Happy. Healthy. Heathen.

Of all the subjects I’ve written about, plumbing may very well be one I’ve avoided.  No more.

I came home Thursday evening from work to a huge puddle of water near a corner of my house.  As I walked around the yard to see if the recent rain had left a standing puddle anywhere else, I discovered what I knew and was dreading – that, no, there weren’t any other areas that still had water visible.  I went into the house and to my relief there was no water in the inside, but if I leaned in closely toward the hot water heater/dishwasher area, I could hear the sound of water running.

I know a little about home construction and repair.  I have learned a lot of that since living in this beautiful, charming, quirky 75-year-old house.  I knew this:  I had a plumbing leak, under the house, on the kitchen end.

One of the charming things about this house is the way the construction of it tells a story.  In the beginning there was a three-room structure, and over the years another room was added, then another, and another.  From the outside you can’t tell this – the roof, while multi-gabled, is shingled uniformly, the siding covers all the seams, but underneath the house it’s a different story.  The subflooring reveals different materials, different levels, even different construction techniques.  The most contemporary end of the house has a cinder block foundation; the oldest actually has stacked, flat stones, the stones that are found all over this area of middle Tennessee.

The access hole to the crawl space is 2′ x 2′, which while not comfortable, is manageable.  Like all crawl spaces, there are pipes and cables lines and electric lines.  In the summer there are also scads of creepycrawlies.  What happens under this house however, is that the crawl space diminishes as you scootch toward the kitchen end of the house until you can scootch no more.  There’s a beam that cuts across the entire width of the house that is about 6″ off the ground – enough to shine a flashlight but not enough for an adult person to clear.  Ask me how I know this.

So back to the leak.  After my initial exploration and information gathering, I know it’s beyond my basic skills to figure this out.  I call a couple of plumbers early Friday morning – one can get to me Friday afternoon, one Saturday, and I schedule them both.  The first guy and I talk through the issue, he agrees with my assessment, scoffs at my “you-can’t-get-to-it-from-under-the-house” statement until he sees for himself.  He comes back into the house and proceeds to tell me that we will have to go through the kitchen floor, one area at a time, until we find the leak, and then possibly tear up a bigger area to repair it, depending upon what the circumstances are.  So of course the flooring will be sacrificed; the subflooring could probably be reused afterward, but obviously the covering would have to be replaced.  He said we’d want to use a carpenter for that work, and an installer for the flooring, and then whatever was necessary for the actual plumbing repair.  His estimate was $3000-$5000.

After I regained consciousness, I saw them off with their promises of beginning the repair on Monday, after having gotten their carpenter lined up.  I spent a Freaky Friday worrying about the cost and the repair and the mess.  I called my resident plumbing expert, Big Jesse, who talked me through his ideas all the way from Los Angeles.

Then Saturday’s plumber came.  After my insider talk with Jesse, he and I remembered the possibility that there may be a “scuttle hole” under the dishwasher or stove or sink or something.  So when Heath from Advantage Plumbing started looking around, we took a panel off the hot water heater, looked in and beneath the dishwasher, and what do we see?  Let’s let the pictures tell the rest of the story…

It was right there, right in the middle of the access hole!  Woohoo!  A little copper sleeve, a little soldering (what’s known as a bandaid repair), and we’re done!  Turn the water back on, shove the dishwasher back in, one hour of plumber’s fees, and I’m back in clover!

I think this is less about trying to learn a lesson or takeaway, and more about, in this case, I was just dumb lucky.  Btw, that’s the actual plumber and company if you have a need in the future.

So this post isn’t the most exciting or important, but it’s a day in the life.  Now if I could just learn to build bookshelves.

Thanks for reading!

In the Facebook age, there’s a phenomenon that occurs on one’s birthday that has created the awkward moment of wanting to accept each person’s well wishes, which one would do individually IRL, and feeling a little silly going to everyone’s page one at a time and saying the same thank you over and over.
In my case, my birthday was so delightful, and the sentiment from friends was so overwhelming, I need to express it with more than just a one-click effort.

The morning started with a skype call from my guy, on a business trip to Vegas, before the sun even came up.  Next was son Sam calling before he headed out on an all-day raft trip.  Then, my best study buddy and her wife call and serenade me with the Birthday song from 3000 miles away.  I’m not even out of bed and already the day is perfect.

Next is morning coffee, birthday coffee that arrived the day before from one of my brothers, and sunrise on the porch.  I know it’s freezing, but the view from the front porch of the sun coming up through the now bare tree branches across the pasture is compelling every time.  I get my fuzzy robe, a quilt, my coffee, and the dogs and I go out and watch the planet turn and bring the sun into view.  Waiting, waiting, and then finally, where just moments before you could just make out shapes and outlines, rays of sunshine so bright you can see them through your closed eyelids.  Another morning, another day to get to be here in this place and time.

Then it’s back into the office for a day of studying.  2L is coming to a close, finals are in December, so it’s wrapping up Constitutional Law, Criminal Procedure, Civil Procedure, and Real Property.  Another moment of gratitude for the chance to go to school, to have this academic challenge, to get to know all my classmates and professors, to explore this ever-fascinating field of law.  I keep my Facebook window open and watch the Happy Birthdays come in, each one a birthday present of friendship, each one a reminder of how so very fortunate I have been to know and love this fabulous person and this fabulous person and it goes on and on and on.  The phone call from first, brother, and then, mother and dad come through, along with the chit-chat of who they saw at church, and what they said, and what they had for lunch…the poignant, ubiquitous trivialities that today touch me as a indispensable connection to my hometown community and the family I still have there.

After study, it’s time for my present to me – a couple of hours out on the bike in the last of the fall’s pretty riding days.  The sky is as blue as I’ve ever seen it, the sun feels warm and delicious, even the shuffle setting I have on the iPod seems to be cooperating to create this perfect moment in time.  I’m singing along in my euphoria, not even caring that I have forgotten how one’s singing sounds when one has earbuds in, presuming one can carry a tune in the first place, when I realize I’m at a stoplight, and the passengers in the car next to me are enjoying the weather too, with windows rolled down.  As the light turns green and they roll past me, they give me a little applause and a laugh out the window, and because I don’t know what else to say, I shout “It’s my birthday!”, and I get a “Happy Birthday!” in return.  Child #4, twin B, is heard from, and we chat for moment, until I hear her chastise me like I’ve chastised her repeatedly:  Don’t talk on the cell phone while you’re riding your bike!

As the sun is setting, the beautiful inverse of the morning’s performance, with the brilliant rays getting lower and lower til they are no more, and the temperature drops instantaneously, I pull in to the restaurant where I’m meeting friends for a little celebratory brew and socializing.  We’re loud, obnoxious, and opinionated, a mix of men and women, young and old, secular and religious, and I’m enjoying the food and the beer and the company more than I can describe.  The Squeeze even makes it in from the Las Vegas trip, gifts in hand, in time for dinner and merriment.  We’ve instituted a phone rule for our get-togethers:  ringers on, 3 minutes to send whatever texts you need to prepare, then in a pile on the table they go, and the first one who responds buys the beer.  So I miss the call (you think I’m going to lose THAT deal?) from child #3, twin A, Glenda, but get the Birthday voicemail she leaves.

After much food, drink, laughter, and general carrying-on, the evening is over, I strap the bike to the car, and on the drive home I hear from the last child, who’s actually the first child, and his birthday message.  He tells me when his flight is getting in for Thanksgiving, and we talk about how excited we all are to be getting everyone together.

Finally it’s time to collapse into bed and catch up the way you do in a love affair when even hours apart is too long.  Cold night, flannel sheets, electric blankets set to Infinity, heat turned off, dogs across our feet.  Life is not just good.  It’s spectacular.

I know it was just an ordinary birthday.  I heard from old friends and new friends and Tennessee friends and out-of-state friends and old church friends and law school friends and young friends and not-so-young friends and every one meant something to me.  Some were just Facebook posts, but the relationships that those posts, and the phone calls, and the gathering, represent what makes up my world.  As they came in through the day, I spent a moment reflecting on friendships and how grateful I am to have this particular set of people in my life.  Hokey and cliche?  I’m good with that.

“For small creatures such as we, the vastness is bearable only though love.”   Carl Sagan

What a beautiful way to lead in to this season of Thanksgiving.

Thanks for reading.