Putting The Hard In Hardware Store

I've honed my handyman skills in the past year, thanks to a storm-broke home that needed fixing and upgrades before going on the market and a new home that had all kinds of surprise problems, such as lots of leaky plumbing, non-existent weather stripping, a lumpy laminate floor, etc.
Every weekend, I try to put a dent into the problems at the new house. The fountain of plumbing problems have been contained. The shed's smashed-up roof - complete with what the neighbor said was seven years of pine needle buildup - has been patched and cleaned off. Light fixtures have been repaired. Bathroom fixtures have been installed.
I've still got the lumpy laminate, but I've figured out how to fix it and will do so when I've got the energy to rip up a floor.
What I haven't figured out is how in the world some of my home-repair needs can't be satisfied through those monster home-improvement stores.
Myriad windows around the new house need new latches, window screens, stripping and those little cross bars, which I'm told are called "muttons."
However, I've yet to find nary a latch or mutton at the several home-improvement stores I've visited.
And if you want a screen, you have to build it yourself.
That's right. You can't just go to a store and buy a screen. You have to buy the screen, the frame and a cutting tool and build the damn thing yourself.
Considering I seem to be a measure-once, cut-twice kind of guy, this little project rather scares me, considering how much the materials are.
I suppose windows have grown so customized over the years that the home-improvement stores gave up trying to stock already-built screens.
You'd think we'd have learned something from Henry Ford and his standardized car parts.
Oh well. I suppose this weekend I'll be adding screen-building and perhaps mutton-making to my handyman resume.

Jefferson County Commissioners Generate Hilarity

Recently, a vast oil field was found in the Gulf of Mexico, a significant untapped resource that could greatly benefit Southeast Texas.
And if hilarity could be an alternative energy source, as it is in the movie "Monsters Inc.," then the Jefferson County Commissioners Court could be a gusher.
Normally, I'm not very political. Call me a Republicrat or a Democritan. I am a political peg that doesn't fit in either the Democrat or Republican holes. I keep up with politics because it's my job, and I prefer local politics over national or world politics, but I don't obsess or get my boxers in a bunch over it.
But I have to laugh at commissioners' recent fountain of comedy regarding pay raises for themselves and the tax rate.
Here we are, some of us still digging out from Hurricane Rita's physical and bureaucratic rubble, and the commissioners not only want to increase their tax revenues but give themselves a whopping 18 percent raise. Meanwhile, much of Ford Park continues to serve primarily as a non-profit turf-growing farm.
To justify their raise, they did a study comparing themselves to their counterparts in LARGER counties.
Commissioner Mark Domingue last month made the comment that it would be hard to attract talented, qualified people to run for public office unless elected officials' salaries were competitive.
Hence the proposed pay increase from $73,362 to $86,508. That's almost twice the salary of an average Jefferson County resident. It's certainly well above what I make. I'd be happy to serve as commissioner for that kind of money.
Last night, Domingue offered up another doozy, comparing commissioners' jobs to that of a city manager. Billy Job, the Republican candidate for county judge, probably wasn't far off when he noted that city managers probably do more in a day than a commissioner does all week.
Commissioners primarily oversee road maintenance. City managers have roads, too, as well as garbage, water, sewer, police, fire, municipal courts and a whole lot more to juggle.
Again, I'm relatively apolitical, but I can't help but point out that the commissioners court has no clothes!

A Year Ago Today, The Rita Panic Set In

A year ago today, my wife and I made the fateful decision that she and the two boys should evacuate to DeRidder, La., to get out of Hurricane Rita's projected path.
At the time, the projected path tracked farther south, between Houston and Corpus Christi, but we were well within that probability cone.
So about midday, they took off to a friend's house in DeRidder, making the drive in about 90 minutes.
Later that day, the drive for panicked evacuees would take hours and hours as Hurricane Rita ramped herself up to a Category 5 city killer.
I had to stay behind, coordinating the news coverage of the vehicular highway stranglehold as well as the frightening meteorological buzz saw approaching from the south.
I remember being excited, knowing this could be a HUGE news story, most likely the biggest of my career, and also afraid, worried about my family, my newspaper staff and whether this old Beaumont Enterprise building would be able to take the pounding if the storm came straight at us.
Like my wife, my parents in Houston wisely got out early, breezing over to San Antonio, while my sister and her family got caught up in the madness and subsequently took two days to join Mom and Dad.
I remember coming home to a quiet house, in a quite neighborhood, that night and trying in futility to get a good night's sleep.
No one knew where the storm would strike. No one knew what to expect.
And sometime during the night, Rita's alarming turn toward Southeast Texas began.

Wanna Run A Marathon? Here's How!

I always get a kick out of conversations like I had this past Saturday after I finished cutting the lawn:

Neighbor: You still running?
Me: Heck yeah!
Neighbor: You training for any marathons?
Me: Not right now. Maybe I'll do one in the spring.
Neighbor: I'm thinking about doing maybe a half marathon next year, but I'm only up to 4 miles. I don't see how you do those long runs on weekends. Did you run this morning?
Me: Yep.
Neighbor: How far did you go?
Me: 13
Neighbor: < : - 0 To a marathoner, 13 miles isn't all that big a deal. In between ramp ups for a marathon, must of us will cut back our weekly mileage drastically but still run 10- to 15-mile long runs on the weekends, or maybe every other weekend.That way, when marathon training time starts, we don't have to start from scratch. Plus, we like to run and stay in shape. Furthermore, just because we can. Most non-runners, and even most low-mileage runners, can't fathom doing the long distances, and neither could I when I started training for my first one back in 1994. Early in the year, I was overweight and out of shape, so I decided to do a little running. I barely finished 2 miles. Afterward, sitting on the couch and disgusted with myself, I just happened to look over at a bookshelf in my apartment and saw a running book that someone had given to me years ago, but I hadn't cracked it open. I fetched it and started flipping through it. And then I saw it: A 26-week marathon program. I decided that I was going to do a marathon. No one thought I'd do it. Not my friends. Not my family. Six months later, I triumphantly finished the Houston Marathon, and I've been running marathons ever since, 16 to date, including Boston. I'm just over the bubble of my prime, I think, so rather than shoot for my fastest marathon, I'm trying to do one in every state. I've knocked out eight states: Texas, Massachusetts, Virginia, Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama and Tennessee. It's going to take me years to accomplish this goal, even if I try to do two per year. But it gives me a goal, and goals are very important to most runners. I couldn't just go out and run for the pure enjoyment and fitness benefits of running. I have to have a goal, and the 50-state goal will keep my busy for quite a while. Then I suppose I'll do one on every continent or something, if I'm still alive. But I plan to live for a long time, because running is a fountain of youth, in my opinion. I try to tell people this, but few people believe me. They say they're too old or too fat or too brittle. Or they say they get too bored or fear that running will destroy their hips, knees and feet.For those who need a little inspiration, just look at this: http://www.baa.org/2006/cf/public/TopFinishers.htm
These are the results of the 2006 Boston Marathon, and here are some interesting statistics to chew on:
The top finisher for a male older than 70 was 3 hours and 52 minutes. In my most recent marathon, in Nashville, I clocked the same time, meaning that this 43-year-old would have trouble beating the best 70-year-old man in Boston. The top 70+ female came in at an amazing 4 hours and 46 minutes.
It gets even more interesting in the 60-69 age group, where the top male came in at an astounding 2:58:42. That's a pace of under 6 minutes and 56 seconds per mile.
My best time - the 3:13 in the 1999 Austin Marathon that got me qualified for Boston - would not have barely crocked the Top 10 in the 60-69 age group. My recent 3:52 wouldn't have made the Top 15.
So little old ladies and men beat the pants off me in marathons.
So, serious health problems aside, I don't see being old as a reason not to run, and these kinds of senior times give me hope that I might chalk up another personal best some day. After all, I have more than 20 years to do it.
Being overweight gives someone even more of a reason to run, as running is the No. 1 form of calorie-burning exercise. A runner burns roughly 110 calories per mile, depending on weather, weight, speed and other factors, of course.
So last Saturday, on a 13-mile run, I burned more than 1,400 calories. That easily took care of the beer and pizza from the night before.
Of course, not everyone is cut out for running, and I respect that. However, everyone should exercise in some way, even if it's just a brisk walk, yoga or weight-bearing exercises. It helps prevent long-term health problems and keeps the body youthful and fit.
Anyway, as far as running goes, I think just about everyone can do it, and I think just about anyone can do a marathon if they put their mind and time to it.
Looking at a lot of the marathon training schedules out there, I can see why many people would consider it intimidating. Heck, I wouldn't do them.
For the most part, they are too high mileage. You don't need to run more than 6 miles for a weekday run. You can get away with running only 3 days a week, with a little cross-training thrown in. I've run all but a couple of my marathons without cracking 40 miles a week. You can't be too lazy with the low-mileage approach, but less certainly can be more, because it reduces injury risk. I haven't had a major injury in almost 10 years.
Also, I've successfuly trained about a half dozen beginner marathons with my approach, and I'll share that with you now.
So here it is, my couch jockey to marathoner training program. Of course, it's never a bad idea to check with your physician first before getting into something like this.
Good luck, godspeed and remember one thing: Every run is chapter, and every marathon is a story.

Week 1
Monday: Run a half mile. Walk a half mile. Run a half mile. Walk a half mile.
Wednesday: Run a half mile. Walk a half mile. Run a half mile. Walk a half mile.
Thursday: Run a half mile. Walk a half mile. Run a half mile. Walk a half mile.
Saturday: Run a mile. Walk a half mile. Run a half mile. Walk a half mile.
Week 2
Monday: Run a half mile. Walk a half mile. Run a half mile. Walk a half mile.
Wednesday: Run a mile. Walk a half mile. Run a half mile. Walk a half mile.
Thursday: Run a mile. Walk a half mile. Run a half mile. Walk a half mile.
Saturday: Run a mile. Walk a half mile. Run a mile. Walk a half mile.
Week 3
Monday: Run a mile. Walk a half mile. Run a mile.
Wednesday: Run a mile. Walk a half mile. Run a mile.T
hursday: Run a mile. Walk a half mile. Run a mile.
Saturday: Run 2 miles.
Week 4
Monday: Run a mile.
Wednesday: Run 1.5 miles.
Thursday: Run 1.5 miles.
Saturday: Run 2 miles
Week 5
Monday: Run a mile.
Wednesday: Run 2 miles.
Thursday: Run 2 miles.
Saturday: Run 3 miles.
Week 6
Monday: Run a mile.
Wednesday: Run 2 miles
Thursday: Run 2 miles
Saturday: Run 4 miles
Week 7
Monday: Run a mile
Wednesday: Run 3 miles
Thursday: Run 3 miles
Saturday: Run 4 miles
Week 8
Monday: Run 2 miles
Wednesday: Run 3 miles
Thursday: Run 3 miles
Saturday: Run 5 miles
Week 9
Monday: Run 2 miles
Wednesday: Run 3 miles
Thursday: Run 3 miles
Saturday: Run 6 miles!
Week 10
M: 2
W: 4
Th: 4
Sat: 6
Week 11
M: 2
W: 4
Th: 4
Sat: 8
Week 12
M: 2
W: 4
Th: 4
Sat: 10
Week 13
M: 2
W: 5
Th: 5
Sat: 10
Week 14
M: 3
W: 5
Th: 5
Sat: 12
Week 15
M: 3
W: 6
Th: 6
Sat: 10
Week 16
M: 3
W: 6
Th: 6
Sat: 12
Week 17
M: 3
W: 6
Th: 6
Sat: 14
Week 18
M: 3
W: 6
Th: 6
Sat: 12
Week 19
M: 3
W: 6
Th: 6
Sat: 16
Week 20
M: 3
W: 6
Th: 6
Sat: 12
Week 21
M: 3
W: 6
Th: 6
Sat: 18
Week 22
M: 3
W: 6
Th: 6
Sat: 12
Week 23
M: 3
W: 6
Th: 6
Sat: 20!!!!!
Week 24
M: 3
W: 5
Th: 5
Sat: 10
Week 25
M: 4
W: 6
Th: 6
Sat: 20
Week 26
T: 5
Th: 5
Sat: 15
Week 27
M: 2
W: 4
Th: 4
Sat: 8
Week 28
T: 4
Th: 2
Sat/Sun: MARATHON!

The Poop Heard 'Round The World

It finally happened last night after a years-long struggle and long-ago promises of getting a treehouse.
My 4-year-old son, Curt, finally pooped in the potty.
We've tried numerous times, through bribes, encouraging language and diaper deprivation.
Still, no poop.
Bribes didn't work. Big Talks didn't work. When we deprived him of a diaper, he just went on a poop strike, holding it in for days and days.
Recently, he pooped his underwear twice. This made mommy and daddy rather irritated.
One of the problems has been him overcoming his fear of toilets. Last year, somehow, while sitting on a toilet at school, his little chicken leg got pinched under the seat, and that caused a great deal of pain and trauma.
Curt has WANTED to use the potty and knows that he HAS TO use the potty, but he hasn't been able to bring himself to do it out of fear. A long time ago, he asked for a treehouse, similar to the one in those "Little People" videos. I said he could get a treehouse if he pooped in the potty and gave up diapers.
Still no potty poop.
We recently began a new struggle to get him to use the potty. Again, he went on a poop strike.
After a day or two without pooping, and the struggle still going, a fed-up mommy yesterday called daddy at work. She needed to vent.
Daddy then got a brilliant idea: "Tell him he can wear a diaper, but he has to sit on the potty while he's wearing it."
The boy agreed and climbed aboard the potty, diaper and all. But then mommy removed the diaper, and just like that, the boy dropped his load into the toilet without incident.
Despite the bribe not being mentioned for a very long time, his first post-poop response was: "Now daddy has to build me a treehouse."
He has flypaper memory, that boy.
Much rejoicing was had by all, and Curt was so inspired that he pooped in the potty AGAIN, following up with a: "Now daddy had to build me TWO treehouses!"
I straightened out all that this morning, informing him he would get 1 treehouse, but only after giving up diapers forever.
Our 3-year-old, Luke, already poops in the potty. In fact, he was partially self-trained. This weekend, he came up to me, buck naked, took me by the hand and led me to the bathroom to show off the impressive product of his gastrointestinal pyrotechnics.
My heart melted.
So, perhaps these diaper-weary parents have finally come to the end of an era.
And daddy has to build a treehouse.

The Pros, Cons Of Reliving Sept. 11

Every media entity in the land today has focused coverage on Sept. 11's fifth anniversary commemoration. Plenty of buildup led to today, from myriad shows on the network television stations to in-depth newspaper packages, such as the one The Enterprise produced Sunday, from Page 1A to sports and features.
We look at how we've changed in the past five years. We share the stories of where we were on that day.
I was at the gym early that morning when I looked up and saw the television news reports after the first jet hit the World Trade Center. My first thought was that it was a flight that had wandered off course. It reminded me of the B-29 that hit the Empire State Building in 1945.
I quickly left the gym, cranked on the news radio and heard the report of the second jet hitting the World Trade Center. Even then, I wondered if some horrible traffic-control error had resulted in the second strike.
Soon, I was in the newsroom, the Pentagon was hit and we all realized it was intentional, a despicable act of terrorism.
It was a terrible day, one that will remain among the worst, if not arguably THE worst, in U.S. history.
It's human nature - as well as media nature - to commemorate major events (Hurricanes Katrina and Rita included) on their anniversary. The media typically will do a big one-year anniversary splash. The next big commemoration comes on the fifth anniversary, followed by the 10th, 20th, sometimes 25th, 30th and then every decade after that.
So, on the fifth anniversary of Sept. 11, the media has gone all-out with its coverage.
I'm curious as to how much the public really wants to see and read, particularly those not directly affected by the events.
Last night, there were two network Sept. 11 specials, but I couldn't bear to watch either of them. We did a massive package of stories for our Sunday edition, but based on an Internet report, our online readers aren't nearly as interested in them as they are sex, death and scandal.
I don't believe it's Sept. 11 fading into memory as much as it is the fact that many of us still feel sickened over that tragic day, and it's too difficult to relive through newspapers, television and other means.
But it's also impossible to ignore.
The media has had a responsibility to commemorate that day as well as detail how much it has changed us, from slipping off our shoes at the airport to standing behind our troops engaged in the war on terror.
We also have an obligation to make sure today's children, particularly those who were not born or too young to know, are educated about what happened and what it all means for this country.
We might not have sold out every newspaper rack in town Sunday thanks to our Sept. 11 coverage, but we did our job in painting a portrait of the post-Sept. 11 world, both locally and worldwide.

MCI: Putting The Distance Into Long Distance

For reasons I'll probably never know or understand, none of the telephone jacks in our new home worked.
This created quite a hassle, not to mention a bit of anger over the seller leaving us with this little problem, among others.
I've been less than happy with MCI since their representatives harassed us morning, noon and night after a bill that was paid late due to the lethargic postal service in Hurricane Rita's aftermath last year. It was if news of the hurricane had failed to reach them.
And maybe it had, because I found out something interesting today about MCI.
Because it appeared that the phone problem with the new home was inside the house, it was up to the long-distance provider to fix it. The charge: $180.
After a long discussion with an MCI representative - and my threat to find another long-distance provider - it was agreed that the company would fix my phone, charge me the $180 but credit it back to me after I got the bill.
But the earliest appointment I could get with a repairman was WEEKS away.
In the meantime, I had to run a 50-foot cord from the outside test jack, which worked, into the house through the kitchen window. We would have relied on cell phones, but service where we live is spotty, sometimes requiring us to wear a tinfoil hat, face east and stand on one leg atop a chair in a far house corner house to get a call out.
The repairman finally came, but even he was perplexed over why the phone jacks in the house didn't work. Ultimately, he had to run a new line into the house to one jack, which we set up for use for a satellite phone system throughout the home.
Anyway, I recently got the bill and called MCI today to clear the $180 charge. I fully expected hassle and denial, but the representative was friendly and accommodating.
And spoke with a funny accent, just like every MCI representative before her.
Following some conversation, I finally said, "What the heck is that accent? Every person I've talked to there speaks with that accent."
"I am in the Philippines," she said.
"You are IN the Philippines?" I asked.
"Yes," she said.
"Everyone I've talked to is in the Philippines?" I asked.
"Yes," she said.
Everyone I talked to also spoke excellent English, albeit with that exotic Philippines accent.
Curious to know her working conditions, I pressed on.
"Do they pay you well?" I asked.
"Yes, they sure do!" she said, laughing.
"Do you have health benefits?" I asked.
"Oh yes! We have health benefits!" she said cheerfully.
"Stock options?"
"Why yes! We have everything!"
I don't know how I feel about having the representatives of my long-distance provider based in the Philippines, but I suppose it's nice that the company seems to be making a lot of people happy over there. Or maybe they're just naturally happy. Every MCI representative I talked to was about as cheery and friendly as he or she could be. It actually brightened my day a bit to talk to one.
If nothing else, I take great comfort in knowing that if they're calling to bug me about late payment, they might be making quite an expensive long-distance call to do it.
Irony, baby.