The Backyard Playground Project, Part 2

Here are the newest pictures from the Backyard Playground Project, taken yesterday.

First, a shot of the whole thing... as it is right now. It's only about half finished...



This is the bottom part, which will be a fort-type thing. Only one wall is complete so far.



This is the upper part of the structure. Note the green handlebar grips. Thank you, Home Depot playground department!



Here is a view of the clubhouse wall from one side. It looks a little boring, but I will do something to spice it up. That square in the bottom left corner is a working door, which opens inward.



Here's the same wall, as seen from the inside. There are some built-in shelves (for rock collecting or whatever a kid wants to do with them). The Jenga blocks (purchased as a set for a total of 25 cents at a garage sale) are rotatable, and are intended to be part of a large, more elaborate marble run.



A close-up of the door. It has an acrylic "doorknob" (really a cupboard knob) that looks like one of those glass doorknobs. There's also a sliding lock... and I expect to add more locks to it, locks of different sorts.

Next up: Vertical posts for the upper deck's railing, another wall for the fort, and...?

If you build it

When I was in elementary school (1988-ish), my dad (with help from my cousin) built my brother and me a play structure in our backyard. Here are some screencaps of it, taken off some videos circa 1998:





My dad asked us what we wanted, and we got it. I wanted a fireman pole and a horizontal bar; I got em. Stan wanted a trapdoor; he got it. Secret hiding spots, monkey bars, a ladder, and a tire swing... it got a lot of use over the next few years.

As time went on, "the climber thing," as we called it, started to "fall into disrepair," as they say in Disney movies. These photos, taken in 2006, illustrate that:









Around that time, I got the notion to fix it up. But, of course, some of it would have to go. Who wants to play on mossy, moldy, rotten wood? Not me! So one day in 2007, my mom had some people from church over to our house, and they helped tear down everything except the main support beams (still in good condition) and some of the metal pipes that ran between them. That was in April, 2007. Since then, it has looked like this:



Sure, who WOULDN'T want a giant "Hi" in their backyard? But, really, it left something to be desired. So after two years of procrastinating, this spring I began working on making it into something nice, again. I began by making a wood-planked deck near the ground, between four of the original posts:


The above photo was taken on June 3rd. I've done quite a bit more since then, but I don't have any pictures to show for it yet.

I've been using a power drill and power screwdriver, but sticking to hand saws for the cutting. Yes, it takes longer, and yes, my arms are sore, but the circular saw is frightening, darnit. Those big teeth -- it looks like the granddaddy Langolier, for heaven's sake. Oh, and I've had the guys at Home Depot do a lot of the cutting, too. Hey, it's free. And they do nice work.

Another update soon, I hope.

chop chop

I am so sore.

Here is my story.

This morning my mom and I went over to this older lady's house to work on her flowerbeds. From 9-11:30 we clawed up dirt, added fertilizer, and mixed it all in together. We measured afterwards and discovered we'd clawed over 100 feet of dirt -- and that doesn't even consider how far back we had to go (2 feet in some places, 5 in others.)

So naturally I came home covered in dirt. After a shower and a change of clothes, I was ready for an afternoon of relaxation. But alas, a few minutes later, my uncle showed up at our house. He had an axe and a chainsaw. Okay, that sounds like a serial killer movie waiting to happen. But it's all good. He was just here to chop wood.

Backstory: The other day, we done felled a tree. Well, we technically paid a guy to do it. It was a pine tree, 50+ feet tall, 34+ years old (we did some ring-countin') and it was leaning, so we had a tree expert come and he suggested we take it down before it fell on something like, oh I don't know... the neighborhood.


And so down it came. (It's the one on the left.) The branches were hauled away and the pieces of the trunk -- each about 2 feet tall and of varying diameters (anywhere from 1 foot to 2.5 feet, I'd say) -- remained in our yard for a few days.

So, at my mom's suggestion, her brother -- my aforementioned uncle -- came over to saw & chop the wood and haul it back to his place for firewood. And because I had the nerve to come out to the backyard to greet my uncle, a lightbulb went off in my mom's head. "Hey," she says. "Molly, you can help take the wood out to the pickup!" Conveniently enough, my mother was just about to leave for the rest of the afternoon.

And so, while my uncle chopped and sawed, I -- armed with a red wheelbarrow -- lugged wood from the back yard to the front yard and put it in the pickup truck... over and and over and over... until I finally filled up the back of the truck. It took about three hours, but here's what it looked like:

And there was still more wood left over!

I have about eight bruises on my leg and a fat lip. Don't ask.

And if I'm able to walk tomorrow, it'll be a miracle.

But I enjoyed it. I like doing hard work as long as it has a purpose. Not only do I get my exercise but I get to feel like I'm doing something meaningful. Shoveling snow gives me that kind of feeling, too. But ah, trees. The smell makes me want to go camping. And the sunscreen I wore today was the same kind I had when we went to PEI last year and now I'm yearning to go back.

Several pieces of the trunk were saved and will be incorporated into some kind of backyard sculpture my mother is allowing me to pursue for reasons I can not quite comprehend. The wood shavings (a result of the chainsaw's wrath) will be spread under our jungle gym to cushion any potential falls.

And so... even though the tree is no longer what it used to be -- tall, proud, green, prickly -- it will live on. Its parts will go to serve other purposes. Kind of like organ donation, only with more of a piney-fresh scent.

things that are old

So besides estate sales, I really like going to antique shows. Yes... antiques. My parents used to be all into that, going from one little shop to another and thinking it was great fun. I thought they were crazy. Antiques = old = boring, duh! But I don't feel that way anymore. Now I delight in the 100-year-old music boxes, telephones, and gadgets... the old bottles with skulls and crossbones on them (seriously!)... and all the toys from the past century. Oh, and the Shaun Cassidy lunchboxes. Mmmhmmm.


I went to an antique show on Sunday at the Expo Center, but only got to spend a few hours there. Fortunately, the show comes to Portland's expo center three times a year. Typically I like to buy old pictures of people I don't know, but I didn't this time. Still, I got some neat things. Now, should I be spending my money on this sort of stuff, especially since I don't even have my own house? No I shouldn't! But I do it anway. This time, I bought:

A present for my mom, a thimble - $1
A Little Golden Book of Robin Hood - $3
A Little Golden Book of Mary Poppins - $6
A Duplo boat, with some Duplos, that actually floats - $5

Score, I say, score.

Yesterday's News

We went to an estate sale today. It was only about a mile from our house, so I was skeptical about it. "Estate sale" is what some people like to call a garage sale when they don't have a garage and it's too wintery for a yard sale. These people are liars. A true estate sale occurs when a person, preferably old, dies or has to go live in a home, leaving behind years worth of wacky collections and furniture. The older the house, the better the offerings -- usually. Plus, I like old houses. But a lot of the houses around here were built in the 60's or later, which isn't that thrilling. Go to inner Southeast or Northeast Portland and you'll find old houses, suitable for proper hauntings, with the creepy but mesmerizing third floors, small bedrooms, miniature closets, and stairs so old and creaky, they would scare Alfred Hitchcock himself.

I love estate sales.

The house we visited today wasn't that old. From the 50's maybe. But the person who lived there, and had probably bit the dust, was definitely bordering on old. You can usually tell by the kind of stuff they've accumulated. (Unless, of course, they've discovered ebay, in which case they could be 98 or 18. But whatever.) As I was perusing one of the bedrooms, I came across two boxes of old newspapers. I don't know how long I spent sitting on the floor, going through the boxes, but it was indeed a long time. I came home with over 20 newspapers, mostly focusing on/including the following:

*The Vanport flood of '48, which wiped out an entire city and killed a bunch of people. (Topical because we've had a lot of flooding this past week, and there have been a few deaths -- though nothing like back then.)

*The infamous "Columbus Day Storm" that hit Oregon in the 60's, notable (well, to me) for its destructive ways at my college, Western Oregon University (which went by a different name then), knocking down the bell tower/steeple, which they later rebuilt, sans bells. (When I attended WOU, we were subject to a recording of bell music no less than three times per day.)

*JFK's assassination. It's not like there's any shortage of information about that, but it's interesting to have a copy of the Oregonian from when it happened.

*Newspapers about the time a plane crashed into a neighborhood not far from here, back in the 70's. And not just a little plane. We're talking a passenger jet. Amazingly, I don't think anyone on the ground was killed, even though it went down in a residential neighborhood.

*Newspapers from the 100th anniversary of Oregon, full of copies of articles from the 1800's.

Not only am I glad to be able to read these articles, but I LOVE old newspapers because they're just so different from today's. The comics, the movie ads, the department store ads. Low prices. And just the different writing style. How they'd put "Mr." and "Mrs." So-and-So when talking about someone -- ie "Mr. Bob Jones," instead of "Bob Jones." The small print. The silly headlines. Those are just a few things I noticed. I'll spend more time going through them soon.

Oh, The HuMANIAity!

It's coming it's coming it's coming it's coming...


...it's heeeere

Story of Your Life

I've realized that nearly every book I've read this past year, or am currently reading, has been/is a memoir or a biography. So I shall talk about what I've read so far...

*Helping Me Help Myself, by Beth Lisick



On January 1, 2006, author Beth Lisick realized she wanted to make some life changes, so she set off on a year-long journey to do just that. Throughout the year (and the book), the author seeks help for various things, including disorderliness and hoarding, parenting, her financial situation, and success. She reads self-help books by leading gurus and attends seminars and conferences, then summarizes all the information she's gathered and puts it in simple terms for us readers, all the while adding her own insight and reactions.

The journey begins immediately and starts out slowly, and at times I wasn't sure what the author was going to learn or accomplish. But things start to get rolling around the "April" chapter, in which she goes on a "Cruise To Lose" and encounters the one and only Richard Simmons. The whole experience is fun to read about, and though I'm not sure how badly she needed Richard's help in the first place, it doesn't matter. How many of us have secretly wondered what happens on those cruises? It's like a tell-all.

Lisick is a funny writer, and while sometimes she goes off on tangents that don't seem relevant, she always comes back to the point. In some ways it was inspiring, and even though I couldn't pick this woman out of a lineup, I rather enjoyed reading her tale.

--adapted from my review of the book on amazon.com


*Home: A Memoir of My Early Years, by Julie Andrews



I was excited to read Julie Andrews' memoir because I'm a big fan of her work, especially in Mary Poppins. I quickly discovered, however, that I knew very little about the real Julie Andrews. I didn't know about her unusual and sometimes tumultous home life. I didn't know she'd been a child star (at least on the stage) in her native London. I didn't even know what kind of personality she had when not in front of the camera.

I enjoyed reading her accounts of performing in Camelot and My Fair Lady. But the story ends after she is cast in Mary Poppins, leaving me to wonder about her experiences working on that film, as well as The Sound of Music, and leaving me to wonder how she met her current husband. I assume she may be writing a sequel; but until then, the life of Julie Andrews -- at least in literary form -- seems incomplete.


*Burnt Toast (And Other Philosophies of Life), by Teri Hatcher



I must begin by saying I spent my teenage years devoted to the TV series Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman, in which Teri played Lois Lane. It remains one of my all-time favorite shows. When this book was published in 2006, I wanted to buy it, but couldn't find it anywhere. Finally, this year, it occurred to me to check it out of the library. And so I did.

Reading Burnt Toast is like listening to a one-sided conversation with a girl friend. Teri addresses you (the reader) as if you are a good friend, and yet, it feels like one of those conversations where it's All About Her. Mostly, it's about Teri's troubles with men and the fact that being a mom is the most wonderful thing ever. So wonderful, in fact, that anytime she can possibly mention her philosophies toward mothering, she does. Her parents? They did all sorts of things wrong. She blames them, even now. But now that she has a daughter, she's going to do things right. We get to hear about all the things she does that are so awesome for her daughter. But wait -- she is not a perfect mother, she admits! She explains this in one sad chapter, in which she talks about the time she made a terrible mistake with her child. Yes, one time... she... wait for it... she snapped at her daughter! SNAPPED AT HER!! Then she felt terrible and apologized profusely and everything turned out okay. Lord, we should all have such terrible mothers.

I respect Teri's work as an actress, but the book was a bit much. She may have a hit TV show (moreso a hit when the book was released) and she may have won a few awards, but I closed the book, going "Wow." And not a good kind of "wow," either. They'll let any celeb write books these days, and I think that's got to stop. A memoir is one thing, but this isn't one. Teri barely touches on her childhood, and she glosses over most of her work as an actress (save for Desperate Housewives, which she wants us to be sure to know was the most amazing career opportunity anyone could ask for. Which is probably true for her, but come on. Enough.) If it's not a memoir, then what IS it? An inspirational book of life lessons? Not really. Teri comes across as someone who is needy and overly sensitive. She's 40+, and she still hasn't figured very much out. Maybe when she's 80 and writes Really, REALLY Burnt Toast. With Jam, I'll pay more attention.


*You'll Never Nanny In This Town Again!, by Suzanne Hansen



Just out of high school, Suzanne Hansen went to Nanny School. After graduation, she decided she wanted to be a nanny in the L.A. area. She quickly landed a job working a rich and powerful Hollywood agent, taking care of his three kids. Like the Beverly Hillbillies, Suzanne had to make the adjustment to this crazy new life, working for spoiled kids and even more-spoiled parents in a land of glitz, glamour, plastic, and bizarre social practices. Parts of her tale are hilarious, others are painful. If you've ever spent any time with people in a higher social class, you can probably relate. They think we're crazy, we think they're crazy, and the ensuing clash can be absolutely priceless. Hansen's method of recounting her tale drew me right in, and I was rooting for her all the way.


*Child Star, by Shirley Temple Black



I watched Shirley Temple movies as a child and enjoyed them. I also watched a PBS biography of her (actually, we taped it, and I watched it dozens of times). I've also seen the TV-movie that was inspired by this autobiography. But I'd never read the book. Unfortunately, I believe it's out of print. Our library system didn't even have it -- I was lucky enough to get a used copy through a book-trading website.

What we have here is Shirley's account of her childhood, based not only on her uncanny memory, but accounts of others and historical fact. Parts are fascinating. Others are dull as dishwater. It's interesting to learn about Shirley's relationships/encounters with her co-stars on movies in the 30's and 40's. I also liked hearing about how she dealt with being a celebrity -- and not just any celebrity... for a time, she was one of the most famous actors in the world. It was surprising to learn that Shirley was kind of a tomboy -- and definitely not as sweet and innocent as she appeared on-screen.

However, there are many times when she drags us into the financial/accounting aspects of her career, as well as studio goings-on and a bunch of technical stuff. Intriguing to the most dedicated history buff, perhaps -- but not to the everyday Temple fan. At the end of the paperback edition, we are told a sequel is being written. But that was 20 years ago, and it doesn't look like it's likely to happen. Oh well.


I am currently reading the following, and will try to discuss them further when I'm finished:

*A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes: My Story, by Annette Funicello

*Anne Frank: Diary Of A Young Girl

*Looking For Anne Of Green Gables, by Irene Gammel
(Essentially a biography of Lucy Maud Montgomery)


If you have any recommendations for me, please share. I especially like to read memoirs about writers, but actors and actresses are okay too. (In the past, I have enjoyed Beverly Cleary's two memoirs, as well as Michael J. Fox's Lucky Man.)

Goodbye To The Summer (Olympics)

I'm going to miss watching the Olympics, even though NBC showed way too much beach volleyball... and for some reason I kept missing the men's gymnastics. (Women's gymnastics isn't as good, imo. Especially the balance beam. They're always slipping off of it. That's only entertainment if you hate the gymnasts.)

My favorite thing? Swimming, duh! Michael Phelps! ADORABLE! I have a crush on a swimmer, y'all! Me and a million other girls, but oh... so exciting. Especially that race where he won by 1/100th of a second. At first you couldn't even tell who won. It looked like that other guy for sure. Then they showed Michael's name on the board - 1st! And he was so happy! He looked like a little boy, splashing the water and yelling with glee.

And we have the same initials, so that's cool.

I hadn't watched the Summer Olympics in a long time. Okay, maybe an event here and there, but nothing like my viewing this year. In 1988, I remember being at my aunt and uncle's house and watching the Olympics there. And I have vague memories of the events that took place in 1984. Well, mostly I just remember Mary Lou Retton was on the Wheaties box.
















Yay Wheaties!

Hey, I was three. I'm lucky I can remember that much!

When my brother and I were younger we used to have games for the Commodore 64 called "Summer Games" and "Winter Games," and you basically got to pick a country and then compete in various Olympic sports as a representing member of that country. Of course, this was back when you had to do everyhing with a joystick and a button. As you can probably imagine, the iceskaters fell down a lot, the horses fell down a lot, the javelin throwers would impale themselves... and we'd get frustrated rather quickly.

But my memories are fond nonetheless.

Brisco?

What do you think of when you hear the words "Summer Olympics"? Do you think about beach volleyball? Pole vaulting? Diving? Gymnastics?

How about...













?


I turned on the TV today and immediately heard the theme song for The Adventures Of Brisco County, Jr. But Bruce Campbell was nowhere in sight. Instead it was an Olympics commercial for NBC.
Because nothing says "Olympics" like the conjuring of images of a rough-riding bounty hunter who talks to his horse.

Come to think of it, there were a few episodes where Brisco had to go up against Chinese warriors. Hey, maybe it all makes sense after all.

French Class

So I thought I should learn some French, or at least attempt. Not that I'm going to France anytime soon, if ever. More like because second-language skills are good to have, and besides, I'll be stopping over in Quebec next week and I want to be ready for Frenchness. My mom says there'll be people at the airport who speak English, but I'm not taking any chances! Unfortunately, even after completing several lessons in my new, spiffy learn-to-speak-French software, I haven't learned much that would help me in an airport situation. I can say "the man is swimming," but I have yet to learn "Where's the restroom, yo?" And here I thought "restroom" (or the equivalent of) was supposed to be one of the first things they teach you. In high school Spanish class, we knew el baño well, and a decade later, I still remember el baño, and
if I ever find myself in a Spanish-speaking country, I'll be prepared.

I took two years of Spanish in high school. Took three terms of American Sign Language in college. Then I went through a phase when I decided learning Gaelic would be the thing to do. That one never went anywhere, big surprise. Maybe I needed some learn-to-speak Gaelic software. Throw in German, Italian, and maybe some Ancient Greek, and I could be the most well-rounded person ever.

I think I'll take my time though. Small steps. Next goal: learn to say restroom en Français!

Whine, Whine, Vine

A year ago, I got asked to join Amazon Vine. It's this program where Amazon.com's vendors offer up free stuff, we snag it, then we write reviews. Everything from books to electronic devices. It's usually a mad cattle call at noon on the third Thursday of the month, when the available stuff is posted, and it seems many people get irked when all the "good" stuff is snatched from under their noses and all they're left with is books. There seems to be an entirely separate set of people who are just ticked they didn't get a Vine invite in the first place. Yeah, it's invitation only, and nobody knows what the criteria for being invited really is. Many of us who got the invitation have written a lot of reviews for Amazon, but that is not the case for everyone. There's an air of mystery to the whole thing, but hey... free stuff. Can't go wrong.

Well, I suppose you can if you had your heart set on an Internet radio and all you got was a lousy book about the romantic liaisons of shepherds. Then there's some complaining to do. Or when you request an item, and you never receive it (but you're still bound to write a review.) Or when you request an item, get told it's coming, and then have it canceled on you. But despite all the things that can go wrong, there's always an upside. Like the time I got free jelly beans. That was a sweet deal.

None of us knows for sure how many Viners there are, but I think there are probably a lot, because I know two others in real life. (Well, sort of. One is a friend on LiveJournal, and another is my cousin's fiance.) Recently, Amazon started mixing things up. Some Vine members were booted out for no apparent reason, and a bunch of new members came aboard. How do I know all this? There's a Vine message board. Where Viners go to discuss... and so much more.

The last few days have been crazy over there. See, there's this... thing... within the Amazon Vine message board system where you can rate people's posts. Below each post and reply, there's the question: "Does this post add to the discussion? Yes or no?" You can click on one or the other. The stats are posted below the message, ie "5 out of 8 people think this post adds to the discussion, how 'bout you?" If a post gets too many "nos," it doesn't automatically show up, but you can still see it if you click a special link. It's just like the thumbs-up/thumbs-down thing on YouTube.

Anyway, some of the folks over there have been taking this SO SERIOUSLY. They take it as a personal insult if someone gives them a "no." Not only that, but they've started making these wild theories about who could possibly be giving them the "nos." Could it be lurkers? Pathetic low-lifes? Could it be a conspiracy? (Yes, that theory has been floating around.) Hmmm, maybe that one girl who's opinion we didn't like, maybe she gathered all her Amazon friends to come to the message boards and click "no" on every post! YES, I'M SURE IT WAS HER! THAT... THAT EVIL WENCH!

All this drama makes me think of the kids at the elementary school where I work. They get so upset if someone cuts in front of them in line. And it's rarely a line for anything. It's not like Black Friday, where the first 10 people in line get the privilege of buying an X-Box or a Furby. It's just a line for, say, walking back to the classroom and sitting at their desks. But cutting, the worst of all crimes, is taken very seriously. I hear "TEACHER, HE CUTTED!" at least 8,000 times a week. The only one that I hate worse than that is "TEACHER, THOSE GIRLS AT THE OTHER END OF THE CAFETERIA TABLE ARE LOOKING AT ME!"

Oh no. Anything but that!