Afternoon Delight...

And not the kind the "afternoon delight" that the Starland Vocal Band was singing about in their song with the same name. Besides, when you have six kids, the "delight" seems to be less prevalent... least of all an afternoon one.

No, this little afternoon delight is more of a chance for me to dodge the mid-afternoon sun for a bit, type out a quick afternoon posting (kind of unheard of, posting in the daylight) and the chance to enjoy a cold coke and some salt replenishing salty pretzels. It also enables me to let my ummm... sweat infested shirt to dry a bit.

I know, probably a little TMI on both accounts, but hey, I didn't make you read it.

So what's the point of all this?

Nothing...

Just killing some time while Julie and the two oldest are at the orthodontist and I have child duties with the other four (luckily one is napping) while they're gone. It also is enabling the paint to dry on a window sill that will be going up when the get back home.

As you were...

Life In The Fast Lane...

Well, I've decided that I will log what I did for the day... just random days... and today will be one of them. Please try to contain yourselves. This could actually serve as being motivational in that it should make your lives look pretty good.

So today started like any other, I woke up, but then realized that my bed had betrayed me... I didn't feel rested AT ALL! Even though I slept 'til 8am. I figure that most of you are saying, "must be tough to sleep 'til 8"... one of the "perks" of being gainfully unemployed, but I was not rested. The bed continued it's betrayal in that my back/shoulders were tight and sore. I know... the perils of aging. While that's true (to some extent) and I guess the fact of being on the larger side of the scale doesn't help matters any... I maintain that it is in fact the bed. Whatever the reason, the end result is one of discomfort and unrest. Did I mention that I don't feel rested?

SIDE NOTE: I suspect that the root of this particular go round of unrest has more to do with the fact that I have been dealing with a tight and sore shoulder now for going on about a week or so. It all started when I was painting the scale shingles for the west gable of the house. Around 300 shingles in all, but when you factor in priming (both sides and edges) and two coats of paint (only on the face side) that's like painting around 900. I did this one day after the next until one morning I woke up and my wrist was aching along with my forearm and then eventually my shoulder. I couldn't figure out what the problem was so I wondered if it could have been from the motion of the painting. I grabbed a paint brush and mimicked the motion I was using to paint and well... that was it. Try as I might, I couldn't really do much with my wrist and now basically my entire arm's hurting. My thinking is that it was because of this (compensating for my wrist) that my entire arm including the shoulder went bad on me.

So I make my way downstairs to take a hot shower (seems to help a bit, but not enough) and go through the rest of the morning routine... getting dressed and eating and the like. Today is the first day that my wrist felt normal again, but now my lower back was bothering me to go along with the shoulder. So I sat thinking and contemplating about something that I needed to work out for the gable ends of the garage. Julie's going to try her hand at siding the garage... should be pretty simple, the siding we're going to be using is T&G (that's tongue and groove to those of you who aren't in the know) and once the bottom course is level, it's just a matter of cutting and stacking and nailing/stapling. Before she can get to that, I have to trim it out for her... I get the grunt work, she gets the glory work. Anyhow, before trimming, I needed to figure out how I was going to work out the gable box cornices. I needed to make sure that one wouldn't interfere with the other and was having one heck of a time picturing it in my head. After a few "Googles" I came away with a plan. Now having that tucked away, I went out and primed some of the trim (a totally different motion than the shingles) and started to layout the trim for the wall that she's going to start on.

Then, I changed a tire on Nick's bike and did some other small PM-ing (preventative maintenance) on his bike. He needed a new tire since one had developed a bubble on the sidewall. Forgot to mention earlier there that I took Nick to his making lego movies class... at the park district. Worked some more on the trim and rounded up the stray kids for dinner.

The garage door wouldn't close so I fixed that. One of the eyes got knocked silly by Jake and well, the eyes didn't see each other and that was that. So a little adjustment here and a little electrical tape there throw in a couple of "dammits" and good as new. Had dinner, grumped at the kids for not doing what was told and needed of them to do. Packed in the tools that I left out and locked up the garage. Put the dinner leftovers away and washed some pots and pans. Attempted to get the kids to bed and then finally sat down here and typed out this twaddle.

Now I face the task of getting into a betraying bed to start the process all over again tomorrow.

Truly life in the fast lane.

So I will leave you with this ponderable... well, it was a ponderable for me, one that still has no answer either... I have my suspicions though.

Most houses have ceiling fans in them now. Most (if not all) fans are three speed. In many installations, there is a light on the fan as well. Additionally, in many of those installations, there is a dimmer and a speed control installed in place of a regular switch. This give you a possible 9 speeds to run your fan... well 9 if we do the math that 3 speed switch and 3 speed fan. So my ponderable is this. If you have your fan set to low (by the pull chain) and high at the wall switch... is it the same speed as having your fan set to high (by the pull chain) and the wall switch on low? Obviously there are other combinations that work there, and I'm not about to go into them (I have a date with a malfunctioning bed) at this time, I just tossed this one out there to give the idea.

*SIGH*... Life in the fast lane? More like limping along on the shoulder... and a sore one at that!

I Am...

Be careful on how you finish that.

I was thinking chef extraordinaire.

As I made note on the main blog, yesterday was Emmah's birthday. That gave her the privilege to pick what was to be dinner. She opted for pork tenderloin and pork chops, roasted potatoes, corn and cinnamon apples. Cinnamon apples are made by peeling and slicing apples and placing them in a frying pan with some butter, cinnamon and other proprietary ingredients.

Julie seasoned the tenderloin and chops. Julie cut up and seasoned the potatoes. Julie peeled and sliced up and made the apples. Julie proceeded to make the corn.

By now you must be wondering... um, Jeff... how exactly does this make you a chef extraordinaire?

Good question... and one I will answer thusly.

Emmah wanted the meat grilled... outside grilled. As in outside in the cold... the arctic cold. It took every skill I had in my repertoire battling the fierce fire and numbness of an icy wind. Barely able to feel the grilling utensils in my numb hand, I stood steadfast as the arctic wind blasted me head on in the face only to have a massive wave of heat engulf me as I threw open the grill to turn the meat at exactly the right moment... the right moment every time. Fire and ice... ice and fire... it was a battle in the name of ensuring a well cooked meal to which I emerged grandly victorious. Luckily, I didn't have to grill by flashlight (or headlamp) as I have previously done. The time change assisted me in sidestepping that chasm.

How dare you even think to ask how it turned out... I AM chef extraordinaire! Those who dare, I will graciously grant an answer... it was pretty damn tasty.

But I'm sure that was due to the seasoning...

Sounding Off...

Not sounding off as in to hear your car making a odd sound to which you might say "hmmm the car is sounding off today" but to be 'sounding off' as in to vent. And by vent, I don't mean an air vent, I mean to talk about something that has been on your mind or in this case mine. And by mine I don't mean mine like a mine shaft or land mine, but mine as in to possess. And by possess I don't mean to be taken over by a demon, but to own something. And by own, I don't mean to be by oneself but to actually be able to claim something as being yours... naturally. And by naturally, I don't mean derived from nature, but to be deductible. And buy deductible I don't mean the portion you have to pay as part of your insurance claim, but to be logical and reasonable. And by reasonable I mean being within the bounds of common sense and not sounding off. And by sounding off I mean...

Okay, I guess that's enough of that.

I've been meaning to vent about smoking, and Lord knows when someone's smoking, we need to vent. And by vent I mean...

For those who know me, I am not a smoker. I don't understand the logic behind even trying it in the first place. My dad smoked when he was young, his dad (my grandfather) smoked for as long as I can remember before he passed many years ago. My dad eventually quit when he had to have half his lung removed due to complications from smoking. I had a friend in high school who smoked and looking back, I shouldn't have made light of when he told me he quit. By the way, he 'quit' three or four times if I remember right. I understand it's a chemical dependence, but why try it in the first place?

Smoking is an expensive addiction that literally sees your money going up in smoke. I wonder how many people would take their money, the same amount that they pay for their cigarettes and put it aside each and every time they made a cigarette purchase. Then at the end of the year light the bundle and watch it burn. Smoking leaves you with breath that smells like an ashtray... and combine cigarette breath with coffee breath and oh man, for us non-smokers, we can smell ya at 50 paces. It yellows your teeth, it yellows your fingers (the holding fingers) and we won't mention all the documented ill it does to your lungs and body... Smoking, it does a cancer good.

I will admit when I was a youth, I was curious, I puffed a couple of cigarettes... but I can say that number was less then the fingers I have on one hand, and for the record I have four. I got a bit of a buzz each time, but I never felt like I needed to continue it... ever! I've often wondered what does it feel like to be shot or stabbed... I have... but I don't see me buying a gun and shooting myself to find out and I'm in no hurry to ask someone to stab me either. So why would someone intentionally inhale smoke? I mean look at house fires... what is the number one thing that kills most victims of a house fire... that's right, smoke inhalation. So let's all stand around a bonfire with our faces in the rising smoke and repeatedly inhale... sounds ridiculous doesn't it?

I for one am glad that there is an indoor smoking ban... if you want to trash your own lungs go ahead, but as you fill the room with your smoke, don't force me to breathe in your expelled emissions. When smoked, tobacco and the additives in a cigarette undergo a complex chemical process that forms a smoke that contains more than 4,000, that's 4,000, chemicals including, but not limited to, carbon monoxide, hydrogen cyanide, nicotine, ammonia, arsenic and vinyl chloride. Forty-three components of tobacco smoke are known carcinogens including nitrosamines, quinoline, benzpyrene, cadmium, ammonia, nitrogen dioxide, formaldehyde, hydrogen cyanide, arsenic and hydrogen sulfide.

I just shake my head as I see the smokers pack themselves up and band together like penguins huddled against the cold winter air as they run outside to have a puff. I truly wonder if smokers realize how offensive cigarette smoke is to us non-smokers? Back in the day (as it was) when I would go out to the bars, for the record mostly on the weekends, I enjoyed my company and such, but hated coming home smelling like a pool hall/bowling alley/bar/ashtray. I hated having to shower before going to bed so as not to stinkify my sheets and bed.

I hate it even more as I sit in the truck at an intersection and am behind, next to or (if the wind is right) in front of a car with a smoker in it. My ventilation system sucks in their offensive exhalation and that's with the windows up. It's a hundred times worse in the summer with the windows open. I've even closed my window sitting next to a smoking driver. I hafta laugh when I see someone driving and smoking in the winter months because usually, they are driving with the window open a crack and with their hand holding their cigarette right at, or out, of the crack so the smoke pouring off the ash end gets sucked out of the car. They can't even stand driving with it, so they feel compelled to 'share' it with the world. This finally gets us to what prompted me to start this rant/diatribe of mine.

What is it with smokers who think the world is their ashtray? What gives smoking drivers the right to just toss their butts out the window or someone who's walking along to just as casually flip their butt on the sidewalk? It's bad enough to see butts along the curb, or as some call it, the gutter. It's far worse to see them scattered about like you're walking in some giant ashtray at various scenic overlooks and rest stops. I am not a worldly traveler, but I have gotten around these United States and I can tell you it's a national problem, in some spots it's so thick it looks like mulch. It's really sad to think these people who smoke are traveling along... "Oh honey look a 'scenic overlook'... let's stop". "Isn't it beautiful so peaceful, so serene... let's enhance it with smoking and dropping our butts on the ground". So what I'm getting at is; what makes them want to have a smoke and drop their butts all over the ground? Why can't those that practice this habit see it as littering? Everyone else does.

The filters in a pack of cigarettes weighs .12 ounces... so of the 465 billion smoked in the United States in 1998 translates to a total of 176,250,000 pounds of discarded butts in the United States alone and the over 5 trillion cigarettes smoked world wide would weigh in at a staggering 2.1 billion pounds. The butts also take up a large volume of space. If you take a smoker that smokes a pack and a half a day, that equates to 10,000 cigarettes a year, the butts of which would fill a volume of 5 liters. If we expand that to a world wide yearly thing, we get 2,800,000,000 liters.

Cigarette butts make up the most common debris item collected world wide during the Ocean Conservancy's International Coastal Cleanup. In 2004... 1,268,177 cigarette filters, cigar tips and tobacco packaging were collected and that accounted for 29.6% of U.S. debris and 21.2% of worldwide debris... sadly staggering, but those numbers were down from 2003 when it was 38% and 34%.

Most cigarette filters are composed of cellulose acetate, a form of plastic and they don't biodegrade, or perhaps I should say that they biodegrade as quickly as other plastics do. I wonder what the world would look like if every non smoker tossed a small plastic cup on the ground every time a smoker tossed a butt? I imagine it safe to say that even a smoker would complain about the mess.

For those of you who may have wandered over here by accident and mis-clicked your way to my blog and read this, know that I am not directing this at anyone in particular, and know that it doesn't change my opinion of you... everyone has vices. I look at it like this... I've been around smokers that were respectful of me being a non-smoker and would go to great lengths to 'not offend', I've also been around smokers that didn't care one wit about what others think and would almost blow their exhale directly in your face... and don't even get me started on 'smoke breaks'. If you are offended by what I've written here I apologize... then again maybe you need to look at yourself a little more closely, or perhaps change your ways to not reflect what is written here.

My vice? It's my addiction to Coke... I can go days, even a week or so without having one. Then, as I sit and have some pizza, a glass of water just doesn't do it for me. Oh well, I guess it could be worse, I could smoke. And by smoke I mean to inhale and not the byproduct of fire. And by fire I mean something with hot flames and not to launch a missile... which, if you heard that, you might think that something outside was... well... sounding off.

Finally!

Something we are way above average at... according to the Gullible info generator I have on our main blog page, it said that the average sink contains 3.2 unwashed dishes.