My friend J. just stopped in my office with a beautiful new iPad and let me monkey around with it for ten minutes or so. It is as amazing as you may have heard. It’s so amazing, in fact, that I want one desperately, although I can’t afford it and don’t really need it. I’d buy it in a heartbeat if I was doing a lot of traveling. Apple is going to sell a million of these things.
At some point I’ll need to buy one so that I can design for it. Right now, there are other important things to spend money on.
We here at the Lockardugan compound like to pack a lot of stuff in on the weekends. It’s not unusual to have a couple of trips planned, some kind of home project involving gas-powerd or rented machinery, at least one dinner with friends, a grocery run, and visitors to the house—which then requires a housecleaning—all packed into two days’ time. This past weekend was no exception, and because we had Grandma and Aunt R. coming in from out of town, we decided to celebrate by spending Friday getting our taxes done!
For most people, this yearly routine simply requires an hour with a copy of TurboTax and a cold beer, but because at least one of us has always been self-employed, we (wisely) seek professional help. This year I was a little nervous based on my spreadsheets, but it turned out that we’re in pretty decent shape, which is a huge relief. Huge enough, in fact, that we can finally exhale and get a few things done around here, including some preliminary work on the side porch.
In the meantime, we had a fantastic visit with aforementioned family. Finn was a little unsure at first but warmed right up to Grandma, who has been twitching for some baby time since we left her driveway in December, and she showed off her talking, running, reading, and stairclimbing skills all weekend.
And while Aunt R. was here, I took the opportunity to shanghai her into helping us till the garden—lifting a rented tiller is a two-person job, but not for two people and a toddler—move compost, and pull a water pump from the Scout. She was good-natured about getting mud and antifreeze and crud from the floor of the garage on her jeans, and so we made sure to reward with a diner of shish kebab and homemade blueberry pie. Inside, Grandma got some long awaited hours of one-on-one Finley time, and at the end of the day I don’t know who went to sleep tireder.
Sunday we bid goodbye to the family and took the girl off to her swimming lesson, and to her credit she braved the cold water very well. So well, in fact, that she didn’t cry once! She enjoyed splashing, swimming, floating on her back, and even having her head dunked several times underwater. When we got home she was so whupped she slept for three and a half hours, allowing us to get some work done for a friend.
I always get bummed out when family leaves town. At one point Sunday afternoon, I asked Jen if it would be ok for me to go wake up Finn just to give her a hug, but we quickly agreed that might be a bad idea.
→ This is a syndicated post from my Scout weblog. More info here.
We won a gold Addy for the billboard we put up in New York City this evening, and a silver Addy for the overall billboard/web campaign. Sweet!
Oh, goody, just what I was hoping for. I was less than pleased when this Gingrich mouthpiece used his first governorship for nothing besides spouting Republican revolution rhetoric. Now he has a fantastic plan for revitalizing the economy! Cutting the sales tax. That will help fill the budget deficit. Good luck, douche.
As a gesture of appreciation for finally receiving a new taillight, the Saturn has decided that it doesn’t want to start. I noticed the available gusto with which it usually cranks over its sewing-machine engine was a bit lacking the other day, and yesterday morning it simply sat and made the click-click-click noise that cars make when the battery is either almost dead or connected with a wire dripping with corrosion. I’m currently borrowing my neighbor’s charger in order to get the Scout’s battery working again (that saga has taken another negative course correction, BTW) so I pulled the Saturn’s four-month-old battery last night and hooked it up, thinking the alternator isn’t providing a charge anymore. But after about 15 seconds, the charger reported the battery as being full.
Curious.
So this morning, I dropped it back in, cleaned the contacts off (the positive side was, indeed, flaky) and tried it about four times with no success. Last night I was really bummed, because I noticed for the first time that the alternator is buried behind the transversely mounted engine block and under the cowling, making its replacement more than this shade-tree mechanic is able to take on right now. But now, I’m just perplexed. If it’s not the battery, then it’s either the starter solenoid or the relay.
The plan to diagnose is as follows:
- Try using the Jeep battery to start it.
- Try jumping it from the Jeep.
- Check or replace the starter solenoid.
- Check or replace the starter relay. ($~11)
Update: Jumped it almost immediately off the jeep. So I’m thinking it could be the battery. I have to do some more sleuthing.
This is one of the byproducts of owning a tulip tree: you may not be able to find your car in the morning. As it turned out, the 4-month-old battery in the Slattern couldn’t crank the engine over completely, so I may be returning to the junkyard to pick up an alternator at the end of the week. In the meantime, I topped off up the Scout battery, which was dead, with my neighbor’s charger, so I’ll swap them out this evening. Sheesh!
Last week, Mr. Scout texted me about playing hooky sometime in the near future to hit the junkyard. As it turned out, I had an office holiday this Friday, he was on this side of the river, the sun was out, and Mama had Finn with her for the majority of the day. So we made the best of things.
Our wishlist was long, but one of my top priorities was to find a new taillight for the Slattern, which had been suffering from a bashed lens since last summer. Last fall, I couldn’t find a donor Saturn of compatible vintage for love or money over several visits, but we stumbled upon three candidates almost as soon as we walked in the yard. Two twists of a star-head screwdriver, one unplugged socket, and I had an unblemished replacement in my hands. Score!
We were also looking for Scout-related stuff, including replacement shoulder belts that could be retrofitted, or a decent set of rearview mirrors.
Meanwhile, picking over the lot from one side to the other, we found all kinds of humor, intentional and unintentional.
I’m a sucker for old, rust-prone, unusual vehicles, so whenever I see something interesting, I stop and shoot pictures.
This Le Car looked almost pristine, even as it sat up to its axles in muddy water. I tried to find a way to pull the single rearview mirror off the door, but I was foiled by strange French engineering and a fear of wet socks.
Next to it sat one of three British survivors in the yard, a rusting heap of an MG. The wooden wheel had already been pulled, as well as the hood (that’s bonnet to you, mate) but the rest of the car looked pretty clean. I was tempted to pull the rest of the chrome badges off, but the entire panel felt like it was going to come with them, so I left it all in place.
Returning home, we lunched on some burgers and then set to work checking out Peer Pressure. We pulled the thermostat and tested it out in boiling water; the valve opened exactly as it should have. So we got to work pulling the radiator out completely. This is a job we’ve both had experience with before, so this time we knew what we were doing (mostly), and had it out within about 20 min. We drained the tank, made short work of each of the mounting bolts, struggled to pull the lower hose off, peeled back the fan shroud, and slid it upwards and out of the truck as pretty as you please. Over a couple of pails, we flushed out the interior and waited until the water ran clear, then flipped it over and hosed out the bottom. Once that was done, we threw it back in, tightened everything back up, swapped the battery in from the Jeep (the Scout battery was dead, dammit) and fired her up.
I’m happy to say she idled for 20 minutes and the needle stayed where it’s pictured above—at the far left of the gauge. Mr. Scout had to leave, so I bid him farewell and then took the beast out on the road for some short mileage, figuring if she broke down I’d be close to home. I had her on the road for about ten minutes and didn’t see the needle budge an inch, at speed or sitting in traffic. I’m going to do some more short-distance test runs in the next week, but if she makes it through those, I’m calling her fixed!
Once again, and as always, thanks go to Mr. Scout, without whose help I’d still be working on the first bolt.
→ This is a syndicated post from my Scout weblog. More info here.
Wow, for an art school, I can’t imagine designing an uglier custom license plate than my alma mater did. Does the URL need to be in all caps? Really?