Everyone Can Relax. I've Found A Car.

Michelle called as I was driving home from work with an overdue report on the state of our 2005 Honda Pilot, which I took to our mechanic about three weeks ago for an assessment.

I knew with it having 264,000 miles on it that it was likely there was some work that needed doing, but what I got was a list not unlike what Ray Stantz delivered as he drove the proto-Ecto 1 up to the fire station.

Here's what's been done:

Front and rear brakes replaced.

Some front bearings and bushings replaced.

Transmission flushed.

What needs to be done:

Wheel alignment.

Likely four new tires.

Then returned to the mechanic for the following:

Timing belt kit, including water pump.

More front end bushings and bearings.

Rear shocks.

So far, only about $1,300, which seems a lot for a car that old, but I've been watching the used car market and that seems like a bargain if we can squeeze another 50,000 or so miles out of the thing.

Still, I should probably get my tools and cigarettes out to see if I can do some of the work myself.

TRAPPED.

 

The Main Dog got herself trapped in one of our barstools this afternoon. I have no idea how long she was there, but there she was when I got home from work at about a quarter to six.

We have to be gentle with her. She's sixteen years old, and partly blind.

That doesn't mean she's not a dorcus, though.

Way too Late at the Movies: Driving Miss Daisy

 

I heard tell that this film, at the end, is kind of a tear-jerker. And I was PERFECTLY FINE until I looked at Michelle, crying as she watched Hoke feed Miss Daisy her Thanksgiving pie. Then I fell apart.

Thinking of her Mom, of course, and those last few months as she dealt with her own dementia. Damn, I didn't need to see that look on Michelle's face again.

But the movie is good. Interestingly light on overt displays of prejudice, but we knew it was sewn into every bit of the story so it didn't need to be overt; it was just how things were done.

I'd like to say we've come a long way since the '40s and '50s into the 2020s, but I'd be a rotten liar. The racism is still there, perhaps more overt now as we're not at all as inured to it as the nation once was. It's ugly.

I *Love* Sprinklers

Came home to this tonight.

Well, not necessarily this, but at least part of it, lying accusingly on the driveway. So we likely had a gusher for at least a part of the hour this circuit ran last night or this morning.

I shouldn't complain. It was easy to replace. The hardest part was driving to Ace Hardware to get the part. I had hoped I had one in my box o' parts out in the shed, but alas.

I also knew that replacing it now was going to be the best deal. Lately I've been putting off little repairs like this, but that's a bad habit to get into. So I had the part. Five minutes with a shovel and the new part was in and now I don't really have to think about it anymore.

Except I noticed as I was testing this circuit that the circuit that feeds the raspberry patch popped a seam. Good news is that one is aboveground. But it had run for an hour with a gusher part of the way through it, so it's really muddy back there. That'll have to wait until things dry out.

AI Continues Slopping

This one made me snort-laugh:

I didn't even bother with the text. The thought of Monanio really consumed all of my brain.

AI of course has opened cheaper avenues into ragebait. People comment on the slop, the sloppers earn income, and all is wrong with the world.

This one is worse, but in a subtler way:

I don't know what's worse: the thought of both Peppermint Patty and Charlie Brown serving in 'Nam, or Snoopy's Bugs Bunny ears.

FIRST CONTACT

From Isaac:

Good Morning,

I have officially arrived at the Provo MTC! Yesterday was drop off day and day one of my in person MTC experience. It was a good full day to say the least.

Day one was really closer to day 1/2, as my district's arrival time wasn't until 1:00pm. Upon arrival I was given all of the MTC swag, shown my room, and then promptly left to my own devices. I am pretty much settled in, but the beds here do make me miss the scout camp mattresses...and the same goes for the showers. All in all, however, this first small taste of the MTC has been a positive and spiritual experience.

Unfortunately, there isn't much to report, seeing as we are only in day two and today is P-Day, but I would like to leave you all with this:

While our natural instincts are to focus on our own doubts, fears, and insecurities, I've found that as I redirect my attention to the needs of others, those same doubts and fears are diminished. We need to lose ourselves in our service to others, and let the Lord take care of the rest.

I love you all and miss you all dearly,

Elder Davidson

District 12-D (minus Elders Adam's, Monahan, and Ware)

It's Official

 

And he's gone. Plopped into a parking garage at the MTC, a hug for Mom, a few photos snapped by a missionary practicing Japanese, and we were off.

Almost home now. Happy for him but feeling like the car is a little empty.

It's (Almost) Official

We're lazing about in a hotel in Ogden, getting ready to drop Isaac off at the MTC. He has to be there to meet his district (and Elder Palmer, his companion, with whom he has merrily klonked heads for the week of home MTC). It's odd to think the time has come, and I think this morning the import of the moment is hitting Isaac a little hard. He's been subdued and quiet.

Or maybe just tired from the day before. We did a session at the Logan Temple, then had a $170 dinner at Maddox in Perry before we stopped in Ogden for the night.

Side note: The Logan Temple was much more modern inside than I was anticipating for a Pioneer-era temple. I don't know exactly what I was expecting, but I certainly know the Idaho Falls Temple has survived remodeling efforts with much more of its 1940s Art Deco intact.

More to come . . .

Another Little Project Done

Michelle painted the stairwell and the stair rail last year. Just got the rail back up today. And I did *not* use drywall screws to fasten it to the wall, thankyouverymuch.

I did this scientifically, since she puttied over the holes in the drywall as she painted. I measured the basement rail height, figured out which end of the rail went where, and then with the assistance of Isaac, busily preparing to depart for the MTC today, got the rail put up and back into the actual studs.

That's one of those things you do when you're taking a much-needed day off work for a trip to Utah but need to burn off some nervous energy before the trip begins.

AI: Used Car Writing

More fuel here for folks like me who don't want AI to write or think for us.

It's the automated rush to mediocrity that bugs me. I mean, I can be a mediocre writer on my own; I don't need technological help to be so.

The worst part: Most AI acolytes don't care. Writing is a chore to be taken off a checklist, not anything to be done to help increase one's abilities or make their brains work.

I get it -- writing is hard. I've been working on a novel for years. Reading is one thing, writing is completely different. It's like saying "Hey, I like cars. I can drive them. I'm going to build one myself." Two completely different worlds.

But this AI writing for us isn't us writing, it's us going to the used car lot and buying the blandest piece of machinery on the lot. . .