Sears is an interesting company. They delivered a brand new dryer on Friday, complete with rusted gouges on the body. Most companies would send undamaged merchandise, or offer to repair the damage. Sears, bold pioneers that they are, have chosen instead to offer to send me a bottle of touch-up paint and their thanks for choosing Sears. I am not sure that the business strategy of instilling ill-will in their customers is such a wise one, but to each their own.

Edge of BRAND NEW Kenmore dryer, including gouges and rust.

Were this the first problem with Sears, I might be willing to chalk it up to a lousy customer service person. However, as this is just the latest in a string of problems with Sears, and the washer and dryer they were to have delivered on March 1, I have to consider that Sears is not a company that I would trust purchasing anything from again. Ever. I purchased a Kenmore stackable washer and dryer, and stacking kit, on February 10, 2012. Because my gas supply is propane (LPG), I had to purchase the LPG conversion kit as well, and agreed to a $119.99 dryer installation fee so that the installer could convert the dryer from natural gas to LPG. To be sure, I confirmed at the time of order that the installer would indeed be converting the dryer from natural gas to LPG.

I should have realized as soon as I received my receipt that there was going to be a problem: The dryer, with its installation on top of the washer, was scheduled for delivery and installation on February 13, and the washer, stacking kit and LPG conversion kit were scheduled for delivery on February 14. How they planned on installing the conversion kit before it arrived, or planned on stacking the dryer on top of the not-yet-arrived washer was beyond me. This was shortly after I placed my order, and after checking with my contractor and discovering that we should probably wait a few weeks before having the washer and dryer delivered, I called Sears back to reschedule the delivery for a time that was more convenient for the contractor, March 1. I also suggested that since the dryer was to be converted to LPG and stacked on top of the washer, perhaps the dryer could be delivered AFTER the washer. This, Sears informed me, would be fine.

Both Sears delivery service and Sears installation service called me on February 29. The washer and accessories were scheduled to be delivered around noon the following day, the dryer to be delivered and installed a little before then. I mentioned to the installer that the washer would not be delivered until after the dryer and he decided that he would wait for the washer to be delivered first. I also reminded him that the dryer needed to be converted to LPG. This was the first he had heard of this, and was beyond what he normally does for installation. Because of this, he said he needed to call Sears and would call me back shortly. The washer and accessories were delivered March 1. The dryer was not. Neither was the call back from the installer.

I called the handy Sears installation number a day or two later, and after a little over an hour talking with various people and receiving many apologies, I was told that the dryer would be delivered, most likely on Monday, March 5, and yes, they knew I needed it converted to LPG. The installer would take care of that. Rather than have me continue to hold, I was told at that time I would be called back shortly for an estimated delivery time. Like the call back from the installer, the installation service people failed to actually call me back. The installer himself did call me, however, on Monday evening to let me know he would be delivering and installing the dryer the next morning, March 6.

March 6 passed, without a delivery or installation person in site. March 7 passed, without a delivery or installation person in site. March 8 passed, without a delivery or installation person in site. While no delivery or installation person was in site, he at least made it to the phone on March 8: The engine in his truck had apparently blown, and he could not make the delivery on March 6. He would, however, be delivering my dryer in the morning, March 9. Yay!

The dryer was delivered, March 9. At this point, the installer stated that he does not perform LPG conversions, and because the dryer cannot be hooked up, he could not install it. He filled out the paperwork and noted that because the dryer was not converted, he could not install it. I signed it so we could get a refund started on the installation fee. All of which begs the question: Why was I not originally told that the Sears installation person could not perform the installation of the conversion kit? Had Sears mentioned something in the several calls previously where it was discussed, I would have not purchased the $119.99 dryer installation and would not have been annoyed by their inability to perform the installation service that I had paid for. I would have instead contacted my propane supplier, Sequoia Gas, and paid to have them perform the conversion, which is a service they offer.

This entire experience has left me with a rather disinclined to recommend Sears to anyone I know who might be making an appliance purchase, as at present I have a dryer that is not installed, cannot be used until I pay another company to perform the conversion that Sears was supposed to take care of, cost me $119.99 over list price, and wondering whether it would be better to contact the Better Business Bureau and Ripoff Reports. I have contacted Sears, both about the conversion and installation issue and the rust issue. For the rust, they are shipping out some appliance touch-up paint so that I can hide the rust for a while. For the installation and conversion, they are supposed to get back to me in the next few days to discuss what happened and hopefully refund the installation fee. If it is refunded, I will accept that I have a rusty dryer and cannot trust Sears to stand behind their products. If it is not, I will send a letter to my credit card company to dispute the charges and contact both the Better Business Bureau and Ripoff Report. If, by some miracle, Sears realizes that perhaps customers would rather receive undamaged merchandise when they buy something new and either send someone out to fix the rust and scratch issue or replace the dryer as well as refund my installation fee, I will consider shopping at Sears again and updating this to reflect the suddenly improved customer service. I won’t hold my breath for this last option, however.

My conversion to the Dark Side is complete. I watched my wife go over and scoffed at her, how easily-led she was, how willing to lock herself in to a predetermined path. Then came Vally, showing me the power and ease of using the dark side. I liked my freedom, liked being able to do things my own way and on my own terms, but the structured world they offered was tempting.

Something is seriously wrong with you, boy . . .

After years of struggling on my own, dealing with the aftermath of unmatched freedom and competing ideas, I finally did it: I bought my own MacBook Pro and joined the Dark Side. And I have to say, I love it. A trackpad that actually works? A trackpad that provides useful navigation and input? What novel ideas! A UI that is stable, and programs that don’t mysteriously crash or include text that matches the background (I’m looking at YOU, VLC on LXDE!!!)? What a novel idea! Yes, I still love my various Linux laptops, but I think I’m stuck in the beauty and simplicity of the Mac world for a while now. I’d better be, now that I have the wireless trackpad, keyboard and number pad.

Oh Marmaduke, you’re such a card . . . what are you doing no- f**k me, is this thing on? Oh hey there . . . so, what is today’s topic? Oh yeah, California versus Idaho. I like California, I really do. But I also like paying a dollar less per gallon of gas, half per kilowatt of electricity, and not having to dodge piles of shi… feces while walking in public places.

So, California, or more precisely, Humboldt County, California: Majestic redwoods, foggy mornings and sunny afternoons, beautiful windswept beaches, and the mighty banana slug. I do not think I could give up the ocean again. Humboldt is beautiful, but suffers from a poor economic base and the high cost of California living. Everything from land to gas to milk to taxes is more expensive here, even though so many here are poor. Maybe if we weren’t paying $4.47 per gallon of gas, we would have more money for more important things, like cookies.

Idaho, or Coeur d’Alene anyway, is flat and cold and filled with people who believe the current President is a Kenyan Marxist Socialist Nazi Communist Manchurian Candidate (i.e. “the sheriff is near”). It is also quite affordable. And unlike Humboldt, Kootenai County has no shortage of doctors and great libraries. It may not have as many breweries as Humboldt, but it does have Trader Joe’s, Lowes, Home Depot and Spokane, WA nearby. I would sell my wife for a Trader Joe’s in my area (hey, TJ’s people, are you listening?) . . .

If I switch to driving a UEV and move the family into one of these, California might just match Idaho on the affordability front. Idaho will never match California on the oceanfront and banana slug front, however.

The vomiting is over, the bathroom dashes are at an end and the burning in the pit of my stomach has subsided to a dull ache. Yay. I am a wimp, I suppose, but I do not like the flu, and I very much do not like losing my weekend. I was ready for the sunshine, ready for something other than a weekend lying in bed and smelling much less than fresh. And considering that we may have a full septic tank, which makes every flush an adventure, I had better things to do.

And since I am complaining already, $1097.00 to interpret a single X-Ray? Really? Oh well . . . it’s not like I had anything better to do with that money. Hopefully, at some point part of the $1097.00 will include actually discussing it with me.

There are many advantages to a home office: Short commute, no gas costs, no traffic jams, a comfortable work environment, no pants . . . Unfortunately, there are also disadvantages. The refrigerator is only a short walk away. It is easy to forget to shower, or even get dressed for the day. Six dogs in a small house inevitably leads to the overwhelming aroma of dog flatulence . . .

It is Friday . . . what are you going to do? I am going to step out into the sunshine, walk to the beach, then come back and finish work. I need the sea, I need the sand, I need the breeze. I need to quit spending my work breaks listening to the best and brightest the GOP has to offer explaining why segregation is good, access to safe, affordable abortions (and health care in general) is bad, drunk driving is a treasured American way of life, and the President (you know, the secret commie muslim socialist nazi Kenyan) is creating his own private army, with socialisms and health care. Something I come away with is that perhaps we need some better ethics laws for our elected representatives. And that perhaps it is time to let the Republican party have what they want. Do these people really believe any of what they say, or is the idea to come up with the most outrageously stupid idea and see if they can get people to believe it? Surely it is time that the self-proclaimed Party of NO, the “cow on the tracks”, find somewhere that embraces their concept of religious law, child labor, no environmental or social protections and spirit of rugged (and short-lived) individualism. I hear Somalia is beautiful this time of year. And this will put them closer to all the good elephant murdering hunting grounds, so win-win!

Perhaps I am old and addled, but I thought that, at one point, there was something called a “fiscal conservative.” This mythical beast actually was supposed to believe in fiscal responsibility (which one would assume includes not starting wars and then giving everyone tax cuts specifically so that we could not pay for said wars) rather than focusing so much on uteruses, gays and the dreaded threat of socialist Kenyan muslim nazis. Yeah, I must be old and addled.

So anyway, happy damned Friday. Enjoy your day. And yes, we had another lamb at the end of March. This brings us to a total of nine for this year, seven in just last month. And at least one of the three remaining pregnant ewes looks like she is ready to pop at any moment. Of course, we’ve been saying that for a week now. By the time she DOES give birth, the lamb is going to be as large as she is. I am afraid the birth will look more like a very gruesome metamorphosis.

Starfish at low tide says "Relax, dummy!"

When I was growing up, General Electric claimed “We Bring Good Things To Life.” Sometime in the last decade or so, they must have accepted that this is not always so, as now they offer “imagination at work.” So, does providing a risky containment field count as “imagination at work” or as “bring(ing) good things to life”? Either way, I would have thought that forty years would be enough time for GE to focus a little less on imagination and a little more on reality. And to maybe consider that risking bringing an end to lives, good or otherwise, might not be such a good thing. (pssst! There’s a NAUGHTY WORD later in this post (although in all fairness, it is balanced out by being attached to a picture of kittens), so don’t click on the continue link if you are offended by NAUGHTY WORDS!!!!!!!1!!!ONE!!!ELEVENTY!!!

And because PANIC!!!!! is the American Way, thank you Surgeon General Regina Benjamin for your well-considered words of wisdom at a time when others might call for calm and rationality. Really, let us repeat the excitement of the anthrax threats of ’01 and urge everyone to make a run on duct tape and plastic sheeting. (note to self: Start selling plastic sheeting on eBay, claim it is lead-lined for your comfort and protection. Maybe lead-lined adult diapers as well, so everyone crapping their pants right now can feel that much safer. Is there time to get them Astronaut-endorsed?)

So, for anyone who listened to the Surgeon General rather than calmer voices, here are some kittens someone posted just for you:
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Sitting in darkness on a morning like this, it is the little things that I miss most. Lights. Heat. Refrigeration. Yes, I am truly back in Humboldt. I know because we are ten hours into a power outage and I am being reminded of the one thing North Idaho did better: Keep the lights on. In Kootenai County, we had the Kootenai Electric Cooperative, providing clean hydroelectric power and great service at affordable rates. And by affordable, I mean half the cost of electricity from PG&E. Kootenai Electric is an energy cooperative, focused on providing service to their customers. PG&E, in contrast, is a for-profit corporation, focused on providing profit to their shareholders. Both supply energy, but they have very different goals. If you are an investor, I suppose PG&E is the company to root for. If you are a consumer, I would think that the company focused on service and maintenance would be the first choice. To be fair, Kootenai Electric does not have to deal with a redwood forest, but they do have trees, ice storms, lightning strikes, sudden freezes, dramatic temperature extremes and plenty of drunk yahoos to contend with. Oh joy, now we have lost cell phone service. Perhaps having cell and voip service only was not such a great choice. At least we still have hot water, thanks to the propane water heater.

It is a day off from school for the boy-child, which must irk the girl-child to no end. Since our stovetop is electric (not making THAT mistake in the new house . . . ), it was crêpes at Renata’s for breakfast. He had the Hungry Farmer and hot chocolate, and I the Bacon Avocado Tomato and double mocha. My crêpe was drizzled with Crème Fraiche, and Aaron’s had a dollop of sour cream. I could probably coast through the rest of the week without another meal and still have consumed more than my share of calories.

The challenge to hot drinks at Renata’s is finishing them. The are not served in cups, but instead in a bowl. A goldfish would have found my mocha bowl roomy, if a bit warm and caffeinated. This means a large surface area at the top, insulated by freshly-whipped cream. Definitely a drink for two. Unlike most mochas, the focus is more on the coffee and chocolate and less on the sugar. Starbucks mochas run away and cry in shame when confronted by a Renata’s mocha.

The initial excitement of no school and a Renata’s breakfast has worn off, and the realization that there is no Wii, no Netflix, no Hulu and no video games of any sort is starting to set in. The boy-child has decided to take a bath to kill time, as he also has no book to read and does not want to clean the house (my suggestion to pass the time). Maybe I will challenge him to a game of Cribbage or Scrabble when he gets out.

I can live without the lights a bit longer, although it would be nice to be able to fire up the pellet stove and dehumidifier. A night of four humans, three gerbils and six dogs exhaling, not to mention the dishwater someone (cough!–boy-child–cough!) forgot to dump last night has left the house both very humid and horribly stale. It does not help that at least two of the three large dogs are highly gassy . . . What I really do not like, though, is that one of my dear, sweet children did not close the freezer last night. So the menu for the week will likely include a massive Mahi Mahi fry, four or so whole chickens, several pounds of various chicken bits (thighs, breasts, drumsticks), Tilapia madness and a mound of lamb chops. I do not know that we will have time or room to fit vegetables into this flesh-fest. Gentlemen (and women), start your stomachs! And once again, it all comes down to food . . .

I have been to Lake Tahoe. I have been to Reno. I have never been to Las Vegas. Other than after reading an article in Sunset Magazine, I have not had the urge to visit Vegas. Perhaps it is because I lack the gambler’s spirit, unaffected by the call of the slot machines and craps tables. Or perhaps it is because I find the thought of DisneyLand for Degenerates slightly offputting. I have no problem with sex and debauchery, but the thought of being surrounded by chain-smoking drunks, feeding their cash into the slots just does not appeal to me. The Sunset article, covering less of the strip and more of the wilderness, almost made me interested in a visit to the desert blight that is Las Vegas. Fortunately, Jennie went instead and was able to convince me that I do not need to ever visit that fair city.

It is unfair, I suppose, to say that this is through the eyes of Jennifer, as she forgot to take her camera. So really, it is through the memory of Jennifer. I expected unhappiness her first day there, as the eight hour delay in SFO did not exactly set the tone for fun. Sure, she was able to catch up on her Malcolm Gladwell reading, but neither of us are fans of spending the day in transit. By the time she got there, she was tired, sweaty and in need of food, drink and sleep. She was not, apparently, in need of drunk 14 year old girls in thongs and nipplecatchers, downing margaritas and stumbling through the streets. Nor was she in need of being the only person in the state who doesn’t smoke. I still think she was off on the age, but who am I to doubt? Watching drunks wandering the sidewalks of Las Vegas was a common experience for her trip, thanks to the alcoslushies available pretty much everywhere. Fortunately, getting to the actual street was a challenge, so being drunk and mobile is not that big a problem.

She recovered by the next day and spent the rest of the week searching for good food and shortcuts to her conference. She found the shortcut. Good food turned out to be a bigger challenge. The common theme for food was red bell peppers. Canned red bell peppers. Which were well-matched with the canned asparagus, canned mushrooms and excessive use of salt. Pretty much every meal she had contained red bell peppers. I assume that the red bell pepper (canned) is the state vegetable. Or is it just a city ordinance that requires their use in all foods? Either way, a week of canned bell peppers does not put one in the mood for more. Jennie did manage to get away from the bell peppers and other canned vegetables twice, once by going to China Grill for yummy Chinese food, and once by having a delicious breakfast at Red White and Blue. Both meals cost a bit more, but considering every other meal in Vegas was over-buttered, overpriced and over-salted, it was worth it to finally have some edible food. And now, from the far end of the house, I hear the shout of “Oh by the way, I never did get away from the red bell peppers! For breakfast, I had a Denver Omelet, which had red bell peppers, and my noodles also had red bell peppers. But at least they were fresh.”

What do you do in Las Vegas if you do not gamble, do not feel like wandering around drunk and naked, and you do not have the time to get away from the strip? If you are Jennie, you wander the hotels and search for the Hard Rock Cafe. Jennie wandered between the Luxor, where she was staying, to Mandalay Bay and to Excalibur. All of them had impressive water features, with bridges, streams and waterfalls. They were also all pretty much filled with smoke and drunks and were engaging in psychological warfare: Every section, from the various shops to the restaurants to the casino to the lobby to the street out front had its own set of speakers, and was playing a completely different bit of music. The result of which was a disorienting and irritating cacophony. Perhaps that is why everyone was drunk — to tune out the music overload.

Her favorite sight in Las Vegas was watching it disappear behind her as she drove to the airport.

Several hours late, but Jennie is finally off for a week-long veterinary management conference. I had forgotten how small and poorly-served our local airport is, so I guess this is a good reminder. There is, or might be, a restaurant at the airport, but it is not open on Saturdays. With no schedule listed, it might not be open any days. None of the car rental facilities (facility?) are open Saturday morning. Instead of handing your checked baggage to an attendant so it can be sent back to be checked, the attendant sends you around the corner, through the door marked “Authorized Personnel Only”, to drop your baggage off next to the baggage X-Ray machine. So not only do you get to fly out from here, you get a very short stint as an airport intern. Yay!

It only took an extra two hours to leave here, with the result being her thirty minute layover in San Francisco will now be seven hours. At least she made it out. When the delays were first announced, we wandered over to Alaska Airlines, the only other airline at the airport, to see if we could get a flight out on a different airline. They have one flight for today, leaving at noon. United, and its eternal delays, is the only choice unless things get really bad.

While she is gone, I have to give up being a manchild and practice being an adult single parent. No more wandering around, demanding that someone helps me put on my socks. Definitely not a good week to have to have given up coffee. Now I have to make lunch and get the girl-child to school on time. Fortunately, the boy-child has the week off, so I can make him my slave child. Brilliant! He will make the lunches and put my socks on me. Maybe I don’t have to grow up after all.

While waiting for the flight to leave, Jennie kept me abreast of all the latest pre-flight gossip via text. Apparently, one of the people in her row is a nervous flyer and highly flatulent. The flight may only be an hour long, but it will smell like an eternity. And hey, look at that: Another text! They have just been told there will be another forty minute delay. If she is still there at noon, I will swing by with some lunch. And some charcoal tablets for the farter.

Incandescent Heaven

And with a crackle-pop, another compact fluorescent bulb explodes in a cloud of mercury and burning plastic. I get to air the house, clean up the mess and reflect on the differences between packaging (“bulbs last 10 years or more”) and reality (bulbs die a flaming, smelly death in a year or less). This probably explains the two year warranty on the ten year bulbs. Is it wrong of me to think the warranty should last as long as the bulb is expected to last? These bulbs are supposed to be built to strict energy efficiency guidelines. Hopefully some day they will be built to strict quality guidelines as well. I also hope that I have saved some money on electricity, because the yearly replacement of CF bulbs is definitely lightening my wallet. If I were less selfish, I would consider the amount of fossil fuels that weren’t burnt because I chose the CF route, both because the bulbs are much more efficient, and because I typically leave the sockets empty and curse the darkness for a few months before replacing the bulbs. I think my daughter has almost given up on begging me to put a light back in the hallway. I figure as long as there are still working flashlights in the house, who needs real lights? Some day, my lights will shine again.

Our green approach has expanded lately to include not only our usual recycling and compost, but a separate chicken bin for things that might not go into compost and various green bags for shopping. Recycling is a challenge in a small house, so we have had to resort to keeping the bins on the back porch, which makes for an exciting game of hide and seek after windstorms. After last night’s winds, I know I need to search the treeline for milk cartons. I never imagined stalking runaway plastics to be a part of responsible citizenship. I suppose it would be wrong to melt it all into a giant lump so that it cannot get away . . .

Shopping with reusable bags is supposed to be better for the environment as well, so we picked up a number of different bags for doing so. Most came free after large enough purchases at the Co-Op and other places, and some we paid for. Unfortunately, it looks like we may not get a gold star for green bags, but a lead one instead. Great, now I have to worry about my smart and healthy choices killing me. Fortunately, our green veggie bags should be lead-free. Unfortunately, it appears that our refrigerator crisper drawers do not work properly, as everything we put in them rapidly desiccates. This makes for nice chewy mushrooms for a morning omelet, but rather depressing salads. It looks like we will need to add some glass or plastic storage containers to the mix to get this green idea working properly. Although after enough food travels in our lead-filled shopping bags, perhaps we will no longer care so much about whether our spinach is shriveled and crunchy.

Some day it would be nice to cut back on what I assume is our main pollution source (other than the boy-child’s flatulence, that is), and switch to electric vehicles. Living in Humboldt makes that difficult, however, as there are few charging stations, and charging at home in California is prohibitively expensive. I am all for doing my part to improve the environment, but I would rather not go broke doing so. I am sure we will eventually figure out how to make clothing out of dryer lint, which will cut down on clothing costs a bit as well as show our dedication to reusing and recycling, but until then, I am going to continue burning dinosaurs to power my car. As Kermit says, it isn’t easy being green.