Now that I’ve tried my hand at being crafty, I thought I’d try my hand at being handy!  Why?  Because I got an email from Dad Central consulting offering me an opportunity to receive a complimentary Delta Elongated Water Saving toilet, install it, and write about it.  They call it a “campaign.”  This was appealing, as I’m normally replacing appliances and fixtures in our house AFTER they break, and I thought replacing something before it broke would be both novel and prudent.  Plus, our toilet (and everything else in our master bath) is ugly as hell and makes weird noises at night (see, e.g., the bidet).

What follows will forever be known as THE GREAT CRAPPER REPLACEMENT OF 2013, starring my bride and me.

We began at 8:15pm when I shut off the water supply and pulled those little white dome things off either either side of the bottom of the existing toilet.  The box for the new toilet came with instructions for removing the old one (including blue protective gloves!), which was great, but it didn’t alleviate the disgustingness associated with pulling off the waxy ring of poo (or maybe it was just wax–hard to say) left under the toilet belonging to a dude who lived in my house for 4 decades before I did.  Right before I sat down to write this, I realized Delta even has videos for installing and removing toilets!  If only I’d realized that before beginning this project.

Bidets make great tool boxes, but it turns out I didn’t need any tools, as a multi-use plastic thingy comes with the new toilet, so the bidet held wrenches that were never used (and some nasty old bolts + washers from the old john).

Once the old toilet was safely hoisted into our front yard to become a geranium planter, I began readying the new toilet for installation.  A couple times, I struggled to find parts that I thought had to be attached but were already attached to the toilet–that’s how simple and “pre-made” this thing is.  Like these bolts on the underside of the tank, for example:

At one point, I stood up after screwing the tank to the bowl, forgetting there’s an overhanging cabinet there.  When I came to, I was playing Hearts with Roger Rabbit and Jesus Christ (I lost).  A geyser of profanity befitting the USS Decatur polluted our bathroom worse than anything my backside has ever produced.  But that’s not necessarily Delta’s fault.  There was no blood, so I continued.

It was no time at all before I was able to add the seat.

A quick refreshment, and I checked the clock:  1 hour total, including taking the old john to the front yard and thoroughly washing my hands.

But would it hold up to the rigors of actual utilization?   Say, after 3 pitchers of margaritas and extra servings of refried beans?

Absolutely.  In fact, I’m posting from my new throne right now.

Filed under: product reviews, delta toilet | 7 Comments

Yesterday, my cruel spouse spent the day manning her booth at the Indie Craft Experience and left me with 3 naughty children and a torrential rain storm (a realization I made 5 minutes after we arrived at the neighborhood pool).  So, during nap time for the 2 youngest, I decided to get indie and crafty, too.

Normally, I don’t get crafty.  In fact, my last attempt at crafty was probably in high school, and it involved a trip to the principal’s office for pouring water on a chunk of sodium.  Come to think of it, that wasn’t very crafty at all (even though a blade was used to cut off the chunk of sodium).  However, on this particular rainy Sunday, I didn’t need fire and a principal’s office to enjoy the art of creation, because I had this:

Thanks to my friend Mike Adamick, even a pyromaniac who usually has to write a check to accomplish anything involving tools or glue can create stuff.

The book is divided up into categories based on each project’s projected duration.  I went for the shorter category:  “afternoon.”  I had a nap time to try and do something I thought my 6-year-old would like.

I picked the “hidden book stash” project several weeks ago, so my bride bought a bunch of books at Goodwill that she thought would appeal to each child.

She picked the one we anticipated she’d pick:

It was written in 1962 and had great information on succeeding in business.  It also contained profanity.  Right on the page we chose for creating the pocket (something I realized when Maddie started reading the page aloud).

She began gluing the pages together.  We didn’t have a brush, but I figured, “I don’t need a glue brush, Mike–in fact, I don’t even know where one buys a glue brush, Mike, so we’ll use our index finger to spread the glue!” which is great for crafty dads with index fingers.  Luckily, I have 2 of them.

The next step involved a rubber band, but I couldn’t find one of those, either, so I grabbed one of the numerous orphan binder clips lining the bottom of my trial bag.

Once the first 1/4 of the book was clipped, we were to draw a rectangle for the cutting.  Maddie drew one, and then I redrew it bigger, because children think smaller than adults do.

After the glue dried, I began the dangerous process of using an x-actoknife, something I hadn’t done since college orientation when my future roommate and I made fake IDs using Blockbuster Video’s lamination machine and some student ID cards we stole from the stack while the other created a diversion.  I still knew how to operate the blade, 20 years later!

This picture is blurry, because 6-year-olds can’t take good pictures.

Cutting took a while, and her 4-year-old brother and 3-year-old sister interrupted us to scream a bunch and toss pieces of fruit all over the floor where we were working, so I suspended the crafting until after all 3 of them were in bed.  Then, it looked like this.

I cut until there was a fairly deep little pocket, and then I added the purple construction paper for contrast (and, because purple is her favorite color).  I tested the pocket to see if it would hold a wooden representation of our entire family, because this seemed important on a late Sunday night with no Walking Dead episode to watch.

I set it out for her to discover when she woke up this morning.

When I came home this evening, I asked her where her book was, and she’d already hidden some items inside the book (that she didn’t care to disclose to me), and the book itself was hidden on a closet shelf above the reach of her snooping 4-year-old brother.  She pulled it out and showed it to me.

She’d added her own personality to the cover via various shades of crayoned color to complement the admonitions for her younger sibling, including “keep out!” and “top secret” and “wide”?  Children are odd.

She loved it, which meant it was worth it.

The next time I have a rainy weekend day, I hope to go through the same exercise with the boy.

Thanks to Mike for letting have a complimentary copy of this book to review!  I recommend it as a Father’s Day gift or a way to placate any young child whom you don’t wish to join for yet another “My Little Pony” episode.  The book has lots of projects that are super cool to make for guys with dexterity and lots of tools, but there are also several simple ones that will please a child without overwhelming her dad.  Like this one!

Filed under: children, product reviews, craftiness, dad's book of awesome projects, mike adamick | 4 Comments

Dear Baby Lola (hereinafter “BL“):

I’m trying not to be pissed at you.

You see, for the first 2 years of your life, you were dreamy.  You were the sweetest of the babies.  Your smile was an infection everyone wanted to catch.  You were good with new acquaintances.  You were good at restaurants.  You were good on long plane rides.  Your potty training was an easy weekend in which no one contemplated suicide.

For the past 2+ years, I called you “my baby” when talking to your mom about you.  As in, “My baby and I are going to the playground.  Your baby just took a shit on the new area rug and is dancing on it!”

But all that changes on your birthday tomorrow when you turn 3.

3 is the age all children spend a year firmly entrenched in the Will of the Devil.  3-year-olds argue.  They’re insolent.  They may get such euphemistic descriptions for their behavior as “being willful” or “acting cranky-pants” or “talking back,” but any parent of a 3-year-old knows that what you’re really doing is “replacing all feelings of affection that have built over the past 2.9 years with feelings of desperation, frustration, indignation, and resignation until you turn 4.”  Or, maybe that’s just your mom and me.

Please don’t act like your older siblings did when they were 3.  We really have a good thing going here.

So tonight, on your last night as a 2-year-old, I’ll say this:  happy birthday, sweet BL.  Hold onto 2-years, as long as you can; changes come around real soon, frustrate women and men.

Filed under: Baby, 3, baby lola, birthdays, terrible threes | 17 Comments

Like I did in October, I traveled this weekend to a legal conference that’ll hopefully help me learn how to help military veterans, an area of law I wish to add have added to my practice this year.  Besides the obvious reasons why Washington, DC is special to all Americans, it’s special to me, as it’s where I spent the first several months of our marriage in 2006 (after our eloping in November 2005).

January to June 2006 were some of my favorite memories as a grownup.  We lived in a hotel suite at the Comfort Inn just outside one of the Andrews AFB, MD entry/exit gates.  I used to ride a mountain bike to work each day, and my bride would drive our one car into the ‘hood to teach a bunch of low income minority kids at a public policy charter school how to act (one of her 3.5 college degrees is in theater).  On weekends, the three of us (10-year-old Emilie was with us too) would visit one of the nearly 20 Smithsonian museums, a monument, a nearby city, a park, or an event.  We planned all our weekends in January for the duration of the deployment and seized each day like I’ve never before, or since, done.  Asking for forgiveness instead of permission to take my new family with me to that deployment was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

When I learned about this class a few months ago, I wanted to take the whole family up there and spend several days on a tax deductible vacation, but given the school that would have had to be missed (including Emilie’s prom) and the money that would need to be spent (while we’re in the middle of a huge renovation project that has doubled its budget), we decided I should go alone.

I arrived Friday morning to the Atlanta airport and saw the worst security line I have ever seen, as it wound through the food court and down the hall leading past baggage claim for the south terminal.  I then realized that paying $100 and filling out a bunch of forms + participating in an interview to get a TSA PreCheck designation was TOTALLY WORTH IT as I walked right into the concourse without so much as removing my shoes or laptop, much less waiting in any line whatsoever.

After attending classes until 8pm, I tried some of the many wonderful samples of bourbon and whiskey at Jack Rose Dining Saloon until sometime early the next morning, and it was awesome.

The next morning was not awesome, but I learned a bunch of stuff and then slid out at the end instead of attending the black tie gala that was planned for us, because I wanted to see my little brother on his birthday, only he couldn’t come down from where he lives in Pennsylvania (just under  2 hours away), so I went for a run and then decided I wanted to visit some of my favorite war monuments at dusk.

Like Lincoln.

And the girls who were sliding down the decline next to the steps leading up to Lincoln.

And the eerie Korean War soldier.

And the wall I first visited on a high school field trip in 1992 with my friend Chad, whose father, like mine, served in Vietnam.

And my dad’s roommate in undergrad, Robert Wade Brunson (whose name I remembered from his telling me to look for him in winter 2006).

And the King!

And the longest serving Commander in Chief, complete with little dog.

After visiting the other monuments, I went up to Chinatown and ate nearby at Jaleo, which was great.  I may have walked to another bar or two afterward before heading back to the hotel.

Sunday, after another day of classes, I skipped this and went to the Delta lounge for a spell before heading home that night.

And it only took me a few minutes of listening to news radio upon returning to normalcy Monday morning to lose every bit of admiration and appreciation I’d developed for our federal government the previous 3 days (especially when reading about how disparate the income is in DC)!

Filed under: Travels, Washington DC | 8 Comments

Being easily coaxed by the internet, we gave in and decided to let our soon-to-be-leaving-the-house senior and a friend go to NYC for her spring break last week, because we are not assholes.

We flew up Wednesday night, dropped off suitcases at the condo we found on www.vrbo.com at 37th Street and 9th Ave, and we set off for the pizza joint recommended by the door man.  We walked around Times Square and met Woody and Buzz.  We got real cold.

Thursday, we walked down to SoHo where I could try to find my size in the Campers I wanted at 2 of their retail stores but failed to find them (I called and had them saved at the store on 5th Ave instead, which was my 4th location to search for the damned things).  Then we spent A LOT of time at the Uniqlo store buying clothes for the teen (and a few for the Mrs and me).  I wandered away and checked out the united colors of Converse.

We then took the subway back up to Times Square to the TKTS booth to try and get tickets for one of the 2 shows Emilie specifically requested to see while in New York:  The Lion King or Wicked.  And despite my telling my bride we should buy tickets way in advance for said show, she advised that since these shows have been showing for several years, we would have no problem getting them at half off at the TKTS booth, so we waited in line around an hour and found that tickets to both shows were available…on Tuesday:  3 days after we flew home.

After the inevitable weeping and gnashing of teeth subsided, we convinced young, teenaged Emilie that there were, in fact, other good shows on Broadway in New York City, and maybe she should show some fucking appreciation and an open mind and try one of them!  Since we’d flown all the way up there and all.

We had some damned good Italian at Patsy’s, because that’s where Frank Sinatra went for damned good Italian.

And then we saw “Nice Work if You Can Get It” starring Matthew Broderick and Blythe Danner and a bunch of other good actors I didn’t know from movies.  And you know what?  It was outstanding.  Maybe my favorite play ever.  Hilarious, well-acted, and full of good music from the 1920s (the time period in which it’s set).  I loved it.

Kinda makes you want to spray paint “Save Muskrat” atop a water tower, don’t it?

And the woman whose character uttered the cautionary code word that launched this very blog:

Look at the camera and say “muskrat!”

On Friday, it was supposed to rain, so we went north several blocks to the MoMA to take in the stars.

And we finally picked up my Camper shoes.

Then I asked myself the age old question, “Am I a man?  Or am I a Muppet?” at FAO Schwarz.  The answer:  a muppet.

My muppet’s maker:

My bride and my oldest also followed their narcissism toward Muppets in their likeness (they actually did it first.  I succumbed to peer pressure afterward).

Dinner that night was Asian fusion at Qi Bankok (very good) and then our show was Avenue Q (off Broadway now), which had a bunch of swearing and fornicating puppets in it that were pretty funny but a bit juvenile for my taste.  The teens loved it, of course.

The Mrs dragged me to Mood Fabric, but I’m getting a nice linen jacket out of the deal, so I didn’t mind.  Then it was dessert at the base of the Empire State Building after Emilie wanted to go to the top, but they no longer let military go to the top for free, and it was really cold and windy, so I didn’t want to spend $100 for all 4 of us to go to the top, but I offerred to let her go while I sat in the bar at the bottom and drank beer, but she turned me down.

So, I agreed to let the 4 of us pile up in the back of a pedicab instead, thinking this would be a cheap thrill and a way to get out of the cold for our walk of 2 avenues and 3 blocks back to our condo.

Turns out the price per avenue block ($3) and street block ($2) was PER PASSENGER so what I thought would cost like $30 after tip was actually OVER A HUNDRED FUCKING DOLLARS which made me sick to my stomach and wish we’d just gone to the top of the Empire State Building and walked home, but my bride and the 2 teens loved it, as you can tell from the laughter as we weaved among cars on the streets (and sidewalks – see 1:18) of Manhattan.

The next day we had a wonderful brunch at HK Hells Kitchen before flying back.

So concludes another successful trip to New York (albeit my only one involving so much sobriety)!  Emilie and her little friend loved it and were very grateful that we gave in and allowed her to take it, so thanks for that, loyal blog commenter people.  And despite my initial misgivings about confinement with 3 women for 3 nights, I enjoyed it, too.  Especially since I knew my old Reserves unit was preparing for a major inspection that weekend.

Filed under: Travels, new york city, spring break 2013 | 9 Comments