Croup-aforma

Looking at the calendar awhile back, I made a goal of my own private, Thanksgiving -long holiday weekend-get back into shape training camp. The good Dr. H and I had been making progress on the hip/leg mess before I got sidetracked with home re-models and moving and such. Finally, by early November, after not having done any rehab excercises or riding since June, we seemed to be back on track and I was walking without a limp or much pain for the first time since before the Cadillac Attack in 2006.

From my DIY training camp, I experienced the two steps forward-one step back curse in that my long weekend left me with better legs than I started with but also a head full of mucus, sore throat, fever and a cough as thick as a southern summer. This of course after getting a flu shot.

The cough is hanging on and now G has it too. His is worse as he whistles when he breathes in his sleep, waking up A who consoles him.  Amid his feeling under the weather he is lamenting not getting to ride his bike as he drips, coughs and wheezes.

Yesterday the sun was shining. While resting on the couch, watching Dora The Explorer, he looked out the window and said, "Aw man; It's nice out and I really want to ride. Dad, I feel better can we go ride?  I won't go crazy, just a ride around the block? It's just my voice that's bad, we don't need to talk while we ride."

Explaining to him that sometimes we have to rest in order to get strong again, or that sometimes the best plans or intentions get derailed by the unexpected didn't really get through to him. Finally, I told him that he had germs; little tiny bad guys in his chest and nose and that he needed to rest so his body could build enough little good guys to fight the bad guys away.

I think he got it as today, when A took him to the doctor and the doctor asked if his throat was sore, G pointed to his chest and said, "my heart and neck are sore because the bad guys, that usually live in my butt, are coming out my mouth."

Perpetual Motion

Six weeks straight we've been visiting the Lumberyard. Sometimes twice a week. 3-4 hours at a time. When it was time to leave during our first visit, G ran away from me and hid under a half-pipe. Since then, it's not gotten much easier to leave but his skills have grown expedentially. He's not carelessly brave but he's not timid either. He works it out, watches older kids then dives in.

There's only two places in the re-purposed bowling alley that he has yet to master: A steep descent of a fly-over bridge that he just slides down, and the bigger, more technical, Blue ramps and pipes where kids do flips and aerobatic tricks that require one to be older than 4 and have pedals on their bike. He'll drop in on these ramps, but needs a push to get up the other side. A few more pounds and a chain driven bike not made out of wood and he'll be doing flips off "the wall" before he sleeps through the night with a dry pull-up.

Despite how much fun we are having, what keeps me bringing him back are the 8 or so other 3-5 year olds showing up regularly. The first time I took him on a weeknight without his buddy Max, he wouldn't ride. Taking A to watch was what broke him through to showing up without his best riding buddy. Yet today, he was high-fiving kids of all ages and knew them by name. As another dad said, "What else can you do with your 4-year old where you both work through challenges and build skills?"

                                                   The faster the start...the bigger the air!

                                   A rare look at his focused face. I usually just follow the blur.

                                                                 Rock gardening

                                    Thumbs up before dropping down the steep log descent

                                     Run it up then slide it down and do it again on the next ramp!

Every Tool Needs A Shed

The main updates to the Cold War Dream House have mostly been wrapped up. I'm still uncertain why a house actively being constructed during the Cuban Missile Crisis was not amended to include a fall-out shelter. Khrushchev  had already proven that brick and mortar work can be done on the fly. I guess that floor plan update will have to wait until my lottery numbers align.

More importantly though, I need a place to put the yard tools. It's a slippery slope piling gear in the garage; I have an agenda for that square footage. At the Cold War Starter Home, I simply bought A a car that wouldn't fit in the tiny garage.  Lawn mowers only add clutter to my garage vision. I needed a Dojo for gardening.

Location was an issue, the best place for a shed was straight across from the living room window. The ground was most level and highest elevation, as well as the least amount of shrubs to remove. There was a gap in foliage to the rear neighbors deck that would best be blocked, and I had multiple shades of left over paint and an art interest spurred by youthful cycling heroes.



Unfortunately my inability to read a tape measure was highlighted as I made the doors way to big for the space. Of course I didn't measure the doors themselves until after I had glued them together, taped and primed them.

I had to make a run out to my Dad's shop to cut, router, pucker and rebuild. At one point, he told me to grab a chisel to clean out the routered groove in one of the joints. I asked where a chisel might be and he responded, "On my workbench."



 With the doors fixed and ready to hang, I had a vision come to me during a dream. But first a little back-story; A's Grandpa had a thing for shellac. He put a glossy coat of chemical preserve over EVERYTHING. The brick chimney in his basement had a candy coating as if it was made of red M&M's.

So in my dream, I was spraying shellac all over the kitchen with a pesticide pump sprayer. A was yelling at me to not spray the windows, but all her knickknacks on the counter and window sill had a shiny preserved coating and it looked HOT.

 Of course the dream clearly meant that I needed to shellac the inside of the shed. And so you know, a pesticide sprayer works great for spray sealing. I brushed it out with a broom because everyone knows if you paint with a broom you're a Bad ass.