Growing up

Despite my pleas that Amalie remain little, she always (rightfully) refuses and states that no, she will get bigger. And we agree that this is the way of things. I so love this kid.

This was going to be a short post about how, days ago, she got her first loose tooth, but that's already old news. Let's skip the standard thousand words and just go to the picture:

The first to go.

How ever did five and (almost) a half years go so quickly?

Babies

In 2004, a mating pair of birds built a nest inside our front door foyer, well out of reach of the cats and nicely insulated from harsh weather. This was rather clever of them, as we had some lashing storms that year, yet they stayed nicely dry and out of the winds.

Our front doorway where the birds roost.

I don't know what species the birds are, if it's the same pair each year, or maybe offspring (how long do birds live?), or if it's even the same species of bird, but they've been back every year since. In 2006 they hatched two clutches of eggs.

They finally came back again this year, late April, and the baby birds hatched a couple of weeks ago. Today they started flying; by the middle of next week I expect them to be gone, and the mating pair will probably start on a second batch. They're kind of entertaining -- they twitter-tweet at the cats, sometimes even dive-bomb at them, despite that the cats have been here all along and have no chance at getting at the nest. I suppose this is typical bird-parent defensive posturing, but if it is the same original pair, don't they ever get acclimated? The cats are only a threat if the birds are dense enough to get near them. (Make no mistake, both cats can and have nailed other birds on occasion, but not the nesting birds.)

It's been fun watching the babies fly -- only two so far, the other two no doubt in a day or so -- and I like that they come back every year.

The baby birds take a break from flying practice
(two obvious, one hunched down at right).

It's the oil of bergamot that makes it great

A few years ago -- 2004, 2005, I don't recall -- my folks gave me a 200-count canister of Earl Grey teabags for Christmas, Twinings brand. Wonderful stuff; I drink coffee a few times a week, usually because Val is having a cuppa, but I generally prefer tea, and in the world of tea Earl Grey is my favorite. And, yes, central Texas winters are cold enough to enjoy a good, hot cup more than once a day. When the weather turns warm, I don't drink it nearly so often. So that canister has lasted me a good, long time.

I woke with a rough throat this morning, and decided that a cup of hot tea would be just the thing. And realized that, at last, I was down to my last bag of Earl Grey from that huge canister. I wasn't particularly wistful or longing about it, so I set up the kettle and my mug and waited for the whistle.

I set myself up with my tea, and the kids awoke, and I managed to drink about half of it while getting everything ready to take them to school. Got back, noticed the mug, and took it to the kitchen and dumped it.

Other than books, gifts rarely last so long. I can't say I miss my huge canister of tea -- the can itself was recycled months ago as the supply dwindled -- but it was good gift, and I enjoyed it plenty. Thanks, Mom & Dad.

Ultor Returneth

You've probably heard the old sawhorse that lightning never strikes the same place twice.

I tell you true: bullshit.

Just after 2:00 am Central on 16-May, our house was either struck by lightning, or the strike was so close that the internal wiring harness took a huge surge. I was up reading, and heard the storm growing. Checked the kids, both sleeping soundly, and decided to go out on our back deck, which is covered, to watch a bit. I had opened the back door, my left hand still on the knob, and was about to open the storm door when the world flashed white, followed (mere microseconds later) by a massively loud, crackling SNAP. It was all over in less than a second; I blinked my eyes to recover my sight. My left hand felt lightly itchy, though I ignored it. I heard an ululating beep, figured it must be the hard-wired smoke detectors, but it stopped before I could be certain. (I didn't imagine it because Val heard it too, the strike and beep had awakened her, which is rare.) The kids kept on sleeping, thankfully. I got the big flashlight in case we lost power -- and about ten minutes later, we did, for a very short time (a minute or two). The rain came down in bucketsful, about two inches deep in the front yard depression outside the front door.

I went to turn on the big TV to see the local weather... and got nothing but a hysteresis blur. I knew what that meant -- we'd taken the surge and were sure to have several electronics pieces ruined.

The bit about striking twice? We had the same thing happen (while we were not at home) in 2001. A lightning strike or surge, home electronics burned out all over the house. This time wasn't as bad, but we still took plenty of damage. I haven't inventoried everything yet, but both televisions are toast, both DVD players, the good stereo receiver, the cable modem (already replaced, which is how I'm posting this), and it looks like the wireless modem is dead as well. Later today I'll finish assessing the desktop computer array and the home entertainment speakers. Worst, though, is that the central air conditioning was knocked out -- just like last time, a control board got baked. Repair on that won't be complete until Thursday morning, but luckily it's been a very nice night so we have the windows open, and it's not stuffy or miserable. And, good news, our new Yamaha digital piano came through intact. (And yes, most items were plugged in through surge-protective power strips. I suspect the surge came through the cable television lines.)

Finally among the damage, the bathroom mirror. This is where I first noticed evidence of the 2001 strike -- the grounding in the back bathroom is incomplete, and when the first strike occurred it partly grounded itself out of studs and into the mirror. I went in to brush my teeth and noticed a coppery blot about the size of a golf ball just above the sink, and also found some of the reflective backing melted behind the faceplate of the electrical outlet. This time, the blot grew to the size of a grapefruit, and the mirror fractured around the outlet. So it'll get replaced for certain, and we'll probably have the wiring checked and repaired while we're at it.

The mirror crack'd.

The darker, central blot is from 2001, the expanded corona from 2007.

I showed the mirror to the kids when they awoke, pointing out that thunder is scary, but it's the lightning that can cause the damage. Carson (now 2 1/4) interpreted my description as though the mirror had been smashed by Lightning McQueen.

This is a major pain in the ass, though insurance will cover some of it. Partly, though, I'm looking forward to replacing some old stuff and being forced into re-doing the office desktop setup, plus having the chance to vacuum up lots of dusty nooks otherwise inaccessible. And we'll look into getting lightning rods installed.

And I'm certain that my hand, by being on the metal doorknob when the bolt hit wherever, got a kiss of electrons, probably coupled in by the immediate e-field, so I'll never fear mere static again. I've held the lightning.

Two strikes in six years -- I figure we must now be waaaaay out into the far end of the probability curve, and a third strike would be inconceivable.

But if we do get hit again -- screw it, we're moving.

Catching Up

Foo. I just went the whole of April with only one post. Shame on me.

So there'll be much catching-up in the next few days. The Clemens signing. Strawberry picking (heading out in a few minutes). Our new piano. A fun baseball book-signing. Amalie's tee-ball, which I'm helping coach. New lawn mower to go with Val's new and improved lawn.

But I'll start with my finger. I'd been trimming the old nail, front and back (yes, it feels weird), as it grew along. Finally, in late April, it was down to a little arc, and peeling away from the underflesh on all sides; the pink underneath was the size of a crumb. I couldn't wait for the darn thing to finally fall off -- whenever it snagged (and despite being very careful, sometimes it would) it hurt, more a twinge than real pain, but nothing appealing.

Yesterday, Sunday, I took a nap while Carson was enjoying an extra-long one (he was sick on Saturday evening so needed the extra rest). Woke up, sat down to watch a bit of baseball, pulled Amie into my lap -- and noticed my fingernail bit was, at last, gone. Gone! YES!

I still have a ridge of the hardened underflesh that needs to finish outgrowing before my baby nail will push forth and be ready for its first trimming. I've never given much thought to nail growth rate -- I know my toenails grow slower than my fingernails, but have never timed either -- but this time I couldn't ignore it. Granted my right index finger had been messed up with the infection, but if the growth rate stayed normal, and it appeared to be steady relative to my other carpal digits, then my fingernails completely regrow in about 3-4 months.

I still don't yet have the a functional fingernail but at least I can stop worrying about getting it snagged.