Monday 28 April 2008

How many trips does it take?

I managed this weekend to successfully turn on sprinkler systems at 2 houses. It wasn't as quick as I would have liked. What should have been a simple 30 minute job at one house became a 4+ hour exercise in plumbing. '

Trip #1: Go to house #2 (house for sale in a "buyer's market"). Oh that wonderful feeling you get when the spindle of the main supply valve comes off in your hand when you try to open it! Return home unsuccessfully.

It is not in my repertoire to replace a major supply valve without removing the pressure on the supply side, so had to coordinate with the HOA to have the water shut off. Of course, this water shutoff just happened to coincide with the household plumbing disaster, so careful coordination and prioritization was required in the family activities this weekend.

Did I mention how convenient it is to have a washing machine in your own home? Marvelous invention, indoor plumbing and a front loading washer.

Anyway, replacing a valve shouldn't be a complicated thing. Get valve, remove old valve, install new valve.

Trip #2: Return to house to do a quick site survey that I should have done the first time. I thought I knew the right size valve to get, noted that I lacked proper tools (-1 wrench of sufficient size)

Short Trip #3: went to local home/hardware superstore, bought a valve, a wrench, some teflon tape. Return to yard and ... drat, wrong size valve.

Short Trip #4: take the too large valve back, get a smaller one. For future reference, the valve gauge is probably labeled (cast/molded) onto the valve body -- look for it, it may save you a trip. While installing the smaller, correctly sized valve (but of a different length than original) I cross- threaded a plastic connector that was no longer squarely aligned due to the length change in the valve body. Plastic plumbing doesn't seal well after that (I didn't want to risk it) so...spent waaayyy too long getting the old plastic fitting out to take it with me...

Short Trip #5: take the plastic part and go find a replacement of same size and shape. Spend 15 minutes trying to find the right place in the correct aisle. Give up and get help, spend another 10 minutes with store employee trying to find the right part on the right aisle. Some shelving systems just don't make sense to me -- in this case, the part I wanted was mis-filed in a box one aisle away from identical parts of a different size. yeah, sure I can find that on my own...

Return from trip #2: Finally get to go home to deal with drain leak in the basement, but recall that due to the HOA involvement, I couldn't actually test my master supply valve installation.

Trip # 6: Actually use the new supply valve and finally get the sprinklers running. Replace one head most likely broken by snow shoveling activity. All is well.

Perhaps the lush green grass this is supposed to create will help the house sell a little faster.

Trips 1, 2, 6 are each about 30 miles round trip. 3,4,5 are each about 6 miles round trip. In an SUV with gas prices hovering close to $3.50... :( At least NPR had a story about a Nobel prize winner -- it deserves its own blog post.

Pardon my prattle, it just seems very rare that a project can be completed with one trip to the hardware store.

rootie

Life's little lessons #4784

Reality wins over misplaced hope once again.

This Friday evening's relaxation was interrupted with a plumbing issue. When enough water goes into the sink where the washing machine drains, water will start coming out at the base of the wall behind the sink. (this wall exit point is at least 1 foot from the floor drain the sink pours into)

I ripped out carpeting to figure out where the leak was, get rid of the smell and mold potential -- what a fun way to spend a Friday night -- moving 200 pound appliances and hacking smelly wet carpet into chunks small enough to carry out... :-(

Called a local plumbing company with a reputable name. Plumber arrived and decided that snaking the drain should fix the problem. My brain was on vacation. What part of removing a clog will cause water to not leak from the drain system? I didn't think that clearly. Plumber snaked the drain, pulled out smelly gunky glob of goo with fibrous matter including roots, and ran water down - water flowed much more freely so he problem declared fixed. I paid the bill and he left.

Fast forward 20 minutes -- I have reinstalled the sink (free-standing plastic utility sink with only a drain connection) and run water into it and guess what? Yup, water comes out from the same place as before.

Yes folks, removing a clog from a pipe does not actually *fix* a leak in said pipe, in spite of assurances and hopes to the contrary. Reality wins.

Next step, jackhammers. Yes, this the recommendation of the same technician from the same company, who hasn't actually verified the actual cause of the leak, merely his assurances that this will lead to a fix, and the problem will be just a foot "or so" from the drain, in a specific direction through a concrete basement wall and floor.

I do not have that confident happy feeling.

Looks like I may be spending the intervening evenings tearing out some more wall materials to see if I can actually find the point of origin of the leaking water to get at least some confidence in the diagnosis.

Would someone tell me again why I bought a house that is over 70 years old? ;)

rootie

Tuesday 1 April 2008

BASV -- nobody should have to live in fear

This post was written for the Blog Against Sexual Violence Day this April 3rd.

I live in a different world than most women do. I can at any time walk anywhere safely in my growing city. I simply decide "I want to go there" and I do -- after all, "what's the big deal?" Nobody will issue cat-calls in my honor, stop their car to offer me a ride on their mustache, nor grope me in a crowd. Odds are equally good that nobody will try to rape me or coerce me into a compromising situation. I know women who think carefully about where and when they go, plan their parking spaces when traveling, and avoid certain areas of town, especially when alone.

Let me give 3 viewpoints derived from Ayn Rand's philosophy of Objectivism (based on my own understanding) .
  1. This imbalance in personal safety is one of many forms of injustice common in our society. Injustice? Yes, though I may define it differently than would commonly be defined. Justice, as defined in Objectivism is essentially giving people what they deserve. What part of having female gender means that women "deserve" this treatment, that they "deserve" to live in fear?
  2. The use of force by one individual against another is not only irrational, but is harmful to both individuals involved, and therefore wrong. The harm takes different forms for each of the people involved, but can be very real. This isn't just some random dictate, but is derived from our need as humans to have freedom to think and to act in our own best interest as a means to living a flourishing life. Thugs don't flourish in jail. Victims don't flourish when they feel the need to curtail their actions for their personal safety.
  3. (this is technically a variation on #2 above) A person's body is their primary property, to do with as they see fit. If they decide not to use their "property" for some purpose (even for "gratification" of an inebriated spouse), their right to determine the use of that property should be respected.

Nobody should have to live in fear. Nobody.

rootie

The golden hour...er..35 minutes...

Biking season is here. In the short time before sunset, I picked a lung burner close to home and took off. The temperature was in the mid 40's, and the air was calm.

The first two miles was a relatively easy uphill. There were a handful of runners and walkers on the trail, most of them with dogs. Some of the people ambled along, almost wandering -- they were in no rush as their destination was fresh air and doggie exercise. Others ran intently, with a well-practiced and efficient gait. There was a young couple probably in their mid-30's that stepped way off the trail with their dogs as I huffed a friendly hello and thank you in passing. There was a man walking his cool-down from a what I would guess was a strenuous workout in the foothills.

My shadow grew long and darted in and out across the bushes as I rode. The sunlight took on the golden hue that is a favorite of landscape photographers, making the hills glow in the cool air.

I stopped briefly to shed a layer of jacket, drink some water, and catch my breath before the climb to the ridge line. There's a trail on the ridge line about a quarter mile from where I've stopped, but that quarter mile includes a section of something close to 10% grade. I stow my jacket, click into my clips and engage the hill.

About halfway up, as I am huffing and puffing, pedaling in my lowest gear and traveling about the speed of a glacier I heard the sandy crunch of footsteps overtaking me. Startled and due to my slow uphill pace, I did a swerve-and-recover to maintain my balance. I was quite happy that it was a runner passing me, and not someone just walking their dog. In spite of all rational understanding of my physical condition, and the fact that I'm lugging an extra 30-40 pounds of bike and associated gear up the hill, I still have a hard time mentally dealing with getting passed by someone who is walking.

After reaching the ridge line trail, I decided I hadn't had enough climbing, so nosed my bike up the trail toward another short steep rise nearby. I was quite determined not to stop in the middle of it. It took me quite some time to get my breathing calmed down at the top. After I had recovered a little air, I noted the runner who passed me was disappearing over a little rise ahead of me, her yellow jacket glowing in bright contrast to the brown hillside. A small part of me wanted to continue following the uphill trail, not content to stop where I was, but I had chores still waiting at home.

I paused and watched as the sun started melting slowly into the western horizon. There I stood with my bike in the quiet cool air, watching the shadows blanket the hills, my heart still beating quickly from the climb, and thinking to myself, "this is definitely the golden hour".

May you find your own golden hour,

rootie