I’ve been meaning to stop by “Journeys” in Multnomah Village ever since they started talking about it over at The Multnomah Villager. Any place that advertises excellent beer and tasty bites should be on my list, but Journeys was particularly convenient, situated as it was at the midpoint of my daily commute.

But life is complicated, and there always seems to be too much to do, and although I drove past it a number of times, I never stopped in. Until last night.

Now I wish I’d dropped by sooner. Journeys is a small place. Most other places that were this small would feel cramped, but the decor and atmosphere at Journeys just serve to make it particularly cozy. Warm wood tones predominate, and there is no smoking and no minors allowed, which also contributes to the feeling that you’re in someone’s den rather than in a public house. The bar itself is just inside the door. It’s quite broad, and has a slight dogleg to make maximum use of available space. Coins from various countries are set into the top of the bar, reinforcing the travel theme. The seats are comfy, the music was unobtrusive, and everyone seemed happy to be there.

Bob, one of the owners, was behind the bar and seemed genuinely cheerful about it. He dispensed beer, wine, and plates of food while keeping up his end of a couple of conversations. His affection for the beer and wines he serves was obvious. The menu is interesting, with a handful of appetizers, salads and sandwiches that are of better quality than most pub fare, but the menu is too limited to make Journeys a destination for dinner.

However the food isn’t the reason to visit Journeys. The small selection of tasty things is really ancillary to the fine beverages that are available. I chose to enjoy a pint of Terminal Gravity Strong Ale, one of the six quality microbrews on tap. Apparently the product of a very small run, it was a deceptive little beer. The flavor was exceptionally smooth and well-balanced, entirely disguising the fact that it had an impressive alcohol content. Having a second would have been a mistake. A couple at the other end of the bar were working their way through a selection of wines, starting with zinfandels. The selection of beers (on tap and in bottles) and wines is impressive, and you could spend a long time working your way through the inventory, with the occasional snack to cleanse your palate.

If I had to describe Journeys, I’d say that it is precisely the kind of place where I’d love to be a regular. I could drop in, be greeted by name, and see what’s on tap that evening. Surrounded by people who wouldn’t look at you funny if you started talking about “hop nose” and “malt finish”, it would make for a pleasant interlude on the way home. Sort of my own version of “Cheers”.

When the weather warms up, Journeys will reopen their dog-friendly patio for dining, and I must say that the prospect of sitting outside on a fine evening with an excellent pint is terribly attractive. Hopefully I’ll be able to swing by more often.

Last night I was outside tossing the ball for my dog in the dark. The temperatures have warmed up a bit, but the rain has returned, and last night it varied from sprinkles to a light shower and back while I was out. I tossed the ball, and watched the flashing LEDs on Gus’ collar bounce after it, and pondered what to do with my daughter.

Last week the wife had been contacted by the middle school, and was informed that the Girl had been given three days of in-school suspension for slugging a boy. Apparently he had been picking on her, and she let him have it. And the week before THAT, she had scratched another kid badly enough to draw blood. The Girl had neglected to mention either of these little occurrences.

In fact, after bringing me up to speed on the suspension, the Wife made a point of asking the Girl how her day had been. “Fine.” she answered brightly. Nothing unusual happen? Oh no. Nothing at all.

We were angry. In fact, we were nearly incandescent. Here she is again, using her fists when she gets frustrated, and then lying about it. I was so mad I could barely speak to her. The wife didn’t want to confront her with it immediately, but wanted to talk to her alone when they could take their time. Like, while they were walking the dog, or something.

As it turned out, the two of them stayed up late talking, and my wife learned that three boys in particular have been making the Girl’s life hell. They talk loudly and crudely around her about sex. They threaten to take her pencils and break them, and then they do so. They throw things at her. She is apparently a nervous wreck, and is genuinely afraid of them. Yes, she slugged a boy, but it was after he hit her first, which was not observed by any witnesses.

It’s amazing how quickly you can go from being angry at your kid, to wanting to defend them with a baseball bat. I wanted to go to this kid’s house and slap him around. I wanted to go to his parents and ask them what they were going to do about it. I wanted to put myself between the world and my daughter, and dare anyone to make her cry.

Of course, none of those things happened. Instead, the Wife and the Girl went to school and talked to a Vice-Principal and a Counselor, and made sure they heard the Girl’s side of the story. I wished I could do more, but that seemed like the most prudent course of action.

So she’s gotten a bit more sympathy from me lately. I was constantly picked on in junior high, and I know how awful and how isolating it can be. It breaks my heart that she has to go through this, and I can’t do anything to stop it. And worse than that, it makes me sad that she is so reluctant to talk to me about any of it.

Then, I got home from work last night to discover that the Girl had knocked another girl down and hurt her arm. We found out about this when the girl and her father showed up at our door and confronted my wife. Of course, the Girl hadn’t mentioned this to her mother.

I have visions running through my head, of the Girl being expelled, of her being placed in “special” classes, isolated from the student body. I see her grades slipping and sliding, until any hope she ever might have had of going into veterinery medicine is lost forever. And I see an endless series of violent confrontations between my daughter and the children around her, and her lying about them to us.

And I don’t know what to do. Threats don’t work. Losing privileges is an after-the-fact response, and doesn’t seem to work. Is this back to an impulse control issue? Should we increase her meds? Or is this depression, which her psychiatrist thinks she may be suffering from. Maybe she needs a drug for that. What can we do to change the road she is on, before something happens that is life-altering and irrevocable?

I don’t know. But this rapid cycling between anger and depression, and empathy and sympathy, and back is enough to give you the bends. And it is emotionally exhausting.

I wish I could believe that it was all going to turn out OK in the end.

For reasons I cannot fully fathom, I am the only person in the household with the requisite skillset to unclog a toilet.

At this point the Wife usually hurries to point out that she has, in fact, plunged the kids’ toilet. Once. Which means I have only dealt with 99.99% of the clogged toilets in the house. But I digress.

The toilet in our children’s bathroom was, until this weekend, some kind of cursed porcelain vessel of malice. After flushing, it only held about six tablespoons of water at the bottom of the bowl, and it clogged if you put more than three sheets of toilet paper in it. When you consider that our children are not what you would call ‘pro-active’ in their toilet habits, this resulted in a ridiculous number of clogs that I, personally, had to deal with.

This last weekend, I decided I had had enough. The toilet had to go.

So, I went to Home Depot, and picked up a Kohler Cimarron Comfort Height toilet with the proprietary Class 5 flushing system. According to their website:

The Class Five technology, engineered for extraordinary bulk flushing performance, is available on Cimarron Comfort Height toilets. With names inspired by the raw power of whitewater rapids, this powerhouse features an industry-leading 3 1/4-inch flush valve, combined with an efficient, direct-fed jet, to maximize water flow and allow for an eco-friendly, 1.4-gallon flush setting option.

“Extraordinary bulk flushing performance.” Now THAT’S what I’m talking about.

So, I left Home Depot with a bowl, a tank, a wax ring, and various and sundry ancillary tools. And I began to remove the old toilet.

I got the old toilet disassembled and taken out to the garage, and began cleaning the old wax ring off the pipe flange in the bathroom floor. It was disgusting. It also didn’t look anything like the many illustrations I had been studying. There was no flange that I could slide a closet bolt into. Instead there was a badly rusted cast iron ring with two rusty threaded holes.

This led to my SECOND trip to the hardware store, where the nice associate looked at the digital pictures I had taken of the cursed flange and grimaced. “I hate those things” he said. Well, me too. It turns out the only thing to do is to use the closet bolts I had, screw them into the flange upside down, hacksaw off the heads, and attach the toilet bowl. Piece of cake.

So I put the wax ring in place, seated the toilet bowl, leveled it, and attached it to the floor. Then I started to attach the tank.

Except, I didn’t seem to have a gasket to put between the bowl and the tank. The gasket was prominently shown in the illustrated instructions, and I knew exactly where it should have gone, but I didn’t have one. They hadn’t included one in the tank kit that I had purchased.

This led to my THIRD trip to the hardware store.

Once I had a gasket, I finished installing the toilet, and then went to hook up the water supply. At this point I realized that I had grabbed a 1/2″-fitted flexible hose instead of a 3/8″-fitted flexible hose. It was my error. But it was too damn late to go to the store again. So I gritted my teeth and went to bed.

In the morning, I installed the toilet seat, and then made my FOURTH trip to the hardware store for the connecting hose. I hooked up the toilet, filled it with water, and gave it a flush. There were no leaks.

The new toilet does have an exceptionally powerful, albeit short, flush. Supposedly even though it uses less water, it is harder to clog. I certainly hope so. If nothing else, it is much, much quieter. And the kids are rather pleased with it.

So, after only a day-and-a-half and four trips to Home Depot, I got the kids’ toilet replaced. Good thing I hadn’t decided to tackle something really challenging.

If you have always secretly burned with the desire to see a giant deep sea diver dancing around the buildings of London to the sound of Chrissy Hynde, well, this is your lucky day.

via no fat clips!!!

As I cruise the interwebs, there seem to be a lot of folks out there expecting their first child. So, as a public service, I thought I would take a few moments to assemble a list of phrases that we have found helpful in parenting our own children. They are listed in approximate order of age-appropriateness. Feel free to cut and paste so you can keep them handy.

“No touch!”

“Touch soft.”

“Be gentle!”

“Hot! Ouchie!”

“Sharp! Ouchie!”

“Use your words!”

“Leave the cat alone.”

“No! Not the glasses!”

“Where did you get that?”

“Don’t run with anything in your mouth.”

“Stop picking your nose.”

“Time out.”

“What else did you use the scissors on?”

“Get your fingers out of your mouth.”

“Go to your room.”

“If you had taken it, where would you have hidden it?”

“Not on the carpet!”

“Put the cat down!”

“Just try a taste.”

“Do you have to go to the bathroom?”

“Just go to the bathroom!”

“Why didn’t you just go to the bathroom?”

“You’re grounded.”

“Put your helmet on!”

“Because I’m the parent, that’s why.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to throw up?”

“I thought you said you didn’t have any homework.”

“You need them today?”

“What happened to your pants?”

“Wow, I bet that hurt.”

“Do you really think that was appropriate?”

“I love you.”

There’s a very nice write-up on invention submission companies over at InventorSpot.com. As a patent professional, I’m offended by these slimy bastards, who prey on enthusiastic inventors, play on their dreams of making money from their ideas, and cheat them out of thousands of dollars.

If you’ve ever been intrigued by those late night commercials by folks who promise to get you a patent, market your invention, and license it aggressively, go read the article. If it saves even one poor sod from getting screwed, I will have done my good deed for the day.

Why Invention Submission Companies Are Still In Business …