Fried!

Herewith the tale of a small adventure.

We moved into our house in 1980. The house--built in 1979--was entirely new, having had no prior resident. So all things were new to us also. The kitchen was equipped with a brand new General Electric stove with oven. The stove was/is a modest appliance. It has the basics--4 burners, an oven, a timer, self-cleaning capability and a vent hood. I bought new coil liners once. We had a repairman in once--can't remember why. All I remember is that our then dog barked crazily, and the repairman in one motion leaped on top of the stove.

Other than that, the stove has chugged along just fine. Several years ago, we thought about replacing the stove--you know, something with a bit more glitz, with more oven space for baking two things at once. The oven is quite small. So, we measure the stove--huh? Only 27 inches wide.

We trundled off to our local appliance dealer to look for a new GE stove. SHOCK--27 inch stoves, while available, are at least $300 more expensive than the standard 30 inch stove. Why the builder inserted a 27 inch stove in the kitchen mystifies me. So, we put off purchasing a new stove.

Instead, we decided to wait until we do a bit of upgrading, including a new floor, maybe a new arrangement. And, that I planned for early next year.

This past week, I was making a good old fashioned pot roast, baking it in a ceramic pot. As I stood at the stove, I noticed light inside the oven. Hmmm--I thought--I must have turned on the oven light. So, I flipped the switch. Light still visible in the oven. So, I flipped the switch the other direction. Still light.

I opened the oven door--and saw sparking on the heating coil. And then FIRE. Now, a fire in the kitchen is something no one wants. We do have a small fire extinguisher right close by. But, first, quick thinking me--I turned the oven off. No power source, no sparking, no fire.

I thought--wow--what if we had not been home? We had been running errands that day, and the meltdown could just as easily occurred while we were gone. Or what if I had not thought to turn the oven off immediately--bigger flames would most certainly spread, not so compliantly died down.

When the oven cooled down, I looked at the coil. Oh yes. It is fried.

With a kitchen renovation 6 months in the future, I thought we could just repair the oven by replacing the heating element. In fact, I looked online, typed in the model number, and--voila--a part is available for about $30.

So, I called a prominent appliance store with GE repair capability. Oh no--said the salesman--you don't want to fix that.

Well, Mr. Salesman, yes, I do. I understand he sells new stoves, but on my timetable, not his.

So I called the friendly local appliance store where we first went to buy a new stove, and asked who does their GE repair work. And by the end of this week, a repairman should appear, complete with new part.

Meanwhile, I would just have to be creative and find ways to prepare meals without the use of the oven.

And today--the electrician arrived right on time. He had in hand a new heating element for the oven. In the space of 15 minutes, he had done the entire repair. And the total bill? Less than $100, parts and labor and tax.

Perhaps the crowning moment was when I asked if he does other appliance repairs. As he ticked off the brands he repairs, he looked at our refrigerator and asked--do you clean the coils in this? (Smirk--do I clean the coils? Get real.) But I just meekly said--no. So in an instant, he popped off the face plate at the bottom of the frig, and took the vacuum, which I had brought upstairs, and proceeded to vacuum the cooling coils under the frig. All free of charge.

Now, I had already written a check for the oven repair bill, but I handed him a bill anyway. I think I have found a great appliance repair guy!

Not fried anymore.

On The Go

Sorry for the absence from this blog. I have been on the go the last week plus.

On Saturday, my nephew (with his freshly minted undergraduate degree) got married. Weddings are such a great way for families to get together.

Our son and our daughter-in-law were there; our daughter and her fiance were there. My brother (father of the groom) and sister-in-law (mother of the groom) were there. Their non-marrying (yet) son was there, with his girlfriend. My sister was there (while my brother-in-law stayed home to work--summer being busy time for his business), as was their daughter, my niece, and her husband. And my father and step-mother were there. In all, just about the whole family that could assemble.

From Saturday on until today, our daughter has been working on more wedding details. Invitations have arrived. First dress fitting, flower arrangement revisiting, cake extra-tasting. There are many many details.

And today, when our daughter and son-in-law-to-be left, they headed toward New Jersey (his home area) for more celebration. They will be with his family for a few more days before returning to England.

So, sorry for being absent. Not only have I not had time to write--I haven't had time to read.

This upcoming week should be much less busy.

Now, I need to put up my feet, and sit a spell!

That New Car Smell

What is it about the new car smell that is so satisfying? If you take your car to a car wash place, you can sometimes even select "new car smell" as the spray the car detailers use to spark up your car's interior**.

Well, I am smelling new car smell these days.

It's a bit of a long story, and you probably want me to cut right to the photos, right? Here's the quick version. We have had a Chrysler Town and Country van for more than 10 years. It was pushing 100,000 miles, and little things began to go wrong with it. Such as, windshield wipers needing a new motor. . .or not, depending on which dealer was repairing it. Combine with that the fact that the dealer we bought it from was decertified as a Chrysler dealer to sell new cars. The dealer will still exist, as a used car place, but it can no longer do any warranty work.

So, my husband went car-shopping, and discovered that we qualified for the "cash for clunkers" program. (Now, that's something you r-e-a-l-l-y want to hear--you are driving a clunker.) So he picked out a hybrid. That meant we would have two sedans--no vehicle for hauling our dog in her crate. Solution--I could trade in my 7 year old Mazda Protégé--which has been an all around great car, but not really suitable for hauling things such as dog crates.

I did a whole lot of comparison shopping, using Consumer Reports, and Edmunds. We did some test driving, and then I narrowed down to the Honda CRV or the Toyota RAV-4. Finally, the RAV-4 won out. With my husband's skill at negotiating, we got a very good deal and ordered a blue RAV-4. The car came in to the dealer on Monday, and we picked it up in the evening.

First thing after we got home--I took the dog for a ride. And saw this glorious sunset.

The next day, I took the dog to the new dog park in our township. We sat in the shade, and contemplated the lovely sky.

Many more trips await the dog and me. The new car smell will fade, true. But if I enjoy the RAV-4 as much as I enjoyed the Protégé, it will be a fun car.
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**NOTE: the photos of the RAV-4 are not of my specific car, but photos obtained from the Internet. The colors, however, are true--Pacific blue exterior, ash grey interior.

Channeling My Mother

Yesterday was one of those days--I felt as though I was channeling my mother. She was one of the most energetic industrious people I have ever known. And organized. She could get things done.

I awoke early, before 6 a.m. (in deference to all of you who say--PAH. Early?--understand this is REALLY early for me). Since I was awake, I decided to trim the bushes in the front of the house. Then, I mowed the grass--with all the rain this year, the grass grows quickly.

In the afternoon, I had a dentist appointment--the prior gum surgery turned out well (whew). And then I decided that it was time to round up some neighborhood kids for a summer swim.

After preparing dinner, and upon my husband's return from work (he's the one doing real work--i.e. for pay), we went to the local car dealership to pick up my new car (more on that in a subsequent post).

All in all--a good and productive day.

Now today, I can reflect. In so doing, I note that today is the anniversary of my mother's birth. Were she still alive in the flesh, (she is most certainly alive in our loving memories), she would have been 90.

Struggling Through to the End

Well, I finally finished it. It being Annette Gordon-Reed's exhaustive work The Hemingses of Monticello: An American Family.

First, let me say--the premise of the work is fascinating and most worthy. Using primary sources, Gordon-Reed (G-R) explores the life and times of one extended family enslaved and owned by Thomas Jefferson. G-R goes further and proves decisively that Thomas Jefferson made one member of the Hemings' family--Sally--his mistress and, with her, fathered four children who lived to become adults.

So, why my "finally finished it" comment? You need a bit of history on my reading habits. I was an English literature major in college, both undergraduate and graduate. So, that meant lots, make that LOTS, of reading. And my first job, fresh out of graduate school, was returning to my college alma mater to teach literature--more reading. When I left that job, after 8 years, I vowed that I would never again spend time reading something that I was not enjoying.

This vow was accompanied by a full measure of guilt--stop reading a book? Unthinkable. Having been schooled to read so as to a) pass the exam, or b) analyze in class, or c) write the exam, I simply felt duty bound to read every book I started. And, for the most part, even after I stopped teaching, I tended to finish books I began reading.

The day finally came when I finished a book and suddenly realized--I have been duped. I read a book the whole way through, and I simply did NOT enjoy it. I should have quit. Truth is, I kept expecting SOMETHING to happen in the book. The book in question was Helen Hooven Santmyer's And Ladies of the Club. On the off chance you might be curious and decide you want to read it--don't. I have just saved you from 1,400 pages of NOTHING.

As I said, I kept expecting something to happen--but after 1,400 pages I realized that nothing did. And I was so put out at myself for not dropping the book part way through, that I renewed my vow.

So, now The Hemingses of Monticello. I finished this book. Oh, there were times that I felt like stopping. Why didn't I? Well, I had asked for the book as a Christmas present, for one thing. And I felt as though I would be ungrateful. I also recognized the importance of the subject of the book, evaluating people who were slaves and considering them on their merits. G-R has done fantastic historical research to recreate their lives.

You just know there is a "but"--don't you?

When I was about half way through the book, I told my husband about my frustrations with the author's style. As it happened, we were out at breakfast in a local diner. Seating there is not really private, and next to us sat a man, eating breakfast by himself. He obviously overheard my description. I said that G-R was a professor at one of the Ivy League schools. . .hhmm, Yale maybe? Well, the lone diner piped up--University of Rutgers. It turns out, he also taught there--though he said he had not met G-R. Small world. I hope he didn't rush back to campus, look her up, and say--a woman in a diner doesn't like your writing style, she thinks you need an editor.

So, here's my "but." To convey the concepts of what it was like to live as slaves, deprived of freedom, subject to the whims of masters--even those who were kindly, as Jefferson was--G-R tells you what it was like. Then, on the off-chance you didn't get it, she tells you again. And, for good measure, yet again.

If I could talk to a book, and have the message transmitted magically to the author--I would have said: I get it! Slavery was terrible. It was demeaning. It was dehumanizing. It is a stain on human history. I really do get it.

There were many interesting details in the work, lest you think I didn't learn anything from it. First, Sally Hemings, the slave mistress of Thomas Jefferson, was the half sister of Jefferson's wife Martha. WOW! That means Martha's father, John Wayles, also fathered Sally. Second, Sally Hemings was sent to be with Jefferson in Paris, when at the time she was fourteen years old. Their nearly 40 year relationship began in Paris. When Jefferson was due to return home, apparently, Sally Hemings--and her brother who was also there--contemplated staying there. France did not have slavery so they could have become free people. Sally's son, years after, indicated that the reason she did return with Jefferson is that she was pregnant with her first child, and she wrung from Jefferson a promise to free their children.

Again, WOW! The crafter of our Declaration of Independence fathered children who by virtue of their births would be slaves. And, he had to be made to promise to free his own children--not upon birth, mind, but upon reaching majority.

So much for "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness."

OK--so, in totality, it was a good book to read. Sometimes it pays off to keep on slogging.

Attitude. . .

Attitude is everything.

Among the mysteries that I contemplate is the way some people can have life difficulties repeatedly come their way and yet maintain a sunny upbeat approach to life.

Herewith an example. When I was working in an organization several careers back in my life, I was in a position where I had two secretaries. These women had been in their jobs before I was promoted to mine, so they knew the ropes of the daily operations better than I. As I got to know them, I was struck by their different approaches to life.

The one—let’s call her Kim—had been married when she was quite young. She and her husband very quickly had a daughter. Before the daughter was a year old, the husband began abusing Kim. He also drank excessively. In addition to this domestic violence, a natural disaster here had wiped out their house, and they were temporarily living in a government trailer. One evening, after a particularly vicious fight between Kim and her husband, he jumped in the car, and roared off in anger. That evening, he was killed in an auto accident. In a sense, Kim’s problem of being married to an abusive husband was solved. However, when the insurance company paid out his death benefit, his mother was the beneficiary. He had never changed his policy to make his wife his beneficiary. And the mother refused to turn the money over to her daughter-in-law and granddaughter.

Life changed for the better for Kim when she met a wonderful man, and got married. They too had a daughter. While Kim continued to work where I did, her husband became the owner of a local business. One day, an irate customer began arguing with him, and the argument continued out into the parking lot. The customer then jumped in his car, and pinned Kim’s husband up against a wall. Kim’s husband ended up with such extensive injuries that he nearly lost his leg.

Not long after that, central Pennsylvania, where we all lived, was hit with a freak tornado. We do not get many tornados in this part of the country. When the tornado touched down, it wiped out only a few houses in the area—Kim’s house was one of them.

All these catastrophes had happened to Kim before I met her. She was the sunniest, most upbeat person imaginable. She was a delight to work with, she never complained. In fact, the only problem I ever had with her was her irrational—at least I considered it irrational—fear of mice. We had a mouse problem in our office, and the maintenance staff had placed those sticky strip traps under desks. Sure enough, a mouse was caught on the one under Kim’s desk. By the time we got to work, the mouse was the LATE mouse—but Kim freaked anyway. I thought it very funny—she was not amused.

Now, to the second secretary—let’s call her Marcella. Marcella was the oldest child in a middle class family of three. She had many opportunities growing up, but the only thing she ever talked about was how her younger brother and sister got to attend college and she didn’t. She began having health problems a few years before she was married, with a series of migrating symptoms. She underwent endless medical tests with seemingly nothing being found. She did eventually have her gall bladder removed, and in fact was married so soon after that operation that she still had surgical dressing on the surgery wound. When her first child was born, that baby began to have a series of medical problems. I really began to wonder if Marcella was suffering from Münchausen syndrome, that she had now transferred to her child—Münchausen syndrome by proxy.

No matter what subject you might talk about with Marcella, everything came back to how she was cheated in life. Her parents favored her siblings, she never got to go to college, her husband wasn’t attentive enough, she was sick, her baby was sick. Nothing ever suited her. And of course the irony was that in life she had been dealt a far more favorable hand than Kim.

Yet Kim never complained and Marcella ALWAYS complained. It will come as no surprise that when it came to getting work done, Kim was SUPER efficient, and Marcella always had some reason why she couldn’t do a particular task.

Clearly, the outlook on life each of these women had shaped their approach to life.
When my brother was studying in seminary he took a course on family counseling. I may not precisely remember the details of a class exercise he had to do (he can correct me, as he reads this blog), but I recall that he had to interview some family members and ask if they saw life as in the red or in the black. Think accounting. If you saw life in the black, you figured that on the whole, life’s balance was positive. If you saw life in the red, you figured that life’s balance was negative—that life owed you something. I always loved that analogy. On the whole, I am a big “life is in the black” person. Clearly, with my colleagues Kim and Marcella, it wouldn’t be hard to figure out who saw life which way.

Attitude. How we view something can alter how that event or circumstance affects us. Please understand that I am not ignoring the fact that some people have incredibly difficult circumstances in life. Some people are truly dealt hard times. I have always been mesmerized by the story of Helen Keller. If ever anyone could have been forgiven for being angry at life’s circumstances, it would be Helen Keller. Yet, through her own grit, and through the loving dedication of her teacher Anne Sullivan, Helen rose to national prominence as an advocate, author and activist. She could have simply been content to live a life where others waited on her every need. But her attitude was turned outward to the world.

Now, comes the hard part—what makes the difference? I really don’t know. It would be easy to say—always look on the bright side of life. You decide, you control. But that really is too glib.

A recent poem featured on The Writer’s Almanac captures this conundrum of how someone can view catastrophe in a positive light.

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Rapture
by Richard Jones

In the desert, a traveler
returning to his family
is surprised
by a wild beast.

To save himself
from the fierce animal,
he leaps into a deep well
empty of water.

But at the bottom
is a dragon, waiting
with open mouth
to devour him.

The unhappy man,
not daring to go out
lest he should be
the prey of the beast,

not daring to jump
to the bottom
lest he should be
devoured by the dragon,

clings to the branch
of a bush growing
in the cracks of the well.
Hanging upon the bough,

he feels his hands
weaken, yet still
he clings, afraid
of his certain fate.

Then he sees two mice,
one white, the other black,
moving about the bush,
gnawing the roots.

The traveler sees this
and knows that he must
inevitably perish, that he will
never see his sons again.

But while thus hanging
he looks about and sees
on the leaves of the bush
some drops of honey.

These leaves
he reaches with his tongue
and licks the honey off,
with rapture.

"Rapture" by Richard Jones, from The Blessing: New and Selected Poems. © Copper Canyon Press, 2000.
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Here's to the honey in life, and to the ability to see it, taste it, and relish it.

The Sound of the Other Shoe Dropping. . .

I don't very often write about politics, not because I don't have opinions--believe me, I do. I think I eschew writing about politics because--well, just because. But I just can't resist today's story.

First, the news broke last week. Governor Mark Sanford, of South Carolina, was missing. He had taken off, and neither his staff nor his WIFE knew where he was. He missed being home with his children on Father's Day, and, when asked where he was, his wife commented: he has taken off to be alone before.

Then, word came out from the Governor's staff--he was hiking the Appalachian Trail, because he needed time to clear his head after the bruising legislative session that he had been through. Remember, Governor Sanford had decided to turn down ALL of the federal stimulus money that would go to South Carolina, much of it to be used for education. The legislature said--wait a minute, we want to take the money. So the governor suffered a political defeat. Hence the need for time alone to lick his proverbial wounds.

Suddenly, today--Wednesday--about a week after he took off, the word came: the governor was in Argentina. HUH?

And, this afternoon, the other shoe dropped. Upon his return to the U.S. (having been caught landing in Atlanta by an enterprising news person) Governor Sanford held a press conference. First yadda, yadda, yadda, then--I have been unfaithful to my marriage. I went to Argentina and had an affair with a dear dear friend.

PLOP. SPLAT. SMASH.

The only thing funnier than his press conference are all the political folks who are now falling all over themselves to say--he did the right thing. Mind, not the affair, but confessing quickly. Puh-lease. He is the governor of a state (RESPONSIBILITY); he is a father (RESPONSIBILITY), so no quick announcement is going to assuage me.

Nope, sorry, not buying it. Governor, you goofed in so many ways. First, you didn't tell your staff or your lieutenant governor where you were going. You have an administrative responsibility to TELL or to turn over the reins of POWER should there be an emergency. Second, you didn't tell your WIFE where you were going. Well, I guess you wouldn't say--dear, I am going to Argentina to have an affair. But, really--what husband and father (never mind governor) goes off and leaves his wife and family?

So, I won't have any of this posturing--he did the right thing by being so forthright? Nope, nope, NOPE.

Adios, Governor Sanford.