Here are the before and after pics of our yard beds. Mucho Mucho Thanks to Mom and Dad for the amazing amount of work they contributed to the project.

There will probably be a set of AFTER AFTER pics once the transplanted bulbs grow and the sunflowers we planted blossom.

Last night we held the 6th (or 5th) Irregular Annual Monty Python party. The first party was held in 1995 at the Fry house. Since then we have had parties at the Toccoa house, the Chicago apartment, and the Tiffin house. All parties include coconuts, House Rules, costumes, and assorted hilarities. This year marked our third Spam sculpting event although there were no prizes this year due to the economic downturn and harried schedules. We crammed about 25 folk into the house, and a great time was had.

Visit our Flickr set for more pictures.

That’s what I’m doing. Just sitting here on my porch, outside, sittin’ in my camp chair. The rosy pink of the sunset is peeking between the maples across the street. The occasional vehicle drives by. Some kind of bird that I’d love to be able to identify by its song so that I could sound all knowledgeable about nature stuff is chirping to the north.

The street lights just clicked on. When I was a kid, that’d be my signal to head home. It’ll probably be dark in just a few minutes.

Mainly I’m excited that I have a porch to sit on, the weather is nice enough to sit outside, and I’ve got a wireless network at home that lets me do some work out in the fresh air. If it’s nice on Monday, I may even try doing my GRE scoring out here.

‘Course, I sit out here long enough, I’m going to decide that we need some flowers or something out here on the porch.

coiled radiant heating elements covered with a smooth ceramic top.

When the stove that came with house died the week before Easter, I entertained the notion of converting to a gas stove. Then I called around to find out how much it would cost to tap into our existing gas line and run a line over to the stove area. Yikes. For about three seconds I entertained the notion of doing it myself (having read an article about how to do so), but then I decided that I didn’t want to die in a firey ball of ignited gas.

So, off we went to the local appliance store to check out the latest in electric cooking technology. After consulting the almighty Consumer Reports guides (Thanks Mom & Dad! Thanks Ted & Nancy!), and shopping around the offerings here in Tiffin, we settled on the Frigidaire FEF375FB. We had also decided that now was a good time to acquire the over-the-range microwave we’d been talking about since we bought the house.

So we put in our order with the nice folks at Burns Electric, located less than 1/2 mile away from the house and right across the street from our church. On Monday, I got a call that the model we’d ordered was out of stock. That was sad. However, because the model was a newer model and they should have had it, they were bumping us up to the next level of stove for no charge. That was happy. Very happy.

When we chose our stove, we’d been intrigued by two features: Speed Bake and expandable burners. However, the model that had both of those features was out of our price range. So, we’d chosen the model that had Speed Bake (a fan in the oven that circulates the hot air–though not true convection) and regular burners. By bumping us up to the next level, we were going to get BOTH Speed Bake and expandable burners without having the pay the $150 difference in price. Woo and Hoo.

So this morning at precisely the arranged time, two gentlemen from Burns showed up and installed our Frigidaire GLEF379D with nary a problem, snag, or worry.

Now, we’ve got to start cooking for ourselves again.

You may remember that in late June, severe storms rocked northwestern Ohio.  During the downpours, Sherry and I simply did not want to look in the basement.  We knew that there was a possibility of some water down there, but there wasn’t anything we could do about it if water did come in.  There was no place to put stuff that was down there, so we chose to worry about it “later.”

“Later” was yesterday.  I spent most of the day packing out soggy cardboard boxes, trashing various objects, and drying and repackaging what could be saved into plastic totes.  Where there was mold–or even just damp areas that looked like they might get moldy–I sprayed bleach.  Between the dehumidifier and three fans, ventilation was pretty good, but by the end of the day, I was ready to be away from bleach.

This morning I continued the work.  Just need to pack out the last of the trash.  There’s still stuff in boxes, but it was all off the floor.  However, we’re going to be getting everything into totes ASAP.

The major damage seemed to be to our Big Box of Games.  These were games that we moved from IL and hadn’t unpacked.  We lost Risk, Clue, two versions of Trivial Pursuit, Star Wars Monopoly, Yahtzee, Parcheesi, a Dilbert card game, Scrabble, Scattergories (not one of my favorites anyways), and some others.  There were also some photos that got damaged although some precious memories were safe.

After I’m done with my Pepsi break, I’m diving back in to do some clean up before calling Phase I complete.

Oh, to accompany my work, I started listening to Amy Tan reading her latest novel Saving Fish from Drowning. Tan has a wonderful reading voice that makes just about anything she’s reading sound great.  It wasn’t until about the second disc in that I realized I had no idea what the story was about.  Went back a little and now seem to know what’s going on.  There is this nice little conceit of the narrator being a dead woman watching her friends go on a trip she had planned.  The narrator is definitely “limited omniscient” in the sense that she’s giving us all kinds of background on the characters that the others don’t know.  I’m not totally engaged yet, but I’m willing to go along.

So, there I was sitting in the upstairs bathroom, minding my own business. One might say that all was well with the world. Sunlight streamed in through the window, kitties pawed at the closed door, silence otherwise ruled the tranquil halls. While perusing an improving book—1 Macabees if you want to know—I detected a motion out the corner of my eye. It was a yellow jacket, or a wasp, in any case a yellow and black striped, long-bodied son-of-a-what-not of the hymenopteraian order.

It hovered there in the air by the towel hung on the back of the bathroom door. Now, I’m as gentle as the next fellow, and as sensitive to the right of all living things to coexist peacefully, but I must say, sitting there in a state rather vulnerable to the voracious nipping of a maddened insect, I felt an urge to smash, kill, and possibly maim. Unfortunately, my compromised position made me extremely susceptible to a counterattack should the initial wave of shock and awe fail.

I turned my mind to escape. Once free of the confines of the water closet, I could establish a plan of action in less trying times. So, as the menacing creature floated closer to my flaxen, in-need-of-a-tonsure, pate, I leapt from my seat, flung open the door, and dashed into the office with my jeans around my ankles. The kitties, surprised by my sudden outburst, flew down the stairs. After a quick semi-re-girding of the loins, I inspected the bathroom only to find no marauder. Well, thought I, before I go about killing intruders, I should finish what I’d started. So, I descended the stair, and ensconced myself in the downstairs bath to put all things aright before proceeding with the extermination.

Imagine my concern, when, upon taking my seat in the downstairs bath, I felt a slight tickle on my right calf. I could hardly bring myself to look down, but when I did, that blighted insect arose from my crumpled jeans and flitted to the window blind. I, not accustomed to flitting, lurched out of the bathroom, into the dining room, not caring a wit for my state of dress. A peek into the master bath confirmed that the bug was arranging itself on the blind. This cannot be! I thought. So, I quietly rolled up the issue of The New Yorker lying on the vanity, took two steps into the room and rapped that member of the Vespidae family a right sound blow to the head whereupon he swooned, fell to the floor, and wiggled a leg or two. I then finished the job with a well-placed tissue and deposited the corpse in the waste bin.

Though now safe to recommence my improving book, I found the mood irreparably altered. Perhaps a fresh cup of coffee with retore the nerves and return tranquility to the home.

Today was the first day I was able to have the windows open. Emma is pinned to the screen, being bombarded with all the glorious noise she’s never heard and doesn’t understand. The garbage truck on the next block (near enough to be interesting, far enough to be safe). The mourning dove on the tree lawn. Other birds chirping in the trees rustling in the wind. Cars driving down Circular. Dogs from down the street barking their fool heads off.

Her tiny pink nose is twitching constantly as the breeze wafts in daffodils, cut grass, and rain. The neighbor across the street—the cop—returns home from his shift and her little bean head follows his ascent up the stairs to his mustard yellow house. Now her head swivels 180 degrees back and forth as the chimes from the other neighbor sound. She can’t place the source, and….a passing squirrel distracts her from the chimes.

May Sarton writes about cats reading the newspaper. This morning, Emma has stepped into a Las Vegas casino sports book where there’s screens on every side demanding her attention.

Tigger, meanwhile, the old gob, has found my cardigan sweater, newly washed, atop the dryer.

After leaning and bulging and bowing, the brick facing to our front (side?) flower bed finally gave way last night under the duress of a thunderstorm and high winds. The good news is that all of the bricks appear to be in good shape, so I should be able to reuse them in putting the wall back up. The bad news is that the gutter downspout looks like it might need to be redirected as it may have been part of the cause of this disaster. At any rate, it looks like I might be learning some masonry this year. What fun!

So, last night wasn’t first snow fall we’ve had this year, but it’s likely to the first one that lasts more than a day or two. Yesterday the ground and roads were bare (except for the leaves I never raked). After dark, the flurries started, and this morning there was 3-4 inches of the lovely white.

Given that we’re into December, the snow comes at no great surprise. But when I stepped outside to commence with the shoveling, I was greeted by a pleasant surprise indeed: The Snow Thrower Fairy had visited our corner. We’ve never been able to ascertain if this is the work of a city employee, a kind neighbor, or magical snow elves, but last year we began noticing that on mornings when a good amount of snow had fallen, Someone would come along and snowblow our sidewalks (see evidence above).

We don’t know who you are Snow Thrower Fairy, but THANK YOU!

After a warm October and some absolutely miserable days of dreary clouds and rain, the trees finally decided it was time to pack in the canopies, show their true colors, and shed. For a few days, the view outside our upstairs windows was wild with red and orange and even some stubborn green. A couple of cloudless days added a dash of blue.

The sights were so inspiring I pulled up the blinds, put away a bevy of boxes, and made the office a bit more livable just so I could spend some time sitting in a chair looking over the trees. The kitties seemed to think the colors were pretty cool too and joined me in appreciating God’s painting. Of course, they couldn’t bear to be in the same window, so Tigger took up a post looking North, and Emma settled on to the West-facing sill.

Now, a few days later, we’ve had some rain, and this morning we were buffeted with >40mph winds, so many of the trees have lost most of their leaves. There are still a few stubborn clumps that won’t admit that winter’s on its way, but I imagine that by the end of the week they’ll be gone too. I expect the groups of kids offering to rake leaves for a few bucks will start making the rounds, and I’ll have to start getting serious about giving the lawn its final cut. When we were in Georgia, I complained that I missed the turning of the seasons. Sure we had hot summer and a lengthy spring; fall was even somewhat lengthy–although living in a pine forest didn’t offer many colorful views. But there was always something missing. The lawn was always green–well, brownish green–and it never got wintery cold. In a month or two, I’ll be looking out my office windows at pure white yards bisected by steel gray roads backed with a greyish sky. The trees will be barren. And it will be that whitening death that will make the wild resurrection of spring so sweet.