Carol and I sometimes talk about the fact that our neighborhood doesn’t have natural gas service, but we’re surrounded by streets that do. The last time we had that discussion was in August, when heating oil was heading for $5/gal. But now with heating oil $2.50/gallon or less, I’m reminded of the downside of natural gas.
Category: Life with Pratts
Bulb-ous
It’s always something. Got home late tonight, after what I admit was a fairly successful sojourn of Christmas shopping. Carol reported that the light under the over-stove microwave oven was out. So I got a Phillips head screwdriver and removed the cover.
Both bulbs were out, which seemed a little strange. The bulb on the right came out easily, but when I tried to unscrew the bulb on the left it looked like this.
So… not knowing which circuit breaker the microwave is on, because most of the breakers aren’t labeled, I took a pair of insulated needle nose pliers and deliberately shorted out the socket. There was a little explosion, and knowing the bulb’s current comes straight from the 120V outlet, I could assume that the circuit breaker would pop with no damage likely to the microwave oven.
With the power off, I was able to get the screw cap out of the socket with the pliers. Then I took the other bulb, intact but burned out, to Lowe’s — a five mile drive — checked the wattage (40), and bought a couple of replacements.
Got back home, installed the bulbs, and screwed the glass cover back in place. I went downstairs, reset the circuit breaker, went back upstairs, turned on the lights and — voila! — problem fixed. And after all of that I didn’t feel like writing about anything else.
My Deployed Wife
We were lucky this past Thursday when an ice storm missed us, but not very far from here, in Central Massachusetts, conditions are very bad. Entire towns are without power, and some won’t have it back until mid-week.
Carol is a volunteer with the Medical Reserve Corps. Today she’s at a middle school in Worcester, helping the families that have taken shelter there. Carol called a minute ago and said that while driving there it was almost as if there were a line along the road, where all of a sudden trees were down everywhere. Doctors and nurses are the core of the corps, but Carol is a nutritionist, and this morning on her way out at 6:30 she joked that she’d put everybody on a diet.
My high school gym teacher
Growing up, I had absolutely no interest in football at all, and even if I had I didn’t have the ability to play it very well. I enjoyed playing baseball a lot, but I was born left handed and in first grade was forced to bat rightie, so I was never good at hitting. Then I became nearsighted, and after getting glasses the summer between fifth and sixth grade I never wore them in gym, to avoid breaking them, so I couldn’t see the ball anyway.
So by the time I got to high school I wasn’t good for much in gym class. I knew Ed Leary was a great football coach, but because I wasn’t into sports I wasn’t tuned into his wavelength. What I enjoyed doing was running, and only running. I wasn’t even exceptional at that, but I enjoyed it, and I looked forward to track in the spring.
By the eleventh grade Mr. Leary and I had reached an understanding, and he’d sometimes let me run laps around the track instead of whatever else I was supposed to be doing. I couldn’t believe that doing lots of laps was considered to be some sort of a punishment. I loved it. With the pressure off, I actually started to enjoy basketball, beyond just shooting baskets.
If PE could have been all about running and nothing else, I would have been happy. Frankly, I think the concept of team sports being equivalent to physical fitness is bogus. It seems schools have caught onto that, and now health and fitness doesn’t demand kids knowing the rules of American football.
My senior year in high school I didn’t have to take gym, so I didn’t, and that was very good for me. The summer after graduation I had a job working with two guys who had been on the track team. One of them was the star runner, and he got me started with long distance running, and 35 years later I’m still running.
One of my regular routes took me past Mr. Leary’s house, and one time when I was home from college I saw him outside and I waved. He looked amazed, and with a big smile on his face he shouted, “Pratt… is that you??” “Yes sir, Mr. Leary!” I think he said something like “Good man,” but I was moving and couldn’t really hear him.
At my high school reunion five years ago I was saddened to hear that Mr. Leary had suffered a stroke, and now I’ve read that Mr. Leary died five days ago. Obituaries are here and here. Even though I was a different sort of kid, Ed Leary was always fair and honest with me, and I’m glad to have known him. God rest, Mr. Leary.
Men in blue
With Studio 100 turning K3 into an international franchise, and girls in England recently auditioning for UK3, it’s fitting that today I saw Blue Man Group. The Blue Men, who are not Blue Meanies, are in various cities, with interchangeable, essentially anonymous performers.
Blue Man Group has been at the Charles Street Playhouse in Boston for almost fifteen years. Carol saw the show with a friend more than ten years ago, but today was the first time for Eric and myself. If you’ve ever doubted the entertainment potential of so-called performance art, Blue Man Group will erase all doubt. We loved it!
There’s a video featuring the current Boston trio, which makes them less anonymous, that will give you an idea of what it’s all about. (The program book lists two other Boston Blue Men, so I assume there must be some rotation.) Once again YouTube has the video aspect ratio wrong, so I’ll put it here with the correct shape.
[flv:http://www.dograt.com/Video/2008/NOV/BlueMan.flv 448 252]
Food, disgusting food
After getting up in the middle of the night for a bathroom visit, I woke up this morning feeling weak and washed out, but perhaps fit for duty at work. Carol made oatmeal and I ate some of that. Bad idea. Very bad idea. I don’t know what this is that’s got me, but it’s hanging on way too long. Back to bed.