Category: Life with Pratts

Waiting for the Landscape Contractor

Or someone like him.

Looking forward to having the front walkway demolished and replaced… whenever that will be.

Follow-up: He’s here. No problem pulling out the 6-inch slab and breaking it up with an 8 lb. sledge.

The 12-inch slab is a problem. They’re working on it with a jack hammer. I SAID, THEY’RE WORKING ON IT WITH A JACK HAMMER!

CONFIRMED! Jimmy Hoffa was not buried under the concrete of my front walk.

Cookie Crumbs

Web browser cookies, especially so-called third-party cookies. The subject of great controversy, because they can be abused. But sometimes they can be useful. Last year I’d contacted a couple of local contractors about replacing the walkways in front of the house, and along the side of the garage. I wasn’t happy with either of their proposals, so I waited until this Spring to try again.

A house around the corner had some work done that looked all right, and using Google Chrome I contacted the contractor. I met with him and the quote came in at almost exactly the amount I’d guessed it would. That’s good, but it’s not for all of the work that needs to be done, which includes replacing the driveway. I’d have to find somebody else to do that work. As I contemplated the walkway estimate, an ad appeared for a contractor who can do all of the work. I clicked on the phone number and left a voice message.

Follow-up: That second outfit is a no-go. A lot of aggressive sales talk that boiled down to them wanting so much money for the walkway it was obvious to me they only want to do the driveway. A neighbor had his driveway replaced last week by a different outfit, so I called them. Once again I am reminded of how comparatively easy it was finding good contractors in Arizona when getting my late parents’ house ready to sell.

Finding My Religion

A recent 88 Rewound on WMBR featured a playlist from May, 1971. I hadn’t heard this song in many years.

Honestly, I’d forgotten how much of an effect the song had on me. Life was changing fast, and I felt extremely unsettled. Six months later, entirely on my own, I started attending a Lutheran church I passed on the way home from my after-school job.

church

So began my religious period. It lasted until I was in my senior year of college.

Some years ago I attended my nephew’s wedding in the Midwest. My sister mentioned to her mother-in-law that she never knew how she and her husband were given permission to marry in the Lutheran church near our parents’ house. They lived out of state, and their church was in a different Synod. My sister’s mother-in-law smirked and said, “I know how.” My sister seemed surprised that, after so many years, this was the first she’d heard of it. “You do? How?” Her mother-in-law looked at me and said, “You were dating the minister’s daughter.” My mother must have told her. The minister’s daughter was Lori, and she got her dad to perform the ceremony.

Lori