Tag Archives: home

The Junk Drawer

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And what I found there.

We keep our stamps and batteries in a drawer in a built-in desk in our kitchen. Sadly, that’s not the only thing kept in that drawer. Over the years, our cleaning person used it as a catch-all for little things she could fit in there. And we apparently added our own things.

Today, sick of dealing with a drawer I could often not close, I emptied it as a prelude to cleaning it out. Here’s what it looked like neatly arranged on my kitchen’s center island:

My Junk

Here’s what I found:

  • A set of 6 precision screwdrivers with 3 of them missing.
  • A screwdriver that does not belong to the above set.
  • 3 small padlocks: 1 with keys, 1 with combination known, 1 with combination unknown.
  • A “Jet Fuel Only” sticker, which is kind of odd because none of our vehicles takes JetA.
  • A small plastic ruler.
  • 3 promotional pens, all working. Why they aren’t in the pencil cup on the desk is a mystery.
  • 4 black wooden pencils with erasers, only one of which is sharpened.
  • A pencil sharpener.
  • Numerous sheets of return address labels with various holiday themes, all received in the mail by charities that thought I’d pay for them when I never asked for them. (Wrong.)
  • 2 broken sterling silver bracelets, badly tarnished.
  • An empty Tylenol purse size bottle.
  • Part of a AA battery charger, but not the part that actually plugs into the wall.
  • An exposed roll of 35mm film.
  • A small red square plastic filter.
  • A single-hole punch.
  • A wooden clothespin
  • A small black plastic protractor (think elementary school).
  • An iPod belt clip.
  • An embroidered Ducati patch.
  • 2 round adhesive-back pieces of Velcro, both soft side.
  • 2 pennies
  • 2 rolls of quarters
  • 1 roll of dimes
  • A Garden State Parkway toll token
  • A bottle of Plexus 2 plastic polish
  • A bottle of stamp pad ink
  • A First Class Mail self-inking stamp
  • A telephone jack splitter
  • A tiny of green tea flavored “mints”
  • 2 black binder clips: 1 small, 1 large
  • Several dozen paper clips, 5 of which are preconfigured as Macintosh floppy disk removal tools. (Long-time Mac users know exactly what I mean.)
  • A handful of rubber bands, half of which are dried, cracked, and unusable
  • The “start” pin for a light timer.
  • A tube of dark red lipstick.
  • A tube of Blistex.
  • 2 rings for hanging bird toys in a cage.
  • 8 key rings, empty
  • A key ring flashlight with AAA battery still working
  • 3 partial rows of staples
  • A contact lens case
  • A small round sponge
  • An envelope slitter
  • Multiple screws, including two screw-in hooks
  • A rubber foot for some kind of stand
  • A wooden peg for our futon
  • A wooden peg that looks like it came from a game
  • A lapel mic clip
  • 3 black beads, 2 of which are almost identical
  • 3 promotional pins: 2 Feedburner logos and 1 QuickBooks heart Mac
  • 2 WINGS program pins
  • A tiny safety pin
  • 5 various sized wire ties
  • A sprayer nozzle
  • Magnet-backed promotional 2002 calendar from an out-of-business local mechanic
  • A rock with bits of green color
  • A SanDisk neoprene zippered media card holder
  • A bookmark with Mount Rushmore pictured on it
  • The manual for a Sony cassette recorder
  • A pocket calculator, not solar-powered, with installed battery still functioning
  • A piece of masking tape marked “Do Not Open” with the adhesive dried up. I have no idea what this was affixed to, but recognize my handwriting. (I hope I didn’t open it.)
  • A Bed Bath & Beyond Gift Card, likely never used
  • A package of drapery pins
  • My “captain” pilot stripes from the summer of 2004, when I flew at the Grand Canyon
  • A Newton rechargeable Battery Pack
  • 7 D cell batteries, 2 of which are in an unopened package
  • 2 loose C cell batteries
  • 43 loose AA cell batteries: 6 lithium, 17 alkaline, and 20 rechargeable (4 nickel-cadmium, 15 nickel-metal hydride, and 1 unknown)
  • 8 AAA cell batteries in an unopened package
  • 2 9-volt batteries, both rechargeable nickel-metal hydride
  • Numerous postage stamps in the following denominations: 1¢, 2¢, 3¢, 4¢, 20¢, 27¢, 41¢, 42¢, 72¢, $1, $3, $3.85, $4.80, $4.95, “forever” (current First Class rate)

No, I did not find a partridge in a pear tree, despite the season.

The batteries pose a problem. The rechargeables are likely all dead for good, but there’s no place to recycle them in Wickenburg. The other loose batteries are probably at least half spent, which is why we don’t use them. The lithiums likely came out of my SPOT Messenger, which requires lithium batteries. When they’re too used to rely on them in SPOT — which I need to have fresh batteries — they work great in my handheld GPS and most other devices. The fact that we have so many loose batteries amazes me. It’s probably because they kept sliding into the back of the drawer and we kept buying more.

Anyway, the drawer is now empty. My next tasks is to clean it out — with soap and water — and then put back in the things that are supposed to be in there: batteries, stamps, and a few things likely to be in a regular desk drawer.

The rest of this crap? Who knows where it will end up?

And I wonder what’s on that roll of film…

On Coupons and Lost Sales

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Who the hell has time to clip and save coupons?

While I was away this summer, my dear husband neglected to water most of my plants. As a result, most of them died.

The plants in question lined a high “plant shelf” in my dining room and the tops of kitchen cabinets. They looked kind of nice up there and helped deaden the echo of our high-ceilinged kitchen/dining area. Once they’d dried to dust, the only thing left up there were the empty flower pots and decorative baskets.

Although I absolutely hate fake plants, I realized that if I wanted permanent green up there, I’d have to go with decent quality silk replacements. As an experiment, I went to Michael’s, a “craft” store that sells these things, and picked out three large, realistic-looking replacements. They weren’t cheap: they cost $9.99 each. I brought them home, stuck their pointed bases into the dirt remaining in the flower pots, arranged their leaves, and put them into position.

I stepped back. One of them — the fake spider plant — actually looked pretty darn good. The ivy didn’t look bad. The other one…well, it needed some work.

But, in general, I considered the experiment a success. I figured I’d need about five more to complete the project on top of the cabinets.

Now, there is no Michael’s in Wickenburg. And there’s no place to get quality fake plants. So phase 2 would have to wait until I was back in the valley.

I got my chance on Monday, while waiting for the helicopter mechanic to do his magic on a 100-hour inspection in Scottsdale. I rented a car and, after a very pleasant lunch at Kierland Commons, hit the road, looking for a Michael’s.

I didn’t find one. But I did find a JoAnn. JoAnn is Michael’s competitor. Same stuff.

I do need to step back and insert some opinion here. Apparently there are quite a few women out there with nothing better to do with their time than put together scrapbooks and decorate their homes for the various seasons and holidays and spend money on crafty crap that they likely throw out within a few months anyway. (After all, a home can only stand so much clutter.) These places — Michael’s and JoAnn — are filled with these women, who wander the aisles with shopping baskets, looking for ideas on how to waste their time and money.

When I go into these places, I’m on a mission. Go in, get what I need, and get out.

Part of me wishes I had the time and money to waste — believe me, I wouldn’t be wasting it in a craft shop.

Anyway, I went into JoAnn and zeroed in on the fake plant aisle. I soon found what I was looking for, but the per plant price was $15.99, which I thought was really excessive. I picked out just two Boston Ferns (which would never survive in my desert home had they been real) and brought them to the checkout counter.

I waited behind a woman who was buying fabric and Halloween junk and being quizzed by the cashier about what she was going to do with it.

“I’m making a pillow for my mother,” the customer said.

“Oh, how nice,” the cashier responded. “Mothers always like that kind of thing.”

She’d obviously never met my mother.

The woman went away and I plopped my two Boston Ferns down on the counter. The following conversation began:

Cashier: “Did you find everything you need?”

Me: “Yep.”

Cashier: “Do you have any coupons?”

Me: “Nope.”

Cashier: “Are you on our mailing list to get coupons?”

Me: “Nope.”

My short, one-word answers were definitely unnerving her, but she went on.

Cashier: “Do you want — ”

Me: “Nope. I get enough junk in the mail.”

I could tell that my rudeness — and let’s face it, I was being pretty rude — had bothered the cashier. Her script was bugging me. But she decided to retaliate.

Cashier: “You know, if you had a coupon, you could save 40% on these.”

Me: “If I went to Michael’s, I could save 40% without a coupon.”

That shut her up. She rang up my fake plants.

Cashier: “That’ll be $34.54.”

I gave that some thought as she began putting the fake greenery into a bag. Her 40% challenge had put me into an interesting position. If I paid up without the discount, I’d be agreeing that their outrageous price was fine with me and that I didn’t mind being forced to pay full price when a piece of paper could have saved me 40%. I decided that I didn’t want to be in that position.

Me: “You’re right. That’s too much money. You can keep them. I’ll go to Michael’s.”

And I walked out the door.

Yeah, I know. I can be a real bitch sometimes.

A Few Days at Home

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A vacation…sort of.

On Sunday evening, I left my seasonal workplace in Page, AZ to spend a few days at home in Wickenburg.

I’d been in Page since August 10, when I flew my helicopter to Page airport from Seattle. Since then, I’ve been working with American Aviation to offer custom photo flights and day trips in the Lake Powell and Monument Valley areas. I squeezed in flights between chapters of a book I was contracted to write. Between flying, writing, and dealing with a bad back (now healed), I kept very busy. I was ready for a break.

I’d planned to go home on Monday, mostly because we’d had one of our horses put down on Thursday and I wanted to be there for my “family.” But I got a call on Saturday to do a helicopter flight in Wickenburg and the only time available was on Sunday afternoon. So I came back early and made a few bucks on a photo flight for some really nice guys.

I also had work to do at home. I needed to put together some promotional materials for flying at Page, using files on the iMac in my office. But the Internet was down for two days, making it difficult to get the information I needed to get the work done.

I soon found myself stressed out by a number of things:

  • My sole remaining horse, alone for more than a few hours for the first time in his life, spent a lot of time pacing his corral, calling out to a friend who would never come. It was heartbreaking. I had to keep the windows closed at night so his whinnies wouldn’t keep me up.
  • My inability to complete the work I needed to do because of the Internet outage. This was aggravated by the knowledge that I had more reliable Internet in a campground in Page than I had in my house in Wickenburg.
  • My growing dissatisfaction with life in Wickenburg. I’d spent the summer on the road and had seen a lot of places I’d rather be. I almost resented having to come home.
  • The seemingly endless list of chores I had at home. Life was much simpler in a 21-foot travel trailer in a campground.

When my Internet service came back online and Mike returned from his trip to New York on Tuesday evening, I started mellowing out. I was able to get work done and had someone to share the chores. I pushed back the date of my return to Page. And we went down to Scottsdale for a wine tasting with friends.

My friend, Tom, owns a house in Wickenburg. But these days he spends only one or two nights a week there. He owns a condo in the Deer Valley area of Phoenix, where his business is based. He has friends and a real social life down in Scottsdale. On Wednesday evening, I met Mike at the Kierland Resort for drinks and ceviche at Deseo. Then we drove over to Bacchus for their weekly wine tasting, where Tom was a regular. We tasted some extremely mediocre wines, then shared a few bottles of good wine with Tom’s friends. Then off to Ra to sober up with sushi and tea before the long drive back to Wickenburg.

Mike is thinking of buying a condo in the Biltmore area of Phoenix as an escape to civilization for us. He drives 80 miles each way from Wickenburg to Phoenix for work and is tired of it. (Unfortunately, there are very few good paying jobs in Wickenburg.) He knows about my growing dissatisfaction with Wickenburg and my need for a social life that’s impossible to attain in a half-dead retirement town. Wednesday evening’s activities confirmed our need to get out of town a lot more often.

I flew back to Page on Friday morning. While in Wickenburg, my mechanic, Ed, had installed a new battery and changed the oil in the helicopter. The starter had plenty of juice when I fired the helicopter up at 7:30 AM. I had a great flight back to Page, where I got a warm welcome from my friends.

And last night, I went to my very first high school football game. Mohave beat Page, 24 to 7.

Fix or Repair Daily

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It’s not always easy having stuff.

I have too much stuff. That’s not under question. But I’ve learned that one of the problems with having too much stuff — besides finding places to store it all — is keeping it all working and in good repair.

Vehicular Responsibilities

Take, for example, my two motorcycles. Bought brand new in 1992 and 1996, I rarely ride them. I simply don’t have the time. So they sit in storage, gathering dust while the gasoline in their tanks turns to varnish and their batteries die. I’ve tried battery tenders and gasoline stabilizers, but every time I want to take one of them out, I have a heck of a time getting it started. The solution, of course, is to sell at least one of them and I’ve made the decision to do just that. But I still have to get it running and bring it over to the motorcycle guy who said he’d sell it for me.

My new old redneck truck — nicknamed the “Brokeback Mountain Truck” because of the way its 14-year-old pearlized red paint looks pink in strong sunlight — required a bunch of small repairs to get it up to operating standards for the long trip it’ll take me on in May. That bunch of repairs, which I thought would cost about $500 to $700 cost a whopping $1,500. Ouch! The mechanic, who I trust, says it’ll run a good, long time. It better. It’s my first Ford. Some of us know what F-O-R-D stands for. (If you don’t check the title for this post.)

To be fair, we drove it this weekend to Howard Mesa and Flagstaff (so far) and it’s running okay. Sure, its 8-cylinder engine is a dog and the Ford steering is about as loose as you can get, but get it up to highway speed and turn on the cruise control and everything is satisfactory. I’ll have accurate fuel burn numbers when I fill up in Chino Valley on our way home.

Mummies in the Attic

But the ongoing source of our repair efforts is our little vacation cabin. Its exterior was built by people who know how to use the necessary tools and materials and they did a reasonably good job. The place is sturdy, anyway. But after adding plumbing, electrical, fixtures, appliances, and furniture to make it a home way from home, the problems began.

First it was the mice, who seemed to invade the premises every time we left. That means a thorough cleaning and disinfecting each time we arrived. I don’t know about you, but after a 3-1/2 hour drive, the last thing in the world I want to do is spend four hours vacuuming and washing floors and countertops, and furniture. The mouse moved into the walls, so we’d often hear them scurrying around at night. It took a long time to find and seal up all the holes where they were coming in. When I got sick of dealing with the humane mouse traps, I resorted to rat poison. The worst night we ever at the place was the night after Mike threw rat poison into the roof rafters and sealed up the holes on either end with steel wool. All night long, the doomed rodents were running back and forth over the ceiling.

And yes, there are now mouse bodies in our ceiling. But thanks to the dry Arizona air, they mummify quickly.

Split Pipes

We were still battling the mouse problem when the plumbing problem began. We’d used PVC piping which, due to our low water usage needs, should have been fine. Trouble is, if you don’t drain the pipes properly, the water in them freezes up in the winter. That causes the pipes to expand until they break.

Our first Christmas at the cabin gave us our first plumbing repair job. We brought everything inside, turned on the water, and turn on the pump. Within seconds, water was gushing out of the wall.

Mike spent most of the next day repairing the broken pipe. When he was done and everything was closed back up, we turned on the pump again. Another pipe was broken. He fixed that one the next day, on Christmas Eve. So yes, on that trip, we didn’t have running water for more than 48 hours.

Despite our best efforts to drain the pipes on departure, this happened again, to a lesser extent, on our next visit. Mike got very good at repairing pipes.

The following Christmas, Mike came prepared. He replaced all the PVC pipes with copper. Unfortunately, there had been water in the toilet valve and that had split. (We had installed an RV toilet to conserve water.) So we had to manually flush with a bucket of water.

On our most recent trip, we discovered a crack in the pump. We bought a replacement and hope to repair the old one as a spare. But when he went to fix the toilet — after replacing the pump — he discovered that the replacement part he’d bought for that didn’t have the piece he needed. So we continue to bucket flush.

Other Problems

We’ve had other problems with the place over the years. There was the mouse nest in the furnace that prevented it from staying lighted until the nest was removed. Before fixing that, the cabin actually got down to the low 40s at night.

And then there was the poorly set windows and doors. I spent a whole day with a caulk gun filling cracks with clear caulk to stop the cold wind from finding its way into the building.

Otherwise, everything has been fine. But now I know why Mike doesn’t like going up to the vacation cabin. Every time we go, there’s something that needs to be fixed.

At Home

Our house is just over 10 years old now, at that age when little things start needing attention.

Original light bulbs all over the house have been dying lately. The guy who built our house probably had stock in the local utility company. Every single light fixture in the house has either 3 or 4 bulbs in it. The master bathroom, which has a long countertop with two sinks and a vanity, is lighted by a row of 16 bulbs. When we moved in, there was a 150-watt bulb in each one. That’s 2400 watts of lighting with the flick of one switch. We replaced all those bulbs with 40s and put a dimmer switch on it. I don’t need to get a tan in my own bathroom.

We’ve had a few minor leaks in the past few years. We’ve needed some paint touchups inside and out. A few of the ceramic tiles between the kitchen and front door are cracking but not loosening up. The appliances are still all working fine, although I know that when they start dying, I’ll replace them with better rated equipment and leave the foo-foo brand names for another sucker. (I’ll take my old Kenmore dishwasher over the JennAire I have now any day.)

So I’m waiting patiently. Something else will break shortly — I can feel it in my bones — and I need to be ready to take care of the repair.