Sep 28, 2014

DSM to Fran

We visited California this summer, chunking it into a three course of San Francisco, Yosemite and wine country.  Flight was Frontier, a no frills bird with a quick 30 minute stop in Denver.  Peanuts cost extra, naps and drool are free.





Sep 11, 2014

Dueling Thunder Closets

Okay, I get it, nobody likes my idea of combining two small bathrooms into one.  Loss of privacy and pooping people on dueling side-by-side toilets are top concerns.  Resale value drop, too.

Let us talk privacy.

In a bathroom, there are three sketchy zones where you don't want other humans seeing your junk:  toilet, shower and tub.

The two toilets would be completely private, drywall between them, fans to vent that nasty fecal air.  Standing by the sink, you'd see doors.  Sitting on the throne, you'd see walls, door and Car and Driver:


Sep 10, 2014

Blowing Toilets

Waiting for a gray rug to boat in from India, then Pigtails' room is a wrap.

Updated her walls from meconium orange to light lavender.
Removed poorly designed wooden closet compartments and replaced with movable wire racks.
Ripped the carpet and whitewashed the creaky oak floor, added a dresser, mirror and nightstand.
The dresser was Curls' idea, if up to me we'd shove all that crap in the closet.

Aug 19, 2014

Hello

Long time no post, here's a quickie on what's new with B&P.

A few of you tracked our California trip over on Facebook.  We visited San Francisco, Yosemite and wine country near Vacaville.  San Fran was nice, but they got nothin' on Des Moines on the foodie front. 


My favorite in the Bay Area was renting a Tesla and driving the electro-beast over to Muir woods to hike 1,000 year old Red Woods.


I'll post more trip pics later, we covered a lot of ground:  Highway 1 drive to the Pacific at Half Moon Bay, a multi-mile hike through Yosemite to Vernal Falls, stealth stop at Lake Tahoe and a ridiculous hilltop vineyard stay near Vacaville.  If you book hotels and have never done airBnB.com, please try it.  Curls did a great job finding rental homes in Noe Valley and wine country.






Pigtails is 12 now and has had the same bedroom decor since poopy diapers.  Speaking of, the walls were meconium orange. 



She wanted to pull the carpet, we found the floor half painted to cover pet stains.  She asked for more fluffy colors and less cat whiz, here's where we're at:


She has volleyball practice tonight, hence the spanx.  Working on installing a modular closet system now.  The box says "EZ 15 Minute Install," the instructions are 30 pages deep and come with a sack full of 50 nuts and drywall hooks.  It'll be a two day project.

Off to pick her up from practice now, leave a comment and tell me what's new!

-Beard

Jul 14, 2014

Code Brown

Sure, everyone knows the benefits of working out.  It makes you feel better, fat pants get loose and you can make that guilt-free third trip through the orange chicken buffet.

However, there is a dark side to running that often goes unspoken.  

Saturday mornings, several of us meet for a 12+ mile long run on the Johnston trail.  Greg, Tony, Jenny, and Patrick joined me last weekend for a sweaty 7:00 am, 90% humidity grease trot.  I fell back at mile eight due to a code brown.  I wrote them the following today to let them know what happened:

Mile 8 is when the problems started. A near-miss on a shart signaled it was time to slow down. Hopefully, it was a false alarm and the backside burp would disperse.

Nearly caught back up with the group when another round let loose. Like a warship dropping depth charges on a German u-boat, this second attack was primal and not playing games. Slowing to a walk and squeezing cheeks to contain the brownie batter, I eyed both sides of the trail looking for an emergency landing strip. The recent flooding meant normally dry woods were a foot deep in swamp. Waddling and scanning for high ground free of bramble, there was a small dry spot between a floral rose bush and a sick tree infected with ash borer bugs.

Hovering over a toadstool like a Chinook, the hydraulic bomb bay doors opened. I could hear a flock of mosquitos hovering inches away, they buzzed like tiny quadrocopter drones. Their bloody beaks had a lock on my glutes, and they were hungry. As I laid a curly pile of DQ, they commenced their strike on my albino parts.

I counted 37 stings in 90 seconds.

Realized I wasn't more than a few feet off the trail, I glanced up and there was little barrier between the active code brown and bikers. Clean-up in aisle 7, the first leaf I reached for had little poky needles on the underside. Bomb bay doors still open, I bear-walked a few feet over and grabbed different random leaves, praying for no poison ivy or a mother biking by pulling toddler on a tag-a-long.

Limped back to the cars, Jenny was waiting with a sack of chocolate chip cookies to celebrate Tony's birthday.

The end.