Key chain?

I am SO glad I saved this thing. It has come in so useful and brought back such wonderful memories, I can't imagine my life without it. My only question is why I haven't carried this with my keys all these years.

Prom

My dearest friends. I couldn't let you go through the pain of reliving your prom years and publishing those embarrassing photos without posting one of my own - the only photo I have from 1993's Stairway to Heaven (so ridiculously original).

On the back:

1993 Doherty Senior Prom

Jeff - Torrie*

Eric - Andi

California Limousine - Chauffeur Robert**

Taken at Troy's house

*Shagged Cunico at afterprom

**Who cares who the chauffeur was?

I have to say, Eric and Andi look very elegant and not that tacky.

Torrie's hair leaves me speechless.

Russ! Go get the hammer.

I realize it has been nearly a year since I posted on my blog. I would say that nothing exciting has happened in the past 8 months but that isn't entirely true. One event in particular stands out as needing its own entry. DISCLAIMER: All parts of the following story and true and unedited. Any likeness to real people is completely intentional because there is no way I could make this up.

On Christmas Eve, I got a call from our tenant in our old house in the neighborhood. I always pucker up a little bit when I see a call from a tenant because it means something is broken. But a call on Christmas Eve must mean not only is something broken but it must be flooding, burning, or frozen. So with hesitation, I answer the phone. "Jeff, it's Roman. You know that vent over the oven? I think there's something in it."

"What do you mean there's something in it?" I ask.

"A squirrel or something. I heard a loud thump and something is going crazy in there, scratching to get out. I can see its tail."

Totally confused, all I can think to say is, "Ok, I'll be over in a minute." I grab a trash bag, some gloves, an old bed sheet, and a cordless drill, not sure what I am going to do with any of those things.

Once Roman and I get past the niceties, we head to the oven. The range hood on the place is an antique, an avocado green machine that is nothing more than a giant metal scoop with a tiny fan in the center protruding down a chimney stack that has been wrapped in drywall. No safety screen, no soft touch buttons, no LED light. In all its glory it is an ugly color, with harsh angles, sharp metal edges, and grease build up from 30 years of cooking. Oh yeah, and a bushy tail and beady eyes staring down in total panic through the fan blades.

Squirrel right here

So after the creepiness wears off, and after replaying the scene in Christmas Vacation where he tells Rusty to go to the garage to get the hammer, all I can think to do is attach a trash bag to the side of the hood chase, have Roman hold the other side, and I reach up to the fan with the cordless drill and unscrew the fan mount screws. I leave the fan plugged in (because the wiring and connection are visible as well) so that when the fan falls, it doesn't fall into the bag with the squirrel. GOOD PLAN! Roman and I talk about how if the squirrel gets into the house it could be bad so we want to make sure that the bag is tight against the sides and no way for the vermin to get out.

Once the bag is set, we both psych ourselves up. There are two screws holding the fan in place, so I reach up between the bag and hood and unscrew the first screw; the fan slips, the squirrel moves, Roman tenses up on the bag and I pretty much freeze and hold my breath. With the second screw, I have to maneuver around the fan, Roman readjusts his hold on the bag and we both hold our breath. The bracket comes loose, I pull away, the fan drops away as it should. Roman yells "there he is!" at the bag, but we both notice that the squirrel is not moving in the bag and realize it is only the fan resting against the side.

With great caution, I lower the side of the bag and look up into the void for a status check. There, to my disbelief is the squirrel, spread-eagle, 4 point hold against an 8" round spiral duct, holding on for dear life and not about to fall calmly and cooperatively into the dark black hole of death.

"Ok, now what?" one of us says.

My mind is racing. "We need to get him out of there. Roman, do you have a golf club or a bat or something we can jam up there and shake the thing loose with?"

"Yeah, how about a broom?"

"Whatever you got, just hurry. This thing creeps me out and we can't let him into the house. I'll hold the bag, you go get the broom."

He returns with an ordinary, household broom and I lower the edge of the bag just enough to get the broom handle inside. Roman jams the thing up the vent, shaking and rattling vigorously trying to knock the rodent out from his perch. The problem is neither of us can see anything with the bag in our way. So, I lower the bag ever so slightly so Roman can get more handle up the vent. A gap of about 3 inches. Might as well be the Grand Canyon for a squirrel...

Next thing I know, the fuzzy rat makes his escape by jumping right past me, through this gaping hole in his universe, to the counter, then to the floor. It is at this point that my mind translates the image before me into a series of movies scenes. The slow-motion stop action of the Matrix mixed with a Clint Eastwood western style stand-off in the dusty streets of some lonely gold rush town. In a split second, my mind processes this turn of events and I say to myself "he has no way out." In our flawless planning, we failed to leave room for contingency, no back up plan for our failsafe trash bag solution. Now, we are in a sealed house with a cornered harbinger of Black Death.

"Roman, get the back door open. I'll get the front." The problem is, the squirrel moves quicker than me and gets to the front door first, so now I am cornering an already cornered animal with a brain the size of a walnut. (As a sidenote, I originally thought their brains were the size of BBs but after doing an extensive amount of research, i.e. Google, I found that walnut is more accurate.) The thing does not want to be cornered and does not appreciate my chivalrous attempt to open the door for him, so he bolts. Onto Roman's bike like a man on a wire. Then gracefully leaps to Romans leather couch. "No, not on my couch!!" Then scurries down the hall towards the back door. But Roman's there, so the creature of death, it has to be rabid right? dodges to the right and heads for the light, the eternal light, of the windows in the corner. Yep, cornered. Again.

Roman tries to open a window, reaches out, stretching as far as his 6'2" arms will let him, careful not to get too close to the walking Bubonic. He tries to lift the window, the squirrel leaps in expectation of a clear exit, but Roman didn't get the window up before recoiling in panic.

SLAM

The squirrel hits the glass at the apex of his jump, fully extended and already breathing that fresh air of freedom, when he gets knocked silly by the invisible fence slamming him back to incarceration.

Stunned and confused, the squirrel moves back to his perch on the washing machine. Roman seizes the opportunity granted by the squirrel's confused escape attempt to open the window. Yelling out something unintelligible, he motivates the squirrel to try again and this time, oh heavenly day, the squirrel leaps 15 feet from the washing machine to the counter in front of the window and through it to the fence beyond, escaping the jaws of hell.

Total time - 7 minutes. Perceived time - 7 days.

After the dust settles and our disbelief fades, I reconnect the fan. As I look up into the vent, I realize it's fifteen feet or more to the cap on the roof. That squirrel fell a hell of a long way down... and survived, landing on metal fan blades. I think I need to install a new roof cap in the spring.

See You Later Crocodile

As Judi was leaving for work this morning, Willett says "See you later, crocodile." Then I noticed he was wearing his birthday Crocs. So he doesn't quite have the goodbye routine down, but at least he knows what he's wearing on his feet. And yes, I know, nothing about Crocs is fashionable.

Every Man Needs A Work Bench

Since we have been spending so much time in the garage lately, and the boys love to "help", I figured it was time they had their own work space.

I told Owen he there wasn't much he could do to help me put the work benches together, but I did agree to let them paint them.

Of course, Willett got more on himself...and me, than he did his work bench, but they loved it.

We were probably listening to Mumford & Sons, which explains the Owen Boogie.

Simple project. Total cost: $3.50. I had all the scrap pieces and blue paint. Spent $.50 on the green paint and $3 on stencils. I hope the boys get some use out of them.

Intervention?

So, Owen's classroom has the Surfer of the Week, where one child a week gets to bring in pictures of their family and friends and tell the class about them. Then the teacher asks them questions and posts all of it on the bulletin board at the front of the classroom.

This week is Owen's week. Judi and I are still laughing about this one in particular:
Owen is referring to his Buzz Lightyear action figure, but we can't help thinking that the St. Patrick's day festivities have gotten the better of him. Either that, or we have established some very shady parenting examples.

Bunk Beds

Willett decided recently that he no longer wanted to sleep in his crib. We talked about getting another twin bed to put in their room, then went to American Furniture to explore options. We stumbled on to some bunk beds and thought that was the easy answer. For $700 and an afternoon assembling the bunk bed kit, we'd be in business. Then I got to thinking....

...maybe I can build a set of bunk beds.

Thanks to an incredibly resourceful mom in Alaska, and her website www.ana-white.com, I found easy plans that turned this into a reality. I altered her design a little bit, putting the ladder on the end. I also used Select Pine (no knots, better grain) and stained the wood rather than painting it. Golden Pecan stain with two coats of poly, and A LOT of sanding.

I've got a great helper.

Every good shop needs a good set of tools.

Applying the stain.

I love how this detail turned out. Almost like a mortise and tenon.

Owen decided he needed to make a set of bunk beds himself, complete with its own ladder.

I guess Willett has to sleep on the bottom, inside the green wood cave.

And here it is!!!!!!!

No better way to test a new bunk bed than with a good book.

We are all a little tired after this one.

Good thing he has all that room.

So, what turned started out as a half day bed assembly idea, turned into a weeklong project. 22 hours, buckets of sawdust, lots of bad 80s metal on the iPod, and about $375 in materials (I screwed up the first ladder attempt adding $60 in materials).

But the boys love it.