Garage door opener

My garage door is one of those that tilts up and horizontal when opened. After years of use, the remote for the garage door opener wasn't working as well as it used to. Changing the battery helped: I could open the door from a couple of houses away (which was certainly better than 5 feet, when the battery was weak). But it used to be better.

I asked my electronics wizard friend, Jim Peisker, if he had any ideas. He opened up the remote and receiver and pointed at a couple parts. He said we should replace the electrolytic capacitor because those can degrade over time. ("Of course!")

After he replaced those, I was amazed at how well it worked, even from 10 houses away where I'd first round the corner.

That left such an impression on me that I've oft thought of including those details in a movie and then make some additional upgrade to the garage opener that would make it even more powerful, which in my mind means the door would violently blow itself off the face of the garage when I tested it from the far end of the block.

The trouble with parking

There's a high school about a block away. Kids park all along the streets nearby. I shook my head at seeing someone back into a spot so that the car behind them had, at most, two feet of clearance on both ends of their car. Good luck getting out of that spot.

You know how it is. You park, you go into the store or restaurant or wherever, and your shoulders slump when you come and see that some impossible parking situation has developed. (Click)

[After I took this photo, I laughed when a guy (with his buddies) started to pull his car into the spot to the right of my car. The expressions on their faces...you could tell they were trying to make sense of consequences of parking their car.]

Jelly is still stupid

Yes! That was blog-worthy. Falls apart at the end, but still brought me a smile. Thanks, Mom! Jelly bothers me

Me and my hotpants

I was walking back to work, grasping a burrito in one hand while a finger of my other hand hooked the to-go bag with green hot sauce. Occasionally, my hands would cooperate to work more foil off the burrito or get sauce out of the little lidded cup. At some point of my brisk walk back from the little shop, I noticed a cool sensation on each of my thighs.

What amazes me is how perfect all the conditions had to be--lid slightly ajar on the hot sauce cup, bag dangling open, bag swinging with my stride--to accomplish what I still can't comprehend: the even distribution of green hot sauce down each pant leg. Cool. Great way to arrive back at work.

Lucky brake

I mentioned in this story how my brakes didn't sound quite right, so I didn't even want to touch that steep San Fran hill. I did the proper thing until I could work on the brakes: avoid hills, minimize fast stops, shift to lower gears to help slow the car when braking.

I wasn't expecting to see this stuff fall out when I took the rear wheel apart. It requires no knowledge of brakes to know that "that ain't right."



The righthand pad had completely come off of its shoe.

Am I glad I fixed it now! (And I think I deserve extra points for fixing my own rear brakes. Those things are complicated.)

How to become a man

I'll never forget with what pride I wrote in a journal at age 12 that Dad had told me I was becoming a man. This was in response to my having "repaired" something in the house.

You see, my bedroom door, in this Los Angeles beach house built in 1906, was rubbing on the barewood floor in one portion of its arc. I took it upon myself to fix the problem. I got some sandpaper and sanded the floor until the door didn't rub anymore! "Fixed!"

I still laugh and shake my head about that bad solution today.

It's Mom's day

"Happy Mother's Day," I said to the gentleman working at the fast food restaurant. Then I added, "Is she still alive?" That's part of my thinking now, having lost Dad--sensitivity to the possible losses of others. I'm so glad to have enjoyed another day with Mom. To plant flowers and ferns for her. To try fixing her car door lock. To squirm with her in watching the finale of one of our many shows we look forward to watching together, "Survivor." To share with her how good it was to find healing in a relationship and hear her say that she so enjoyed hearing me laugh on the phone with that friend again.

A gal at church, in greeting me with "Happy Mother's Day," added that I was being such a good son to my mother. I guess those kind words didn't have too deep of meaning because "how difficult is that with a Mom like mine?" I reflected on the strained relationship I recall her having had with her mother. Who wouldn't want a sweet mother like mine...and know the curiosity of the phrase "being a good son" as if that were hard.

This morning was the first Sunday for me to help out in a 1st-5th grade class. (They'd asked for more volunteers so that they could start up this class again.) A fun time. At the end, with kids gone, the adults were chatting about what worked and didn't work. For some reason, one asked if I played the piano. Yes. And what did I think about leading the kids in music some future Sunday. Instantly I was talking excitedly about what Mom had done for so many years--well before I became her fourth child and on through my 6th grade--how Mom made bid posters with the words written out and she'd play piano and kids would excitedly want to be selected to stand in front of the crowd of kids to hold the posters and all would sing. And Mom had her cool ways of helping kids memorize scripture, such as writing out the verse and they'd read it, then a kid could come erase a word and write an underline, and they'd repeat until there were just lines and everyone was saying the verse together. And they'd get a pack of gum next week if they could repeat the verse from memory. She kept kids engaged through lessons she came up with. She handled the age range with ease.

Oh how I longed for such to have happened today. What a stark contrast. Kids drawing pictures on paper bags while we're supposed to get them to answer questions about who was out to kill Paul in the book of Acts. A bit of mayhem. No music. Kids not clear about who's in charge in the room with there being four of us...instead of a sharp lady like Mom. As I shared some of what Mom did, the others chimed in how they had liked similar in their experiences, or how they looked forward to such.

Thanks for your example and leadership, Mom! Great job, all those years. How cool it has been for you to hear from adult women now who remember the love you had for them as children in Sunday School, how you cared for them in the years since... Your flock has sure expanded, hasn't it?

I love you, Mom. Thanks for your friendship, your thoughtfulness, your never-ending kindness to me and others.