Last week I was helping my dad with his yardwork. He's taken ill with a nasty infection, to the point that he's on daily IV antibiotics, and it's taken a hefty toll on even his legendary Johnson stamina.
Anyhow, I took on the job of making up a new set of custom soaker-hoses for all his gardens, so that all he'd have to do once the entire contraption was in place would be to walk the main hose to one of two connection points, slip in with a quick-connect, set the faucet timer for an hour. No more "Out to the shed, roll out the hose, set the sprinkler, forget that it's on and go through the mud four hours later to turn it off." This way is much more efficient, and I'm damn good at efficiency engineering. Now the water goes straight to the roots of the plants, and won't keep flooding the back corner of the garden.
Added bonus: I spent an entire day and a half working with my dad, and no tempers or fuses went awry! Even more, he listened to my engineering of his hoseworks, and found it better than he could have done! He even shelled out cash money to buy quality parts when the cheap plastic connectors proved useless on soaker hoses! I swear, the doctors must have finally raised his Zoloft prescription.
Two nights ago the dogs woke me with their baying at Dammit Dark-Thirtyish. I thought they needed a backyard trip, but once I reached the front room it was clear that it was the flashing lights of a series of cop cars line up along our entire street setting them off.
I ignored it and went back to bed. Like hell. I pulled on some pants and got nosy.
I stayed well back from anyone official - I know better than to piss off a rushing cop or fireman at four in the morning - but got a quick synopsis from another neighbor looking on from afar. House four doors down from us had had two cars and a corner of the house with HUGE gouts of flame, and even an hour after the fire was out, smoke still clogged the sky. Luckily, nobody was hurt, and everything got settled fairly quickly.
The next day I was passing by on my rounds, saw their entire household out on the porch chatting (not like they were going very far anyhow), and couldn't help but overhear them starting to slide into the spiral of fret and helplessness. Now, I can't always do a whole lot on the grand scale, but this is something I know how to fix, at least a little bit.
Two minutes later I was at their front gate bearing two dozen homebaked cookies and a bottle of wine. Explained that I was a neighbor, had heard what happened. I figure, they'll be seeing enough serious and frowning faces from strangers in the upcoming days, the least I can do is give them a smiling face from a stranger who honestly does give a damn about how they feel in a moment of crisis.
I tell you, I wish you all could have seen the full 180 that all these people turned. Eleven in the morning, and suddenly there was no more talk of "What the hell are we gonna do NOW?" Instead, it turned to "Okay, what are we going to do next? Let's get started." Less of "We're stuck here at home, grr," and more "Well, we're here at home with all our family, why don't we sit down and have a nice chat?"
Best of all, they had an old uncle visiting in who happened to be a wandering musician. He was a barrelhouse barroom country boy who knew every Hank Williams tune and then some. I ran home to grab my fiddle, bought him a forty of his favorite Old Milwaukee, and we kept the back yard ringing for three hours. Once again, you should've seen the smile on his face, getting to play his favorite music with someone new, getting to teach his Good Ol' Boy style to a younger kid who wasn't too high 'n mighty to set aside that fancy classical stuff to learn the sloppy drunk fiddler. And I tell you, a forty of beer is small change to pay for a proper jam session and a bit of lesson-learning in a new style.
Now, I was making my way out when the insurance claims adjuster pulled up. I head out the front door into a faceful of "CARL JOHNSON! What the hell are YOU doing here?"
Heh, turns out the adjuster who got their case was the guy who grew up four doors down from us, my brother's best friend. Ahh, the tangled webs we weave.
Mmkay. I've been dreadfully sick for over a week, but I think I'm finally over it. Stomach cramps to the point where I couldn't do anything but roll around and moan, and even when that started to release, the ensuing bruised abdominal muscles kept me in the house. Today, though, I finally managed to make it all the way to the library on my bike, so there's hope for me yet.
Looking forward to a good band concert on the lakefront this Fourth of July, as is my family's tradition. Father and brother both play trombone in the Waukegan Municipal Band, so every year we go down to the beach in the afternoon, let the band play us off past sunset with the standard patriotic repertoire, and finish with the grand 1812 Overture complete with full Howitzer fire echoing across the lake, and the sound dying out just about the time the skies start exploding with fire.
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hungry
weird
productive
busy
chipper
bouncy
drunk
calm
contemplative
hopeful
anonymous
mischievous
cynical