.
My wife Robin stepped in dog shit this afternoon, and tracked it in the house. Somehow, that seems to be a perfect metaphor for our lives over the past several weeks.
In my last post, I bragged about how I loved the company I work for... they were paying me Superintendent's money while I was doing laborer's work. That's because the economy is a lot like what Robin stepped in today. Then things picked up and I got a project of my own to run for a few months. Back to being the boss! I like it!
Well, that situation didn't last. It seems that the family-owned company that has employed me for 30+ years had undergone a family feud, and the major partner took all his money out of the bank. The other partner -- who had been doing all the work but taking only a third of the financial "risks," decided to just close the doors and retire.
We had a few jobs still going, but I got leapfrogged in seniority this year by the owner's nephew. So I got laid off on my 29th wedding anniversary. And got told there was no coming back. Sort of put a damper on the mood around here.
At first they said I could keep my truck if I paid my own gas, and just turn it in some time after Christmas, when they company officially closes. But the other partner heard of this kind offer, and he over-ruled it -- made me give back the truck immediately. That's a nice way to treat a guy who's worked for you 30 years.
So I joined the many millions of others who've been bushwhacked by recent economic reality. I got a couple of juicy side jobs, so lately we've done OK. And being off steady work makes it easy to schedule work around the house. On the other hand, it makes it almost impossible to avoid those jobs any longer...
But I have a few months of unemployment benefits to enjoy, and Robin still has a great job. And we have a greater appreciation of just how good we've had it so far.
And the day was beautiful today. Our neighbor's dog got out of his shock-collar and wandered into our yard about an hour age. Fido, our guard-Beagle, went nuts barking, and we let him out to defend our ranch. Of course, all he did was play with Blackjack, and then refused to come back in the house. When Robin went to get a leash for Blackjack, she stepped right into a fresh pile of the economy, and didn't notice until it was too late -- she was in the house.
Yuck!
Thankfully, Pine-Sol saved the day. I wonder if we could dump a couple barrels of that stuff on Washington, D.C.?
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Saturday, October 22, 2011
Sunday, June 19, 2011
One Hand Washes the Other -- Unless it's Trying to Kill You
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I'm beginning to think my left hand is possessed. I'm right handed, and throughout my life I suppose I've favored my right hand to some degree (insert your sex joke here), but over the last eight months, I think my left hand has been trying to exact a measure of revenge for my favoritism. It's trying to kill me.
In the last eight months, I have managed to smash, cut or otherwise mangle my left hand -- or integral parts thereof -- on six different occasions. Two times the damage has involved crushing or damaging my wedding ring. But that ain't no thang, right?
Oh sure, I'm a tough Construction Dude... cuts and scrapes are nothing -- they're a dime a dozen. We Construction Dudes laugh at scrapes, scoff at minor burns, put on a Band-Aid when most other suburbanites or "FHO's" (Fucking Home Owners) would run to the local ER for a stitch or a shot...
At least we'd have you believe that.
In reality, sometimes it's just that we don't have time. Like last year, when I shot a nail through my finger. I was in the middle of a very important cash side job. The nail was very new -- not rusty. And I needed to stay through the finish -- no time for a three-hour ER break. So I stayed, and I got a tetnaus shot later.
Or the month before, when I was trying to hang a HUGE steel door, and it slipped. Not a HUGE slip -- just a gentle slip to the left, about three inches. Unfortunately, there were only two inches between the door and the concrete structure. My wedding ring kept the door from crushing my finger. But nothing kept the door from crushing my wedding ring. I had to use pliers to get the ring off my finger, which was rapidly turning blue. I used a jeweler to repair my ring. Let's call that a break-even kinda day...
But there came a period of relative calm -- nothing more ominous than the occasional hang nail or hitting the base of my thumb with a hammer while striking (at) a chisel... somewhat painful but no biggee... Then things got seriously bad.
My son Jimmy bought a boat, or rather, his wife Vicky bought him a boat for his birthday. They both invited Robin and I on a shakedown cruise on the Fox River. At the dock, Jimmy backed the trailer into the water, and I had the honor of releasing the winch for the inaugural launch. But when I attempted a release, it sort of exploded in my hands -- grabbing my left hand, by the wedding ring, and pulling it into the winch. In a microsecond, my hand was flipped over my head, and the winch was spinning -- the boat heading out into the river.
Turns out the winch "keeper" had failed. My wedding ring was now oblong, no longer a circle. With a nice divot. But no blood and no missing fingers. We had a nice boat ride, and an exciting afternoon of securing the boat, and all was well.
Instead of a Jeweler, this time I slipped my wedding ring down the shaft of a "spud wrench" -- a steel wrench with a tapered handle -- and used a trim hammer to beat it into round. Then I used my carpenter's trim files to make it right.
The next day, I was called back to work after a long layoff. Back in the "day" I was a superintendent, but with the economy in the pits, we don't have enough work. But my company is gracious enough to call me back to do even the lowly laborers work -- at my old superintendent's pay -- so I LOVE them.
This week, we were clearing out the old ceiling of a school lobby, along with two exit vestibules. I removed sixteen large fire doors from their frames, and they needed to be loaded onto a skid. Like a can-do kind of boss, I helped the guys load them on to a pallet, which is when a stray piece of metal cut my left ring finger, leaving a cut almost two inches long. I managed to get my paw out in the nick of time -- in fact, if I had been wearing my wedding ring, it would have been REALLY ugly.
It was a three-Band-Aid cut. On my left hand. But still, No Big Deal.
But on Saturday it got even better. We were removing a steel-and-glass window wall. It was erected in 5-foot wide by 14-feet-tall segments. We had removed three sections, but the fourth was being difficult -- the section containing the door frame wouldn't come down. I decided to show my crew how it's done... and I would have succeeded uneventfully if the welds along the top hadn't failed.
But they did. The door frame, all 400 pounds of it, twisted as it fell, knocking me ass-over-teakettle, and I cut my hand on something I landed on. Which hand? My left hand, of course. So I had to go to the ER to get fixed up -- nasty abrasions and some shoulder X-rays. I "scalped" my left palm, taking a couple of square inches of skin off -- and there wasn't enough skin left to stitch it together. So they planted some artificial skin/turf on my palm. Sort of a skin-farm growing on my palm.
Didn't even make it eight hours until I drew blood again. The glass door on the medicine cabinet mysteriously fell out of its frame just as we were sitting down for dinner. When I picked up the pivot to examine the wreckage, I cut my left middle finger. You can imagine the look on my face -- sort of a combination of "Duh" and "WTF."
So I'm heading over to the Catholic Church up town. Maybe if I dip my left hand in Holy Water it'll lay off for a while. It can't hurt.
I'm beginning to think my left hand is possessed. I'm right handed, and throughout my life I suppose I've favored my right hand to some degree (insert your sex joke here), but over the last eight months, I think my left hand has been trying to exact a measure of revenge for my favoritism. It's trying to kill me.
In the last eight months, I have managed to smash, cut or otherwise mangle my left hand -- or integral parts thereof -- on six different occasions. Two times the damage has involved crushing or damaging my wedding ring. But that ain't no thang, right?
Oh sure, I'm a tough Construction Dude... cuts and scrapes are nothing -- they're a dime a dozen. We Construction Dudes laugh at scrapes, scoff at minor burns, put on a Band-Aid when most other suburbanites or "FHO's" (Fucking Home Owners) would run to the local ER for a stitch or a shot...
At least we'd have you believe that.
In reality, sometimes it's just that we don't have time. Like last year, when I shot a nail through my finger. I was in the middle of a very important cash side job. The nail was very new -- not rusty. And I needed to stay through the finish -- no time for a three-hour ER break. So I stayed, and I got a tetnaus shot later.
Or the month before, when I was trying to hang a HUGE steel door, and it slipped. Not a HUGE slip -- just a gentle slip to the left, about three inches. Unfortunately, there were only two inches between the door and the concrete structure. My wedding ring kept the door from crushing my finger. But nothing kept the door from crushing my wedding ring. I had to use pliers to get the ring off my finger, which was rapidly turning blue. I used a jeweler to repair my ring. Let's call that a break-even kinda day...
But there came a period of relative calm -- nothing more ominous than the occasional hang nail or hitting the base of my thumb with a hammer while striking (at) a chisel... somewhat painful but no biggee... Then things got seriously bad.
My son Jimmy bought a boat, or rather, his wife Vicky bought him a boat for his birthday. They both invited Robin and I on a shakedown cruise on the Fox River. At the dock, Jimmy backed the trailer into the water, and I had the honor of releasing the winch for the inaugural launch. But when I attempted a release, it sort of exploded in my hands -- grabbing my left hand, by the wedding ring, and pulling it into the winch. In a microsecond, my hand was flipped over my head, and the winch was spinning -- the boat heading out into the river.
Turns out the winch "keeper" had failed. My wedding ring was now oblong, no longer a circle. With a nice divot. But no blood and no missing fingers. We had a nice boat ride, and an exciting afternoon of securing the boat, and all was well.
Instead of a Jeweler, this time I slipped my wedding ring down the shaft of a "spud wrench" -- a steel wrench with a tapered handle -- and used a trim hammer to beat it into round. Then I used my carpenter's trim files to make it right.
The next day, I was called back to work after a long layoff. Back in the "day" I was a superintendent, but with the economy in the pits, we don't have enough work. But my company is gracious enough to call me back to do even the lowly laborers work -- at my old superintendent's pay -- so I LOVE them.
This week, we were clearing out the old ceiling of a school lobby, along with two exit vestibules. I removed sixteen large fire doors from their frames, and they needed to be loaded onto a skid. Like a can-do kind of boss, I helped the guys load them on to a pallet, which is when a stray piece of metal cut my left ring finger, leaving a cut almost two inches long. I managed to get my paw out in the nick of time -- in fact, if I had been wearing my wedding ring, it would have been REALLY ugly.
It was a three-Band-Aid cut. On my left hand. But still, No Big Deal.
But on Saturday it got even better. We were removing a steel-and-glass window wall. It was erected in 5-foot wide by 14-feet-tall segments. We had removed three sections, but the fourth was being difficult -- the section containing the door frame wouldn't come down. I decided to show my crew how it's done... and I would have succeeded uneventfully if the welds along the top hadn't failed.
But they did. The door frame, all 400 pounds of it, twisted as it fell, knocking me ass-over-teakettle, and I cut my hand on something I landed on. Which hand? My left hand, of course. So I had to go to the ER to get fixed up -- nasty abrasions and some shoulder X-rays. I "scalped" my left palm, taking a couple of square inches of skin off -- and there wasn't enough skin left to stitch it together. So they planted some artificial skin/turf on my palm. Sort of a skin-farm growing on my palm.
Didn't even make it eight hours until I drew blood again. The glass door on the medicine cabinet mysteriously fell out of its frame just as we were sitting down for dinner. When I picked up the pivot to examine the wreckage, I cut my left middle finger. You can imagine the look on my face -- sort of a combination of "Duh" and "WTF."
So I'm heading over to the Catholic Church up town. Maybe if I dip my left hand in Holy Water it'll lay off for a while. It can't hurt.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Spring is in the Air -- and on the edges of the Roads
.
Gosh, it seems like winter's almost over and spring is just around the coroner. Can't wait. The snow's melting, and the entire winter's worth of frozen dog shit is revealing itself day by day along the quiet suburban streets. How grand. But anyway, the weather's getting better. So I've got that going for me. Which is nice.
Daylight Savings Time starts after this weekend, which should give everyone one extra hour of daylight to do whatever it is people do during daylight. In my case, that would be nothing. I've been unemployed since late October, which is my longest personal streak of ass-sittin' since 1987. Still waiting for the economy to rebound.
I saw the layoff coming, and lined up a nice bunch of side jobs, but they've all wrapped up. And I've caught up on most of the fix-it projects around the house -- those that don't involve huge wads of money -- and now I'm in damage-control-only mode.
So I have a lot of loafing time. If you're my friend on Facebook, you already know this. I've found a wealth of semi-amusing crap on the web, and I repost several times a day on FB. I'm mainly stealing from theChive, theBrigade, theOnion, throttle.com, and a few others. Believe me, those sites can suck your day DRY with their nonsense, and links to other nonsense. So my days are full.
Plus, every Wednesday, I get to drag my neighbor's empty garbage cans from the street into their driveway, to remind them that, hey, MONDAY was garbage day, and everyone else on the street has already taken their cans out of the public way.
As far as looking for work, I sent out a load of resumes and made the rounds, but construction work is very down. I took a chance on a career change by applying for a spot as Carpenter Foreperson at the Art Institute of Chicago, but that didn't pay off either. It was a great-sounding gig -- modifying the galleries and building the displays for multi-million dollar art exhibits. Inside work, paid holidays & vacations.
While I was interviewing and waiting for the results, I had to back off my nuttier postings on the web and on Facebook, but it was worth the risk. I bought a new suit, got a haircut, shined up my teeth and got new contacts... here goes!
I actually got pretty close -- made the second interview, got down to the final three choices, but no luck. So now I feel like the bronze/silver medal winning doofuses (doofi?) at the Olympics -- everyone says we should be proud to finish as high up as we did! I am proud -- but there's still no fucking paychecks for second or third place in the Employment Olympics.
Taking that job would have meant a major pay cut, quitting the Carpenter's Union, losing my insurance -- a whole lot of major changes. But it would have meant a paycheck and a potential end-game to this working-for-a-living thing we all seem to be trying to wrap up as early as possible. Plus I wouldn't be at the whim of every economic downturn that comes along... But it was not to be. So back to Plan A -- hoping my old employer comes up with some jobs, and soon! And hoping like Hell that the economic upturn will hit my sector sooner than later...
But rather than sulk and feel sorry for myself, I choose to rejoice in my blessings. I have a wife with a great job; we're not in danger of losing our house; I have three wonderful adult children -- and only two of them still live at home while they're finishing school and/or send out resumes!
I rejoice that I have a dog that rarely bites me, and in fact, only snarls occasionally. I have an entire aquarium full of guppies that absolutely LOVE me! (Hey guys! It's the chubby guy! He's coming over here again! I bet he's gonna throw food at us again! Let's swim back and forth like maniacs!)
And I rejoice that Spring is truly coming. I know this because the sun is warm, the birds are chirping, and the one thing that always tells me that the snow is going to be gone, without question, for another year: State Farm has just sent me a bill for the insurance on my snowmobile.
.
Gosh, it seems like winter's almost over and spring is just around the coroner. Can't wait. The snow's melting, and the entire winter's worth of frozen dog shit is revealing itself day by day along the quiet suburban streets. How grand. But anyway, the weather's getting better. So I've got that going for me. Which is nice.
Daylight Savings Time starts after this weekend, which should give everyone one extra hour of daylight to do whatever it is people do during daylight. In my case, that would be nothing. I've been unemployed since late October, which is my longest personal streak of ass-sittin' since 1987. Still waiting for the economy to rebound.
I saw the layoff coming, and lined up a nice bunch of side jobs, but they've all wrapped up. And I've caught up on most of the fix-it projects around the house -- those that don't involve huge wads of money -- and now I'm in damage-control-only mode.
So I have a lot of loafing time. If you're my friend on Facebook, you already know this. I've found a wealth of semi-amusing crap on the web, and I repost several times a day on FB. I'm mainly stealing from theChive, theBrigade, theOnion, throttle.com, and a few others. Believe me, those sites can suck your day DRY with their nonsense, and links to other nonsense. So my days are full.
Plus, every Wednesday, I get to drag my neighbor's empty garbage cans from the street into their driveway, to remind them that, hey, MONDAY was garbage day, and everyone else on the street has already taken their cans out of the public way.
As far as looking for work, I sent out a load of resumes and made the rounds, but construction work is very down. I took a chance on a career change by applying for a spot as Carpenter Foreperson at the Art Institute of Chicago, but that didn't pay off either. It was a great-sounding gig -- modifying the galleries and building the displays for multi-million dollar art exhibits. Inside work, paid holidays & vacations.
While I was interviewing and waiting for the results, I had to back off my nuttier postings on the web and on Facebook, but it was worth the risk. I bought a new suit, got a haircut, shined up my teeth and got new contacts... here goes!
I actually got pretty close -- made the second interview, got down to the final three choices, but no luck. So now I feel like the bronze/silver medal winning doofuses (doofi?) at the Olympics -- everyone says we should be proud to finish as high up as we did! I am proud -- but there's still no fucking paychecks for second or third place in the Employment Olympics.
Taking that job would have meant a major pay cut, quitting the Carpenter's Union, losing my insurance -- a whole lot of major changes. But it would have meant a paycheck and a potential end-game to this working-for-a-living thing we all seem to be trying to wrap up as early as possible. Plus I wouldn't be at the whim of every economic downturn that comes along... But it was not to be. So back to Plan A -- hoping my old employer comes up with some jobs, and soon! And hoping like Hell that the economic upturn will hit my sector sooner than later...
But rather than sulk and feel sorry for myself, I choose to rejoice in my blessings. I have a wife with a great job; we're not in danger of losing our house; I have three wonderful adult children -- and only two of them still live at home while they're finishing school and/or send out resumes!
I rejoice that I have a dog that rarely bites me, and in fact, only snarls occasionally. I have an entire aquarium full of guppies that absolutely LOVE me! (Hey guys! It's the chubby guy! He's coming over here again! I bet he's gonna throw food at us again! Let's swim back and forth like maniacs!)
And I rejoice that Spring is truly coming. I know this because the sun is warm, the birds are chirping, and the one thing that always tells me that the snow is going to be gone, without question, for another year: State Farm has just sent me a bill for the insurance on my snowmobile.
.
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