Thursday, May 27, 2004


We just got a new refrigerator delivered yesterday. It is a big hulking behemoth, 27.3 cubic feet of Maytag's finest mid-range model line. It is a side by side refrigerator with a built in cold water dispenser, which I thought was indispensable even though all I drink is soda and Kool-Aid. Did I mention the crushed ice? Perfect for the occasional bourbon. It is about a foot wider and eight inches higher than our older, smaller fridge, which is the one that came with our house and is therefore the cheapest one that our builder thought it could get away with supplying with our house.

The guys who delivered the new fridge actually had to lift it up in the air to clear the island in our kitchen. This must be a thankless job, and one I am grateful not to have. They were also kind enough to help me resolve a problem with furniture moving that resulted from this new appliance. Now, like many households, we have a regular fridge in the kitchen and a beer fridge in the basement. We also have a freezer. Our old beer fridge is an ancient brown relic I received for free from a man in Reston who was glad to be rid of it. It makes gurgling noises constantly and did not have a defroster in the freezer, which meant that the freezer was gradually becoming sort of an Eskimo snow cave.

So the new fridge goes in the kitchen. The new-old fridge goes to the basement to replace the old-old brown gurgling one, which then becomes trash. Only you can't just throw out a refrigerator. You have to remove the freon and bring it to the dump. Also, the way into our basement involves going through a sliding glass door and up a flight of cement stairs. Then going around the house on the outside. The alternative is to go up the stairway, around a 90-degree turn, and then up through a narrow slanty doorway.

So Kathleen got the nice men who delivered this beast to do all this for me, to save me the effort and pain and suffering, and possibly a herniated disk. How, you may ask? She gave them twenty bucks!

I also had a shipment of drywall delivered the same day, in anticipation of me drywalling the basement with Kathleen's brother this weekend. Again, Kathleen managed to convince the man delivering the drywall to bring it down the stairs and into the basement for me. How, you may ask? She gave him twenty bucks! I love my wife. Greasing palms everywhere to make life easier for yours truly.

This past weekend I was watching PJ and Sam so that Kathleen could go to some mysterious Girl Scout ritual with Anna. I had to go to the bathroom at one point. PJ was off somewhere doing something quiet. So I went to the john, leaving the door open so that I could listen for Sam. I hear him cackling with glee and think to myself what a cute kid he is. But when I return to the kitchen he has climbed onto a kitchen chair, and then onto the kitchen table. He is standing there like an fifteen month old King Kong, waving his arms and yelling, his long red hair waving in the breeze. Sam is getting crazier and crazier.

For the past few months Sam has definitely been our favorite child. He's such a good baby, sleeping all the time. He eats like a lumberjack. But now he's getting more persistent, more demanding, and crazier. It doesn't help that we haven't cut his curly red hair yet, and it’s longer on the sides than on top. This makes him look like a miniature version of a cross between Sam Kinison and Bozo the clown. I asked Kathleen the other day on the phone which child was her favorite today. "None of 'em" she said, "I'm not happy with any of 'em right now."

One more story. As I was putting PJ to bed last night, we say our prayers and all, and then I tuck him. I put my finger to his belly and I say, "You know I love you, don't you?"

PJ looks at me. "Yeah", he says, and then he smiles. A small noise comes from his but region. "I just tooted,” he says with a grin.

Maybe just one more story. The other day I found a note Anna had left on the kitchen table. She had drawn pictures on it, and folded it up, as if you would put it into an envelope. It said:

Dear God,

I am sorry you are in heaven.

Love Anna

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