Aging in Different Cities

Birthdays are sure not what they used to be.

I spent mine at work and then I made a failed attempt at catching a baseball game. The rain came down so hard that a few thousand people tried in vain to hide in the Metro station. An hour later, I gave it up and went back to my apartment. No cake. No celebration. No Leah. Ah well, it happens.

It's Leah's birthday today. She got up early and worked on her paper. Then went to her summer job. Then school. Soon she will come home to eat a slice of cold pizza and fresh watermelon. Then she will work on her paper some more.

We like to think that some time in the future it will be different. We will live in the same place. The weather will cooperate. The pizza will be hot. And Leah won't have any homework. Sounds nice, huh.

Taking Do it Yourself Just a Stitch Too Far

Leah's convinced that we can do just about everything ourselves. Electrical, plumbing, carpentry. She's now trying to convince me that we can replace our own windows.

And heck, why not handle our own medical care while we are at it.

She recently had an odd shaped birthmark carved out of her arm, requiring a half dozen stitches or so. Just last night, despite my protests, she yanked them out herself.

Why? Because she didn't want to go pay some lousy doc a $25 co-pay to do it for her.

Maybe I recoiled at the idea because blood and cuts and stitches make me a little bit woozy. Not Leah. I'm sure she would have taken the birthmark off herself if she wasn't worried about leaving a scar.

Movin Out

I walked through the eerily empty house slowly, taking soft steps and small shallow breaths. I didn't blink much. I stared at the walls, then the floor. Then I leaned down and REALLY stared at the floor.

If someone walking by saw me they would have to think I was nuts. And I wouldn't blame them.

Our tenants moved out of our Salt Lake City house and that meant I had to do a thorough walk through. But since they were our first ever tenants in our first ever rental property then logically this was my first ever inspection.

A few days ago Leah called to run down all of the things I had to look at and I scoffed and blew her off with some brilliant comment like "Right, you want me to look at everything. Got it. Let's move on."

But now I'm inching my way through the kitchen trying to remember what she said, knowing she's going to ask me about it later. Check the lights, check the appliances. Are the cabinets clean? Is the refrigerator clea... hey they left butter and a few cans of beer! Sweet!

All in all, Leah and I got really lucky. We rented to nice people. The worst thing they did is ding a wall or two, but in my book that falls into the "normal wear and tear" section.

I wish they would have spent a little more time cleaning the joint. The bedroom has a bunch of dog hair on the floor. But I understand they were operating under some serious time restraints at the end there.

A few weeks from now our new tenants will move in. I hope our luck continues to hold and the next time I'm staring way too intently on our hardwood floor I fail to find a dent or scratch.

Snip Snip

He was an older man with worn yet soft hands, who apparently enjoys watching soap operas. He was seated in the center of three barber chairs when I entered his empty shop. The barber didn't say a word. He got up, waived for me to sit down and started gathering his razors and scissors.

The soap opera remained on.

It felt weird. It felt scandalous even, though it probably shouldn't have. This was my first trip to a barber in YEARS. Y-E-A-R-S!

Leah has always taken care of the slowly disappearing, slowly graying tuft of hair on my head. But it just didn't work out this time. She had school. I had work. And I couldn't stand looking like a Q-tip any longer.

So this older man with soft hands buzzed and cut and snipped. He put a mirror in front of my face and said "OK?" It was the only thing he said to me. It was OK, not like the way Leah does it, but passable. I paid the man, turned to the TV just in time to watch a woman have a mental breakdown because some relative died in a horrific way, and then I left.

Chances are I will never return. And that is OK too.

Nap Time Near Washington Lake

Leah and I left all of our responsibilities and power tools in Philly last weekend to join some of her law school pals at a New York lake house.

We sipped coffee, nibbled on scones and some of us gorged ourselves on burgers and baby back ribs.

We stared at the calm water, threw some darts and played a little croquet.

We laughed. We sang. Every one of us took a nap.

And it all ended too early.

Leah's New Office

Every law student deserves a nice place to study torts and civil procedure and evidence. And this is especially true for my Leah, even if I still don’t understand what a tort is. So this past week, we transformed a small (and incredibly ugly) bedroom into her new office.


Here is what we had to start with…


Actually it was worse than that. We hung that bead board a few weeks back and Leah patched that corner, which was heavily damaged by a leaky roof in the years before we bought the place. But you get the picture. Since every other room is blue or at least bluish, we decided to go with green. A mellow, yet rich green.

But it was a bit much. After every rollerfull, we would say stuff like “It might be OK” or “I’m not sure if I like it or not.”



Immediately after finishing coat number one, we ran right to the store to pick a more subdued color. We had to abandon the green idea, but we both liked the new pick from the first brushstroke. That allowed us to move to more tedious work, which included painting the ceiling, hanging moulding (I learned this is not my strong suit) and giving the bead board a fresh white coat.

All we have to do now is set up a desk and lug in all those heavy expensive leather-bound law books.