Clara's Blog

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Nice breakfast get together today with Uncle John and Khaleh Marjon Walrod.* They brought Noah's bagels.



Dad said, "Before you leave, can you help me move the air conditioner up to the bedroom?"

"No problem," tall Uncle John said.

That didn't take long, even with their mini-biceps, and I was expecting we would finally have some reasonable temps soon. Dad was even able to find a (hard-to-read) copy of the missing directions on the Internet.

Can you believe three breast feedings happened before they were done? They kept dropping screws and realigning brackets and finding more holes to drill. Dad dropped an important nut on the roof and had to crawl out to get it. Turns out the nut was ruined anyway.

Time for a break. We went downstairs, had pizza, and watched a little bit of the Giro d'Italia. Also had a brief one-way video iChat with Uncle Darren and Aunt Anna. I am intrigued by mysterious baby Ivo.

Round two upstairs saw more grunting, head scratching, and small part destruction. Dad and Uncle John started relying more on a hammer, scavenged bicycle brake bolts, and shoving. Some parts were lost for good in the gutter. There were a disturbing number of leftover screws. A real "home owner job," Uncle Jeff would say.

Personally, I am waiting for the whole thing to break loose, roll down the roof, and crush our car.

Finally, the big moment came, and Dad fired up the A/C. The lights dimmed, cold air flowed, and the machine made a horrible racket. Waaah! I can't sleep through that! Dad pried off the grill and dug around. What was making the noise? The styrofoam? No, that was for insulation.

Finally, Dad found the problem: the bag with the remote control and the instructions were banging against the fan.

We pulled out the remote, the A/C purred quietly, and the Walrods went home -- seven hours after they came over for breakfast. You're the best Uncle John!



* Kaleh = Persian for aunt. See #57.