Posted in birthday

Of course I’m going down the birthday water slide!

Posted on by William Douthwaite

As we pulled up to my daughter’s house, I saw the biggest inflatable water slide I’d ever seen in a yard. They had rented a twenty-foot double slide for my grandson’s ninth birthday party. It was really cool.

Each of my grandson’s friends broke into a huge smile as they arrived, shedding their t-shirt and flip flops to scramble up the ladder to the top of the slide. Laughter and splashes filled the air as about twenty kids climbed up and slid down over and over again. Every once in a while, one or two would take a break to grab a slice of pizza, rip open a bag of chips, or (believe it or not) dip a carrot into some dip. After a quick refuel, they were back at it.

Suddenly, everyone ran across the driveway to the other side of the yard, ready for a baseball game. Inflatable bats hit plastic balls all over the yard as runners rounded the bases. Five minutes later, everyone headed back for more water slide fun.

I wore my bathing suit to the party, just in case. Maybe, just maybe, I would get to hurl myself down the slide into the pool of water at the bottom. But I waited, sitting with parents and other grandparents in the shade. Did anyone else wear a bathing suit? Maybe, but I wasn’t sure.

After a few hours, some families began to say goodbye and head home. The hoard dwindled to a few cousins and neighbors, and I saw my chance. As I took off my t-shirt, my grandson said, “You’re coming in? Alright!”

As I scrambled up the ladder, the grandsons were challenging me to a race. Before I even sat at the top of a slide, they yelled, “Three, two, one, go!” I lost every race except the ones where I yelled, “Go!” And then they all said, “You cheated!” Too bad, so sad. Life is tough. Get used to it.

I was the only grown up to go up the ladder and down the slide. I loved every descent, laughing the whole way down. It’s not easy being the big kid, though. But you better make sure no one is there at the bottom. Once you commit, there’s no way to slow down.

When people ask me, “So what are you doing in retirement?” I’m going to start answering, “Water slides!”

Posted in Travel

I’m crushed

Posted on by William Douthwaite

I chuckled when the eBay buyer sent me these pictures yesterday along with the comment, “Should have been packaged better.”

First of all, what did the United States Postal Service put this box through on it’s journey from my town to California? How many heavy boxes would have been stacked on top of this one to crush it like this?

I’ll bet you’re wondering what was inside this box. It was a large ceramic plate for tortilla chips, with a smaller dish for salsa. I wrapped each in three layers of bubble wrap. After placing it in the box, I stuffed more bubble wrap around the sides to keep it from shifting around. I was certain that it would have a nice, comfy ride from my home to theirs.

However, I had no idea that someone would run over it with a forklift. Or close it in the cargo door of the plane. Or stand on it to reach something up on a shelf. Or sit on it for lunch break.

As bad as the box looks, the contents were intact. Well, almost. The small dish had a piece broken off an edge. The larger plate survived the trip with no damage. I would call that a pretty good packing job. Actually, looking at the pictures again, I would call it a miracle.

What could I have done differently? I suppose I could have put the box inside a box, cushioned with a million styrofoam packing peanuts. Do they even sell those any more?

The buyer had paid $25 to ship a $10 tray. I refunded his money. A couple of drops of superglue and he’ll be munching chips and salsa and throwing back margaritas for Cinco de Mayo in no time.

Posted in waiting

Patiently waiting

Posted on by William Douthwaite

Someone coined the phrase “an exercise in patience.” I guess it’s good to exercise your patience from time to time. I got the chance two times yesterday.

The first occasion was, of course, at Walmart. There were only a few people at the self-checkout machines and cashiers. But all of them had huge carts full of items, and they all seemed puzzled by the self-checkout stations. I told myself, “You’re not in a hurry; just be patient.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw no one in line for the ten items or less checkout. Sweet. I hopped over there and put my three items down. What I hadn’t noticed was two cashiers staring at the touch screen with furrowed brows and concerned looks on their faces. The only customer ahead of me was showing them pictures of prices that hadn’t scanned properly, and they were trying to figure out how to make it right. Finally, they got it to work. But he had yet another picture of a price for them to enter manually, which required another supervisors to tap in some numbers. By now the line behind me was six people long. The same people were still bagging groceries at self-checkout. I thought, “Just be patient. Just be patient.”

After about six or seven minutes, it was my turn, and the cashier kindly thanked me for my patience.

Next, I took our Great Dane to the vet for her monthly weigh in and heart worm medication purchase. It was about five minutes after noon, and one tech was working the front desk while the other front office people were sitting outside eating lunch. We headed over to the scale to learn that our six month old puppy now weighed seventy pounds. She gained twenty pounds in the last month.

Two other pet owners walked in while we were at the scale. One needed some records. The other needed some medication. So my dog and I wandered around looking at the salt water fish tank, the dog food displays, and a few toys for sale. After about ten minutes, it was our turn, but the tech asked, “Can you wait one more minute? I’ve had people on hold for ten minutes.” I said, “Sure,” mostly because I spotted jars of free dog treats on the counter. After a few minutes on the phone, she thanked me for my patience, she got the heart worm and flea pill we needed for the month.

I often thanked for my patience, which makes me wonder if that’s a rare experience for those in retail or health care or whatever. Judging by the way people drive, push their way through stores, and complain loudly on their phones, I’m sure it is.

Posted in backyard

Three eggs in a beautiful nest

Posted on by William Douthwaite

When I dragged my Great Dane away from the duranta bush in the back yard, I found out why she was so interested in this particular shrub. Nestled in the branches was a nicely built nest containing three eggs. I scolded, “Get out of there; you’re not going to eat any eggs today.”

So who’s the owner? Who’s raising a family in our backyard? Who’s got the great nest building skills? I looked around and didn’t see any likely parents. A little later I spotted an orange beak poking out just over the edge of the next. It was a female cardinal. When I went over to take a closer look, she flew to the fence and scolded me for intruding. Then I caught the red of Mr. Cardinal in a spruce tree in the neighboring yard. “I’ll be out of there in a minute. I just want to get a picture.”

I’ve noticed this couple of cardinals frequenting my yard for the last two weeks, but didn’t think much of it. I’ve heard lots of cardinals singing on my early morning walks, too, but rarely saw them. Apparently they moved a week or two ago.

The next is exquisite. It’s built with Spanish moss, pine needles, and dried up lily leaves. It’s light, but strong. It’s hidden, but accessible. It’s held together by design rather than adhesive.

I don’t remember ever seeing a nest in our yard. My neighbor across the street has a frequently occupied bluebird house. I’ve also seen osprey nests perched high on the field lights at the sports complex up the street. A lot of wooded lots have been cleared for new construction, so I’ll bet the birds have had to vacate some of their favorite nesting spots.

I’ll do my best to keep my curious beasts out of the bushes for a week or two. It’ll be their job to keep the squirrels out of the yard who would love to get into those eggs. I would love to see baby cardinals!

Posted in shopping

“What did you buy?”

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Oxana Melis on Unsplash

I’m certain this never happens to anyone else. We pull into the driveway and see a package or two (or three) at the front door. It might be a box or a bag or just a product with an address sticker. One of us will say to the other, “What did you buy?” The other will respond, “Nothing. It must be yours.”

Upon opening them one of us will say, “Oh, that’s right. I ordered that two (or three or four) days ago.” Sometimes it’s a subscription order we get on a regular basis. And even rarer, it’ll be a gift.

There’s something disturbing about this. I like to think I engage in some level of mindfulness, but my shopping habits and memory betray me in this area.

In my defense, some of this is due to buying things separately. Because I buy individual items as I need or want them, each arrives by itself. While I try to visit as few stores as possible when shopping in person, I don’t care how many separate purchases I make online. And sometimes, when I do buy two or three items in one order, they may arrive in separate packages, having originated in different warehouses.

I’m sure someone has studied this. Sellers know I shop this way. That’s why they suggest things I might like to buy alongside my other purchases. If it’s something that I never set out to buy in the first place, it doesn’t occupy the same place in my memory as those things on my shopping list. In fact, I’ll bet I forget such purchases within an hour.

What’s the cure for this? I don’t know. Always make a list? Cross off the stuff I don’t need. Only buy what’s left. Keep the list, to remind me what I purchased.

Posted in Truck

A Lightning in the wild

Posted on by William Douthwaite

I saw a Ford F-150 Lightning electric truck in our neighborhood yesterday. It’s the first one I’ve seen in the wild. I almost didn’t notice it at all. As I walked by the contractor’s truck, I saw the word “Lightning” on the side, but didn’t make the connection. When I did, I circled back to get a picture.

This electric pickup is supposed to have more than enough power for pulling, hauling, and powering tools on the job site. I know we’ll have to get used to electric vehicles. In fact, my grandchildren may learn how to drive on an electric car. But when it comes to trucks, there are some things I’ll miss.

I only had a truck for a couple of years. A Chevy Silverado with a 5.3 V8 engine. There is something very satisfying about turning the key and hearing and feeling that engine come to life. I could feel the power in the steering wheel, the gas pedal, and the seat. There was always an adrenaline rush. And when I pushed on the gas, it only got better.

I’m not going to get that with an electric truck. It’ll get me there with all a trailer and all my stuff, but it won’t be the same. It’ll effortlessly accelerate and pull, but what will I feel? Probably nothing. It’ll be like tofu. Pretty much tasteless. Blech.

Posted in Home improvement

Those shingles are going to get real heavy real soon

Posted on by William Douthwaite

A house up the street is finally getting a new roof. That’s not unusual. I think most of the houses near me (including mine) have gotten a new roof in the past three years.

What did catch my eye was the pile of shingles in the driveway. Typically a big truck with a big arm pulls into the driveway and lifts piles of shingles onto the ridge line of the house. Once in a while roofers will have a ladder lift that raises two or three bundles to the workers up on the roof.

But all these guys had was a ladder against the side of the house. From what I could tell they were going to carry each fifty-pound bundle up the old fashioned way, one at a time. That’s got to be at least sixty times up and down the ladder. That’s a lot of work just getting the shingles up there.

Most of the roofing work is done by companies who bring in a crew of four to five, able to get the whole thing done in a day and a half. From what I could tell, there were only a couple of guys working this job. All the guys and gals who do roofs are tough and hard workers. Plus it’s the time of the year where it gets pretty hot up there in the middle of the day.

I’ve only ever worked on one roof. We put a second layer of shingles on the church in Connecticut about thirty-five years ago. We didn’t have a compressor and nail guns, just hammers and roofing nails. It took a whole day, but we got it done. Bonus prize: no one fell off the roof.

I wonder how many years the average worker is up there on roofs? I don’t see many older people up there. After a while, I’ll bet younger workers take the place of the more experienced roofers whose backs and knees just can’t take it any more. I searched on the average length of a roofing career, and got mixed answers. Some said no sane person would do it for more than six months. Others have done it for thirty years or more.

I don’t go up on my roof unless I absolutely have to, usually to sweep pine needles that accumulate in certain places. I do a lot better working on the ground.

Posted in Food

Back to the blueberry farm

Posted on by William Douthwaite

Today was our annual trip to the blueberry farm. The month of April has flown by and we almost missed our chance to pick buckets of berries to bring home. We didn’t make it to yesterday’s Bostwick Blueberry Festival, but Facebook assured us the bushes were still filled with large, ripe berries. We picked up our two Florida grandsons after church and made the drive out to the farm.

Last year’s picking was good, but since it was later in the season, this year was even better. The clouds kept the temperatures down, Saturday morning’s rain was mostly dried up, so it was a great afternoon to pick.

It’s fun to listen to all the conversations going on as families stand between the rows of bushes, picking blueberries.

  • “Whoa! Look at this one. This is the biggest berry ever!” (I heard that at least a dozen times.)
  • “I’m glad I wore my boots. I stepped right into that mud puddle.”
  • “Don’t pick the green ones. They’re too hard and sour. Only pick the purple ones.”
  • “Marco!” “Polo!”
  • “I’m going to eat all the berries.”
  • “Hey, stop throwing those.”
  • “I heard that someone picked fifty pounds of berries last week.”
  • “This bush is really full of them. You can just stand here and fill your bucket.”
  • “How many have you eaten?”
  • “Watch out; you almost dumped your bucket.”
  • “My bucket is way fuller than yours.”

The farm reported that one picker took home fifty pounds of blueberries one day last week. Our load of ten pounds seemed like a lot. Was it someone who owned a bakery? Or took them home to share with neighbors? Maybe they resold them by the side of the road.

Some friends of ours told us about another blueberry farm that forbid pickers to eat any. Posted signs said it was a federal offense to eat any berries before purchasing them. You won’t see us at that farm. I probably ate a pint while filling my bucket.

The bushes were filled with white and green berries yet to ripen, so the harvest will continue through next week. For now we’ve got all the blueberries we need for pancakes, muffins, scones, smoothies, and maybe some jam.

Posted in dogs

That’s not a chew toy? I didn’t get the memo

Posted on by William Douthwaite

I had to put out my sprinklers yesterday for the first time in a long time. It’s been two or three years since I last unwound the blue hose that connects three sprinklers together.

The front yard has been looking great. The back yard not so much. It’s usually the other way around. We haven’t had much rain this spring. Plus we now have two dogs regularly chasing each other around, digging holes, and killing patches of grass with pee.

I don’t have in-ground sprinklers, so I stretch hoses around the yard with oscillating sprinkler heads. These were made of the plastic that gets brittle in the Florida sun. Lizards like to make their homes in my hoses. I wasn’t confident they would work at all, but decided to give it a shot.

To my surprise, they all worked fairly well. I had to adjust the distance on each one, but other than that, the grass got the water it needed. I felt pretty good about. One dog (the Westie) thought the streams of water were great fun. The other (the Great Dane) wasn’t sure this was a good idea.

When I turned my sprinkler system on today, each shot out a narrow stream rather than a broad spray of water. No problem. I know how to adjust them. Unfortunately, each was missing a piece. Someone, who either didn’t like or really liked the sprinklers, chewed off the little tab that regulated the spray. Rather than eating the evidence, the guilty canine left chewed up plastic pieces in front of each. Thanks a lot, guys.

On to plan B. I’ve got a few metal oscillating sprinklers in the garage. They should thwart any overzealous chewers. They don’t do as well in series, so I’ll probably have to run two hoses to cover the thirstiest stretches of lawn.

I’m impressed that dogs always find new ways to get into trouble. In fact, as I’ve been writing this, the big one garped up some blue and red strings from a tug-o-war rope she’s been working on today. Lovely. Time to retire that toy. And then while they were outside regurgitating, they chased Mrs. Cardinal out of a bush where she was hiding. She was not happy. The dogs thought it was great fun.