the forbin project

...so, things didn't work out so well for Forbin (go look it up), well, sorta, it kinda did in a way, but I digress (hard to believe from Phrodaux, but hey look a duck, look at that...a duck)

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This is one for the nerds, wanna be nerds, the technophiles and the technophobic.

Home automation.

I've always wanted home automation, really, I read about it in the 70's, and really wanted it.

I still don't know why.

I read about it, and look at all the products and DIY hacked together versions, have purchased books and the occasional x10 module.

I still turn my lights off with a switch on the wall (well mostly, there is the occasional remote control... and from the FQ too many)

I read about the ability to turn the lights and/or stereo on at home when one is in Fiji, but A) Why do I want the lights and stereo on when I am not at home to enjoy said lights and stereo, and 2) Why would I be in Fiji worrying if my lights and stereo were on or off? If I was in Fiji, I think the last thing I would be worrying about are my lights and stereo. I would most likely be thinking about my sheep and horses and global warming and if I were breeding horses and sheep, what would the cat think. 

The other thing I read about, besides breeding horses and sheepeses, is that I can set my thermostat to be more "active." It would be warm when I want it to be warm, cool when I want it to be cool, but to be honest, instead of spending oodles of cash on a new thermostat that was designed by one of the apple guys, I have a 20yr old thermostat that came with the house that pretty much does that. I can set the time and temp and day and it just does it. Doesn't need to learn (cause lernin' is for chumps), just says at x o'clock make warm, at x o'clock stop. done. And to tell the honest truth, for the most part I don't really notice if I am warm or cold until someone (like said Fairy Queen) says "It is freaking cold in here, you should put on some pants," but to be honest again, I do like not wearing pants.

What I want is home automation, but really we really don't know what that is yet...


Then the bad people came.

They came and took our big boy Odin's pain meds the day before he no longer was in need of worldly things like pain meds or netflix. There is a special place for those that steal doggy's pain meds, that from someone who doesn't believe, but for this case is willing to make an exception. A....special....place.

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(ok, maybe a more special place, this looks kinda nice)

Now we have automation. We have a "security system".

Security. Something that yells and tells me that something is open or moving when something shouldn't be open or moving.

eww.

for as much as I want to be able to turn on a reading light from Fiji, and know that the living room is 68 degrees, I don't really want the "need".

I never locked a door throughout college. Occasionally I would come home to a party where people would ask me if I was invited. Nothing was ever taken, or at least nothing that we noticed or cared about. Given that we mostly lived on government cheese and mystery canned goods that couldn't be given to the poor as it didn't have labels (is it cat food or is it tuna night was a highlight) and beer came in stubby bottles with the label "BEER" in black letters on white background and cost less than distilled water, there really wasn't much to take.

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(mmm... beer. It was $4 a case, really)

I kinda liked it.

home.

a place where people felt welcome to sit, have a beer, watch some tv. sing a song they didn't know the words to, and not be really sure who lived there, but felt welcome...

...and have a snack, snacks are important, snacks make people feel safe and at home, even if they don't know who's it is, or if it came in a box labelled "CHEESE" in black block letters on a white background.

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(mmm... cheese)

all in all, I'm not sure we're better off...

...but at least now I feel confident that the couch is well lit and at a comfortable temperature on the off chance that I end up in Fiji.

There be monsters here.

so.

we may have mentioned the "place in the country" or otherwise known as "the farm". When people ask what we are doing some random weekend, and we say we are going to our "farm" they often ask "oh, what do you grow".

Our "oh so comedic" answer has been "salamanders". Because, you know, comedy geniuseses... genuii... smarty pants.

There is no market for salamanders as far as we know, or to be honest, as far as we want to know.

Then we found "the beast".

yah, I know, the picture sucks. I had to use my cell phone, no flash. This involved some green beret maneuverings (well, less green beret, and more fuchsia beret with some squealing like a little girl) and holding a flashlight in my mouth while my nethers were in rather cold water... so there was shrinkage...normally the ruler... oh shut up.

This, we believe, is a pacific giant salamander. This is what the movie "Pacific Rim" was really about. Full disclosure. I have not yet seen "Pacific Rim," nor have I any insight as to the validity of any facts contained in this blog. Most can be considered on the left side of valid, so when we say "linoleum" it might actually be sheet vinyl, or it might be that weird process meat food that has peppercorns and cross sections of olives. (Does anyone actually use that as "food", and why am I using so many "" in this post"?")

GIANT FREAKING SALAMANDERS?!!???!

apparently the California giant Salamander, while slightly smaller than the pacific, actually BARKS!! not in a barking spider way that grandpas everywhere are fond of blaming, but in a "why the !#$! does the neighbour's dog/salamander not shut the @#$! up it is !@#$ o'clock in the morning/night!!!" way.

oh, and I think the little bastard stole our inner tubes.

bastard.

Meet Helga the Mighty

Sometimes you don't know what you need until you fall right into it. We knew we wanted a getaway place, but until we lucked into the farm, we didn't know how much we needed it.

And until the first time I spent three hours mowing the meadow, I didn't know how much mowing was my happy peaceful zen place.

A month after the farm became ours (in that super grass growing month, our amazing neighbor Farmer Joe mowed the meadow), we found a riding lawn mower on Craig's List, wrestled it into Phrodaux's ancient truck, and trundled it on down to the farm. Despite the cracked seat, the temperamental starter, and the self-destructing belts, the mower and I had some lovely times. 

Over the next three years, the mower caught just a little bit on fire only two times. Once from the cracked gas tank (the mower store said that serial number didn't exist) and once because the free-floating battery was rubbing up against something. Mice made nests inside the screen above the engine a couple of times. The seat cracked more. The mower belt broke, go team. But I loved my mower, loved the noisy calm, the smell of camomile, the satisfaction of turning my unwieldy meadow into something like a lawn.

But this spring, it became clear: $300 on Craig's List does not get you four seasons of mowing. Three, sort of. But not four. Little mower started mowing for 30 seconds at a time; then it was disengage blade, mower in neutral, reach down to pull long grass out of the blade. Problem 1: This made mowing take forever. Problem 2: At some point the Fairy Queen would forget a step and become the Pirate Hook Queen. Problem 3: That mower weighs a lot more than I do and I am DONE with pushing it back to its designated shed (so glad no one filmed those moments).

And so...after a little bit of shopping (we tried the John Deere store, really we did, but they were smarmy and then Farmer Joe said think about something else), we found Helga the Mighty. Here she is:

She starts in an instant. No cursing dance required. She cuts the grass! Without a lot of kerfuffle over cleaning out the blades every ten seconds. Her seat is smooth and lovely.

She even has a cup holder, but the farm is not a golf course so my water bounces right out. Whatever. I put in my squishy ear plugs, put on my farm girl hat, and activate my internal sound track. It takes about an hour instead of 3, but it's all good. Helga, Fairy Queen, meadow, done.

BTW: Follow Adam Savage's advice. Buy a cheap tool, figure out how you are going to use it, then decide if you need a fancy one. Yes, I needed a fancy one. But it has a fabricated steel deck that rocks cannot penetrate! With a lifetime warranty! And our newish friend, Electric Hipster (really truly honest to goodness he chose that name!), gave her the perfect name.

Hey, Helga. If it's dry this weekend...want to mow?