timepiececlock

wisteria_ pointed her flist to this video of street theater and this Salon article about it, which just brightened my heart. I can't wait to show my mom tomorrow.



from Salon.com, on why people love watching it:

"What they are presenting to the people in that station (and the rest of us, of course) is the ideal of human co-operation. They're showing us the possibility that a bunch of unrelated, unconnected people could spontaneously burst into a song and dance routine in a train station because that's what they all wanted to do and that's what we could do too, if we set our minds to it."

Plus, look how much fun they had preparing for it.


Outside of city parades--which are planned--I've only ever been part of one moment of spontaneous public dancing. ( Read more... )

About two weeks ago I fixed our toilet. It was leaking and I had to replace the valve. I was kind of excited to do it, actually, sort of to prove to myself I still could. I learned basic plumbing for six weeks in August 2007 while doing New Orleans reconstruction work with AmeriCorps and the St. Bernard Project; I was on their plumbing team. But I haven't really done anything with that since then... luckily because nothing until now has broken down and need fixing.

But this time the valve was shot in the downstairs bathroom, and someone had to fix it, so I had a little nostalgia doing that. The process was ridiculously easy (plumbing is not that complicated, when you understand the basic concept of pipes being under pressure), just within a small space and hard to reach or maneuver the tools.

I had to turn the water off first, of course. I said, "Well, it's probably this valve here that's the problem, but we can't know for sure until I take it apart. It could be the hose, or where the hose connects to the tank, or even the pip that's coming out of the wall. I'm pretty sure it's the valve, though. If it leaks, then we'll know. I'll be able to tell by where it leaks from. After I replace the valve, I'll leave a pan underneath to catch water if it does leak."

My mom asked "Why do assume it's going to leak? Or not work when you replace it?"

That was a difficult question to answer, since the answer basically amounts to "Because it's ALWAYS something else and it's NEVER just the valve," but explaining why I'm pessimistic from the start and also why I feel the need to detail my pessimistic theories of "all the ways it could go wrong" before even starting the fixing process... really only makes sense if you've ever done a major plumbing practice. Or, possibly, an electrician's job. Or something to the equivalent. It's hardly EVER the first thing, and there's always another problem, and at worst you might have to solder something behind a wall, or you might flood your house, and either way it's going to take two and a half times as long as you originally estimated.

Since I've had the memorable experience of being working on a copper pipe when the pressure sent a metal valve shooting past my ear at about 3 quadbillion miles an hour (and proceeded to flood the bathroom in a long-suffering client's house), explaining why plumbing is ABOUT being pessimistic, how it becomes second nature, is a bit weird. It just is. I had to memorize the four rules of the trade:

1. Cold on the right.
2. Hot on the left.
3. Shit goes down.
4. The boss is an asshole.

That's the rules of plumbing, verbatim. I was lucky because the guy supervising me wasn't an asshole...he was a Canadian whose RL job when not doing Katrina reconstruction was to be a professional golfer. I actually chose to be the plumbing team rather than to lead volunteers in things like drywall or paint, because I wanted a useful skill, and one that I didn't already know. I figure that it's got to be worth something to know that, should the need arise, I can fix my own shower. Even if I have to tear out my wall to get to the pipes do it, I can fix or replace my own shower until I get hot running water. I hope I never forget that, either.Now, a year later, it looks like most of it stuck with me.

"Eh! This is your crotch-spork, and I'm eating with it again."

This was in the middle of an intense giggle-fest while finishing off an absent someone else's birthday cake, and to be fair the spork did belong to my friend before she flicked it at me and it landed in my lap, therefor instantly becoming "my" crotch-spork. Much giggling followed, including theories on why crotch spork sounded like a fine name for an alien.

"I am Krotch Sppork. Take me to your leader."

The cake was good; it was almond.

I'm going to be in the Gulf region for my next project, starting in about 3 weeks. I don't yet know which city, but there's 3/5 probability it will be with a Habitat For Humanity project, though not Musician's Village again.

However, in two weeks I get my first vacation-- 9 days of bliss in Denver, where my car is, and my PC. HUZZAH!

Just so you know how much they crammed into my brain in 2 months, I can do:

floor systems
floor decking
walls
framing
trusses
roof decking
shingles
siding
drywall
doors
exterior trim
interior trim
bracing
blocking
dead wood
crowning
door knobs
calking
painting
sawing



...and other stuff.



It rained again today-- my teammate Alex and I had a picnic after work in front of the building, under the huge eaves. We ate cookies and played mancala and watched the rain. I love the rain in this place.

Incidentally, thanks to the generous folks at teh_music, I now have about 90 songs about rain on my Zen player.