I am not a plumber

But I am handy once in a while. I got up and discovered that my toilet wouldn't flush and the handle was apparently not connected to anything.

The little arm that connects the handle to the chain in the tank broke off from the handle. I tried taking the handle and lever from the less-used downstairs toilet, but each toilet has a totally different type of chain and I couldn't find a good permanent way to secure the chain to the lever. For now, I had to use some string to hold it all together until we can get a compatible replacement. But it works and my toilet flushes again without me having to reach into the tank for the chain.

The hardest part was getting the bolts loosened. I was doing my best with a wrench but I wasn't getting anywhere. Turns out that the handle lever bolts tighten opposite to normal. So it's righty-loosey lefty-tighty. Once I knew that I didn't even need any tools.

I'm glad my dad had me help out with fix-it stuff growing up. I'm a little better prepared to at least diagnose these little repairs now, if not fix them.

RIP Candy

I just got an email from my dad. Candy, one of the family dogs, had to be put down this afternoon.

In March 1994, Boots the poodle-mix we got when I was 2 with had to be euthanized due to complications from an enlarged heart and lungs. My grandmother had died the same week, so it was a really rough time.

On Valentine's Day that year, the border collie that belonged to my sister's in-laws-to-be had a litter of 6 border collie-german shepherd cross pups. In early April, about 2 weeks after Boots died, my sister and her fiance brought over an adorable little puppy with floppy years and a pink and black spotted nose. My mother was reluctant, but my sister and dad and I all immediately fell in love with the puppy. We needed the joy of having a dog in the family again. Candy (so named because of her birthday) was instantly part of the family.

Not too long after that, my parents separated and eventually divorced. My sister and I got too old for my mother to continue to effectively use as pawns against my dad, so she used the dog. Heartbreaking for both Dad and Candy, but Dad and I soon adopted a new dog named Symba, a sweet and loving rottie-shepherd cross from the SPCA to be our dog at his house. Symba passed away three years ago when her arthritis became unmanageable.

As with her children, my mother loved Candy the best way she knew how. Unfortunately, this led to Candy becoming inactive and very obese with skin problems. When my mother became sick and eventually passed away in 2005, my dad and Symba and his new dog Keeper happily welcomed her. We didn't expect Candy to survive to that Christmas. Between the obesity and the arthritis she could barely walk. Under my dad's care, her skin cleared up and the arthritis pain and stiffness was eased as she lost weight through a healthy diet and going out for walks (something my mother never did). He gave her a happy and much healthier four and a half years that she wouldn't have otherwise had.

In the past couple years her fur had gone grey and she lost her hearing, but at the same time everyday she went and nosed at her leash for her daily walk, tail wagging happily, even when she could only make it a little way up the road and back. Yesterday she couldn't get up. Dad gave her some painkillers, but today she got much worse. His vet made a house call.

Whoomp There It Is - Tag Team

Standing Cat

A special lunch two years in the making

Sunday, December 6 marked the two year anniversary of the day David and I first met and had lunch at a little bar and grill downtown. Our intention that day was to have waffles, but once we got there and looked at the menu we both ordered other things. In two years we'd never gone out for waffles, deciding in a moment of silliness that our relationship was built on the promise of waffles and to actually have waffles might doom us. Thus our silly Waffle Curse was born.

Our plan was to have a quiet weekend, save for a short session of Dungeons & Dragons on Saturday night, since we'd had a string of busy weekends. On Sunday morning we were having breakfast, and he said that a friend would be coming by to watch the kids while we went out for an anniversary lunch. He took me to the same restaurant where we first met two years ago, and we happened to be seated in the same booth. He told me he'd take care of ordering, which turned out to be a turkey club wrap with french fries (our favorite meal to share there), a side order of sweet potato fries (my favorite), and an Belgian waffle with strawberries and whipped cream.

Almost immediately after our order was taken, he became unreasonably concerned that he'd accidentally ordered sweet potato fries instead of regular fries and disappeared to follow our server to clear up any misunderstanding. When the food was brought, the waffles were put in front of me and, very much to my surprise, there was a ring stuck on top in the whipped cream. It was his mother's engagement ring and he'd had it in his wallet since September, which is when he knew he wanted to marry me but wasn't quite sure yet how to do it. He brought me over to his side of the table to sit on his lap, and he said a whole lot of sweet things that I honestly don't remember a word of, there were tears from both of us, and friends and family (and Facebook and Twitter) were immediately informed via excited texting.

We ate the whole waffle.

What kind of gamer I am

Results

Your BrainHex Class is Mastermind.

Your BrainHex Sub-Class is Mastermind-Survivor.

You like solving puzzles and devising strategies as well as pulse-pounding risks and escaping from hideous and scary threats.

According to your results, there are few play experiences that you strongly dislike.

Learn more about your classes and exceptions at BrainHex.com.

Your scores for each of the classes in this test were as follows:

Mastermind: 14
Survivor: 13
Conqueror: 13
Achiever: 12
Socialiser: 8
Seeker: 5
Daredevil: 3

Go to BrainHex.com to learn more about this player model, and the neurobiological research behind it.

Woof

We tentatively adopted a dog. His name is Zeus and he looks to most likely be a poodle mix, possibly mixed with a shih tzu. He used to belong to the kids' maternal grandparents but they had to get rid of him because he and the dog they already had couldn't work out their differences. He was adopted by a mutual friend who lived across the street in the same building the kids' mom lives in. That friend has to move and Zeus needs a new home.

We've talked a lot about getting a dog and this was as good an opportunity as any. He knows us, he knows the kids, he's house-trained, he's a nice size, and he seems to be pretty obedient (though not particularly clever). We picked him up and brought him home today.

Thalia is deeply offended that we've allowed this abomination into the house. She's also nervous, bordering on frightened. She's keeping out of the way but hasn't really gone into hiding either. This is her house and I know she's not to just give up her throne. She's also very curious and I think she's working up the nerve to stand her ground and show Zeus who's boss around here.

If he and the cat can't establish harmony within a week or two, then Zeus will have to go.