Hmmm. Looks like I've been neglecting to gripe about my front doorstep. My front doorstep you see, is a 3' x 4' region that is exposed to the elements. Rain and snow are regular visitors, especially after this past Winter. In my pretty much constant state of obliviousness, I just comforted myself into believing that the contractors built that little area with, you know, 'water' in mind. Isn't that funny? Because actually they didn't.
A few weeks ago, we started to notice it was getting a little limp and mushy in spots. And you know me. "Getting right on it" is one of those things that other people do. I guess I figured that maybe the porch was like a scab. It would heal, given time. Delusions and procrastination can be really entertaining. Anyway, it got to the point that that little rectangle of entryway was becoming a mantrap waiting to make its mark. So I finally got to it a couple weeks ago and ripped off the 'outdoor carpet' carcass thing those wonderful contractors prettied the surface of their evil handiwork with. Then I pried and yanked up 2 layers of hastily cut & glued linoleum (the waterproof part) to reveal a ruined landscape of overmoistened, decaying particle board.
"Particle board."
Take a moment...
OK. Did you let that sink in? How in tarnation could anyone install Particle Board as a base for an outdoor structure and walk away with a clean conscience? What do I know. I'm no carpenter. Maybe the term "affordable housing" actually means "biodegradable housing". :P I'm way too naïve.
The past couple weekends have pretty much stunk for getting anything done, so I've spent available evenings cutting it out and reaming the fruitcakey crumbs of blended wood splinters out of all necessary crevices. Lucky for me, they were kind enough to glue it to the joists before stapling it down. I can't begin to tell you how personally enriching it is prying out and chiseling that hearty bonanza of plasticine fortitude.
The way the place is built, I'd have to remove my front door, and maybe another foot of floor inside the house, along with a load of siding on the front of the house to completely replace that overcooked little cornbread surprise. A man's got to know his limitations. So I'm cutting (spooning) out just enough of the rotted section plus a bit more to make the job manageable.
We went out and bought us some nice, tough, laminated plywood to replace the pressed lawn-clippings from before. Once I add some extra supports and insert the plywood base, we'll get down to waterproofing, adding hard-board, waterproofing, and finally some decent tile. And waterproofing. So much for working on irrigation infrastructure for the side yard.
Well enough of that griping. There have been a few good things too. Last week, I hooked up with some friends from our congregation for a bike ride down Schnebly Hill road to Sedona. It's a 13 mile dirt and rock road that drops 2200 feet. Since only a couple people in that group (no, not me) would have had the necessary muscular fiber to pull off a round trip, we pansied out and shuttled back up to Flagstaff afterward. (Click on any images for larger versions.)
It was a beautiful ride. Except for those 2 or 3 really horrible uphill sections. Still, it's a little funny when exhaling makes you sound like a bag of mewling kittens. A big part of the road had unbelievable views of the Sedona landscape.
That was my first go ever, at romping down miles worth of steep, cliffy, washboard and rubble road. I do not have shocks on any part of my bike or my anatomy. I figured I was going to liquify all the cellular structures in my arms if I didn't improve my method. One of my buds kindly suggested that I not hold the handle bars so tightly. You betcha. Thing is, the death-grip I had on the brakes was the only thing that kept me from hitting 45 mph or worse. I suppose at that speed, you're pretty much airborn 90% of the time, so it probably isn't as rough. It's just that I wasn't ready to field-test high-speed emergency braking maneuvers at an altitude of 1500 ft above the blurred scrub below. Still, I was cruising down the hill faster than most of those scaredy cats ;) I had to make frequent stops because of my photography addiction, so I was still one of the last ones to make it down.
Then last Wednesday, I visited Giselle's school and talked to her second grade class and the one in the next room about amateur astronomy. I had spent the last couple weeks putting together a slide presentation to show them what they could see with their own eyes, then with binoculars, and then with a telescope. The bossman let me borrow a laptop and projector from work. I'm nothing if not a slave to technology. But man, those little critters were on the ball. One of the first questions I asked them was what they thought they could see in the sky, and the hands went up everywhere. One by one, they blew right through the list of things I was going to show them. Stars, planets (a couple of them by name), the moon, comets, constellations, galaxies, shooting stars, the milky way...I felt bad not being able to call on each and every one of them. It was awesome. Seeing as how they were 2nd graders, I was pretty conscious the whole time of keeping up the pace and keeping it fun so I wouldn't lose them. When that was done, I heaved the scope outside so they could get a daytime look at the crescent moon. They were great. I've heard more than one person cringe at the thought of bringing their scope to a school function. I guess the key is taking time to discuss how to look through a telescope--which we did. They held on to the step stool with both hands and avoided grabbing the eyepiece just like we talked about. There was no running, no pushing, no frightening moments. I was really impressed.
To me, it's such an excellent reward to have somebody, whether it's kids or adults, look through the scope and say "Woah! That's so cool!" One girl in Giselle's class got to talking about how the moon is always a ball shape, and how it just looks different because the sun shines on it from different sides, and how she likes to try and see the unlit side when it's a crescent... Nice! I look forward to doing it again next year.
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