funny

I found it amusing that spell check wanted me to replace "smurf" with "sunroof."

Gallivanting with Grandpa

A couple of posts ago I mentioned Martin Van Buren being a famous resident of Columbia County. I also promised to get back to him. And I am.

Martin Van Buren lived in Kinderhook, NY in a house named Lindenwald. It's yellow.

Lindenwald is one of many historic houses and museums in Columbia County. Between the ages of about 6 through 13 I saw them all. About 5 times each. Lindenwald about 20.

Why, you ask? Because I had a grandpa who liked historic stuff and who liked to drive around. And I was his only grandchild until I was 11. And I was a nerd who actually enjoyed that stuff, unlike normal children who want nothing more than to eat candy and watch cartoons. Mind you, I was not opposed to the candy and cartoons. I'm still not, as is evidenced by my physique. I was just more than happy to take a break from He-Man and his pal Battlecat to go learn about how people in 1750 made bread. Yeah, I dunno why either. But I kick ass at Trivial Pursuit.

Anyway, this is not the grandpa of the septic tank business discussed in the Redneck Jungle Gym post. This was the other one. He was slightly older, a WWII vet and a paper mill worker. My mom's dad. He lived near my other grandparents in a house by Kinderhook Lake in Niverville. About 2 of you will know where that is. That house was not yellow. It was blue. And when I say it was blue, I mean BLUE!!!!! He had always wanted a blue house so when I was a kid, he painted in blue. But I think he let the Smurf creators pick out his paint. The house was approximately the color of blue cake frosting and the trim was on par with a smurf in high-def. It was so bright that a blind person would shield his eyes. But, no one ever got lost looking for it.

Anyway, Grandpa and I went on outings. He called it "gallivanting." These outings would usually consist of a quick errand, followed by a long, out of the way, drive to a historic place, a tour of said place, and a long, completely different route home. He didn't believe in going the same way twice if you could help it. I suppose it could be a military thing, but I suspect he just liked cruisin' in the Buick. A trip to the Ponderosa just outside of Hudson was usually part of these excursions as well. I would always get the salad bar and always begin my meal with a big bowl of mac and cheese. I was a chubby kid. Grandpa, having diabetes, would order from the menu. This would involve a long conversation with the waitress in which he would put on the old man charm and tell her that he has diabetes so he has to watch his sugar, but that's okay, because you can still eat well while watching your sugar and isn't that right, wraar, you always eat good at my house, right? Okay, he used my real name because a. I was not called wraar back then and b. wraar would look silly coming out of his mouth, but that was generally how the conversation would go.

We went to a lot of places - the Van Allen House, some random houses whose names I can't remember, Olana (home of Frederick Church of the Hudson River School of painters - it's a castle on the Hudson. Very cool. I highly recommend it as a day trip to the Albany folks.) and even the Shaker Museum in Chatham. Okay, that last one bored me. Even a really nerdy kid doesn't want to look at sturdy furniture made by people who don't believe in nooky.

The place of choice, however, was Lindenwald. It was Grandpa's favorite. We went so many times that he could practically give the tour. And occasionally he pretty much did. He would wander to the other side of the ropes and start pointing out stuff, interrupting the tour guide to ask questions that he thought the other tour members might be interested in knowing the answer to. The tour guides usually let him - again with the old man charm.

He usually took over the tour at his favorite part. He would start getting giddy when he knew it was coming up and start mentioning to the others that they were about to see...da da DAH!!! The flushing toilet. Oh yes, he LOVED the little bathroom with the flushing toilet. Sounds mundane, but this was the 1830s - this was one of the first houses to have such a feature. This fascinated my grandfather. Luckily it was the historical value of it - he didn't go running into every restroom to point and say "look at the swirly water! look look!!" He probably could have gotten away with it, being an old man and all, but I don't think people would attribute it to charm. I think they may have sent him where the "special" old people go. Anyway, he made sure that everyone on every tour appreciated the greatness of the old flushing toilet. Or "the pot" as he liked to call toilets - as in, "I'm gonna go sit on the pot!" To make sure you get the full effect, try saying that sentence with a country-like twang and say "pot" about 5 notes higher with a British accent. Yes, my grandfather was "interesting."

I haven't been to Lindenwald in about 12 years. My mom and I tried to go a couple months ago because somehow she had never been. I can't believe her school never took field trips there. Unfortunately it was closed for renovation. I hope they're doing work on the upper floors so people can finally go up to the tower. I doubt it, but it would be nice. When they reopen, I say we all make a pilgrimage to see the flushing toilet. I think we'll skip the Ponderosa mac and cheese though.

The Shower Boogie

That's a dance done by most people who bathe in our apartment in Boston. You see, our shower is not so much a shower as a test of agility run by a waterspout of death. As with most old apartments in old buildings in old cities, our place has "character." And by "character" I mean, chipped paint, a knothole in the floor by the front door, enough electricity to power an electic toothbrush or a toaster (but never EVER at the same time) and legions of cocroaches who plot their overthrow of the human race between the walls. Also, a highly moody shower.

Never mind the lack of water pressure and the old rotting tiles; let's start with the obvious: when you turn up the cold knob, you expect the temperature of the water to drop. You'd be wrong. About 50% of the time, that action causes the temperature to skyrocket as you plea for mercy for your poor unsuspecting toes. Usually when the temperature shoots through the roof, the water pressure increases and the flow pushes you to the back of the tub so you can't reach the knobs to try again. You have four options at this point:
1. stand there helpless with shampoo in your eyes until the water fixes itself. Could be anywhere from 4 seconds to 5 minutes.
2. reach through the scalding water and try to grasp the knobs and fix it without causing permanent injury to the skin on your arms and face.
3. climb out of the shower, getting the floor all wet and your butt cold, so you can fix the problem without injury.
4. stand where you are and scream for the other occupant of the apartment to come and fix it for you.
All are viable options and all have been used.

Of course, the opposite happens too - turn the hot all the way up and all you get is ice water. However, ice water does not melt the skin off the bones, so it is an easier beast to deal with and not all the above options are necessary.

Where the boogie comes in, however, are the times when the shower changes temperature all by itelf with little warning. I'm not talking the normal someone flushes the toilet and the temp goes up enough to startle an annoy the average person. No no. I'm talking about no warning and then a temperature shift of 50 degrees in one direction or another. You learn quickly that the shift will be preceded by a tiny tick or other sound. That sound means, "JUMP, MOTHER F***R!!!" There is no indication if it will be hot or cold water that will follow the tick. All you know is that you won't like it and will probably be a happier person if you are not caught under the flow of water when it hits.

This game that the shower likes to play can and will happen anywhere from 2 to 20 times during an average bathing experience. And if the drain is starting to clog for some reason? Here's where it gets interesting. Only about 70% of the water comes out of the shower head. The rest drips out of the regular tap and is always scalding hot. If there's a clog and it starts to back up, you are left balancing with your feet on opposite sides of the tub to being with. If you hear that tick, the result is a leap-frog meets drunken surfer scramble to get all of your essential parts out of danger's way.

I can't wait to move. Nor can flarf. When we visit the parents in Albany, he gets the most excited about showers. Like a child who knows he will be getting presents and cake, flarf does a happy dance at the thought of water pressure, constant temperature and burn-free feet all wrapped into one. He usually spends most of the weekend with pruny hands and has to be pried from the shower or at least lured away by the promise of a cookie or some pie. (It's easier to lure him away around the holidays, as there is more pie.) Someday will will have a normal shower of our own. What crazy dreamers we kids are.

Let's not even talk about what happens if there are two people in the shower...