Verbisaurus Blogicus

Remember back when Captain Kirk battled Khan Noonien Singh and they made a good movie about it?

Yeah, unless you’re like, 35 years old (or older), you weren’t around during that blessed time. Some money-grubbers remade the movie swapping lens-flare for pathos and back story, but I suggest you skip that one.

Anyway, the original one had, of course, lots of tie-in merchandise, including a recorded book (on vinyl), which I purchased at a thrift shop some years ago. I think I bought it back in 2004 – August 2004 to be more precise. Jennifer and I were vacationing for our anniversary, and I spotted this record still in its original packaging.

Fast forward to July 2013: I’m moving our record collection from one cabinet to another cabinet, and my son sees the record. He says he wants to listen to it. I tell him we will later.

Last week, we finally did listen to it. Watch this short documentary on the event, below. If nothing else, I get a kick out of the excitement in Owen’s expressions:

 When the newsletter from our local co-op arrived in the mail in late May, I perused the list of classes, as I often do. There are usually one or two interesting classes, but I had never taken one.

But this time, I saw a rain barrel class scheduled for early June. The class would discuss the importance of capturing rain water, its uses and benefits, and how to go about capturing said water. After a one hour class, participants would go outside and make their own rain barrel. Well, maybe “modify” would be a better word than “make,” as the barrels were already sitting out in the yard waiting for us, but we did have to drill some holes and install some hardware.

The class was offered in three price brackets. I chose the highest-priced option, as that allowed me to have one of the oak barrels (the other two were plastic and butt-ugly). The oak barrels had formerly been used to store wine, so they had some burgundy stains on them and a bung hole where, previously, the delicious nectar had been transmitted. In fact,

the barrel gave off a strong, intensely pleasant aroma as soon as I drilled the first pilot hole in the top.

Besides the hole for the rain water to enter, I also had to drill two holes on the side of the barrel; one for overflow, and one for the spigot. We were all instructed to be careful to drill in the center of a stave. Drilling a hole that straddles two staves, we were warned, could split the staves and cause leakage. I’m happy to report I successfully drilled in the center of a stave each time, which is more than I can say for some of my classmates. You can see the hole for the overflow spigot near my thumb in the photo at left.

After driving the barrel home (it just barely fit in the passenger side of my Cavalier; I had to lower the seat as far as possible), it sat in my garage for a couple weeks until I purchased and installed all the necessary parts for redirecting my gutter. If you read my last blog post, and the one before that, you’ll see that I’ve done quite a bit of traveling in the past month, so I worked on this project intermittently when I was at home.

I could have just cut the gutter at an appropriately high spot and dropped the barrel in place there, but duing the class, the instructor showed us pictures of a rain diverter.

I wanted that for two reasons: 1) The barrel needs to be stored in the garage in the winter, but since there’s still the possibility of rain (and melting snow) during any month, I wanted this water to still be shunted away from my house, and not come pouring down in a big, muddy mess right by my foundation. And, 2) my house narrows right near the downspout, and I thought this alcove would create a perfect spot for the barrel to tuck into, but I’d have to wrap the gutter around this corner.

In this photo at left, you can see the fruits of my labor. The gutter travels down the side of the house like it always did, but then it splits in two with the diverter. The split going to the left simply curves back in and then goes straight down like it did before. The split to the right, meanwhile, follows around the two corners of the house and then spits out directly above the barrel. The silver lever in the diverter allows me to select the path I wish the water to follow. In the winter, when I remove the barrel, I will switch the diverter to allow the water to travel straight down.

In this photo you can also see the overflow tube (lower right), which is attached to the top spigot and follows along the side of the house for about five feet until it comes to a rock garden, where I have it covered by rocks, and then spits out into my yard just in front of a stone wall.

These two photos feature the latest model of Zimmerman filling her watering can to go water the rose bushes. As you can see, it’s so easy, even a two-year old can do it. (Well, an above-average two-year old can do it, at any rate.)

The act of filling a watering can is very enjoyable, evidently, and Isla can hardly resist sticking her hand into the can as it fills, even though she really should be focusing on turning off the spigot before the can overflows.

The first time she and her brother used the barrel, I saw her drinking from her watering can.

“Isla! Don’t drink that water,” I said, “It’s dirty.”

“But it smells like beer,” she said, noting the wine-aroma that is still subtely present even a month after drilling holes and filling it with water.

Let’s see…in the past 30 days, I have:

*Attended a magic show

*Been to five different US states

*Visited the site of the Boston Massacre, and seen Samuel Adams’ and Paul Revere’s grave site

*Toured the Old State House in Boston

*Walked on the Freedom Trail

*Been on four airplane trips

*Stayed at the family cabin for five nights

*Visited two state parks: Interstate and Myre-Big Island, and spent the night camping at the latter one.

*Attended a wedding reception

*Became Vice President of Education of my Toastmasters club

*Celebrated Independence Day

*Had my yearly eye exam and bi-yearly dental check-up

*Visited the Sod House on the Prairie, the Laura Ingalls Wilder Museum, and Laura’s home site on the banks of Plum Creek (and actually waded into Plum Creek)

*Attended the Family Festival in Walnut Grove

*Watched four movies, and every episode of the new season of Arrested Development

*Read four entire books (not counting another hundred I read to Isla)

*Not worked a full week of work

So, yeah, a busy month – and that’s only including the activites I directly participated in. The rest of my family also had lots going on (e.g., my son attended a week-long class at the Science Museum). There were also some negative things, too, such as the hit-and-run that took out our car’s sideview mirror, and the clogged toilet that necessitated a professional plumber’s services. But let’s not dwell on that stuff.

Instead, I want to mention one other activity I did in the past month: I – along with my family – visited the Franconia Sculpture Park.

We visited this while on our way to the family cabin, which is about 20 minutes beyond this attraction. Everytime we’ve driven to the cabin during the past ten years, I keep thinking, “Hey, we should stop there,” but we’re always under a time constraint, or the weather is terrible. This time, thankfully, we had no such limitations.

Touring the park is free, and there are guided tours every Sunday (though you can probably skip that). They do accept cash donations. The majority of the sculptures are made of metal, though a few feature plastic, wood, and cement. Most sculputres are several times larger than a human, so it’s quite overwhelming.

Among the sculputes we saw were a barn suspended in midair, a huge conglomerate of old pipes and chains that kids can play on, and a car made out of cement. Actually, when we came upon the car, one of the tour guides asked if anyone wanted to guess how much it weighed. Owen guessed 700 tons, and then a bunch of other people laughed. Turns out, the car weighs 80 tons, so while Owen was quite far off, I at least applaud him for not being too cowardly to even hazard a guess, like the adults who laughed at him.

The tour guides invited us to climb on and touch most of the sculptures, so that was fun for the kids.  

On the day we visited, there was standing water all over the park, and the walking paths are little more than flattened areas of dirt, so our shoes and socks got soaked.

After the tour, there were Icees for sale for the rock-bottom price of two for a buck.

I highly recommend the attraction for people of all ages and economoic brackets.

Next time we head tot he cabin, I want to stop at the minigolf site we pass everytime.

Two weeks ago, I once again hopped on an airplane and left the Great State of Minnesota for a business trip. This is the fourth business trip I’ve taken in less than two years. Now, just keep that in mind for a minute…

 I’ve long had this low-priority goal of visiting all fifty states. I think I first formulated the goal back in the early 1990s, when I drove to Florida with my granparents. I had already been to Florida before, but this was my first time driving there, so I was able to add a few new states to my list, including Kentucky, Tennessee, and Georgia.

Two years later, I found myself in New Jersey, and that became the 18th state I had visited. Four-and-a-half years after that, I took a plane to Texas. That became state number 19.

And that, surprisingly, is where things stopped.

Ever since this century began, I have been unsuccessful at stepping foot in any state I haven’t previously been to. This is crazy, since these have been the most well-traveled years of my life. I’ve tripled the number of Canadian provinces I’ve been to during this time, and I even visited a new country. But, alas, no new states.

I’ve done a lot – a lot – of repeating. In fact, the repeating began right after my first trip to Texas. About a year later, I was in Texas again.

Then, my wife and I took a trip to Canada, with a layover in Michigan (I had already been there). Then I was in Florida three more times – in 2003, 2004, and 2006.

We took a trip down to Iowa and Illinois with my in-laws in 2009, but those also are two states I had already been to.

In fact, everyone else in my family has visited new states. Since the century began, Jennifer’s been able to check off Florida, Washington, and Georgia. And both of my kids, obviously, were able to check off new states anytime we left Minnesota (I think Owen is at 5 states and Isla is at 3).

Then I got this new position in my company, and it’s involved a modicom of travel. First I took a trip to Georgia. Due to the car trip to Florida, noted earlier, I had already been to Georgia. My wife and daughter came with me, and they were able to add the state to their lists, though. Then I took a business trip to Wisconsin. I’ve been there before, obviously. In fact, I was just there a few days ago, and that wasn’t the first time I’d been there this year.

Then I took a business trip to Illinois. Been there. And just a couple weeks ago, I took a trip to Massachusetts. Been there. I seriously thought about just taking a cab to Connecticut or New Hampshire, just to say I’d been there, but that would’ve been quite the cost. I didn’t have a rental car at my disposal, either. One of my co-workers, who was with me on the trip, even helpfully explained that the last time he had to come to Massachusetts on business he did  drive down to Connecticut, just to eat lunch there and say he’d been. But I couldn’t prevail upon him to make a return trip. He said there was no time. He was right.

But wait! – my trip wasn’t over then. Because after two nights in Massachusetts, I hopped on a plane and stopped at Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. Fun…but I’d already been to Pennsylvania. I spent two nights in the Keystone State, then got on a plane to come home. The trip home involved a layover in Ohio.

Ugh. Why couldn’t the layover have been in Maine, or Idaho, or Oklahoma?

Here’s a photo I snapped this evening (using my smart reasonably intelligent phone):

I took this picture at about 8:00 in the evening. Owen is reading to his sister, who selected the Dr. Seuss classic Hooper Humperdink…? Not Him! to read with her brother. In fact, she was on a bit of a Seussian kick this evening, as she also had him read Hop on Pop, Green Eggs and Ham, and Would You Rather be a Bullfrog?

This is so great for so many reasons I’m not even sure I can count them all. Still, I’ll try…

1) I once read that the best indicator that children will grow up to be lifelong readers is not whether or not they were read to, but whether or not they observed their parents reading. My kids certainly observe their parents reading all the time. My life has become immeasureably improved in profound ways due to books I have read through the years (75.1% of the books I’ve read are non-fiction), and I am thrilled to see this love of learning being passed onto my kids. It’s a great way to ensure that, in a world of Tweets and memes, they will possess the desire and talent to thoroughly digest a topic when the need arises.

2) Owen is almost done with second grade, so I’m pleased that he’s become a competent reader by now. Earlier this weekend, I saw him reading a book on dinosaurs, and another one on the periodic table. The book he’s reading to Isla in the above photo is, of course, a few steps down from he earlier reads, but I like that he kept his audience in mind and read to her level. Overhearing him this evening, I was happy to hear him not only read every word correctly, but to also employ that sing-song voice that’s so vital to bring Seuss’ words alive.

3) Jennifer and I read to that kid all the time – and he owes us. While other two- and three-year olds would fall asleep in the car on the way home and then allow mom or dad to lay them sweetly into be for the night, Owen would bolt straight upright upon putting the car in park (I can’t tell you how many times I drove at about 1mph to avoid coming to a complete stop at red lights, and thus waking up Owen), and demand performing his routine, even if it was 11:30 at night. Yes, yes, of course we would say, “No, it’s too late and we’re too tired,” but then he would be upset and cry for an hour. All in all, then, it was better to just do the routine. And that routine consisted of reading – sometimes ten books at a time. And, like me, he had a preference for non-fiction. I had to force him to sit through Cowboy Small one evening in an effort to show him there’s joy to be had in fiction, as well. So, yeah, he owes us. Glad to see him helping out in the evening as we wind things down.

4) Isla is an incessant reader. She brings us books all the time and, if we’re too busy, she’ll sit on the floor, page through book after book, and approximate the text as best she can. She doesn’t even need a book; she’s happy to “page” through old birthday cards, instruction manuals, and even completely blank Post-It Note pads. It’s tough to keep up with her apatite for reading. In fact, all those anti-gay marriage troglodytes are wrong: The best family for a child is not 1 man + 1 woman, it’s, like 5 men + 5 women. I know this because Jennifer and I can hardly keep up with the two we have. It’s great of Owen to help out in this regard.

Jennifer and I believe that Isla will begin reading at a younger age than Owen. I hope she does. Owen spent the last hour of his night reading quietly up in the bedroom before turning off the light. I checked in on him and he looked up from his book and told me some fact about this flying reptile from the Cretaceous Period that was seven times larger than humans. “Daddy,” he said, “I was picturing you standing outside and then trying to picture something seven times bigger than you! Oh wow! I can’t even think of how they could fly!” Isla, likewise, will be able to keep herself occupied a lot easier once she can read.