Winter is Ovah!

Officially over! Today is the spring equinox!  I know that doesn't mean a whole lot of anything in Colorado but it means a whole heck of a lot to my mental health.  It means that summer is coming.  And that means driving with the windows down, wearing flip flops and tank tops, sitting on the patio with a glass of cold riesling and playing kickball.  It means grilling and having a beautiful array of fresh, delicious produce bursting out of all my cooking.  It means swimming and sunshine and thunderstorms and nearly daily rainbows.  It means motorcycle trips and wine in Palisade.

I'm not naive enough to think we don't have any more wintery days in our near future.  In fact, Paul and I were talking about this a few days ago and I said something about bracing myself for a blizzard any day now.  He poo-pooed that and said we were done with snow until next fall.  I poo-pooed that and reminded him that since I moved here all the kids' snow days have been in March.  So we made a bet that within the next 30 days -- that 30 days ends on April 10, I think -- we'll get at least 5 inches of snow in a 24-hour period.  Psst ... I'm gonna win.

Anyway, whether I win the bet or Paul wins the bet, the cold mistress known as Ms. Winter is officially over! Everyone join me in a happyhappyhappy dance!

The Dryer, Part 2

 

This is my dryer.  It stopped working.  It was running just fine and then it stopped.  There was a slightly smoky smell to the clothing inside and I was worried that there was a fire some where in the recesses of the motor.  There wasn't.  Very glad about that, I am.

These are the magnets that profess my love for Jim The Office.  I think they're funny.

This is the dryer with its top removed.

This is the dryer with the front opened.  See those flimsy little wires near the bottom?  They're the only thing connecting the front to the rest of the machine.  Those little wires were a constant source of worry to me during this whole process.  They go to the door switch and if I broke them I wouldn't have light in my dryer any more.

My method for keeping track of the various screws and where they belong on the dryer.

This is the dryer when I finally got the flingin-flangin-belt off the drum, motor and idler pulley.  That took some serious contortions and a bruised arm.

The freed drum!

The empty housing.  At this point I still had no idea what caused the malfunction.  I was just happy to have it mostly taken apart.  Getting to this point took the better part of 2 hours.

The back side of the drum.  Paul thought the bearing kit was bad.  That's the round, sort of pointy looking thing in the middle of the drum.  I had no idea what a good or bad bearing kit looked like.  I did notice that spotty gray scrape mark going around the outer edge of the circle of triangular cut outs.  It was clear the paint had been scraped off with something but I thought it was normal wear and tear.  (Hint: it wasn't.)  Also, Paul was not here during any of this.  I sent him pictures of this and a video of me moving the bearing kit around and asked if it looked normal to him.  He wasn't sure.

Being the clean freak I am, I had to vacuum the copious amounts of dust and lint and a few lost buttons from the floor of the machine.  It was very therapeutic.  I also had a high time digging out great handfuls of lint from the door and vent tube.

At this point there followed a lot of speculation on both Paul's and my parts regarding what the problem was.  It clearly was not the belt because that sucker was very much intact when I opened everything up.  Everything else appeared to be in good repair as well so we decided the thing to do was order a bearing kit.  I did.  When I picked it up I felt a sense of foreboding -- it looked exactly like what was attached to the drum.  This likely mean that the kit I had was fine.

Paul studied the dryer some more and found a tiny broken wire at the bottom of the dryer housing.  My Dyson missed it.  It's actually a good thing it did or we might not have figured out the problem.  Paul realized that it had broken off the heating element causing the element not to connect at one of its terminals.  This meant the end of the element was scraping the back of the drum, hence the scratched paint I noticed.  It also burned up all the lint that was stuck to the back of the drum, hence the burning smell.  I'm really lucky the whole thing didn't burst into flames with our clothes inside.

So I ordered a new heating element and took the bearing kit back.  I lost a 10% restocking fee on the bearing kit. Who invented restocking fees?  I'd like to give them a piece of my mind.

Paul was nice enough to string the new heating element for me.  That's his mostly consumed beverage off to the right there.  He said that stringing heating elements required limeade with a splash or two of vodka.  I happily obliged.

All finished!  It's much shinier than the old one.  And, most importantly, it's intact!

So we put everything back together, plugged it in and crossed our fingers as I switched it on.  It ran smoothly.  It did not blow up.  It did not catch fire.  I did a little happy dance.

Parts that were left over.  Only I think the beebee and the little screw looking thing were part of Samuel's collection that got lodged in the dryer some where.  Not sure about the washer.  That might have been part of his collection, too.

Now that is the complete saga of the busted dryer and how I took it apart and Paul helped me fix it.  We rock!

This Makes My Stomach Flip

The Dryer, Part 1

At some point in this calendar year my dryer quit.  I can't remember when it was.  January?  February?  It was definitely one of those because we're in March and it wasn't this month.  Beyond that, everything runs together.

Anyway, the dryer quit.  In the middle of a load of wet laundry.  With a load in the washer.  And at least 2 more waiting to be washed.  Of course the dryer would pick that day to quit.  That's the way dryer strikes work.

It was just before I had to pick up the kids from school so I packed up the wet clothes and hauled them to the laundry room at the apartment management office.  I didn't have any quarters so I tossed the wet clothes in the machines and looked around for a change machine.  There was none.  So I hoofed it to the manager's office and asked for change.  They didn't have any.  I may have muttered some not-so-nice words in the general direction of the unhelpful staff (they deserve it -- this place is a hole and they're incompetent like you wouldn't believe. I need to devote a post to that.).  I definitely stormed out, packed up my wet clothes and did a quick laundromat search for this ZIP code.  I found one.

But by then it was time to pick up the kids.  I called them and told them that I had to go to a laundromat and could they please walk home?  Fortunately it was a beautiful day and they took the opportunity to play at the various playgrounds between school and home.  I got the clothes dried at the laundromat (that has half a dozen change machines! Imagine that!) and came home just as the kids trooped upstairs, all tired out from their adventures in Playground Land.

Oh!  As I left the laundromat I was pushing one of those wheeled, stainless-steel baskets with the hanging bar at the top to the door so I could take my clothes out to the car.  One of the wheels stuck on the corner of a tile and the basket stopped.  I, however, did not.  I proceeded to slam my left cheekbone into the steel bar supporting my clothing.  I hit it so hard I bit my tongue and felt my teeth jar against each other.  I literally saw stars before I even figured out what happened.  Ow-flippin'-ouch!

I whined to Paul about my awful afternoon and he whined to me about his broken down car.  Yes, his transmission went completely kaput on the very same day and stranded him in downtown Denver with a big towing bill.  Not a spectacular day for either of us.  He proposed a couple of possible problems with the dryer and promised to help me with it.  I could not propose any problems with his car, nor could I promise to help with it.  But we shared some wine and commiserated together.

A couple of days later I'd managed to disassemble most of the dryer but I still wasn't sure what was wrong with it.  Needless to say, I had more laundry to do so I figured the best plan was to gather the essentials into one load and wash them at home, then take them to the laundry room here in the complex and dry them.  I would, of course, be sure to take my own quarters since the management here can't seem to maintain a change machine.

On the night I absolutely had to wash clothes it was snowing and dark and cold and windy.  I took the wet freezing clothes to the laundry room.  Guess what?  One of the dryers was locked up so that no quarters could be inserted.  The other one didn't work.  I know because I put 6 quarters in it and ended up with still-wet clothes 45 minutes later.  (Also, the laundry room is supposed to have 2 washing machines.  On the night I was there they only had one and it had an 'Out of Order' sign on it.  Oh, and the lights in the room didn't work so I was doing all this by the light of a broken soda machine.  Do you understand my muttered not-so-nice words a little better now?)  I then had to hike back to my car with 50+ pounds of wet clothes in the cold and snow.  And I slid in the snow and fell on my butt with the 50+ pounds of wet clothes landing on top of me.  I was reallyreallyreallyreally not happy.

When I got back upstairs I still had to have dry pants for everyone.  That meant picking out the essentials for everyone, hanging them up in my bathroom and turning a fan on them full-blast.  They were sufficiently dry for the next morning.  Thank heaven for small favors, huh?

Anyway, that's the story of the broken down dryer.  Actually, that's not all of it.  There's the whole ordeal of actually fixing it, which Paul and I did.  And I have pictorial evidence!  But that will have to wait for another post because it's now Miriam's bedtime and she's demanding her (rightful, promised) computer time.

Dumb Name for Dumb Clothing

Jeggings?  Why?  I just want to know why.

My Kind of Hand Dryer

No useless instructions.  No button to press and release, all automatic.  It blows air like a category 5 hurricane which means my hands are dry much faster.  Also, there's none of that awkward moisture that's left when lesser dryers stop and I don't feel like I should press the button again because I know my hands will be dry half way through the cycle but the dryer will continue to run through its preset time and waste electricity.









** This post is a follow up to this post from once upon a time. **

New Me vs. Old Me

I was Old Me 5 years ago. Old Me was weak and powerless and pitiful and sad and humiliated. Old Me let other people call all the shots, from the little things to the big things. Old Me rarely had opinions and if she did she never, ever spoke them. Old Me lived to make other people happy, even at her own expense. Old Me would have raised children just like herself. And she didn't have the energy to care. Old Me died when I filed for divorce and I have danced on her grave many times since then.

In her place is New Me. New Me says what she thinks even if it makes her want to puke on the spot. (And it often does.) New Me does things like shave off all her hair and grin at the world afterward. New Me rides on the back of a motorcycle (and wants to get one for herself) and drinks wine until she's dizzy. New Me cooks Indian food and eats sushi. New Me loves music from Johnny Cash to Amos Lee to Steely Dan to Depeche Mode to Muse to Maná and back again. New Me isn't afraid to talk to her children about why she divorced their dad, about sex, about the good and the bad things in the world, about standing up for themselves, about telling the truth and about what's right and wrong. New Me goes back to school (for the third time) and has dreams of becoming a lactation consultant or a nurse practitioner or a coroner or a nursing clinical instructor.

I'm embarrassed by Old Me. I don't like to think about her. But New Me wouldn't be here and wouldn't appreciate life as much without having been Old Me to begin with. In that regard, I'm appreciative.

In one significant way I've remained Old Me for the last 5 years. That's when I have to deal with the ex-husband. Every once in a while something comes up and I revert to the old habits -- being overly meek and not being listened to. Every time that happens I get angry with myself for letting it happen. Letting things happen is passive and powerless and it means that I'm not making things happen. It's a weak, pathetic attitude and I hate it.  There have been times when I've put the kids at risk by letting things happen.  Shame on me.

No More.  This week I learned that the ex-husband crammed all 5 of his children into the backseat of a tiny car last weekend because the bigger car with appropriate seating wasn't working.  He and I have had this argument for the better part of 10 years.  He thinks it's okay to occasionally drive around with improperly restrained children if "It's only around the block," or "It's too much trouble to put in a car seat," or "We're going to be late for church if we make two trips."  This week I decided that I have had enough.  When I found this out I told him that if he does not have appropriately safe transportation for these children they will not see him for spring break in two weeks.  He made excuses.  He played the poor-me-you-think-I'm-a-bad-person card.  He tried to make me feel bad.  But I refuse to take the bait.  That's what not letting means.  It means I keep control of myself and my emotions and I stand my ground.  It means that I have power.  And it's part of New Me.

On Growing Up

Remember this?  A few weeks ago I was in a hurry to get the kids off to bed and I forgot to do the official tucking in routine with Miriam.  I tucked her in but didn't do the multiple kisses or ask her what she wanted to dream about.  The next night she told me that I had forgotten the night before.  I apologized and did it twice that night to make it up to her.  It warmed my heart that that still means so much to her and I've made certain not to forget it again, no matter how harried bedtime might be.

Also recently, Solomon came into my room around 4:00 am to tell me he had been awake for a while and couldn't get back to sleep. I suggested trying a relaxation technique where he imagines he's on a warm beach with the sound of waves on the sand and birds singing and the smell of fruit and tropical flowers in the air.  He said he'd tried that.  So I invited him to come lie down with me.  He gave me an odd look and seemed hesitant but he laid down -- on the very edge of the bed, with barely a scrap of blanket and a corner of a pillow.  I giggled inwardly and lay back down myself.  In less than 15 minutes he was completely out and had repositioned himself comfortably with a hand in my face and a knee in my belly.  When the alarm went off 2 hours later he succumbed to a few minutes of snuggling and didn't flinch at all.

Samuel, on the other hand, isn't shy at all about snuggling, even in public.  That kid will happily plop himself onto my lap in the doctor's office waiting room, in a restaurant and even at school!  He always wants to hold my hand and he's constantly trying to sniff me or twiddle his fingers in my hair.  He would sleep in my bed every single night if he thought I'd let him get away with it.  It would be annoying if I thought he was going to continue this for the next 12 years.  But I know he won't so I bask in it and love him right back.

No Time! No Time!

As you might surmise from my last two posts I have no spare time these days.  It's all sucked up by homework and laundry and cooking and commuting.  In the few minutes I do have between tasks I play Words with Friends.  I feel sorta lame.

There's a lot to tell you.  I have a list in my phone called Blog Posts that I'm adding to almost daily.  I need to tell you about these kids that Will. Not. Stop.Growing. Up.  I need to tell you about school and cooking and food y mis sueños y esperanzas.  That's what this is all about, huh?  Anyway.  I might find some time tomorrow morning.  I have this beautiful vision of sitting down with some coffee and my laptop when the craziness of breakfast is finished and I haven't yet started the insanity of algebra and telling you peeps what's been going on here.  We shall see if it comes to pass.

Day in the Life, Part 2

So imagine all that stuff from the other morning, you know -- brushing my teeth, waking kids, coffee, shower, breakfast and then this:

Check for school announcements, lecture notes, etc.

Start some laundry.

Fold this ...

... into this.

Then there's that bit where I drive the kids to school and drop them off.  No before care today.

Park the car, start the music, hike to the train.

Wait for the train. Dreary, huh?  It's not so bad when the sun is shining.

Off the train near school.

The church on campus that feeds homeless people every morning at 11:00.

A spot of brightness in the science building.

The cafe where I buy my coffee.

Double tall breve latte.

Cultures of unknown bacteria # 125.

Lunch from school because I forgot to pack any.

Pedestrian bridge back to the car.

Groceries.

Pick up the kids.

Pay bills.

Breakfast for dinner.

Prep food for the next few days' lunches.

More of this.

Dance party in the living room.

White Russian for dessert.

A little bit of this.

More algebra.

 And more crashing into the same bed.

Day in the Life, Part 1

 

Accidentally use Paul's toothbrush.  Mine is purple.  Shhh.

Open a new bottle of contact solution.  Looks cool, huh?

Wake Solomon.  Samuel is always, always up first.

Wake Miriam.

Dole out pharmaceuticals. We like the Target brand.

Coffee is my bestest friend.

Breakfast.

Untangle Miriam's hair.

Maybe showering is my bestest friend? Nah, it's definitely coffee.

Decide what to wear.

Scrape 2 mm of the world's hardest ice.

Sign in kids at before school care.

Clock myself in at work.

Check the schedule. Work real hard.

 

Break for lunch and study microbiology textbook.

Consider going out for fresh air but decide it's too flippin' cold.

Have part of a cookie that a caterer brought to the office.

Work more.

Clock out.  (But not at 8:18.  More like 5:18. Shhh.)

Get pizza because the kitchen looks like it does.  More on that later.

Sign kids out of after school care.

Go home and change into this.

Ignore this.

Drink this.

Eat this.

Finally face this.

Sign the school papers.

Turn this ...

... into this.

Occasionally do this.

Think about this.  Forget about this.

"Mop."

Do algebra.

Crash here.