Once More Around the Bend

That’s two floods and counting. Last night I went downstairs to check on our impromptu drain cover (a sink drain cover flipped upside down) only to find, to my dismay, that the even more water was leaking through the back door. I had gone down in time enough to stop it from spreading as far this time. Stacy ran down stairs to the sound of my shouted exclamation, “Crap!” Yeah, I’m pretty boring when it comes to curses. Even though it had not spread as far, it seemed like there was more water this time. I was about to open the door to unclog the drain when Stacy serendipitously stopped me. She went outside via the deck door to unclog the drain in case we let more water in by opening the basement door. Lucky she did, because the water was backed up about six inches from the ground, a good four inches above the bottom of the door.


My hotels and diner were ruined! And how did all these people get into my basement?
Stacy unclogged the drain and opened the door. Crisis averted, right? Wrong. After the water got about an inch below the bottom of the door, it stopped draining. The drain wasn’t clogged, though. While I was busily siphoning water out of the carpet, Stacy went into the laundry room across the basement. “Water!” was the next thing I heard. It turns out our sump pump had stopped pumping sump. The three foot well it was in had filled to the brim and just started leaking out onto the floor. My heart sank. It looked like we were in for a nasty flood no matter what we did. The carpet cleaner could only siphon about a gallon of water in five minutes. With the drain and the sump backing up, there was no way we could keep up.


Artist’s depiction of Scott’s broken sump pump
Stacy used the hose attachment to start draining the sump well while I put in an emergency call to her dad. We were sure he would have some good advice. Unfortunately, he could suggest little else beyond getting a new pump and a shop vac as soon as possible. I figured that I’d have to take the pump out to figure out what to buy anyway, so I reached into the water and pulled on the handle. Just as I jostled it, it kicked on. Water began draining out of the sump well faster than you could say, “It works!” which is what I said. As soon as the sump well started draining, so did the back drain. Apparently, it routed straight to the sump well. I also discovered where the sump pump drains, which has me slightly concerned. The steps down to our basement are dug into the earth and reinforced with concrete. This leaves a space of about four feet between the rest of the ground and the deck above. That space is filled with white landscaping rocks and our air conditioner. There is also a pvc pipe jutting from the wall that drains directly into the rocks. As I was working on the carpet after the sump pump crisis, I heard that pipe draining. It turns out the water from the sump well dumps out right there into the rocks.


If you look reeeaaaly closely, you can see the little white rocks
The best I can figure, the builders installed some sort of drainage tiles and the water runs off into the storm drains. Either that, or it contributes to the swamp that is our backyard. If that is the case, then once we reach total saturation, then there is no where for all of the water in our backyard to go but down the stairs, into the drain, back into the sump pump, rinse, repeat, flood. Here’s hoping I won’t be writing a third flood entry.

Unrelated Note Dept.

Stacy called Jon this morning and strong-armed him into seeing Superman Returns with me at a 10:00 PM showing tonight. Apparently the theaters figure that as long as the movie ends after midnight, it is still technically opening on the next day. I wasn’t planning on seeing the movie anytime soon because I have my surgery for the pilonidal cyst tomorrow. I’ll be effectively laid out for the next 7 to 10 days. Jon wasn’t going to see the movie because it stands against everything he knows and loves. Well, everything he knows and loves about Superman, at least. Not one to be deterred, Stacy convinced him to accompany me tonight. She figures I need a night out before I am bed-ridden. I am not going to argue. I’ll leave my thoughts on the movie in my next post.


So gay

Pain in my Ass pt 2, Recent Movies, and Thunder Storms

Originally posted June 23, 2006

I had a few things I wanted to share about last week that I just didnt get to. One of the first things I did as a bachelor after my work week was go to the surgeons office and get my pre-op checkup. Turns out that the surgeon doesnt think I have a problem. He examined the area around my tailbone and said he wasnt even sure I had a cyst. Naturally, I had already finished my antibiotic regimen at this point. I wasnt supposed to have any outward signs of the cyst. When I explained everything to him, he treated me like some hypochondriac that looked up the information on a pilonidal cyst and decided I had one. I patiently explained that this was my fourth such flare-up and that I had to have two of the three before lanced by a physician. He maintained that I did not need the surgery and that it would be wholly elective. I elected. So Ill be going under the knife (more aptly put, the knife will be going under me) on June 28^th. Poor Jon will be without my sparkling personality for the following two weekends as I recover.

Exciting bachelor life, right? Yeah, not really. I did find my inner chef while Stacy and the girls were gone, though. I grabbed a few interesting recipes from the Interweb thingy and headed to the grocery store for the goods. I ended up cooking a few gourmet dishes that turned out pretty good. Two favorites were Grilled Portobello with Sun-Ripened Tomatoes & Mozzarella and Mahi Mahi in Macadamia Nut Crust. I was able to share my culinary delights with my family since Stacy and the girls came home last Wednesday on schedule.

I wanted Stacy to stay out there as long as it took to help her family member, but she decided she was doing more harm than good. I was not sorry that she came home early at all. I concluded long ago that I am not cut out for the bachelors life. Although I did enjoy the additional free time that it entailed, I did not enjoy going to bed alone at night. I developed a severe case of insomnia during the short time Stacy was in Utah. It was nothing that Stacys return and some Excedrin PM couldnt resolve.

As I was en route to the airport to pick up my girls, Jon called to see if I wanted to go to A Prairie Home Companion. With the OK from the wiff, whom I did not want to abandon the day after she got home, I told Jon Id be there. Stacy and I decided to take the girls to see Cars on the same day. Thats right, I got to hit the double feature. Its been years since Ive gone to a double feature, mostly because actual double features do not exist anymore. Going to two movies in a row are about as close as you get.

A Prairie Home Companion was good. The ensemble cast did a great job of working together with no real grandstanding. By far, my favorite character was Kevin Klines Guy Noir, the bumbling, down-on-his-luck private eye that was moonlighting as the VP of security/head of security/sole security guard of the radio studio. For those of you who are not familiar with A Prairie Home Companion, something I was only in passing, it is a radio show headed by Garrison Keillor (GK in the movie.) It is a variety show complete with musical acts, stories from Garrison, sound effects, and fictional advertisements for things like Buttermilk Biscuits, look for the big blue box with the biscuit on the front. What I didnt realize as I was watching the movie, but that Jon educated me about later, is that most of the characters behind the scenes of the radio show were the fictional characters that Garrison would tell stories about on the actual radio show. Many of them were originally voiced by some of the movie cast members that were playing themselves. Its all very confusing in writing, but it made for an entertaining movie. I would give A Prairie Home Companion 4 out of 5 stars.

Afterwards, as Jon and I were discussing Kevin Klines brilliantly subdued buffoonery, Jon wondered why Kline wasnt tapped to play Inspector Clouseau in the latest remake of the famed Pink Panther movie instead of Steve Martin. I later found that Kline is in the movie, but only as Chief-Inspector Dreyfuss, the poor man that is the butt of most of Clouseaus mishaps. I think that one reason Kline may not have been chosen for the lead role is that his French accent is not nearly outrageous enough. Throughout his performance the dramatic resonance of his almost sing-song delivery of lines paved over any attempt at a foreign accent. Martin, on the other hand, did no better as Clouseau. His accent was outrageous, but his performance was barely amusing at the best of times. The only redeeming factor was Beyonce Knowles as Random Sexy Lady That Is Not The Leads Romantic Interest. Specifically during the final sequence wherein Beyonce does what Beyonce does best, singing and shakin it. Said shakin occurred in a slinky evening dress sans bra. Verry nice. Unfortunately, not nice enough to save this movie. I would give Pink Panther 1 out of 5 stars.

Enough about Beyonces jubblies, on to Pixars latest contribution to the CG glut of kids movies, Cars. It was entertaining in a completely different manner than A Prairie Home Companion. Where the latter gave us humor in the Americana of a dying radio show, the former gives us car-related puns and a few humorous gems for the parents. While I did find the movie endearing overall, I do have a complaint about the talent. I dont remember where I read it, but someone recently commented on the trend of celebrities voicing CG characters and how it tends to detract from viewer enjoyment. How often have you heard a voice over and wracked your brain to figure out who it is while the action continues on screen? Perhaps even more annoying is when a voice over is performed by an actor you despise. Case in point: Lightning McQueen, Cars lead role as voiced by Owen Dicknose Wilson. His smarmy delivery of lines is made only slightly more tolerable by not having to see his insincere, Im very sincere facial expression that accounts for half of his emotive repertoire (the other half being his all-too-sincere smug expression.) What was the purpose of having Paul Newman voice the older car? What did that bring to the movie? How about Cheech Marin as the stereotypical hydrolic-lifted, custom-paint-job, low-rider Impala? A few of the voice-over artists actually brought something to their roles, such as Tony Shalhoub as the Italian Fiat 500 or George Carlin as the stoner hippy VW Minibus. I still maintain that actors doing voiceovers has gotten out of hand. When the movie is a vehicle (no pun intended) for the voice over artists rather than the story, the superb animation, or a myriad other things that should take precedence, then the experience is cheapened. Id give Cars a middling to fair review, I guess 3.5 out of 5 stars.

Other stuff happened, but I think Im just going to bring this blog up to date with a pitiful story about my daughter, Zoe. I had taken my sleeping pills early on last night so I could get my sleep schedule ready for the weekend. Stacy had gone to a Tupperware party and left me to put the girls to bed. No big deal, it was done within an hour. I was drifting off to sleep despite the screaming infant in the cradle next to my bed by the next hour. Suddenly, I was awakened at 11:30 PM. It only took a few seconds to realize why. Rain was hammering down on the roof and sides of the house while lightning flashed and thunder pealed in machine-gun bursts. It was loud and close. Judging from the lack of a full second between lightning and thunder, it was hitting within a mile of our house. Stacy had not returned by then. I was slightly worried with the storm outside and Stacy missing, but I figured I would have gotten a call from her if anything was wrong. I lay there awake, drowsing, as I waited for the inevitable cry from the girls room as one or both of them was awakened by the storm. In-between a lazy blink of my eye, a shadowy figure loomed out of the dark, illuminated from behind by the flashes of lightning. I freaked. Hazy memories of The Exorcism of Emily Rose flashed through my mind. It took me a second to realize it was Stacy. She had come home a couple of hours ago and was just waiting in the office for one of the girls to wake up. Minutes later, Zoe did just that. The poor girl was so terrified of the noise from the thunder that she had her hands clutched to her ears no matter what we did. Stacy passed her over to me while she was getting into bed and those hands did not even budge. I found out from Stacy this morning that Zoe kept her ears covered tightly even after she fell asleep. Poor kid.

I'm going to end on a note about this blog's location. With Myspace patchy blog performance, I am thinking about moving to blogspot or a similar blog host. Watch this space for a link.