I love my Kindle

On my birthday last November, JC surprised me with a brand new Kindle.

I've always loved to read, but in the short time since then, I've read 52 full length books, probably more than I had read in the previous three or four years combined.

The Kindle is truly a magical device, I was going to call it a toy, but it's much more than that. It easily downloads books in just a few minutes from the Amazon website on 3G, it has a built in browser so you can access web sites, it archives the books you've read in Amazon's “cloud” so you can download them and re-read them if you want. It has speakers and a headphone jack so you can play music while you read or listen to audio books.

Amazon offers hundreds of free books with a new list of selections every day. I have over 80 unread novels stored on my little, skinny Kindle, and it still weighs the same and doesn't take up any more shelf space than it did the day I unwrapped it.

It's a godsend on these rainy, wintery days to be able to curl up on my recliner with a couple of dogs for warmth, a glass of wine nearby, and read, read, read.

%#** Dishwasher

Yesterday when I walked up to JC's house I expected to find him sitting in front of his space heater with his coat on and a blanket over his legs again. He's been fighting a kidney infection for several days and has been feeling really crappy.

When I knocked on the back door I heard JC yell, “I'm in the kitchen!” I was surprised to see him up and cussing; yanking and pulling on the dishwasher trying to get it out from under the kitchen counter.

“The damned dishwasher died!” he said, giving it another mighty yank for good measure. “It won't come out and I can't figure out what's holding the bastard in.”

I hung my coat over a chair and laid down on the floor to look underneath. “The linoleum is curled up in front of the legs!” I told him. “Maybe that's what's holding it.” JC found a utility knife and I cut some of the curled up flooring out of the way. We both lifted, yanked, pulled and cussed but it still wouldn't come out. “Let''s take a break,” JC panted, “the sun's still shining out on the deck, let's go out, relax a bit, and think about this.”

He poured a glass of wine for me and a glass of water for himself, (He's not supposed to drink while he's on his latest prescription.) “There's definitely something holding that sucker in there,” I said, pointing out the obvious, “maybe we need to drain the water out to make it a little lighter!”

“I already dipped all of the water I could get out of it,” JC said.

After our pulse rates dropped down to almost normal we tried again, using a crowbar to pry the front end up. No matter how hard we pried, pulled and cussed, the rotten piece of crap (JC's description) refused to come out any more than about a third of the way.

Finally, after yet another rest stop, JC shined his headlamp down the gap on left side and said,”It looks like there's a piece of wood jammed in under the bottom!” Sure enough, all it took was a little tweak in the right place with the crowbar, one more mighty yank, and it popped right out. A six inch piece of wood, probably used to level the dishwasher, was the culprit. We both breathed a sigh of relief.

It turned out that we had declared success a bit too soon though, because while we were wrestling the damn thing onto a cart to roll it outside, the drain hose fell down and was running water onto the floor. We were too busy to notice because when we found out that it wouldn't fit through the kitchen door, we had to back track and hump it out the back door onto the deck. The son of a bitch must have had five gallons of water stored somewhere in it's innards and it all drained out on the floor.

JC mopped and cussed until he got it cleaned up. We both were pooped, mostly from cussing the friggin thing.

Silent Night

In the early hours when the dogs and I arise, we try our level best to quietly go about our morning routine. Carol sleeps several hours later than we do and she doesn't appreciate loud noises interrupting her favorite time to snooze.
Unfortunately, every little thing seems to make a lot of racket when the house is still and quiet. When I try to gently set the coffee pot on the kitchen counter it somehow makes a loud clunk. The drawer that holds the measuring cups squalls like a banshee when I open it. When I open the back door to go outside with the dogs, the wind catches the storm door, pulls it out of my hand and slams it. In the meantime the dogs have found something that requires some serious barking, so I do my best to quiet them down and get them back inside.
After giving them a bacon treat for being so good, and after stepping on one of their squeaky toys that squeals like a pig, I start making a fire in the fireplace. I quietly unlock the front door and go out to the carport for some firewood and some kindling. Coming back in with my arms full, a piece of Alder slips and falls to the tiled entry floor. I can always tell a good, dry piece of firewood by the crisp, hollow banging noise it makes when it echoes in our entry. Cussing, I lean over to pick it up and a piece of Douglas Fir falls beside it. (It also sounds dry and ready to burn.)
I have a system for building a foolproof fire in our fireplace insert which requires two side logs, a back log, and some kindling on top of an empty Franzia wine box. All that's left is to crumple up a couple of sheets of newspaper to stuff underneath and to light it.
For some reason crumpling newspaper in the daytime hardly makes any noise, but early in the morning when I'm trying to be stealthy and quiet, it sounds like someone pouring a large bag of marbles into the kitchen sink.
After the fire is going and the coffee has perked, I go in the den, turn on the computer and click on the dial up modem icon. A blast of whistles, beeps, honks and whines come out of the surround sound speakers, but by the time I get the volume turned down the horrendous noise is over and the computer is connected to the Internet. While I'm reading email and surfing my favorite web sites, things quiet down and even the dogs go back to sleep.
When my coffee cup runs dry I leave the den to get a refill and check the fire. It needs another log so I open the cast iron door and toss a hunk of Fir on top of the coals, but before I can close it, the fire alarm goes off and the dogs start barking uncontrollably. (I'd forgotten to open the damper before opening the door.)

Oh! Hi Honey! Are you up already?