My art table is covered with plastic sheets and a layer of gypsum dust from all the holes in the drywall. My glass art supplies are in boxes and bags in the living room. I cart my supplies downstairs, and dust and vacuum to make a small table space, and unearth a stool to sit … read more The valve is open
Tag: Dad
Better living through plastic plumbing
It’s an odd feeling to look into the guts of your house. To see the secret space where the house’s invisible life carries on through water and drain pipes, air ducts, propane and electrical lines. It’s like seeing a scan of your brain. A little creepy, but fascinating. As of today, our house has veins and arteries – … read more Better living through plastic plumbing
Dad’s necklaces
Dad didn’t have much chance to acquire a taste for expensive jewelry. He was an Ohio farmer boy in a poor German Catholic family, one of eight kids being raised by a widow during the Depression. But he liked jewelry better than Mom, I think. Mom seemed to feel that jewelry was showing off and … read more Dad’s necklaces
The pill schedule
When my parents were in their last years, and I’d visit them in Arizona, I was appalled by how many pills they were taking. And this is before they were actually ill. I remember making up little schedules for them, so that they would be sure to take the right pill in the right quantity … read more The pill schedule
Something doesn’t add up
Since I was a kid, any time I’ve taken an aptitude test I score higher on math than language. My GRE score was highest in analytical, almost as high in quantitative reasoning, and lowest in verbal reasoning. Funny stats for someone who always wanted to be a writer, and whose career involved very little math. … read more Something doesn’t add up
More broken glass
My piece from the first week of fused glass class was a square bowl, and it didn’t turn out well. The transparent purple and the neon blue look odd together when fused. The gold threads were completely lost. All the colors are distorted by the surface beneath them, unless the bowl is displayed on a white … read more More broken glass
German frittata
I’ve got four hungry people to feed this morning and no omelette pan. What to do? If you’re Germanic like me, you make a frittata. It’s perfect for a group breakfast on a weekend trip because you can keep them all busy doing the prep work of chopping, grating and mixing. I love having guests for this reason. … read more German frittata
The plumber’s daughter
Most folks do not look forward to a discussion about septic tanks, I’m told. I do, though. We had a local construction guy, Chris, out to the cabin today, to look over our septic and water supply situation, and I anticipated it with a kind of glee. Toilets, gas lines, water lines, furnaces, AC, gray water, … read more The plumber’s daughter
Day 44: Another reason I love the South
I love my termite guy. He shows up once a year, inspects the house inside and out, never criticizes my housekeeping, and I hand him a check for $75. That’s not why I love him, though I am grateful for the professional service. No, what I love is that he likes to talk about bugs, … read more Day 44: Another reason I love the South
Day 39: Make it stop
I laughed out loud at the headline in our local newspaper: “Pain often comes with age.” Now there’s a news flash. Mostly, I don’t mind getting older. I make better decisions, I don’t get as agitated, I’m not quite as restless. But at times I quote my mother: “It’s hell to get old,” she used … read more Day 39: Make it stop