You spend a third of your life sleeping, so you find the best mattress you can afford, you're picky about the sheets, and when you settle in for the night, there's a certain amount of tossing and shifting before you get completely nestled the way that feels good. You're going to be there for several hours, so you take a little time to get yourself completely comfortable.
Did you take that kind of time with your work life? Did you shift around a bit, get comfortable? Did you pursue a career that you love?
Most folks couldn't answer that with an affirmative. I suspect - but have done no research - that most people are doing what they can do so they can get the paycheck. Their involvement with their careers is no more than what it needs to be to get the job done.
Now, there's nothing wrong with that. It's not a bad thing. But it isn't a good thing, either. You've left your home and your family and gone to a completely different place from where they are, and are spending time and energy with people you don't care about, for causes represented by a company you don't care about. It makes complete sense to me that you do this in the name of supporting your loved ones, for the sake of keeping a home. That's a worthy goal and more power to you.
But if you have the option of doing whatever it is you do, while doing it with people you do care about or in support of a cause you do believe in, isn't that a better choice? It makes for a more satisfying work experience.
I have worked in retail, and found it dull beyond comparison. The people who were shopping struck me as the emptiest vessels I had ever met, spending their time and money loading up on material dross that would add nothing to their lives or homes but clutter - not a good attitude for a guy working at Kirkland's. I didn't last very long there. Maybe the managers noticed; my option wasn't picked up at the end of the Christmas season. And I was younger then, kind of obnoxious. I've mellowed a lot in twenty years. However, I still don't have much liking for the retail sector. I could do it - and probably a heckuva lot better now than I did then, but I would do it while searching for something else.
I have been a janitor. Believe it or not, I enjoyed it. In terms of intellectual stimulation, janitorial work is a wasteland, a featureless plain of emptiness. The coworkers, while good people, weren't interested in the kinds of things I was interested in. But at the time I was taking some evening classes (in education) and listening to my recorded notes while performing my duties, so the lack of intellectual stimulation wasn't a problem. I kept my brain busy. And I didn't work with the coworkers very much, we had our own territories to be responsible for.
If you really enjoy a solidly scheduled work environment, where the day's progress is very consistent, janitorial is good. It's easy to find a cause to get behind: people need clean work environments, accidents need tending, that sort of thing. And since I was working in a school, accidents weren't uncommon. There was always plenty to do.
I was often annoyed at the utter lack of respect and consideration some children were showing, but that's a complaint I had against the parents, not the job itself.
But I loved the work. It gave my mind time to go where it would, to go back over classwork, and sometimes I was invited to come read for the kids. Doing that just once got me quite a reputation, and I was invited to a few classrooms to read for a while. That was a big treat - not for them, for me. I had a blast. I hope the kids enjoyed it.
Would I go back to that kind of work? Absolutely. In a heartbeat. Rude kids are outnumbered by nice kids. I would want to vet the principal, first. My first principal was pretty good, the second one was a letdown. But the cause is good, the work is good. The paycheck was good. I don't worry whether I'm providing something that somebody doesn't need, I don't see the buyer wearing worn-out rags and looking too thin walking out of the store with some ridiculous knickknack when what she really needs is a trip to the grocery store.
Where I work now, I've been there for a long time - over 20 years. By any measure, that's a long stretch. There was a gap in the middle there somewhere, but I would have taken a pay cut to come back. If I didn't need the money, I'd probably keep working there anyway. What I do is important. I do building maintenance for a facility that is serving a lot of people who really need the help. I could make similar money in the private sector, maybe even better. But I wouldn't love that job. Then, I'd just be the handyman for Thus-and-Such Apartments or an A/C technician. And if you're a handyman or AC tech, I'm not slamming your job. It's the job I do, too.
Do you love your job? I hope so. You spend more time with your coworkers than you do with your family, during the work week. If you have to spend that much time away from your family, then at least spend it with people you like, doing something that you think is worthwhile.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Dinner and a Movie
It's the quintessential date, what young people do on Friday and Saturday nights to entertain the significant others in their lives. Go out for a bite, go see a show.
Bad plan.
Don't get me wrong: I love dinner out. I used to weigh a lean and fit 165 pounds, the fit part is still in there somewhere in these modern times, carefully concealed under another 30 pounds of eating dinner out. The portions are huge and the price is ridiculous. More on the costs of eating out another day.
So what have you shown your significant other by taking him/her to dinner? Hmm - you actually can glean some information from this. First, if you've asked his/her preference and taken that into consideration, then you've given clear signals that you can be considerate, conscientious and actually remember what you're told for minutes on end. Then where you take your sweetie speaks to your economic state: if your date is into Italian and you go to Fazoli's, then either you have shallow pockets or she has stated in no uncertain terms that the unlimited breadsticks are her heart's desire.
Olive Garden is a good, unassuming Italian choice. It also suggests that you watch too much TV, or have no imagination. Sorry, that's my take on it. My apologies if I offend you.
Finding the funky hole-in-the-wall Italian joint that occasionally has shouted Italian curses wafting out of the kitchen along with the aroma of a sumptuous ossobuco might say you're a foodie, or it might say you've found one of those good eateries that don't look like good eateries. Either way, you're a bit more interesting, now.
But then dinner's over and it's time for the movie. At the movie, you sit in the dark for an hour and a half, maybe longer, and you don't talk. Nothing gets shared. Little is revealed, except maybe your taste in entertainment.
Now let me offer my suggestion for a good dinner-and-a-movie kind of date.
Rent a flick, and roll your own. First it's going to be much, much more affordable and most of the time pressures just evaporate: you can't miss the opening of the movie if the movie is in the DVD player. The pause button is your friend. Purchasing a movie for a date is only slightly more expensive than purchasing tickets to go see a movie. The lead times from first run on the big screen to first release at the stores is getting shorter and shorter - it used to be at least nine months. I don't think it's that long anymore; if the movie wasn't that great or poorly received (regardless of how good it was), it'll come out at the stores all the sooner: the backers want their money, so selling more copies sooner means they get paid.
The same information can be gleaned about you in front of the small screen - although in this day and age, "small screen" is becoming something of a misnomer. For what I paid for my TV in 1999, I can have more than twice as much screen area today, and it hangs on a wall. Back to the point: what anybody might infer about you at the movie theater, can be inferred from a DVD choice. More, even - the range of options is tremendous, as compared to the very limited range of whatever's out in the theaters at the moment.
So finding something to play for a date is a snap - the options are far and away greater than what used to be the case. Way Back When, renting a movie or three at Erol's was a couple of evenings' solid entertainment, now you can get movies even faster than the ten minutes it took to drive to the video store: you can get instant downloads from Netflix, Amazon, and a rental in hand is as close as the nearest RedBox vending machine.
But dinner. Have you tried cooking in? Yes, of course it's what you do every day, pain in the butt, hot kitchen steamy hair dishpan hands, I know the drill. But does it have to be a chore? I think not.
First of all, make the dinner preparation part of the date. Engage your guest, entertain him/her in your kitchen. Invite you sweetie into the busiest part of your home, the place where the largest majority of all activity takes place. People go to their bedrooms to sleep, to their bathrooms for biological necessities, and to their living rooms to sit down. In the kitchen is where your date gets to see what you're like when you're doing something both necessary and creative.
Dinner and a movie can be huge fun when you do it at home. Slide in a copy of Major League and watch Charlie Sheen before his id broke loose and started destroying Tokyo. Cook up a batch of the best kosher hot dogs you can find at the store - don't scrimp and get the nasty, off-color local brand. Pony up for a pack of Nathan's or Hebrew National. Pile on the chili and minced onion, and get into the show. "WILD THING!" Miss a funny bit? Pause. Bathroom trip? Pause. No stress.
Treat sweetie to Italian, home style. Throw the pizza dough like you learned that time on vacation - watch out for the ceiling fan! Oops.
Well, that's a story for the grandkids.
Put in a copy of something you've been meaning to watch. Ever wanted to know what the heck all the fuss was about Shakespeare? Dating an English major? Now's the time - and if you want a helluva romping good laugh, look for The Taming of the Shrew, the 70's version featuring Marc Singer and Fredi Olster. You will not easily find a funnier movie. And it's classic literature! That's a win-win.
What do you serve with Shakespeare? Hmm - steak and kidney pie comes to mind, but I'm not keen on organ meats and will never recommend them. Mutton is mentioned by name in Taming of the Shrew, so there's that. Not many people cook much mutton these days, so it's a new experience there, too.
Talk to your date. Stay in instead of out. Save a few bucks, share some laughs, and have fun at home. You'll reveal more of yourself, your date is less stressful, and your relationship will be more concrete - either as a winner, or a dead end (assuming you're dating someone with the intent of exploring whether they're marriage material). If you're already married, then it's a nice night in and who doesn't want that.
Pass the chips, this is the fun part.
Bad plan.
Don't get me wrong: I love dinner out. I used to weigh a lean and fit 165 pounds, the fit part is still in there somewhere in these modern times, carefully concealed under another 30 pounds of eating dinner out. The portions are huge and the price is ridiculous. More on the costs of eating out another day.
So what have you shown your significant other by taking him/her to dinner? Hmm - you actually can glean some information from this. First, if you've asked his/her preference and taken that into consideration, then you've given clear signals that you can be considerate, conscientious and actually remember what you're told for minutes on end. Then where you take your sweetie speaks to your economic state: if your date is into Italian and you go to Fazoli's, then either you have shallow pockets or she has stated in no uncertain terms that the unlimited breadsticks are her heart's desire.
Olive Garden is a good, unassuming Italian choice. It also suggests that you watch too much TV, or have no imagination. Sorry, that's my take on it. My apologies if I offend you.
Finding the funky hole-in-the-wall Italian joint that occasionally has shouted Italian curses wafting out of the kitchen along with the aroma of a sumptuous ossobuco might say you're a foodie, or it might say you've found one of those good eateries that don't look like good eateries. Either way, you're a bit more interesting, now.
But then dinner's over and it's time for the movie. At the movie, you sit in the dark for an hour and a half, maybe longer, and you don't talk. Nothing gets shared. Little is revealed, except maybe your taste in entertainment.
Now let me offer my suggestion for a good dinner-and-a-movie kind of date.
Rent a flick, and roll your own. First it's going to be much, much more affordable and most of the time pressures just evaporate: you can't miss the opening of the movie if the movie is in the DVD player. The pause button is your friend. Purchasing a movie for a date is only slightly more expensive than purchasing tickets to go see a movie. The lead times from first run on the big screen to first release at the stores is getting shorter and shorter - it used to be at least nine months. I don't think it's that long anymore; if the movie wasn't that great or poorly received (regardless of how good it was), it'll come out at the stores all the sooner: the backers want their money, so selling more copies sooner means they get paid.
The same information can be gleaned about you in front of the small screen - although in this day and age, "small screen" is becoming something of a misnomer. For what I paid for my TV in 1999, I can have more than twice as much screen area today, and it hangs on a wall. Back to the point: what anybody might infer about you at the movie theater, can be inferred from a DVD choice. More, even - the range of options is tremendous, as compared to the very limited range of whatever's out in the theaters at the moment.
So finding something to play for a date is a snap - the options are far and away greater than what used to be the case. Way Back When, renting a movie or three at Erol's was a couple of evenings' solid entertainment, now you can get movies even faster than the ten minutes it took to drive to the video store: you can get instant downloads from Netflix, Amazon, and a rental in hand is as close as the nearest RedBox vending machine.
But dinner. Have you tried cooking in? Yes, of course it's what you do every day, pain in the butt, hot kitchen steamy hair dishpan hands, I know the drill. But does it have to be a chore? I think not.
First of all, make the dinner preparation part of the date. Engage your guest, entertain him/her in your kitchen. Invite you sweetie into the busiest part of your home, the place where the largest majority of all activity takes place. People go to their bedrooms to sleep, to their bathrooms for biological necessities, and to their living rooms to sit down. In the kitchen is where your date gets to see what you're like when you're doing something both necessary and creative.
Dinner and a movie can be huge fun when you do it at home. Slide in a copy of Major League and watch Charlie Sheen before his id broke loose and started destroying Tokyo. Cook up a batch of the best kosher hot dogs you can find at the store - don't scrimp and get the nasty, off-color local brand. Pony up for a pack of Nathan's or Hebrew National. Pile on the chili and minced onion, and get into the show. "WILD THING!" Miss a funny bit? Pause. Bathroom trip? Pause. No stress.
Treat sweetie to Italian, home style. Throw the pizza dough like you learned that time on vacation - watch out for the ceiling fan! Oops.
Well, that's a story for the grandkids.
Put in a copy of something you've been meaning to watch. Ever wanted to know what the heck all the fuss was about Shakespeare? Dating an English major? Now's the time - and if you want a helluva romping good laugh, look for The Taming of the Shrew, the 70's version featuring Marc Singer and Fredi Olster. You will not easily find a funnier movie. And it's classic literature! That's a win-win.
What do you serve with Shakespeare? Hmm - steak and kidney pie comes to mind, but I'm not keen on organ meats and will never recommend them. Mutton is mentioned by name in Taming of the Shrew, so there's that. Not many people cook much mutton these days, so it's a new experience there, too.
Talk to your date. Stay in instead of out. Save a few bucks, share some laughs, and have fun at home. You'll reveal more of yourself, your date is less stressful, and your relationship will be more concrete - either as a winner, or a dead end (assuming you're dating someone with the intent of exploring whether they're marriage material). If you're already married, then it's a nice night in and who doesn't want that.
Pass the chips, this is the fun part.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
TurboTax
Occasionally you hear an endorsement from me. I'm pretty choosy, and don't give fealty unless it's earned. So when I had a great shopping experience at Lowe's, they won my loyalty. In the hard-fought arena of big box grocery stores, it's anybody's game.
When it comes to tax time, up until a couple of years ago I rolled up my sleeves and did my own, from start to finish. Two copies were generated, the first one in pencil and the second one in ink. I'd file the pencil one, and mail the ink.
Well. That day is done. This marks the third year I've done my taxes with TurboTax, and let me tell you that it's hard to find an easier process. If you're using your bank's online services, they may well make TurboTax available as a nearly-free service.
TurboTax walked me through the entire process. The interface is nonthreatening and in mostly plain English, so the taxspeak the government is so fond of is translated for us mortals. I'm pretty smart - or at least, I test really well - and have usually been able to make sense of the tax instructions, but there have been times when I was at a loss.
Open an account. Enter your name, email address, et cetera. It's really a very painless process. If doing your taxes is one of those things you dread every year, like going to the dentist or waiting in line at the driver's license office, TurboTax is really a fantastic product, and I sincerely doubt I'm going to be paid for saying that. I'm not looking for paid endorsements, I'm crowing about it because I like it.
This year is the first year I actually wound up paying for the product, something like $25. That's chicken feed, you can drop more than that feeding four people at McDonald's. And where I usually need a couple of hours to get through the whole thing, dot every i and cross every t, TurboTax gets me done in almost exactly an hour. That's from first clicking the link to printing the last page for permanent records, and pausing in the middle for dinner. I was relaxed and even enjoying myself.
In the end, my income was high enough that my refund wasn't what it has been in the past. I make too much money, according to the government. Yeah, right - easy for you to say, government. But TurboTax found a credit I was eligible to receive, and that brought the amount back up a bit. I might have found it, I might not. I was trying to apply for another credit too, and TurboTax shut me down, including the warning that if I tried to apply for that credit and received it, I would be subject to all manner of lengthy and unpleasant extra monitoring, disqualification for the credit for the next ten years, et cetera. They were watching my back, you see. And of course why wouldn't they - if I get hammered on applying for a credit I shouldn't while under TurboTax' direction, it reflects badly on them. So it's in their best interest to keep my best interests in mind.
When the job's all finished, TurboTax does a quick review, walking back over all the points just like you would. It's almost as personable as going to a live tax preparer, but when I was done I just clicked "take the processing fee out of my refund" and that was that. So simple. I didn't have to enter my credit card number or write out a check and mail it. Click, done.
And here's where it gets amazing: whenever I file my returns by hand, it takes about a month to six weeks to get the check. And that's pretty good, considering. I'm willing to twiddle my thumbs for a month and a half for that payday. But TurboTax got it to me in eight days.
Eight days. And again, no running to the post office: it was deposited directly to my bank account. There are certain things I miss about going to a brick-and-mortar bank, but frankly being able to check my balances at any time of the day or night is tough to beat. 7:00am on a Sunday, click on the account button, eyebrows go up. "Let's go out for breakfast, today."
I'll say it again, because it bears repeating. I do my taxes with TurboTax. It's quick, easy and affordable. You might want to check it out.
This was an unsolicited endorsement.
When it comes to tax time, up until a couple of years ago I rolled up my sleeves and did my own, from start to finish. Two copies were generated, the first one in pencil and the second one in ink. I'd file the pencil one, and mail the ink.
Well. That day is done. This marks the third year I've done my taxes with TurboTax, and let me tell you that it's hard to find an easier process. If you're using your bank's online services, they may well make TurboTax available as a nearly-free service.
TurboTax walked me through the entire process. The interface is nonthreatening and in mostly plain English, so the taxspeak the government is so fond of is translated for us mortals. I'm pretty smart - or at least, I test really well - and have usually been able to make sense of the tax instructions, but there have been times when I was at a loss.
Open an account. Enter your name, email address, et cetera. It's really a very painless process. If doing your taxes is one of those things you dread every year, like going to the dentist or waiting in line at the driver's license office, TurboTax is really a fantastic product, and I sincerely doubt I'm going to be paid for saying that. I'm not looking for paid endorsements, I'm crowing about it because I like it.
This year is the first year I actually wound up paying for the product, something like $25. That's chicken feed, you can drop more than that feeding four people at McDonald's. And where I usually need a couple of hours to get through the whole thing, dot every i and cross every t, TurboTax gets me done in almost exactly an hour. That's from first clicking the link to printing the last page for permanent records, and pausing in the middle for dinner. I was relaxed and even enjoying myself.
In the end, my income was high enough that my refund wasn't what it has been in the past. I make too much money, according to the government. Yeah, right - easy for you to say, government. But TurboTax found a credit I was eligible to receive, and that brought the amount back up a bit. I might have found it, I might not. I was trying to apply for another credit too, and TurboTax shut me down, including the warning that if I tried to apply for that credit and received it, I would be subject to all manner of lengthy and unpleasant extra monitoring, disqualification for the credit for the next ten years, et cetera. They were watching my back, you see. And of course why wouldn't they - if I get hammered on applying for a credit I shouldn't while under TurboTax' direction, it reflects badly on them. So it's in their best interest to keep my best interests in mind.
When the job's all finished, TurboTax does a quick review, walking back over all the points just like you would. It's almost as personable as going to a live tax preparer, but when I was done I just clicked "take the processing fee out of my refund" and that was that. So simple. I didn't have to enter my credit card number or write out a check and mail it. Click, done.
And here's where it gets amazing: whenever I file my returns by hand, it takes about a month to six weeks to get the check. And that's pretty good, considering. I'm willing to twiddle my thumbs for a month and a half for that payday. But TurboTax got it to me in eight days.
Eight days. And again, no running to the post office: it was deposited directly to my bank account. There are certain things I miss about going to a brick-and-mortar bank, but frankly being able to check my balances at any time of the day or night is tough to beat. 7:00am on a Sunday, click on the account button, eyebrows go up. "Let's go out for breakfast, today."
I'll say it again, because it bears repeating. I do my taxes with TurboTax. It's quick, easy and affordable. You might want to check it out.
This was an unsolicited endorsement.
Monday, March 7, 2011
Helpful Household Hints: Painting
You kinda went on a tirade about painting. What's up with that?
Well, it frosts me that anyone would ever say you have to hire a professional painter. You're not trying to reproduce the works of Van Gogh, you just need an even coat of fresh paint on a flat surface. That's not difficult.
Yeah, well - you should see some of the mess that results when I try to paint.
"Mess." There's your main problem. First of all, don't go into a painting project thinking that it's a messy process, because there's nothing saying that it has to be one. There are elements of painting that have a high potential to generate lots of mess, and there are lots of very simple preventive measures to be taken that can prevent every bit of it. Seriously: every bit.
You think so? Every time I paint, it destroys a pair of pants and at least one shirt.
I'm certain of it - the mess is optional. But still - wearing clothes you don't mind parting with isn't a bad plan. And even so, it's not that difficult to halt a stain from setting while painting, especially if you're painting in your own home. Shuck off, soak the stain, rinse it out. Latex washes right out, keep it wet continuously until you can run it through the washer and you probably won't see any stain at all.
Sounds like you're hedging your bets.
Absolutely. Plan to not be messy, but plan to deal with a mess. Get it?
No. Expound your wisdom upon me.
Okay. Here are some simple instructions:
Preparation makes a big difference in the results. Everywhere you're going to paint, if it doesn't need to be painted it needs to be taken off the surface. Light fixtures, switch plates, photos of your crazy uncle Bob. Everything comes off. You can usually just loosen the light fixtures enough to get the edge of your cut-in brush under the edges, so you don't wind up actually painting on the light fixture itself. Paint creeping up onto switch plates and outlet covers isn't just amateurish, it's a waste of time. It takes ten seconds to remove the switch plates plus ten seconds of easy, breezy cut-in up to the edge of the hole the plate covers, versus two minutes of maddeningly precise cut-in painting that still doesn't look right. Big savings, not really, but it's so much easier and the results look so much better, why would you ever even think of skipping such a simple step?
Remove doors from their hinges. Remove hinges from the walls. Remove knobs from the doors if you're going to paint the doors. When everything gets put back together, your eye will be drawn to everywhere the color doesn't belong - like on these very things we are removing from harm's way. If it isn't there to get paint on it, then you don't need to worry about keeping paint off it. We can work a teeny bit faster, and in a much more relaxed frame of mind.
Okay, everything is prepped. Now we're ready for the meat and potatoes of painting:
1) Paint is forever. It isn't of course, but act like it is. Every drop you get on the wrong place is an eyesore you can never be rid of. That adds incentive to keep it where it belongs.
2) Paint isn't forever. Drips caught immediately usually wipe right up and leave no trace, especially when working with latex paints. So if there is a drip or two to contend with, don't freak out - just deal with it.
3) Plan ahead to be neat. Decide where you're going to start, where you're going to pause for a break, and where you're going to finish. Look at the layout of the room to decide what the best places are for your paint bucket or roller pan. Think ahead about how you're going to move around the room, so you know whether that pan or bucket is going to be in danger from your feet.
4) Drop cloths aren't that useful. A small one under your pan, another one under the bucket, and maybe another one where you can lay tools down as necessary. You don't need to carpet the entire room with plastic in order to do a good job. Protecting the entire floor, in my mind, gives you tacit permission to be careless, to not worry about taking care during the process. And when that happens, then you've got a gigantic plastic sheet covered with tiny paint speckles that you can't help but tread on, and track throughout the house. Big paint in the butt, that is. And another thing - a few layers of newspaper will get the job done. You don't need to waste your money on purpose-made plastic. That's a waste.
I can't paint without a drop cloth. It'll be a disaster.
There's that mindset again, that's what I'm talking about. And so I reply, have you tried? Maybe it's not such a disaster. Just for an experiment, try painting a door or something similarly small, above a hard-finish floor. The floor is a bit more forgiving so you can wipe up spills easily if they happen. And now you're giving yourself a little practice working "without a net."
5) Do high trim first. Lots of ladder work, and if there are going to be drips onto your wall, wipe off the worst of it and then cover it with your fresh field color. Quick, easy, no stress.
6) Do cut-in next. Again, start high and work your way down. Cut-in is the finicky fine painting that gets next to the trim work, around light switches and outlets, that kind of thing. Cut-in out to a couple of inches, 3-4" so that when you're rolling, you don't have to worry about getting too close with the roller.
You also said something about "slow is fast." I think I've heard that somewhere else, too...
Sure, on Top Gear. Going fast doesn't mean you're going to finish faster - it just means you're going fast when maybe it would be better to ease up.
7) First stroke downward when rolling. A loaded paint roller just wants to fling paint drips; making the first stroke downward means the paint readheres to the roller as it pulls off between the roller and the wall. If your first stroke is upward, strings of paint stretch between the wall and the roller, and fall down. Now you have a mess.
8) Slower is indeed faster. Rolling fast covers area fast, but not that much faster than rolling slow. Rolling slowly, the paint adheres to the wall better and nothing flings off the roller - the result is better, more even coverage and no cleanup when the rolling is done. When you add up all the time needed for touching up uneven coverage and cleaning up speckles and repainting the ceiling where you got wall color on it, you go way beyond how much time it takes to just go along at a moderate pace, getting paint just on the wall and nowhere else.
You make it sound almost like a Zen exercise in quiet, contemplative patience.
It almost is. As much as I love AC/DC, maybe that's not the best music for painting. Doing your air Angus Young routine while painting is just asking for trouble. Fire up an audiobook and just let yourself relax. Painting is a very orderly process, you can do it in a very relaxed state, but you must also be concentrating on it at least as much as you would for, say, riding a bike. The mechanics of it are very straightforward and you don't need to be giving them your every instant's attention, but the general goal must always be in mind and you must be aware of the details that make the job easier: when to move quickly, when to slow down, that sort of thing.
You're smart, smarter than pros would have you believe. There's nothing you can't do with a little patience, a little practice, and a little preparation. Go forth, and have fun.
Well, it frosts me that anyone would ever say you have to hire a professional painter. You're not trying to reproduce the works of Van Gogh, you just need an even coat of fresh paint on a flat surface. That's not difficult.
Yeah, well - you should see some of the mess that results when I try to paint.
"Mess." There's your main problem. First of all, don't go into a painting project thinking that it's a messy process, because there's nothing saying that it has to be one. There are elements of painting that have a high potential to generate lots of mess, and there are lots of very simple preventive measures to be taken that can prevent every bit of it. Seriously: every bit.
You think so? Every time I paint, it destroys a pair of pants and at least one shirt.
I'm certain of it - the mess is optional. But still - wearing clothes you don't mind parting with isn't a bad plan. And even so, it's not that difficult to halt a stain from setting while painting, especially if you're painting in your own home. Shuck off, soak the stain, rinse it out. Latex washes right out, keep it wet continuously until you can run it through the washer and you probably won't see any stain at all.
Sounds like you're hedging your bets.
Absolutely. Plan to not be messy, but plan to deal with a mess. Get it?
No. Expound your wisdom upon me.
Okay. Here are some simple instructions:
Preparation makes a big difference in the results. Everywhere you're going to paint, if it doesn't need to be painted it needs to be taken off the surface. Light fixtures, switch plates, photos of your crazy uncle Bob. Everything comes off. You can usually just loosen the light fixtures enough to get the edge of your cut-in brush under the edges, so you don't wind up actually painting on the light fixture itself. Paint creeping up onto switch plates and outlet covers isn't just amateurish, it's a waste of time. It takes ten seconds to remove the switch plates plus ten seconds of easy, breezy cut-in up to the edge of the hole the plate covers, versus two minutes of maddeningly precise cut-in painting that still doesn't look right. Big savings, not really, but it's so much easier and the results look so much better, why would you ever even think of skipping such a simple step?
Remove doors from their hinges. Remove hinges from the walls. Remove knobs from the doors if you're going to paint the doors. When everything gets put back together, your eye will be drawn to everywhere the color doesn't belong - like on these very things we are removing from harm's way. If it isn't there to get paint on it, then you don't need to worry about keeping paint off it. We can work a teeny bit faster, and in a much more relaxed frame of mind.
Okay, everything is prepped. Now we're ready for the meat and potatoes of painting:
1) Paint is forever. It isn't of course, but act like it is. Every drop you get on the wrong place is an eyesore you can never be rid of. That adds incentive to keep it where it belongs.
2) Paint isn't forever. Drips caught immediately usually wipe right up and leave no trace, especially when working with latex paints. So if there is a drip or two to contend with, don't freak out - just deal with it.
3) Plan ahead to be neat. Decide where you're going to start, where you're going to pause for a break, and where you're going to finish. Look at the layout of the room to decide what the best places are for your paint bucket or roller pan. Think ahead about how you're going to move around the room, so you know whether that pan or bucket is going to be in danger from your feet.
4) Drop cloths aren't that useful. A small one under your pan, another one under the bucket, and maybe another one where you can lay tools down as necessary. You don't need to carpet the entire room with plastic in order to do a good job. Protecting the entire floor, in my mind, gives you tacit permission to be careless, to not worry about taking care during the process. And when that happens, then you've got a gigantic plastic sheet covered with tiny paint speckles that you can't help but tread on, and track throughout the house. Big paint in the butt, that is. And another thing - a few layers of newspaper will get the job done. You don't need to waste your money on purpose-made plastic. That's a waste.
I can't paint without a drop cloth. It'll be a disaster.
There's that mindset again, that's what I'm talking about. And so I reply, have you tried? Maybe it's not such a disaster. Just for an experiment, try painting a door or something similarly small, above a hard-finish floor. The floor is a bit more forgiving so you can wipe up spills easily if they happen. And now you're giving yourself a little practice working "without a net."
5) Do high trim first. Lots of ladder work, and if there are going to be drips onto your wall, wipe off the worst of it and then cover it with your fresh field color. Quick, easy, no stress.
6) Do cut-in next. Again, start high and work your way down. Cut-in is the finicky fine painting that gets next to the trim work, around light switches and outlets, that kind of thing. Cut-in out to a couple of inches, 3-4" so that when you're rolling, you don't have to worry about getting too close with the roller.
You also said something about "slow is fast." I think I've heard that somewhere else, too...
Sure, on Top Gear. Going fast doesn't mean you're going to finish faster - it just means you're going fast when maybe it would be better to ease up.
7) First stroke downward when rolling. A loaded paint roller just wants to fling paint drips; making the first stroke downward means the paint readheres to the roller as it pulls off between the roller and the wall. If your first stroke is upward, strings of paint stretch between the wall and the roller, and fall down. Now you have a mess.
8) Slower is indeed faster. Rolling fast covers area fast, but not that much faster than rolling slow. Rolling slowly, the paint adheres to the wall better and nothing flings off the roller - the result is better, more even coverage and no cleanup when the rolling is done. When you add up all the time needed for touching up uneven coverage and cleaning up speckles and repainting the ceiling where you got wall color on it, you go way beyond how much time it takes to just go along at a moderate pace, getting paint just on the wall and nowhere else.
You make it sound almost like a Zen exercise in quiet, contemplative patience.
It almost is. As much as I love AC/DC, maybe that's not the best music for painting. Doing your air Angus Young routine while painting is just asking for trouble. Fire up an audiobook and just let yourself relax. Painting is a very orderly process, you can do it in a very relaxed state, but you must also be concentrating on it at least as much as you would for, say, riding a bike. The mechanics of it are very straightforward and you don't need to be giving them your every instant's attention, but the general goal must always be in mind and you must be aware of the details that make the job easier: when to move quickly, when to slow down, that sort of thing.
You're smart, smarter than pros would have you believe. There's nothing you can't do with a little patience, a little practice, and a little preparation. Go forth, and have fun.
Friday, March 4, 2011
Carmakers Aren't Dumb, They're Just Selling What Dumb Buyers Want
The New York Times published on 02/25 that the Chevy Cruze is available as a special "Eco" model that saves a bunch of weight in lots of places, tucks its elbows in at speed to make itself more slippery, and shifts to a higher gear than the other models. All this it does in the name of squeezing every inch from every drop of fuel.
If you want the Eco model to really succeed, you're going to have to row your own. That is, the automatic is not your friend.
I've been saying this for years. Shifting isn't that hard. Two feet, two hands going, just like riding a bike. One foot goes down just as the other is coming up - just like riding a bike. Shifting while doing that and steering, it's all just a matter of practice. If you can walk and chew gum at the same time, you can probably handle a manual with little difficulty.
NOTE: If chewing and walking are beyond your reach, maybe driving isn't for you, either. There's a lot more then just working your jaws and your feet when you slide behind the wheel, so perhaps you should study up on the bus schedules.
I'm a sometime participant over at ecomodder.com, where the goal is distance at almost any cost. Well, not any cost. But you see people willing to make some sacrifices to really make their fuel dollars stretch. There's everything from the nearly-stock looking Ford F-250 that rings the bell at 28mpg, to the wildly modified Aerocivic, a Honda that's been transformed into a surreal 95mpg spaceship. These are vehicles that aren't using any kind of hybrid systems, they're delivering those mileages with modifications regular people can do. As they say, the most significant change you can make is to adjust the nut behind the wheel.
My average is down lately. Not driving my truck makes it perform poorly when I do drive it. But I recently found a Toyota pickup at the junkyard with the manual steering box; swapping that into my truck would eliminate the power-sapping power steering system. That means better mileage, and a little less weight up front. A little less plumbing, too. Without having made ANY modifications to my truck, my running average is 30mpg, a number the EPA never considered putting on its economy sticker. On one memorable run, I've managed 39.5mpg. That's the kind of performance people are buying the Cruze Eco for.
Well, why would you buy an Eco? If you could get that kind of mileage out of a 20-year-old hoopy, why would you bother with a brand-new, expensive car?
Why indeed? Like I said, no modifications. Just a change of habits. Slow down a tad, ease off the gas well in advance of the lights - if it's red, there's no point hurrying up to it, is there? And if you ease off the gas now and take your time getting there, maybe it'll be green by the time you do arrive, and you don't have to come to a complete stop. So you didn't have to throw away all that kinetic energy. Your average speed is exactly the same as it would have been - funny how that works, isn't it? You don't get to go very fast, but you never come to a stop, either.
Back in the day my Dad had a 1970 SAAB (anybody besides me remember when it was all caps?) 96 sedan. It looked a bit like a VW Beetle that got stretched out a little on a warm day. It wasn't fast, not especially stylish - a little weird to be honest. None of my friend's dads had one. But I loved that car. Dad really bowled me over when he casually mentioned that the SAAB averaged around 40mpg. This was at the time a good number for a new car, around 1980 lots of little Japanese econoboxes would deliver 40mpg, but not all of them, and they were brand new. The SAAB was ten years old at the time.
Not a big surprise in retrospect. SAAB was first and foremost an airplane builder. They knew how to make the most of their little car's meager 55hp. If you can't have big power, then don't give your modest power much resistance. It worked. Skinny tires, a smooth underbody, aerodynamically good shape overall. The low curb weight was in its favor, too.
Now cars are crazy heavy. They have lots of automatic everything, windows, locks, AC, etc. The mileage they deliver is abysmal. But when buyers keep complaining simultaneously about the high price of fuel, the sociopolitical folly of sending our money to foreign producers (I'm looking at you, Canada!), and the woeful thirst of modern cars, I can only shake my head in wonder.
The answer is right in front of you. It's your own hands, your own feet, your own head. The way you drive affects your fuel economy. Think about how you drive and you can make a difference right now without spending a single extra dime to make it happen. You could drive an older car and avoid the huge buy-in cost of a new one, and drive it in such a way as to make it a serious penny pincher. You could drive a new car in such a way as to make the extra investment for a hybrid a ridiculous waste of money.
You could drive a hybrid in such a way as to have to mark on your calendar a reminder to fuel it up once a month, whether it needs it or not. You know, just to keep the fuel fresh.
The automatic transmission is a symptom of larger issues: drivers abdicating responsibility for their own driving, their own in-the-moment decisions. It's like voicing displeasure with the government without having voted for any of the candidates. Don't like it? Too bad, you didn't put forth any effort in the decision making process.
It used to be a phrase that described putting forth the effort to make things work for your own good, and it's so appropriate here I can't pass up the opportunity:
Shift for yourself.
If you want the Eco model to really succeed, you're going to have to row your own. That is, the automatic is not your friend.
I've been saying this for years. Shifting isn't that hard. Two feet, two hands going, just like riding a bike. One foot goes down just as the other is coming up - just like riding a bike. Shifting while doing that and steering, it's all just a matter of practice. If you can walk and chew gum at the same time, you can probably handle a manual with little difficulty.
NOTE: If chewing and walking are beyond your reach, maybe driving isn't for you, either. There's a lot more then just working your jaws and your feet when you slide behind the wheel, so perhaps you should study up on the bus schedules.
I'm a sometime participant over at ecomodder.com, where the goal is distance at almost any cost. Well, not any cost. But you see people willing to make some sacrifices to really make their fuel dollars stretch. There's everything from the nearly-stock looking Ford F-250 that rings the bell at 28mpg, to the wildly modified Aerocivic, a Honda that's been transformed into a surreal 95mpg spaceship. These are vehicles that aren't using any kind of hybrid systems, they're delivering those mileages with modifications regular people can do. As they say, the most significant change you can make is to adjust the nut behind the wheel.
My average is down lately. Not driving my truck makes it perform poorly when I do drive it. But I recently found a Toyota pickup at the junkyard with the manual steering box; swapping that into my truck would eliminate the power-sapping power steering system. That means better mileage, and a little less weight up front. A little less plumbing, too. Without having made ANY modifications to my truck, my running average is 30mpg, a number the EPA never considered putting on its economy sticker. On one memorable run, I've managed 39.5mpg. That's the kind of performance people are buying the Cruze Eco for.
Well, why would you buy an Eco? If you could get that kind of mileage out of a 20-year-old hoopy, why would you bother with a brand-new, expensive car?
Why indeed? Like I said, no modifications. Just a change of habits. Slow down a tad, ease off the gas well in advance of the lights - if it's red, there's no point hurrying up to it, is there? And if you ease off the gas now and take your time getting there, maybe it'll be green by the time you do arrive, and you don't have to come to a complete stop. So you didn't have to throw away all that kinetic energy. Your average speed is exactly the same as it would have been - funny how that works, isn't it? You don't get to go very fast, but you never come to a stop, either.
Back in the day my Dad had a 1970 SAAB (anybody besides me remember when it was all caps?) 96 sedan. It looked a bit like a VW Beetle that got stretched out a little on a warm day. It wasn't fast, not especially stylish - a little weird to be honest. None of my friend's dads had one. But I loved that car. Dad really bowled me over when he casually mentioned that the SAAB averaged around 40mpg. This was at the time a good number for a new car, around 1980 lots of little Japanese econoboxes would deliver 40mpg, but not all of them, and they were brand new. The SAAB was ten years old at the time.
Not a big surprise in retrospect. SAAB was first and foremost an airplane builder. They knew how to make the most of their little car's meager 55hp. If you can't have big power, then don't give your modest power much resistance. It worked. Skinny tires, a smooth underbody, aerodynamically good shape overall. The low curb weight was in its favor, too.
Now cars are crazy heavy. They have lots of automatic everything, windows, locks, AC, etc. The mileage they deliver is abysmal. But when buyers keep complaining simultaneously about the high price of fuel, the sociopolitical folly of sending our money to foreign producers (I'm looking at you, Canada!), and the woeful thirst of modern cars, I can only shake my head in wonder.
The answer is right in front of you. It's your own hands, your own feet, your own head. The way you drive affects your fuel economy. Think about how you drive and you can make a difference right now without spending a single extra dime to make it happen. You could drive an older car and avoid the huge buy-in cost of a new one, and drive it in such a way as to make it a serious penny pincher. You could drive a new car in such a way as to make the extra investment for a hybrid a ridiculous waste of money.
You could drive a hybrid in such a way as to have to mark on your calendar a reminder to fuel it up once a month, whether it needs it or not. You know, just to keep the fuel fresh.
The automatic transmission is a symptom of larger issues: drivers abdicating responsibility for their own driving, their own in-the-moment decisions. It's like voicing displeasure with the government without having voted for any of the candidates. Don't like it? Too bad, you didn't put forth any effort in the decision making process.
It used to be a phrase that described putting forth the effort to make things work for your own good, and it's so appropriate here I can't pass up the opportunity:
Shift for yourself.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
The Hate Church: Update
Westboro Baptist Church is still offline.
I humbly submit that maybe God hate Westboro Baptist Church more than He hates the rest of us. Hey, Phelps - think on that. Did you ever wonder if maybe all the anger and resentment you generate is God's way of saying, "Back off."
Anonymous: Internet Hero of the Month.
I humbly submit that maybe God hate Westboro Baptist Church more than He hates the rest of us. Hey, Phelps - think on that. Did you ever wonder if maybe all the anger and resentment you generate is God's way of saying, "Back off."
Anonymous: Internet Hero of the Month.
Reading Out Loud
Do you have kids? Better yet, do you have kids young enough to enjoy stories read to them?
You might be surprised how young that is - or isn't. Visiting a sister in Massachusetts a few years ago, our vacation coincided with the release of one of the Harry Potter novels.
Well. We were well and truly hooked on the Potter novels, like about 40% of the entire human population. We all piled into our assorted vehicles and drove into New Hampshire to a nearby bookstore, and snapped up the very last one they had, an unreserved jacketed copy that no one wanted to pay extra for.
I paid extra. It was worth it. If nothing else, the hard slipcover protected the book during the rest of our trip.
So that first night, we all got back to my sister's place and sat down to read the first chapter. The boys were pretty young then, still single digits if I remember rightly. But we got through the first two chapters and had a blast. My sister wandered in and out, then in...then out...then in and stayed put. Her husband - we'll call him Steve (because his name is Steve) seemed vaguely disinterested at first, but when I closed the book for the evening, he looked a little disappointed.
The next night after supper was over and showers were finished and everybody was in pajamas, I opened the book and was about to start reading when..."Wait for me!" Steve came downstairs.
The next night, Steve brought the book to me and said, "You're reading tonight, right?"
So there you are. You aren't too old to be read to, not ever. Steve and my sister have kids of their own now, and I'm pretty sure they read to them.
If you ever wanted to be the star of a show but were certain you didn't have the gumption to actually get on stage, reading for kids makes you a star and the kids are a forgiving audience. You don't have to memorize lines when they're already written out for you.
Maybe you think your reading skills aren't that great. Again - kids don't mind it much. And after you've read out loud for a few months, you'll notice your reading is smoother, your delivery more polished. It helps a lot if the story you're reading is already familiar to you, but it's by no means necessary.
Doing different voices for the characters is huge fun. Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child's singularly distinctive FBI agent Aloysius Pendergast is a genteel New Orleans native, his drawl and subtlety are the height of manners of a different era, although Preston and Child's series of novels really aren't for young listeners. Rubeus Hagrid, the gigantic gamekeeper so familiar to Harry Potter fans, is a rough, gravelly voice from what is actually a gentle man.
I got to practice my assorted English accents reading the entire collection of James Herriot's works. Herriot's country vet career and barnyard workplace made him a verbal romp of inflections and tones. Granted, neither son remembers those stories very much, since I read those books out loud when they were just babies, trying to sleep and needing to hear a voice to help lull them down.
But when your kids start to get old enough to talk, and to show an interest in reading, why then is the time to really pull out the stops. Feel pretty good about your childhood? Read those kids stuff you read for yourself. I liked Henry Huggins and Homer Price, even though some of those stories were from a different time. Contemporary, not hardly. But they were fun nonetheless, so I couldn't get enough of them. And when it came time for my kids to get a good story, I found them at the library and read them out loud.
By the time my kids could read, I knew it was time to break out the big guns: Dr. Seuss, Theo LeSieg (same guy actually), the Berenstain Bears. All the books I muddled through as I made sense of those peculiar squiggly shapes, putting the letters together into sounds, the sounds together into words, I still had. Same copies, stashed away all those years. I still have some of them even now, waiting for grandkids. Maybe someday.
A kid in your lap as you read out loud can't help but see those words on the page. Follow along with your fingers, show him what the word is when you make the sound, he starts to pick it up. It's a head start, and that's always a good thing. Kids who are read to are more imaginative, more creative. They have greater patience for things that happen at a slower pace - have you ever tried to watch a single episode of Tiny Toon Adventures? If you aren't ADHD before the show, you will be by the time it's done. Everything is so fast, topics change so rapidly, it's no wonder so many kids have trouble focusing on one thing for any length of time. They've been trained not to.
So train your kids from a young age to be patient, to listen, to be creative. Turn off the TV and you be the star for a while, draw your family around you and share a good book. It's great fun, and the results pay off for years and years afterward.
You might be surprised how young that is - or isn't. Visiting a sister in Massachusetts a few years ago, our vacation coincided with the release of one of the Harry Potter novels.
Well. We were well and truly hooked on the Potter novels, like about 40% of the entire human population. We all piled into our assorted vehicles and drove into New Hampshire to a nearby bookstore, and snapped up the very last one they had, an unreserved jacketed copy that no one wanted to pay extra for.
I paid extra. It was worth it. If nothing else, the hard slipcover protected the book during the rest of our trip.
So that first night, we all got back to my sister's place and sat down to read the first chapter. The boys were pretty young then, still single digits if I remember rightly. But we got through the first two chapters and had a blast. My sister wandered in and out, then in...then out...then in and stayed put. Her husband - we'll call him Steve (because his name is Steve) seemed vaguely disinterested at first, but when I closed the book for the evening, he looked a little disappointed.
The next night after supper was over and showers were finished and everybody was in pajamas, I opened the book and was about to start reading when..."Wait for me!" Steve came downstairs.
The next night, Steve brought the book to me and said, "You're reading tonight, right?"
So there you are. You aren't too old to be read to, not ever. Steve and my sister have kids of their own now, and I'm pretty sure they read to them.
If you ever wanted to be the star of a show but were certain you didn't have the gumption to actually get on stage, reading for kids makes you a star and the kids are a forgiving audience. You don't have to memorize lines when they're already written out for you.
Maybe you think your reading skills aren't that great. Again - kids don't mind it much. And after you've read out loud for a few months, you'll notice your reading is smoother, your delivery more polished. It helps a lot if the story you're reading is already familiar to you, but it's by no means necessary.
Doing different voices for the characters is huge fun. Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child's singularly distinctive FBI agent Aloysius Pendergast is a genteel New Orleans native, his drawl and subtlety are the height of manners of a different era, although Preston and Child's series of novels really aren't for young listeners. Rubeus Hagrid, the gigantic gamekeeper so familiar to Harry Potter fans, is a rough, gravelly voice from what is actually a gentle man.
I got to practice my assorted English accents reading the entire collection of James Herriot's works. Herriot's country vet career and barnyard workplace made him a verbal romp of inflections and tones. Granted, neither son remembers those stories very much, since I read those books out loud when they were just babies, trying to sleep and needing to hear a voice to help lull them down.
But when your kids start to get old enough to talk, and to show an interest in reading, why then is the time to really pull out the stops. Feel pretty good about your childhood? Read those kids stuff you read for yourself. I liked Henry Huggins and Homer Price, even though some of those stories were from a different time. Contemporary, not hardly. But they were fun nonetheless, so I couldn't get enough of them. And when it came time for my kids to get a good story, I found them at the library and read them out loud.
By the time my kids could read, I knew it was time to break out the big guns: Dr. Seuss, Theo LeSieg (same guy actually), the Berenstain Bears. All the books I muddled through as I made sense of those peculiar squiggly shapes, putting the letters together into sounds, the sounds together into words, I still had. Same copies, stashed away all those years. I still have some of them even now, waiting for grandkids. Maybe someday.
A kid in your lap as you read out loud can't help but see those words on the page. Follow along with your fingers, show him what the word is when you make the sound, he starts to pick it up. It's a head start, and that's always a good thing. Kids who are read to are more imaginative, more creative. They have greater patience for things that happen at a slower pace - have you ever tried to watch a single episode of Tiny Toon Adventures? If you aren't ADHD before the show, you will be by the time it's done. Everything is so fast, topics change so rapidly, it's no wonder so many kids have trouble focusing on one thing for any length of time. They've been trained not to.
So train your kids from a young age to be patient, to listen, to be creative. Turn off the TV and you be the star for a while, draw your family around you and share a good book. It's great fun, and the results pay off for years and years afterward.
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