Good batteries make good neighbors

We all know how smoke detectors start beeping when the battery needs to be changed, right?

A couple of weeks ago Susan and I were awakened about 3:45 AM by one of those faint but persistent beeps that we recognized as a call for a new battery.  I got up to see which smoke detector it was.

Not the one in our bedroom – it would have been louder.  Not the one in the skylight hall, nor in the downstairs hall.  Lauren and a friend were sleeping downstairs, and the problem definitely wasn’t in her room.  I didn’t want to go into Zack’s room and risk waking him, so I checked the other ones again.

It’s not a quick process.  The interval between beeps is at least one minute, and it seems much longer when just roused from that all-important deep sleep.  Beep.  Nope.  Sounds like it’s upstairs.  Pause.  Hold on.  Wait for it.  A little longer.  Beep.  Not that one.  I’m sure it’s not our bedroom, but it’s coming from that direction.  Wait.  Wait some more.  More.  Beep.

I’d already pressed my ear against Zack’s door and it didn’t seem to be coming from in there.  I opened the door very quietly and went in – just to be sure.  “It sounds like it’s outside, Dad.”  We waited and listened again.  Beep.  Not in here.  “Sorry, Bud.  We’ll find it.”

Of course no one’s going to have a smoke detector outside; that’s ridiculous.  But Susan and I had checked and rechecked all of our detectors for the last 20 minutes and found nothing. I opened the front door and listened.  It was pouring rain.

Beep.  A little louder this time.  I walked around the side of the house outside of Zack’s room, and what to my wandering eyes should appear but a smoke detector on a rail of the neighbor’s porch.  His lights were on – apparently another victim of Midnight Battery Failure (MBF).  Oh, I get it.  He took care of his problem by putting it outside.

I picked up the unit and tried to open it to remove the battery.  No can do.  BEEP - much louder now.  Man, it’s wet out here.  Not gonna bring that thing into the house to solve the problem right now.  I stuck the detector in the back seat of my car under some cloth grocery bags.  That’s enough of that.

Went back to bed and dreamed of kicking my neighbor’s butt the next time I’d see him.

Thawing outside and inside

The beautiful blanket of snow that covered our fair city for most of the last ten days has lost about 99% of its charm.  Temperatures in the mid-30s and intermittent rain have turned light, dry snow into heavy, wet slop.  It’s no longer good for sledding, snowballs, or even walking.  We’re ready for it to go away.  To that end, as Susan and I walked to the neighborhood bakery this morning we cleared snow from every storm drain we knew of along the way.

On Christmas Eve an awful lot of people seemed to have last-minute errands.  Unfortunately, that brought out the cars.

I was just starting to make Swedish Toast when neighbor Maureen called for help.  She was assisting an older gentleman whose car was stuck across part of the road at the bottom of our hill.  We ended up putting chains on his older Mercedes.  I got behind the wheel but made no progress going up the street.  He left us with his car and walked up the hill to get more help.  By the time he came back with his grandson and a bottle of wine, we’d managed to get his car off the street.

As I walked back up the hill, neighbor Lisa was standing by her car at the top of her steep driveway.  She hadn’t driven for eight days and missed the last five days of work.  Afflicted with cabin fever, she thought conditions might be good enough to try to get her car out.  I shoveled two tracks down the driveway so she’d have bare pavement to drive down.  That worked okay, but the slush at the bottom of the driveway convinced her to ‘quit while she was behind.’  I drove her about three miles to work in our trusty all-wheel drive Toyota van.  On our way we passed Mr Mercedes putting on chains again, with faithful neighbor Maureen standing guard to make sure he didn’t get run over by passing cars.

* * * * * * * * * *

An article in today’s paper included a picture of a man dressed like Jesus to “show people what Christmas is all about.”  Apparently about 400 people from a church in Kansas are doing something similar.  The man in the picture wore a beard, a white robe, and a crown of thorns, and was reading a newspaper over a cappuccino.

How am I going to explain this to my neighbors?

As I read the scriptures, it seems more likely we’d find Jesus in a Tent City or a soup kitchen or a hospital than sipping a cappuccino at Starbucks.

“When did we ever see you hungry and feed you, thirsty and give you a drink?  And when did we ever see you sick or in prison and come to you?”  Then the King will say, “I’m telling the solemn truth:  Whenever you did one of these things to someone overlooked or ignored, that was me–you did it to me.’  (Matthew 25)

Jesus might be seen in the face of one serving a hot meal, offering shelter, or visiting a prisoner.  Or he might be seen in the face of one being fed or housed or visited; or maybe even the guy needing help chaining up his car.  A good reminder to me – and perhaps to you – during this Christmas season.

In and out of hot water, part 1

Where was that dripping sound coming from, anyway?  And why was the boiler cycling on and off so frequently?

As soon as I stepped into the boiler room in my socks, I knew I was in hot water – about a half-inch of it on the floor.  More was gurgling from a couple of the pipes criss-crossing the space.  Not knowing which valve did what, I just shut off the water to the whole house and did what any thinking man would do:  I called my wife.

Of course Susan was sympathetic and empathetic and ready to be helpful.  I mostly needed to let somebody know what was going on and hear some reassurance to smooth my ruffled feathers.  Mission accomplished.

By the time I got out some old towels, the carpeting in the rooms on either side of the boiler room had already soaked up a surprising amount of water.  Wet, squishy carpet is one of my least favorite things; can’t think of a single instance in which it means something good.

Okay – now I’ll call someone who can figure out what caused this mess.  No need to call Rossoe Energy Systems, original installers of the boiler and indirect hot water tank.  Every other company that’s subsequently serviced or repaired our system has shown us evidence that Rossoe really didn’t know what they were doing.  Color me ‘dissatisfied customer.’

A guy from Evan Conklin Plumbing & Heating was here less than 90 minutes after I called, and boy, was he great.  Friendly and knowledgeable, he diagnosed the problem quickly, explained what had happened, and left me with several helpful suggestions.

The boiler heats our baseboard radiators as well as our domestic hot water.  I was worried that we’d lost both heat and hot water just as a cold front may keep us below freezing for the next few days.  Thankfully heat for the house was not affected.

So I’m off to do some Christmas shopping – for a new hot water heater.  It wasn’t on my list, and I was laid off November 30, so the timing’s not great.  But as a neighbor who serves at a local food bank just reminded me, we have everything we need and more.  Time for us to get our butts over to that food bank and help out.

Off the grid

During our mid-winter break Snowboarding Adventure, we stayed on a remote piece of property near the Okanogan National Forest in North Central Washington. Our neighbors in Seattle built a house there that runs mostly on solar power, and is it ever cool:

Vigilante traffic cop

Anybody else feel like they sometimes need to provide a little ad hoc law enforcement?

We live on a dead-end street, the entrance to which is a three-way intersection. It’s a three-way stop with signs clearly visible. Coming from one direction, our street is completely hidden by a high bank on the corner. We’re also in the Seattle area where it’s been known to rain now and then, and where it currently starts getting dark around 4:00 PM.

A family’s journey through breast cancer

This is a lengthy post. It consists of 19 entries during the course of my wife’s diagnosis and treatment for breast cancer in 2004. It contains funny and frank stories, things that helped us get through a difficult time, and a look at how a life-threatening condition played out in our family.

April 27, 2004 (update #1)

To the many members of Susan’s Fan Club:

Here we are again, “standin’ in the need of prayer.” We learned this week that Susan has “early abnormal cells of ductal carcinoma in situ” (early stage breast cancer). A cluster of tiny spots showed up on a mammogram last summer, and a second cluster appeared on a follow-up mammogram in March.

Happy birthday, Zatchmo

I love days like today. Our niece and her husband of four months came over for a leisurely brunch, and I baked scones and Swedish toast. This promising young couple lives in Pasadena, so it took a little imagination to combine “sunny and clear” with “high of 46 degrees” and come up with “beautiful day.”

On exercise

I hate the fact that I need to exercise. For decades I never had to give a second thought to how much I weighed or if I was getting enough physical activity. Seemed like I was stuck between 175-185 lbs for about 25 years. Now those days are behind me – in more ways than one.

One mailbox at a time

Problem: Neighbor Margie’s mailbox came off of its post today; the thing’s probably been there for 40+ years. Margie’s arm is in a sling, so all of a sudden a “little” thing like getting the mail is a lot more difficult.

Solution: Neighbor Laura already had her tools out – she’s building a fence around their patio. At Susan’s suggestion I went out to help – brought my little 10mm cordless drill and a couple of mismatched screws. Laura’s cordless drill was twice the size of mine, and her pockets were full of wood screws and bolts and washers, but she was kind enough to allow me to feel like I was helping. Without a single trip to the hardware store we were able to remount the mailbox – and the door even opens most of the way.

Conclusions: Sometimes it’s the little things. One mailbox never stood a chance against two determined neighbors. And sometimes it’s helpful to think that building and rebuilding neighborhoods can start with just one mailbox.