Laughter on Forgeover

Knock Knock

Sun, 29 Aug 2010 16:00:13 +0000

Olive: “Knock Knock”

Me: “Who’s there?”

Olive: “Banana”

Me: “Banana Who”

Olive: “Aren’t you glad I didn’t say Orange?”

At this point I’m thinking, at least he got the right fruit in there but Olive scrunches up his forehead as I fake laugh and says “Daddy what’s the real joke?” So I decided to humor him again.

Me: “Knock knock”

Olive: “Who’s there?”

Me: “Banana.”

Olive: “Banana who?”

Me: “Knock knock”

No Better Life Than This One: Choosing Joy

Sat, 31 Jul 2010 22:21:39 +0000

Today sucked royally. I started the day saddled with the dread of a project (replacing the hot water heater) that I just knew was going to go badly. This project was going to go badly because:

I couldn’t get to all of the fittings to measure what size they were and therefore didn’t know for sure what to buy to replace them.
The old water heater may have or may not have fit out through the available hole… Oh no. It didn’t.
The beginning of the project involved cutting the safety net (all of the hoses, strapping, and electrical) thereby completely committing me to raving success or miserable failure.
The space that I had to work in was miserably small, virtually guarantying several minor concussions, gashes, and bruises (check, check, and check)
The very best that I had hoped for was to get enough done that I could safely turn on the pressure water in the evening (cold only) to do the dishes from the margaritas.

So after a grumpy breakfast, and a grumpy trip to the chandlery and the hardware store, I grumpily made by way back down the dock with not quite enough parts to complete the project, and a pretty bad attitude. I was short tempered all morning, and when I finally remeasured the new hot water heater and found that it was something like 10" too tall for the space it was going into, I was pretty certain that I was going to go stratospheric. When I then remeasured the old heater and found that there was no possible way to get it out without removing the countertop, I thought I would cry.

The Victory of Providence Over Planning

Sat, 14 Nov 2009 05:12:42 +0000

“It looks like the rain has let up a bit, should we make a run for it?” I asked, equivocating. “Its probably as good as any time,” Dad replied.

We had been enduring monsoon rains for hours, holed up first at the Cafe del Mar and later at Abba. It was getting late and we still had to pack.

So we made a dash for it and, as if cued by some rueful sadistic god, the rain intensified. Too late to change course, we soldiered into the torrent. Dad helped my pull my bike out of the muddy garbage heap. I was ankle deep in brown water and suddenly grateful that I was: a) wearing my sandals; and b) immunized against Hep A.