More new stuff is coming our way

By Dan Barber

We survived the end of our existence last year that was predicted on TV by the Mayans, Hopis and some ancient alien speculators who were sure we would all be sucked into a black hole, or the north and south poles of the earth would shift or we would be hit with a giant invisible asteroid. Remember December 21, 2012? It was the year I had a very darn good reason to delay Christmas shopping until Christmas Eve, or at least I thought I did.

This technology was used
by the local Native American
People for perhaps hundreds
of years at the Joshua
Tree National Park.

Many people are easily snookered into believing anything they read or watch on TV. “It said so in the newspaper, so it must be true… right?” Wrong, one of my favorite pastimes since I retired is scanning newspapers to find something stupid that someone wrote and then comment in the readers section about what I thought was wrong or slanted in some way. I’m currently watching the developments of that New York Times article that has come to the conclusion the Benghazi consulate attack was indeed the fault of a low budget obscure video and not at all because of terrorists. I think the White House and State Department should be very careful in cheering those “journalistic” findings.

I am very wary about any new technology, not because I’m old and afraid, it’s because I was recently no longer able to find cassette tapes for my tape recorder. I had to spend nearly a $100 bucks for a “digital” tape recorder! I’m pretty sure the technology of those “digital” tape recorders will have advanced enough in a couple of months where I can buy that same recorder for about $20.

I can’t bring myself to throw out the old recorder… it’s still good if I can just find some blank cassette tapes at a garage sale one day.

I recall when it cost over $500 for a VCR player. Now I can find a “Blue Ray 3-D” video player for about $50… videos went from Beta to VCR to DVD to Blue Ray to someplace in the clouds that I can now download to my smart phone, which by the way is to dang small for me to watch a movie on! I still buy DVDs when I’m allowed because my wife wants the Blue Ray High Definition. According to her and the movie studios it provides a better picture. I try to explain to my wife that neither one of us have good enough sight to tell the difference between a regular DVD and Blue Ray.

When I remember to turn on our wireless surround sound while watching a movie it just causes me to jump up during a movie to see who in the hell is messing around out in my front yard… it also causes the dog to start barking! My granddaughter thinks it would be a hilarious prank to buy one of those “clap on clap off” devices she could hook up to my TV while I’m watching football or baseball, which of course when I started clapping an excellent play my TV would mysteriously start going off and on!

I have made predictions in the past that have come true about some smart kid up in Silicon Valley inventing a new doodad that his marketing buddies will convince the public that they just have to have. So many people will camp out on a hard cold sidewalk for a week so they can be the first among their friends to own the new doodad that will be obsolete in just a very short period of time.

We also have a new year upon us… I’m not going to make any new year’s resolutions because tomorrow  would I forget what I resolved to do or not to do… that’s the question.

Happy New Year!

Hollywood, Entertain me don't bore me

By Dan Barber

I am a self-described dolt when it comes to culture. I don’t get foreign language movies, fine wine or impressionist art.

I just read in one of my newspapers that I just love to hammer when they get the story wrong or completely askew when they slant it too far left or right, that another foreign language film festival is going to take place in one of our nearby desert towns.

I just don’t understand the draw of watching a movie and having to read the subtitles all at the same time. When I spend the time watching a movie, I want to be entertained. I want some escapism I want to laugh, cry or to think. When I spend the time reading a book, I want the same thing… but putting the both of them together into a single activity is just exhausting for me.

Watching a breathtaking filmed scene is nice however if I’m reading the subtitle I could miss what the film maker is trying to show me… on the other hand, if I’m watching the film instead of reading the subtitle I could miss what the actors or narrator are saying.

I suppose a film festival gives our local TV and radio station “celebrities” and fans  a chance to mingle with movie stars, past, present and future. And it gives recent film school graduates a chance to showcase their “art.” I’m thinking that “Rocky 6” shown in France with French subtitles can be a leading candidate for foreign film of the year there!

Wine is also a mystery to me. People have given me wine as a gift, I thank them for their generosity, I then put the bottle in my wine rack because I’m hoping that one day this bottle of wine will be sold at auction for a million dollars to a rich person who really likes wine. This idea came to me one day when I was bored so I looked up one of the bottles of wine that I had stored on my wine rack for the last 20 years. I learned that particular bottle of wine was no longer available, I thought wow I own the last surviving bottle of that particular batch of wine! But was it because every bottle of that brand and year sold out, or was it the subject of a product recall that I received as a gift?

I have tried tasting wine, but it all tastes the same to me. It could be red, white pink or purple, wet or dry. I have never developed a taste for wine and couldn’t tell one from the other. When I was much younger we used to (illegally) buy a gallon of a wine for a couple of bucks, a gallon of apple cider then we would dump both gallons into a big pot over a fire at the beach with a handful of cinnamon sticks, bring it all to a boil and then drink it to warm us up on cold nights while "fishing."

I am also afraid to buy wine… when I go into a liquor store they have a bunch of different brands with different prices… I could accidently fork over a small fortune for a bottle of wine that could have come from the same batch that I bought years ago for $2 a gallon and I wouldn’t know the difference. I drink cheap beer and it is a no-brainer on what brand to buy.

Impressionist art can lead me to become a hoarder. In the past while cleaning out the attic of the house I just bought I came across a painting that I could not figure out how to view. If I hung it on the wall it might be upside down or inside out. My fear of throwing stuff out comes from the time I read a story about someone who bought what they thought was a painter’s drop cloth for a couple of bucks at a garage sale, but turned out to be a valuable piece of art that sold for millions of dollars at auction.

Now that I’m retired I try to create what I call yard art… mostly because my wife won’t allow me to display my work in the house, so it stays in the yard or garage. Maybe one day my grandkids can sell it at auction or take it to the dump.

It’s time for another beer and maybe a nap.

Revisting The Oasis of Mara

Article and photos by Dan Barber

I live in the City of Twentynine Palms, California. Before it became Twentynine Palms it was known as the Oasis of Mara… I think that I prefer the Oasis of Mara name because it conjures up beauty with a mix of desert romance.

Creative use of 29!

Note, the local preference is to spell out Twentynine as a single word without hyphenation… and many local citizens abhor using the numerals 29 to describe where they live, unless some creativity can be added to the title.

The name “29 Palms” just causes some people that come here to start counting palm trees along the streets to see if it’s truly named for its number of palm trees. While counting they may miss some of the beauty. 

Some people who have come through my adopted town have attempted to attach their own view of this place by calling it “29 Stumps” or shortened simply to “The Stumps.” Legend hints that the Oasis of Mara became 29 Palms when a surveyor came upon the oasis and counted the 29 California Palms surrounding encampment of the Chemehuevi People… this is also probably where this group of native people received the name “29 Palms Band of Chemehuevi.

The original Oasis of Mara

New Indian Casino now overlooks
the original Oasis of Mara
and Chemehuevi burial ground.

Since the beginning of Twentynine Palms it has always been associated with the military in some way. Following World War I it became the home to many veterans who suffered from the effects of mustard gas on their lungs used in that war. At the onset of World War II the military built an air base to train glider pilots here. Then with the Korean War the United States Marine Corps took over the former Army base titled, “Condor Field” to create a Live Fire Marine Corps training base. The name is now the Marine Corps Air Ground Combat Center, Twentynine Palms.

Chemehuevi burial ground.

Business people and city leaders have tried to coax people to visit this desert hideaway by coming up with slogans like “A beautiful desert oasis” or “An Oasis of Murals” another comes to mind that was once tried “The Gateway to the Mojave”… What’s wrong with the original “Oasis of Mara?”

James Cagney's Desert Getaway

So many people have come to this place and at first sight think of it as a dusty desert town. We do have a lot of dust here, but there is also a lot of beauty if you look for it. I’ve heard some people exclaim that “there’s nothing to do here!” Sometimes doing nothing is a blessing. I can spend hours just sitting and enjoying the magic of nature. This place is a dream scape where creative people can create with very little distraction. There are many writers, visual artists and performing artists to include musicians, actors and dancers who choose to visit or even live here. James Cagney a very successful actor in his time picked Twentynine Palms to build a small home where he could escape Hollywood to study painting with one of the old time artists who lived in the desert.

Me doing nothing.

U2 used the Harmony
Motel sign for an album
cover.

I have seen famous people walking down the street here without anyone taking notice. People come here to escape the big cities. I have run into people who want big box shopping built in the area. I’m rather proud of the fact that I have to drive nearly 20 miles to get to big box store of any kind. It is an outing when my wife and I have to drive more than 50 miles to get to a mall. I tell people that if they want to be a mall rat, then they should move to a big city… because we only have desert rats out here. 

Because we are a military town we do have an abundance of tattoo parlors, massage parlors, and barber shops, which are always full because Marines have to get haircuts just about every other day (disclaimer, my Granddaughter's boyfriend's father owns all but one barber shop in town). A few years ago one of our successful Inn keepers and a city booster suggested that all of the tattoo parlor owners get together and create a tattoo parlor colony and market their services world-wide. Tattoos have became more common place on civilians then on military men and women due to restrictions placed on them for the promotion of good order and discipline.

Mural honoring the Marines in Operation Iraqi Freedom.

It’s probably human nature to try to put a stamp of ownership on something or some place instead of just trying to blend into the environment. When I see the city lights of urban sprawl from a mountain top I cringe. When I see the hi-rise hotels and city lights of Honolulu I wonder if the weight of all that development will eventually sink Oahu below the ocean.

Looks like the petroglyph of a long
ago native citizen of the area
chasing a rabbit.

I hope my adopted home never changes because I love the solitude of the desert and the way it can lead people to become creative. One of the things I used to tell my military co-workers at the Marine Corps base was, “The longer we have you here in the desert, the easier it is to entertain you.” Come for a visit and check out our murals, sculptures along with the multitude of art galleries or natural desert beauty.

Is this a painted mural or an
artist at work with a bull
looking on? Stop by to
check it out.

Big Horn Sheep are also residents of the area. But these
guys won't scramble away from the photographer.

Maybe Edvard Munch got the inspiration for his painting
"The Scream" from this rock at the Joshua Tree National Park.

We have a lot of sculptures to entertain
and to try and guess what they mean.

Coyotes are a sight in our
neighborhoods

We are known for having
a lot of sunshine.

I would hate to run into a real one of
these.

Maybe the artist was inspired for this creation from alien
crops circles.

The next generation is moving on

By Dan Barber

                       

Its official my oldest granddaughter, Haleigh, is a “Proud Army Wife.” Her grandmother was a Proud Navy Wife for 40 years… 20 years of active duty with moves averaging every 2 years, and another 20 years as a Proud (Civilian) Navy Wife… without all of the moves.

Opening wedding gifts

My granddaughter is a born desert rat and thinks that her world revolves around this small dusty desert town where she has lived her entire life. She will be moving with her new husband up to Seattle where he is stationed. Haleigh really doesn’t want to talk about leaving because it makes her sad. She was looking at photos of military housing up there recently and really wants to live in one of the large nice looking homes on the base. I explained to her that she’d better get her husband busy in trying to get promoted if she wanted to live in one of those houses.

Traditional cake in the face
exchange

I could be wrong though. When I was stationed in Adak, Alaska years ago I was not allowed to take possession of my base house until the day my family arrived on the remote Aleutian island. My barracks roommate was also expecting his family to arrive the same day. We agreed that we would move all of his stuff from the barracks to his house first we would then move my things. His house was a typical old small single level dwelling with mixed matched furniture with a carport. We then took my stuff to the house I was assigned. It was a two-story house on the beach with attached garage. It had 4 upstairs bedrooms and a den off the kitchen downstairs. The furnishings were all brand new. I immediately called the housing office to explain that I was assigned to officers housing. They said nope, I was told it was the house assigned to me. My roommate was furious. Having an attached garage in Alaska was very important because I didn’t have to dig my car out of the snow before heading to work.

Cake in the face

I have spent quite a bit of time at Army posts during my career, and I can attest that they do have nice homes and really nice barracks in many places, but the Navy is trying to catch up with the other services now, in San Diego they have a modern high-rise barracks with ocean views… but some Sailors take ocean views pretty much for granted for obvious occupational reasons.

When I was attending the Defense Information School at Fort Benjamin Harrison, Indiana I lived in a really nice old red brick building. My room was comfortable with cable TV and a common kitchen I shared with other residents. I even had maid service. I could leave my bed a mess and when I returned from class in the afternoon my room would be cleaned and the bed made. I never experienced that in a Navy barracks.

I hope my granddaughter gets over being homesick which I’m sure she will experience, and learn to enjoy her new adventures. I spent a good deal of time being away from family and being homesick, but I would not trade my adventures and world travel for anything.

Her dusty desert town will always be here to welcome her home, but I like to remind her that a place does not make a community, people make the community and home is not a place, home is a state of mind.

Where has the time gone?

By Dan Barber

Since the great August floods here in the desert I have been really busy until now… the flood waters have receded, the desert alligators are no longer nipping at my arm pits, the house is repaired, cleaned and almost decorated for my granddaughter Haleigh’s and new grandson-in-law Anthony’s Wedding Reception/Christmas and Farewell party set for tomorrow evening.

Potato salad and deviled eggs are complete and on ice… actually in plastic tubs with the lids being held tight with cases of beer and sodas to keep the desert critters out of them. It’s colder outside right now then it is in my refrigerator.

In the morning I will put the turkey and ham in the oven, prepare the bean dip and nacho cheese for snacking. With others bringing more food we should have a good time. My granddaughter is afraid that she will probably be crying during the entire party because she is moving away from her family here and up to Seattle with her new husband… and of course, the older I get the more emotional I have become so between the two of us we will probably be using up all of the tissue paper.

My granddaughter has had me stringing Christmas lights for the past week and sometimes taking them down and putting them back up again… according to her, the right way! They are all clear white so I’m not ever taking them down they are now my official porch lights, sidewalk lights, patio and courtyard lights. I’m half-way afraid I will get a ticket tomorrow night from the City’s code enforcement man. We do have an ordinance out here in the Mojave Desert prohibiting light pollution! The only kids we have trick or treating out here is our grandkids, because our house is too dark and we have no street lights. But every year grandma has to buy bags and bags of candy in the hopes that a horde of kids will be coming to our door. My wife gets mad at me for eating too much of the candy and my daughter gets mad at me for trying to load up the grandkids with too much of the candy. My routine with the grandchildren is to fill up some plastic sandwich bags with some treats before sending them home… nothing wrong with that is there?

As this granddaughter is the oldest of nine grandkids I’m sure I have many more weddings to go before I can rest! It seems like yesterday that Haleigh was born at the very hospital where I worked and where I recently retired from this year. Until just a few months ago I had no idea that Anthony and Haleigh were dating, even though Haleigh lives across the street from her grandmother and I and Anthony lives right behind our house putting her grandmother and I right in the middle. To top that off, I have known and worked with Anthony’s father for several years. I guess I’m just a clueless old grandpa who has trouble hanging Christmas lights.

My back is aching and I’m really tired, but I figured that I had better get this one more chore done before my head hits the pillow tonight and I have a nightmare about being tangled up in Christmas lights, tomorrow is going to come real early. Maybe I will be allowed to take Sunday off.

What I didn’t get for Christmas

By Dan Barber

When I was six years old I asked Santa for a sled… When Christmas morning arrived I was bitterly disappointed because Santa mixed up my request. Instead of a sled I got a pair of skis!

I lived with my family in Iowa at the time and I knew even at 6-years old that Iowa didn’t have any mountains where I could learn to ski! We had miles of corn fields, but not even a large enough hill as far as I could tell where I could use my new set of skis. We did have small hills that would work great for a sled though!

To add to my disappointment that year I had begun to suspect that my parents were responsible for my Christmas gifts, not Santa! Mom was always so excited about Christmas and us kids getting gifts she would always breakdown and ask Dad to ask Santa to give us at least one early gift if we were good. I kind of suspected that wasn’t an approved Santa rule, but I played along anyway because I always tried to be good so I could get an early present.

But on this particular Christmas morning after my Father, seeing my sad face about not getting a sled reassured me that we would put those skis to good use.

I had come to suspect that my Dad wanted me and my two brothers… no sisters or baby brother yet, to be athletes or bronc-busters because the previous summer he obtained two really mean untrained Shetland ponies. He told us that we could train those horses to give us rides. Our backyard became the hangout for all of the neighborhood boys. We would lasso one of the ponies and drag it to the picnic table and take turns trying to ride those mean horses. When we were thrown, which was all of the time, those horses would try to kick us, stomp on us or try to bite us before we could scramble back up on to the picnic table! We never did train those ponies to give gentle rides like we were used to getting at petting zoos or carnivals. But Dad did convert our large garage into a horse barn to keep the ponies in during the winter.

That “barn” also became a great play area for us because we had hay to keep us warm during the winter and for the ponies to eat and straw on the dirt floor for the ponies to poop on. One of my jobs was to clean out the horse poop and pile it up next to the garage or barn so Grandpa could use it to fertilize his plants.

That “barn” also became an important part of my Christmas story.

To remedy the “no mountain to ski on in Iowa” my Dad started building a “ski ramp” from the roof of the barn to the back yard… he worked on it every afternoon after work and for a couple of weekends until he finally had it finished. My Mom was really worried about the dangerous looking thing in our back yard, but Dad reassured her not to worry because he would try it out before letting us kids play on it. Keep in mind that my Dad had never skied a day in his life, but he figured that he’d seen it done on TV and it didn’t look all that hard. Our Mother had totally gone grey haired by the time she was 30 years old. Dad said a lot of people go prematurely grey, Grandma said she went grey because of our Dad and us boys! By the way, Mom’s favorite color of hair dye was red.

Dad shoveled snow on our ski ramp and packed it down, I thought it looked kind of dangerous too. But after Dad piled on what he thought was the right amount of snow, he carefully surveyed his work, told us kids to stand back then he put a ladder up to the eve of the barn and carefully climbed up to the peak of the garage. He sat down and strapped on the skis. These skis were designed for really beginner kids from the State of Iowa… no ski boots, no bindings, no ski poles! Dad tested them to make sure they were properly attached to his feet, he then stood up and immediately turned around back wards and slid off of our barn roof and landed in the snow covered pony poop up next to the barn.

We kids were really concerned, we’d never seen anything like that before, Mom was really strange that day she was laughing and crying at the same time. Dad carefully got up, brushed the snow and pony poop from his backside and limped into the house and refused to allow Mom to call the doctor. But, before going to his easy chair, he did tell us to stay away from that dang ramp because it was too dangerous for us to play on.

We boys spent the rest of that Saturday trying to nail those skis onto a box so we could build a useable sled.

I didn’t get what I had asked for that Christmas I got something much better, knowing that I had loving Parents who really cared.

An early Christmas gift for you all… Merry Christmas!

I’m really not old-fashioned, I’m just old

By Dan Barber

I recently read in the news that many of us “baby-boomers” are trying to relive the 60s. What’s wrong with that? Many generations have “borrowed” something from previous generations… it is just called “retro” which according to the dictionary means a style from a previous time that has been revived.

My daughter, who was born in the mid 70’s recently told me that some of the clothes that she buys for her teenaged daughters are the same style, pattern and colors that she wore as a teenager. When I have suggested to her a source in the past where she can get shoes or clothes on sale, I’m told, no, those shoes, clothes or underwear are not stylish enough for her kids to wear. I’m clueless when it comes to style! It is the main reason that I never buy clothes, shoes or underwear for anyone except myself! It is much easier to hand the grandkids a card with money in it so they can buy their own “retro” fashions.

I see children today walking down the street thinking that they are really fashionable with their spiked Mohawk multi-colored hair wearing a black trench coat with the outside temperature here in the Mojave Desert hovering around 110 degrees in the shade… I think holy-cow an alien from a planet whose average daytime temperature must hover around 220 degrees!

Then there are the gangsta wanabes, rappers or real hoodlums who wear bagging pants with the waist hanging about knee level. They also think they might look tough, but in fact they are just easier for law enforcement or fans to catch in a foot chase. Every generation is tagged with some kind of phrase or word to describe them, if I was to label this generation in the future, I’m afraid the only phrase that comes to mind is the “doo fuss generation.”

I would also probably have to label myself as a doo fuss  because when I was a teenager, the style I was wearing was a tight white t-shirt and jeans with the cuffs about 6 inches above the sneakers with any neon-colored socks, the hair style was a "flat top with fenders" I saw this disturbing image in a recent old home movie! By the time I graduated from high school, the fashion was bell-bottomed pants… maybe that’s why I joined the Navy, because of the trousers.

My favorite satellite radio channel plays music from the 60s, when my daughter borrows my vehicle I find the radio channel reset to the music from the 80s!

I swore when I was younger I would not bore anyone with stories from the “good old days,” but guess what I sometimes catch myself boring my grandkids and others with stories from the “good old days!” I only do this with love, because I am trying to explain an example of why they shouldn’t or should take some course of action… maybe I should just make them read some of Aesop’s Fables!

Don’t call me an old-fashioned man; just call me “Retro-Man”… maybe I’ll get a tight XXX-Large white t-shirt with that stenciled across the belly.

I need a day off from retirement

By Dan Barber

The summer flash flood damage has been repaired; the old popcorn coated ceilings have disappeared and a new texture coat applied along with a coat of paint… thanks to my daughter for her death defying balancing act on top of some wiggly ladders. The two-year old grandson was there telling her, “be careful Mommy,” which just goes to show that even a two-year old knows the danger of heights!

I managed to get the walls all painted and new vertical blinds installed on the windows to protect the neighbors from a frightful sight.

Now the process of re-hanging photos and other do-dads and sorting through my movie collection is underway to restore the proper alphabetical order on the shelves so the grandchildren can find the title they are searching for at grandpa’s free video rental service. I thought that once I retired I would have some time to view some of the movies that I had purchased months ago and partake in movie marathon viewing of old favorites… maybe one of these days.

By some miracle, this year’s Christmas shopping for the nine grandchildren has been completed for some time… in year’s past I was fighting crowds of other procrastinating shoppers up until Christmas Eve day. Next on the to-do list, is to host a wedding reception for the oldest granddaughter and new grandson in-law, which necessitated the recent rush on the ceiling rehab. Then come January, I will have to pack up my granddaughter’s belongings in the back of my pick up and hook up a car trailer to haul her car and all of her stuff up to Seattle where her fiancé is stationed with the U.S. Army.

She vacillates from giddy to sad because she is anxious to start a new adventure, but at the same time reluctant to give up her desert home. Some would find moving to the green beauty of the Pacific Northwest out of a desert landscape to be a blessing. However, this grandchild has always hated change of any sort, and she absolutely loves the beauty of the desert landscape where she grew up. Listening to “29 Palms” a song featuring our little community, in Robert Plant's 1993 Fate of Nations LP, can maybe give someone a feeling for this place.

As soon my wife and I learned about our granddaughter’s planned marriage we purchased a coffee cup for her that announces that she is a “Proud Army Wife!”

We were just putting the finishing touches on our recent home rehab work when the granddaughter stopped by to survey the work her grandmother and I have done to the house. She was scanning the living room like she was missing something, I asked, “what are you looking for?” She replied, “Nothing, I’m just thinking about how I’m going to decorate in here.” This translates to more work for me. Maybe I’ll get around to watching those new summer DVD releases from last year sometime in February of next year. By the time spring comes around I will have completed a full year of retirement… I need a vacation like I used to take when I was on active duty. Once I took a week off and went bowling everyday. Another time, I took a week off to watch the grass grow in my yard… that is exactly what I did. I pulled out a lawn chair and sat there everyday for a week watching the grass growing and the kids at play.

There are advantages to just sitting and thinking about stuff. Out here in the desert there are very few distractions which is probably why there are an abundance of creative type people living out here. We have a lot of full-time and part-time artists, writers, and musicians and film makers, some famous in their chosen craft and others are working at becoming famous. Of course we do have our share of those citizens who require some sort of chemical to get them through their day. I have warned people at my work that if they see an individual dancing around in the parking lot of the local grocery store and they don’t hear any music playing, to stay away from that individual or stand back and enjoy the performance artist at work.

I chose to live out here in the desert because it’s where my work was located, then my children grew up here, grandchildren were all locally born desert rats and I really enjoy the solitude of a quiet life. In the summer I can turn out all of the house lights lay in my pool at night and enjoy the breathtaking view of the universe while thinking about how lucky I am. Come to think about it, maybe I had to retire so I could get back to the work of living life.

What have I done?

By Dan Barber

Six months ago my wife and I decided to scrape the popcorn finish off the ceilings in our home… a huge mess. Scraping the stuff off was easier then I thought. However, as easy it was, with a long pole attached to the ceiling scraper thing, I then contemplated my living room ceiling with concern because it is 20-feet high and I have this fear of heights.

I spent several hours these last six months, since retiring, staring at that dang ceiling trying to figure out how I could retexture it with another attachment to a long pole. If I placed my 12-foot high step ladder in the middle of the room and stood at the very top of this ladder in mid-air and stuck my hands up like I was being held up, I still couldn’t touch the ceiling. I pretty much decided that I could live with a bare patched ceiling. That was not to be however, my oldest granddaughter announced that she was getting married and while looking up at my bare patched ceiling she stated that she wished to hold her wedding reception in grandpa and grandma’s home… the pressure was on to come up with a solution.

All of my grandchildren know that I have a very hard time saying “no” to them. When this particular granddaughter was 3-years old and the only grandchild at the time she and her grandmother decided that I would buy this house with the really high living room ceiling and a really cool area in the courtyard for a play area. The play area is now a heart-shaped patch of verbena, thanks to grandma, in honor of a grand daughter’s wedding reception.

We have done a lot of living in this house and a lot of repairs, we’ve seen three flash floods come through the house, and because I am too cheap to pay someone to do the cleanup and repairs I have managed to take care of everything myself, with the help of friends, neighbors and Mike. Strong winds once blew the shingles off our roof; I saved a bunch of money by ordering the delivery of asphalt shingles, removing what was left of the roof with the help of my sons, and making numerous dump runs in my pickup to get rid of the old roof. I wore out the seat of my pants on that job because I had to scoot around up there a lot because I was too scared to stand up (the fear of height thing). The people at the dump still remember me and my wife by sight whenever we take stuff there to dump. I made sure that I put on shingles rated by the big box home improvement store to be guaranteed to last 30-years, hopefully well past my own expiration date. I finally had a great idea after our last flood this summer. I got some of my grandkids together to fill some sandbags and placed them 2-bags high, along our back fence to hopefully hold back next summer’s flash flood waters.

My wife and I even decided to redesign our very small kitchen to add on a narrow pantry and new cabinets. It was then that we discovered that under old kitchen cabinets was burn scared walls. Again, we overcame the challenge and obtained new cabinets that we installed ourselves… sure some of the wall and floor tiles are a bit off, but I just mark that up to my artsy side and call it rustic.

I finally figured out how to retexture the high living room ceiling. I got my daughter Kimberly, the new bride’s mother, to climb up on the scaffolding to spray the texture on to the ceiling. I did try to get up on the scaffolding myself, but because my shaking caused the scaffolding to vibrate uncontrollably it was deemed too dangerous. My wife said I turned beet red and was sweating buckets. The texture is on and now I can use a really long pole with a roller on it to paint the ceiling… but it may have a rustic look because when I tape the paint brush to the really long pole to cut in the edges, the paint job might get a bit sloppy.