A couple of years ago, my wife received a call from a vacuum cleaner saleswoman.
If we sat through a 30-minute presentation about the vacuum cleaner from her and her boss (read: her mother), we would receive some super-great item that my wife really wanted. For free!
Sounds great, huh?
So they came. They told us about how great the vacuum was. I admit, it seemed like a great vacuum, and probably worth every penny. But we didn't have enough pennies to buy it. Plus I'm no sucker for buying vacuums on time.
We were clear we only had 30 minutes. No more. We had to go to pick up the kids cousins from school, and couldn't be late. They assured us they would be done in 30 minutes.
At about 25 minutes into the demonstration the lady told us how horrible Arizona's salty sands were on carpet. It gets down into the carpet and when you vacuum it up it actually wears away the carpet each time you vacuum. And the little grains of sand tear up the carpet. Of course, most vacuums wouldn't pick up all the sand leaving a little sand and salts under the carpet which would destroy the carpet if not removed or was vacuumed up with an inferior vacuum, but of course, their vacuum would miraculously preserve the carpet.
To illustrate this she got out a container of salt and got ready to pour on our brand-new carpet.
"Uh, I'd prefer if you didn't pour that on our carpet," I said.
"Huh?" she replied.
"I said, I'd prefer that you not pour the salt on my new carpet," I said. "You said it wasn't good for carpet, and this is new carpet. Plus we really have to go in less than five minutes to pick up our cousins."
"But our vacuum will get it all up," she said.
"You just said that sand and salts were bad on carpets. That the grains of sand wore away carpets. And that this damage is accelerated with vacuums. Why would I want to let you do this just so you can show me that it hurts my carpet? I'd prefer not to give my carpets any unnecessary wear and tear. Why don't you just vacuum up the sand that is already in the carpet rather than add more to the issue?"
"Sir, that's not the demonstration," she said.
It was a stalemate.
"Tell you what. I'm getting hardwood floors in my office. Why don't you show my on my office carpet," I said.
"Okay. Fine," she said.
At this point my lovely wife didn't say anything, but I knew I had probably crossed some line jeopardizing the free gift by the look she gave me.
The saleswoman poured a heaping 1/4 cup of salt on my carpet. She first used our vacuum and vacuumed up about 3/4 of the 1/4 cup of salt. She then hurriedly vacuumed a tablespoon or so of the residue. The total was still less than the 1/4 cup of both salt and sand she had poured out, and it had a lot of sand mixed in.
We reminded them that we needed to go pick up the kids from school.
She simply packed up and left. Didn't give my wife the free gift. Left the harmful sand and salt in my carpet. They stopped back by the house 20 minutes later to drop off the gift. (And probably to check to see if we really had to go). We had already gone and come back.
I was reminded of this incident as I just found some salt coming back up through the carpet today, almost two years later.
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Another Year, Another Celebration
Another year has gone. We have now lived in our Queen Creek area home for two full years without falling in a fissure.
We are truly blessed and prospered exceedingly.
It was a difficult decision when we brought Sparkle home three years ago. My wife and I are not animal people. We love to garden, but we don't love animals with their dirtiness and smelliness and well, you get the idea. But the kids begged. They pleaded. We found that Yorkie's don't shed. They are less likely to cause allergies (one of the people we talked to went so far as to call them hypoallergenic). So we gave in. We figured that was all the animals we'd ever have.
Not long after last year's Fissure Fest we received 17 chickens and a rooster from our neighbors who were moving. Free chickens? How could we refuse? We don't yet have fences on the property, so we built an enclosed coop for them. It has chicken wire all around it so as to protect them from the owl that sits on the neighbor's house at night. Now if I can just finish the coop this year.
With these 17 chickens, we got about a dozen eggs a day. The kids sold the eggs and made a little money for themselves that they are using to save for something special, even if Ma and Pa lost money on them overall. They have been a great way to teach responsibility.
The chickens lived happily, even if they had a rough year. We gave away the rooster so that my wife would actually eat the eggs we got from the hens. Then as it got hot, we lost another five of the older hens. And then there is the Shaniqua incident.
Shaniqua was a Plymouth Rock chicken (black and white stripes). It was one of the few names that we remembered when our neighbors gave us the chickens. For some reason the other chickens didn't like her. We think they were racist. They pecked at Shaniqua until we could see her veins exposed and pulsing with each of her weak little heart beats. To protect her, I built the infamous "box of shame."
The box of shame is a small five foot by one foot by one foot chicken wire cage that could be put over any one chicken giving them enough room to not go crazy but allow them to be separated from the other chickens. The chicken could still scratch at the ground, have a place to roost, be fed, etc. Shaniqua was safe, but shamed in the box.
We went to re-introduce her in the flock when her wounds healed. The others still didn't like her and caused serious bodily harm. She was again placed in the box of shame. We found a new home for her with the people who bought our neighbor's home, including the coop where she used to live. And, she has been happy in her new old home laying an egg every day or so ever since.
So we have been down to eleven hens in our flock since Autumn, and they have been producing about a half dozen eggs a day because some of the older hens have stopped laying and egg production had gone down.
On New Years we brought home five more chicks. These new chicks were put in the garage in the box of shame that had been modified into a brooder.
And these chicks stank. As soon as it got warm enough, they spent most of their days outside. This past weekend I finally finished their new home under the coop and they moved out of the garage. The new home is temporary, as it helps them to become integrated into the larger flock, which they should do in the next weeks. YAY! No more smell in the garage. My wife was was so happy. I was so happy. We even had a party at Chick-Fil-A with the kids to celebrate. A very happy celebration indeed.
On the way home, we stopped at the feed store to pick up a new watering trough for the growing young chickens. And wouldn't you know it, as soon as I got in the car, middle daughter told the others that the store had some cute little polish hens in the store.
That's all it took. My wife has a soft spot in her heart for those little chickens with their little chicken afros. So, the rest of the family went in, and I was begged to get five more. And they are back in the garage.
This year we also added six fish - two of which are still living - and two shrimp to the Walker's marvelous one-acre farm.
Post note: In other animal news, we've killed six scorpions - three of which were more than three inches long. We've made little progress with the gophers, although we've found that fire ash is a deterrent.
We are truly blessed and prospered exceedingly.
And the Lord was with us; and we did prosper exceedingly; for we did sow seed, and we did reap again in abundance. And we began to raise flocks, and herds, and animals of every kind. - 2 Nephi 5:11As most of you know we have a ferocious dog. A terrier that is meaner than...well...a stuffed animal? Sparkle XXII is a Yorkshire Terrier. She is the cutest Yorkie this side of Oz.
It was a difficult decision when we brought Sparkle home three years ago. My wife and I are not animal people. We love to garden, but we don't love animals with their dirtiness and smelliness and well, you get the idea. But the kids begged. They pleaded. We found that Yorkie's don't shed. They are less likely to cause allergies (one of the people we talked to went so far as to call them hypoallergenic). So we gave in. We figured that was all the animals we'd ever have.
Not long after last year's Fissure Fest we received 17 chickens and a rooster from our neighbors who were moving. Free chickens? How could we refuse? We don't yet have fences on the property, so we built an enclosed coop for them. It has chicken wire all around it so as to protect them from the owl that sits on the neighbor's house at night. Now if I can just finish the coop this year.
With these 17 chickens, we got about a dozen eggs a day. The kids sold the eggs and made a little money for themselves that they are using to save for something special, even if Ma and Pa lost money on them overall. They have been a great way to teach responsibility.
The chickens lived happily, even if they had a rough year. We gave away the rooster so that my wife would actually eat the eggs we got from the hens. Then as it got hot, we lost another five of the older hens. And then there is the Shaniqua incident.
Shaniqua was a Plymouth Rock chicken (black and white stripes). It was one of the few names that we remembered when our neighbors gave us the chickens. For some reason the other chickens didn't like her. We think they were racist. They pecked at Shaniqua until we could see her veins exposed and pulsing with each of her weak little heart beats. To protect her, I built the infamous "box of shame."
The box of shame is a small five foot by one foot by one foot chicken wire cage that could be put over any one chicken giving them enough room to not go crazy but allow them to be separated from the other chickens. The chicken could still scratch at the ground, have a place to roost, be fed, etc. Shaniqua was safe, but shamed in the box.
We went to re-introduce her in the flock when her wounds healed. The others still didn't like her and caused serious bodily harm. She was again placed in the box of shame. We found a new home for her with the people who bought our neighbor's home, including the coop where she used to live. And, she has been happy in her new old home laying an egg every day or so ever since.
So we have been down to eleven hens in our flock since Autumn, and they have been producing about a half dozen eggs a day because some of the older hens have stopped laying and egg production had gone down.
On New Years we brought home five more chicks. These new chicks were put in the garage in the box of shame that had been modified into a brooder.
And these chicks stank. As soon as it got warm enough, they spent most of their days outside. This past weekend I finally finished their new home under the coop and they moved out of the garage. The new home is temporary, as it helps them to become integrated into the larger flock, which they should do in the next weeks. YAY! No more smell in the garage. My wife was was so happy. I was so happy. We even had a party at Chick-Fil-A with the kids to celebrate. A very happy celebration indeed.
On the way home, we stopped at the feed store to pick up a new watering trough for the growing young chickens. And wouldn't you know it, as soon as I got in the car, middle daughter told the others that the store had some cute little polish hens in the store.
That's all it took. My wife has a soft spot in her heart for those little chickens with their little chicken afros. So, the rest of the family went in, and I was begged to get five more. And they are back in the garage.
This year we also added six fish - two of which are still living - and two shrimp to the Walker's marvelous one-acre farm.
Post note: In other animal news, we've killed six scorpions - three of which were more than three inches long. We've made little progress with the gophers, although we've found that fire ash is a deterrent.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Monday, February 21, 2011
Can't Wait!!
The party is just a few short days away and you can feel the excitement at the Walker house!
There's gonna be a raffle. Did ya know? True. One lucky winner is gonna walk away from Fissure Fest with an awesome prize.
See you Saturday!
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
It Ain't No Tall Tale: A Brief History Of Fissure Fest
Alternate title: (Why the big party?)
Late last Autumn, nearing Thanksgiving time, (in 2009) the dearest, younguns and I were mindin' our own business in our beautiful home in the west. We had no idea that our hearts were about to be ripped out, our lives turned inside out and having to work as hard as we could in fighting the mighty fissure. And thanks to Him, we have survived and even have had our hearts replaced with bigger models. And that Gratitude is the reason for Fissure Fest.
But, I get ahead of myself. Let me tell you our very short story...
We had a nice piece of land, a two story house and a little pup to keep us company. I tell you sir, that we had worked that land for just a mite bit over five years and it was the most beautiful landscaped property any soul had ever seen. The property contained many beautiful gardens that had a magical feeling about them. And, I have it on good authority that hundreds of little fairies even visited some of the gardens. Trees lined the property producing the mightiest good tastin' fruit. Plums, peaches, limes, lemons, tomatoes, peppers and more easily grew from the trees and our gardens. Even the plants grew to create play houses for the kids. The land was truly blessed.
Now, to say it was an oasis would be a bit of an exaggeration. EVERYONE knows that an oasis has palm trees and a lake. We didn't have neither.
A few days before I was to wrastle, skin and kill with my bare hands the largest bird anyone had ever seen besides Kevin from UP in order to celebrate our blessin's, the wife and I saw lighting come down from heaven and received a note from the Almighty with His new number on the back.
Now I don't often hear from Him out of the blue like that. Normally when we speak one of us is calling collect, but this time it came un-solicited-like. So I called on His dime, and He told us to pack up the younguns and move far away.
Yessir, we felt there was no alternative. We did as we were told. Except when we got there, we had a problem. Our home was within a half mile of Mr. Y Fissure. Not that Mr. Fissure lived next door, but he has been calling us a few times, and has even drafted some five-feet-tall ground squirrels to torment us and scare our kiddos and pup.
Needless to say, we had a couple of sleepless nights that winter as we waited for news from geologists, state and county workers and insurance companies before we bought that home. In the end the Almighty spoke to our hearts and we knew through that unspeakable peace that this is where we needed to be. We tried to argue, but He came up the most perfect argument any human had ever heard. I hate arguing with Deity because of that one reason: All my arguments are human, His Ain't. He didn't necessarily promise to protect us, but told us to fight for our very survival. And so we have. And we might've even won a few battles against those darned squirrels.
Mercy me! Now when we moved in, we vowed that each year we survived the fissure, we would hold a party to celebrate the victory. We would invite our old friends who we miss dearly and new friends we have made.
Tarnation, I swear that this story is true. I never exaggerate. Plus, I swear it on the sixth toe on my left foot.
Stay tuned for more Fissure Fest details...
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