No Amps or Bees Plz

Spent the past weekend at our “Nest” on the beach, working. You don’t ordinarily associate beach with work, but da light fixtures, day no hang demselves. Also finished the hatch door to the attic, which I’d fashioned from bead board leftover from another honey-do project in the kitchen. And it rained, I had no distractions (Happy wife & the beasties stayed in Anchorage), so momentum was on my side. Victor the electrician stopped by and fixed the outdoor light. The prior weekend I thought I’d fix it myself, got as far as establishing there was no power at the fixture or at the switch inside, then I gave up. Turns out the wires from the breaker to the switch had been cut and were hidden among a snarl of other wires in the breaker box, and I just missed it. Working in the confined space of a breaker box, bare wires sticking out here and there, without dropping power to the mains is not something I’ll ever be comfortable with. At one point I heard Victor get on the wrong side of some 110 when he touched a wire he thought was cold. He took this in stride; like a beekeeper getting stung he just rolled with it. Occupational hazard. No biggy. Me? Amps and bees frighten me.

Best $85 I spent all weekend.

So you might find it surprising I installed the light fixture myself. Here’s the thing: three wires I understand. A tangle of Romex and other wires choked together in a breaker box, not so much.

Three S-turns. Turned out nice, I thought. (Victor battles the amps in the breaker box).

Returned to Anchorage Saturday afternoon, washed the car and then Happy Wife and I went to a fund raiser for the Anchorage symphony. We were invited to come and  join a table of people we’d joined last year at a different fund raiser… because, I was told, we made the table fun. That put pressure on us to bring the levity along again.

We do our best:

Now, should you think we’re all just a bunch salmon smokin’, 4-wheel drivin’ bumpkins up here lacking any appreciation of the arts, well, you’d be wrong about that!

BIGGER.

That’s Latisha up their singing. From Ypsilanti, MI. The male duettist is from Flint. Both were American Idol contestants. An impressive set of pipes Latisha has. At one point, with full orchestral accompaniment, she belted out an enthusiastic version of “I’m Every Woman,” encouraging the women in the audience to stand, sway, and sing along with her. Experiencing a moment of gender ambiguity the man in front of me, dressed in a kilt, stood.

The evening ended with a ornament-topped desert and two encores, one of which was a pretty tight rendition of “The Devil Went Down to Georgia”, complete with some pretty slick solo fiddle work.