corner. Right now there is nothing but good coming our way. It's almost November, and November may hit you in the face with a snowball, but it won't brand you with a sunburn.


"Your turn in the chair next time," said October.
"I know," said November. He was pale and thin-lipped. He helped October out of the wooden chair. "I like your stories. Mine are always too dark."
"I don't think so," said October. "It's just that your nights are longer. And you aren't so warm."
"Put it like that," said November, "and I feel better. I suppose we can't help who we are."
"That's the spirit," said his brother. And they touched hands as they walked away from the fire's orange embers, taking their stories with them back into the dark."
        
   Neil Gaiman, "October in the Chair"

"Ding!" Round Four of Trick and Treating

We felt a bit like Halloween Scrooges, but this year we skipped handing out candy at our house, and we took Charlotte to Valley West Mall for their October Family Night. Almost every store on the lower level had an employee dressed in a costume and handing out candy. The crowd was bigger than we expected, and Char preferred to be carried by Mom for the first 15 minutes.

I took a few shots of the crowd, but my hastily taken pictures don't really do its size justice (I always feel weird taking pictures of strangers). Considering all the animal costumes, the place was a zoo.

In an effort to escape the throng of tiny monsters and zombie princesses, Char ducked into the games store where she played with the display toys for awhile.

And what did she find in the Melissa & Doug "Victorian Dollhouse" (priced at a meager $180)?

A Female Fire Fighter!

Yea! (She still didn't get the dollhouse, though.)

Buckets of Fun: Halloween 2012

Photo Essay

Charlotte had a lot of costumes to chose from this year, and we helped her narrow her choices down to two. She had to decide if she wanted to be a "Pirate Princess" or a "Fire Fighter". You can see which costume won.

 I suppose some people would balk at dressing a girl in an allegedly male costume, but it didn't bother us in the least. When Daphne asked Charlotte if she was sure that she didn't want to be a pirate, Char replied, " No. I will rescue people." Moments like that make me swell with pride.

But I was surprised how many people gave Char a "thumbs up" when they saw her.

Knowing Iowa Octobers, Daphne also knew this was a great costume. The uniform is heavy with layers, and its already equipped with reflective strips. Saturday's high temperature was hovering around the upper 40's, but we added some leggings and a hat, and we were off to the Blank Park Zoo's "Night Eyes".

You can't see it, and Char doesn't care, but I think it's pretty cool that my daughter is wearing a vintage stocking hat from the 1980 winter Olympics.

It's a good thing Char chose the fire fighter outfit; she would have been a pirate anyway.

She got to hang out with the Peanuts' Gang.

And she led Mom out of another hay bale maze. 

We spent an hour at the zoo, and then we headed over to McDonald's for dinner. It was Char's first Happy Meal, and she was very pleased with the french fry container, "That is Charlotte sized!"

After dinner, Mom added a hoodie beneath Char's costume, and we ventured out into the night, under its Harvest Moon.

Next was a visit to the Living History Farms' Annual Family Halloween: "Horse-drawn wagon rides, marshmallow roasts, storytellers, scarecrow and jack-o-lantern displays delight all during this non-scary family event. Children aged 12 and under can trick or treat through town, and we'll have free pop and popcorn for all! Costumes are welcome and encouraged!"

Char met some real fire fighters at the entrance. The guys were more than willing to pose with Charlotte, but she was having none of it. As soon as the guys took a knee, she bolted. The fireman closest to her remarked, "Stranger danger. Smart girl."

We tried to roast some marshmallows, but someone was too impatient for any of the actual roasting. Oh well, it was getting late anyway. We skipped the wagon ride, grabbed two small bags of popcorn, and headed for home.

On Sunday afternoon we headed over to the Historic Valley Junction's Pumpkin Walk for round three of trick or treating. It was brisk, but we left the stocking hat at home. 

By the end of the weekend, Char had taken in quite a haul. Her bucket is over six inches tall, and it's full to the brim.

This is also a bucket full of temptation. "According to a poll by the National Confectioner's Association, ninety percent of parents admitted to sneaking candy from their kid's bags," J is for Jack-O'-Lantern. Man, I'd love to reach in there and snag that Kit Kat bar, or dig around until I'd unearth a Snickers (the champion of all candy bars), but I don't dare. Sooner or later, Charlotte would notice. She's got her mom's knack of knowing when I've been up to something. 

Remember those bags of popcorn? By the time we got home from the haunted history farm, oil stains had crept across the surface of the white paper. I knew that the popcorn would soon be stale, so after Charlotte went to bed, I ate it while watching TV.

Of course, the first thing Char asked about on Sunday morning was those bags of popcorn. She could see that her candy bucket was untouched, but the bags were gone.

It's my mantra: "Don't Even Try, Brent. The Girls Will Catch You."

Tales from Community Cookbooks: "I'd Omit It All" Edition

I haven't eaten liverwurst. Maybe it's the name? There's nothing appealing about either of those two root words.

Or maybe it's this recipe.

If I had any photoshop skills, I'd shop this notation next to the liverwurst recipe.

Two hours later...

Turns out you don't need photoshop skills when you have a good friend named Katherine. Awesome!

This is now one of my favorite recipes, but I still won't make it.