Notes from the Lab - RDate 166.2

 I've been so deep into my family's past with my Memory Lane posts that I've been ignoring the present. Well, maybe not ignoring but certainly paying only minimal attention. So here are a few updates on past topics. 

Chores (7/29/12, Last Update 4/23/25): In my last few updates I reveled in how clever I've been in peeling away household duties since my retirement. Somewhat by switching to low-maintenance choices wherever possible (concrete patio, composite yard furniture, extended appliance warranties) but mostly by hiring out as much as I can (yard work, routine house cleaning, even minor plumbing and electrical repairs). 

But recently I've had a feeling that I never expected. Is it possible that I'm no longer doing my part? Am I less of a "man of the house" than I was when I was raking and mowing, sanding and varnishing, or hanging off a ladder breaking up ice jams in our eave troughing? I hope not. I have to admit that there were times during peak chore seasons of the past (see earlier post Hell Month), when I was looking forward to aging out of the more onerous of homeowner duties. But now that it's pretty much happened, I'm conflicted.

To assuage this uneasy feeling I stay on the lookout for compensating opportunities. Those annoying little fix-it tasks that permeate homelife have become good friends. Chances to, as Faramir of Gondor would say, "show my quality". So if you need a lightbulb changed, a battery swapped out, a cupboard door hinge tightened, or even a bundle of napkins fetched from the Costco shelf - I'm your guy.

Up North (8/15/12, Last Updated 2/1/24): In my last update on our cottage life I reported on new acquisitions. Most of them were from what I refer to as "the great amalgamation", wherein we imported to Wiser Times a large number of items from my mother's former Florida home and from our former cottage in Canada. Everything from furniture to yard equipment to kayaks.  Here's a reminder pic of my garage at home before we schlepped everything up I-75 to the cottage.

The majority of these new friends are doing nicely, having fit in smoothly with the rest of our Wiser Times possessions, no doubt due to their common hand-me-down ancestries. However, there have been other developments at the cottage since my last report that have not been so smooth. The most noteworthy was "the midnight truck incident".

It started with a bump in the night, or so Nancy tells me. One night last summer about 2:00 am I awoke at Nancy's behest. She told me someone was knocking at the door and that she had heard a loud thump a few moments ago. Somewhat startled I grabbed my robe and shuffled to the back (roadside) door. Sure enough there was a fella knocking. He had tripped the yard light on the garage so I got a good look at him. He looked distraught. We exchanged inquiries through the door. 

It turned out the guy was a semi driver. He explained that a wayward pickup had crossed over the median on US23 and had side swiped the backend of his rig. The semi was fine, but the driver of the pickup had lost control, careened off the highway, crossed our gravel driveway and smashed head-on into one of my neighbor's oak trees.  As we peeked out the door to our left we could see the remains of what used to be a white Chevy pickup, wrapped around the tree. Our door knocker had roused us in search of help for the crash victim.

Fortunately, the semi driver had already called 911. Before we could get our heads around what had just happened, help arrived. First, a police car. Then another police car. Soon an ambulance and various other types of vehicles arrived, all with flashing red, blue or yellow lights. Within 15 minutes it looked like the Las Vegas strip. Nancy and I pulled chairs up to the back window and watched the show. 

It was slowly coming back to me, how things are done Up North. Other than the sheriff and a full-time deputy or two, most public safety services are staffed by volunteers. When the call goes out, they come a-runnin'. Especially in the middle of the night when nothing else is likely going on. And they all have flashing lights on their vehicles.

The action went on for over two hours. The semi driver was sent on his way after verifying his side of the story through his dash cam. The pickup driver had to be cut out of his crushed cab and taken to the hospital in Tawas. No longer having front wheels, what was left of the pickup had to be dragged across the ground like a beached whale to a flat-bed truck, leaving pretty deep ruts in my poor driveway and the neighbor's lawn. 

After the flat-bed truck left, the assembly of emergency vehicles began to dissipate. A handful of (I assume) volunteers hung around for the after-glow, catching up and squeezing the most out of the night's excitement. Nancy and I finally abandoned our spectator post and went back to bed about 4:30. 

The following day we talked to a trooper (our source for some of the details above) who was back inspecting the accident scene. He told us the driver was not seriously hurt but was in "a heap o' trouble". The destruction at the crash site was stunning. The neighbors' roadside yard is 100' wide and about 50' deep. There wasn't a square foot of the yard that didn't have a piece of debris in it. The front half of the pickup had been pulverized. The tree was stripped of bark and heavily gashed where it was struck, but standing tall. Tree 1, Truck 0.

Another event that occurred up north last summer was "the big burn". Some background. In our now 20 years at Wiser Times we have had pretty regular issues with trees. Not uncommon in pine forests. The trees grow quickly, relatively speaking, and those by the water are rooted in sand and vulnerable to storms off the lake. But even before our pine tree battles, an oak tree got our attention. 

When we acquired Wiser Times in 2005 there was a dead oak tree stump next to the house. It was a stump, technically, as the bulk of the tree had been cut down several years prior. The problem was the trunk was 20' tall. It had been preserved to support a yard light mounted at its top. Nice light, but dead and rotting "pole". It wasn't too long before we had the tree taken down and, thinking we could burn the wood, had it cut into two-foot long logs. That was the beginning of our wood problem. 

Over the next few years, as other pine trees fell to high winds or in a couple of cases new construction, my pile of intended firewood grew, stacked on top of the old oak logs. And contrary to my dreams of evening campfires on the beach, we hardly ever had one. Daylight savings time kept the sun up until about 10:00 each night, while our young children and grandchildren over the years were going to bed by then. And after tending to them all day, we were too tired to start a two-to-three hour fire at 10:00. Yes, we were wimps.

So by last summer I had this large, ugly pile of pine and ancient oak logs stacked by the house. Even more aggravating the old oak on the bottom was so dried out that it would crumble to the touch. I was desperate to get rid of it. It was so shabby looking that I apparently never took a picture of it.

Enter two good friends that saw the situation more clearly than I. Their brilliant idea - just burn it all. In one continuous fire. Why couldn't I think of that. So we did. Here's a shot of the Wiser Times maintenance crew (also known as house guests) at the ready.

Initial victims gathered and stacked. Starter fire built in the pit. Crew in their traditional safety gear of sneakers and tee shirts. Gentlemen, start your Bics.

A couple hours into the burn things were going well. The fire had morphed into the classic teepee formation, and there had been no reportable incidents. But - as you can see the stacks weren't disappearing as fast as we had hoped. This was going to take awhile.

At the 5:00 pm mark the crew was visited by management, who were checking to see if the project was going to intrude into the customary cocktail hour.

After brief consideration it was agreed that the fire could tend itself for an hour or two while Wiser Times' oldest tradition was honored. For you Game of Thrones fans, it was sort of a tale of fire and ice.

The fire did fine on its own while we were communing, churning away at the seemingly endless supply of fuel. As darkness threatened we stopped for the night, believing that the fire would burn down and out, and that in the morning we would need another match to finish the job. The grand finale for the day was putting this old wooden bird feeder (that no bird would come to) out of its misery. It was its finest hour.

To our surprise, the fire survived the night. After breakfast the crew dropped a couple of logs into the still smoldering pit, and it flamed anew. The project continued through the morning as the final inhabitants of the old woodpile took their turns "walking the green mile" (grass, in this case). At the end, my trusty steel wood rack was empty for the first time in nearly 20 years.

The burn had taken 26 hours, from 2:00 pm one day to 4:00 pm the next. A couple of weeks later I started over with a new face cord of seasoned hardwoods. I wonder how long this rack will last. 

Art of the Dawdle (11/7/12, Last Update 4/23/25): In my update on dawdling a year ago I was touting my upgraded facilities. I have had a good year down in the lab, using those facilities to dawdle around on my pet movie, music and family history projects. But with the abundance of planning freedom I now afford myself, a strange thing has been happening. I'm getting dangerously close to completing several projects. That wasn't expected.

Of course I'm not talking about the monster projects like digitizing the family slide collection, blogging on our family history, or adding deserving tracks from my extensive vinyl inventory to my iTunes library. All relaxing and enjoyable time burners, but I've only made dents in those endeavors. 

I'm referring to more narrow-scoped undertakings like converting my cassette tape collection to CDs, or procuring low-cost DVD replacements for my VHS tapes and LaserDiscs. Projects I thought would run for years, but will be completed soon. And it's not just about media. I'm practically out of rooms and closets and drawers at home and at the cottage that need organizing and purging. So, here's my dilemma. If you are accomplishing things, is it really dawdling? Heavy.

A couple more observations. I've learned there are links between health and dawdling. Poor vision can detract from the experience. Sometimes it's hard to make out just who's sitting next to grandpa in that old black and white snapshot, or to read the fine print on those faded vinyl record labels. Poor hearing on the other hand can be a benefit. You can't be distracted by who what you can't hear. 

Finally, two words - team dawdling. Seemingly, an oxymoron in light of my previous arguments for quiet, out-of-the-way solitary venues. But, I've learned that under the right circumstances like-minded individuals can form a nearly impenetrable bubble anywhere, within which they can achieve a state of dawdling nirvana. They on the inside reinforcing each other's OCD gifts, with the rest of the universe on the outside going about its business. We know it works in thrift stores. Further testing is planned.