Why didn't I help?

Walking to my car I noticed him. At first I thought he was friends with some people a few cars down. However, their stern Spanish words and his hasty retreat told me he did not know them.

Ignoring his timid, “Excuse me...” I quickly stuffed my bags in the car, hopped in and turned the ignition. Then I just sat there watching him fade into the darkness. This was a semi-rough section of Greenville Avenue here in Dallas and he couldn’t have been more than 13 years old. Based on the condition of his clothes and his less than persistent approach method, I believe he’s a novice at this game

I don’t know why I ignored him. I don’t even know what he was asking for. I assumed money, but he may only wanted to know the time. I never gave him the chance to ask...so I don’t know.

Driving away I felt guilty. I considered turning back to give him some money, but I had already turned, and Greenville can be hard to turn around on, and he may have walked back behind the buildings, and what if he has a gun or some other weapon, and I probably wouldn’t find him anyway...and...and...and...

As I drove home, my mental list of excuses became quite massive.

It’s been about a week since that happened and I can’t get him out of my head. I’ve driven down that section of Greenville several times since then and even though I don’t know if he’s black, white, green, purple or orange, I look for him. I don’t know, maybe I’m hopping to get a second chance.

Maybe it was his age. Maybe it’s my age. Maybe it’s the fact that I have a student in my class this year who’s teetering on the edge of homelessness. Whatever the case, for some reason this young boy looking for help, coupled with my uncaring reaction, has left a mark on me that won’t soon go away.

What's become of me...

No, I haven’t died or fallen off the face of the earth. My computer hasn’t blown up and I didn’t loose all my fingers in some freaky teaching accident. I’ve just simply been away for a while...a long while. However, I think I’ve figured out what has happened.

You see writing has always been an escape for me. I come home, sit at the computer and lose myself in the keyboard. Whatever I happen to be writing magically lures me away to some distant land where the real world, with all its schedules and tasks and problems, can’t hope to find me. And that’s how it’s always been.

However, from late November to about this time of year, if you’re a fourth grade teacher in Texas, something changes. It’s a thing known as “The Writing TAKS Test.”

Suddenly my world transforms from a regular world to one that quite simply revolves around writing. When you come after a full day of leads and conclusions and storyboards and vivid verbs and adjectives and “exploding the moment” and revising and editing and so on and so on and so on...then, at least for me, writing has lost its ability to be an escape.

Writing and I become bitter enemies as I struggle to help little Johnny understand that every sentence must have a subject AND a predicate. Or I’m helping Betty grasp the complexities of how such a small word like “is” can be the simple predicate of an entire sentence. And then I’m trying to explain how in the sentence, “My friends and I go for a run.” The word “run” is actually a noun and not a verb. And with my next breath I find myself re-explaining why, even though a dog can walk and run and bark, the word “dog” is not a verb.

I’m hoping now that this first part of my TAKS Test season is over, writing will be able to make the transition back from a desert of solitude, which it has become, to my oasis of peace which it as always been.

I’ll just have to wait and see.

Is there life after DSL?

I’ve had DSL for about eight years, and in the beginning it was wonderful. However, ever since I added a wireless router to the mix things have not been well.

My network, if you can call it that, drops the signal six to eight times a day! It’s worse than my old dial-up account used to be. We don’t have cable, or I’d check into cable modem, but those are the only options that I know of.

I feel like I’m being held hostage with no hope of ever coming up with the ransom money.

So where do I go from here? Dallas isn’t a small city. There should be other options…but what are they?

Really, any and all suggestions are greatly appreciated.

Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to be able to call AT&T and tell them (after waiting on hold for half the day) that I am canceling my account.

Signed,
Technologically Frustrated

Christmas came early...

My wife and I made a deal a while back that went something like this; We’d save money to buy a new sofa and then save money to buy a new HDTV.

She’s wanted a new sofa for several years and I’ve wanted a big HDTV ever since they first went on the market. A few months ago we got the sofa and started saving for the TV.

I, or I guess really we, had saved a little more than half of the money for the TV that I had researched and decided we needed. (Yes, I said needed, not simply wanted!) I set my sights set on a 40” Sony flat screen.

I was hoping to get the new TV sometime early in 2008, however, thanks to a very early and very generous Christmas gift to the entire family from my mother-in-law, we were able to buy the new TV yesterday.

After playing with the settings for most of the afternoon, we watched a movie on the new TV last night. And baby, it was sweet!

This morning I hooked up my PS2 and gave some up close and personal assistance to the US Navy SEALS as they battled a South American drug lord.


And in the end, a good time was had by all…




Well, maybe not by the drug lord.

My Technical Nemesis…the wireless router

I set up my first wireless router this summer, and I nearly lost my religion.

I would spend a completely frustrating hour on the phone with some guy in India (I asked him where he was during one of the 15 times I was forced to reboot my computer) as I would try to get my Linksys router’s settings to gel with my SpeedStream modem, only to find out that the problem was with my DSL provider.

Then I would then spend another equally frustrating amount of time on the phone with SWBell trying to undo all the different IP Address and Default Gateway Address code changes that the Linksys guy had made me make.

After that, I would have to head over to my school district’s computer support services department to have their guys tweak my firewall settings, and who knows what else, just to bypass all the goofy security measures they had installed.

Finally, I would end up calling the Linksys guy in India back, reporting all the SWBell and district changes I had made, just so he could say something like, “Now, click the DSL Override button.”

However, after about a month of the hi-tech musical chairs I finally got my desktop’s internet connection back up and running, as well as my wireless laptop’s.

And my Internet life was good, until…

We had a power surge about two weeks ago and suddenly neither my desktop, or my laptop could connect to the Internet.

Don’t ask me how, but somehow I managed to get the desktop’s connection back up and running. However, my laptop would show the connection, and say it was connected, but I couldn’t access anything.

After three calls to India, making someone in India extremely mad at me, and two more calls to SWBell, I am finally back up and running…Internet connection wise that is.

It’s all very humbling for a guy who takes great pride in his “Do-it-Yourself” abilities.

I guess some things are best left to the professionals…

Kids say the darndest things

So we’re in the middle of a writing lesson, but not just any writing lesson, oh no, this was a lesson being taught by the school’s, if not the district’s, most knowledgeable teacher. (We’ll call her JF for short) JF, from time to time, is able to come in our class and “Guest Lecture.”

The lesson was on when, why, where and how to take your writing and go deeper with details. Details that can make the difference between a story that is well written and easy to read, and one that truly comes alive for the reader.

JF was using the nursery rhyme Little Miss Muffet as her background text. She used this story for two reasons, first, because all the children already know the rhyme, and second, because it’s short and easy to finish in a couple days.

She instructed everyone to close their eyes and imagine how Little Miss Muffet looked to them. Then we opened our eyes and gave details about what she looks like, what she was doing, where she was and that sort of thing.

Jf had already taken quite a few notes about how you could tell that Miss Muffet was scared, and was in the middle of making a list of details about her size. I was sitting off to the side and was helping as best as I could. (Remember, this lady has forgotten more about teaching writing than I’ll ever know!) Then it happened.

We already had details like, “Skinny as a stick, dirty clothes, and messy hair.” However, what the next child thought of took us all by surprise.

“I think she’s flat chested,” said a small voice from the middle of the room. Even as the words were floating out into the room, I felt my jaw tighten, and my lips pucker. My head did a mental Google search. I was hoping I had heard her wrong and that my mind might come up with some alternative to the words, “FLAT CHESTED.” But alas, my ears hadn’t failed me.

JF simple stood there with a thoughtful look in her eye. After about 5 seconds she said in normal, level toned voice, “Okay, we can put that.”

I, on the other hand, was having to fain sudden, and urgent business in the dictionary. I sat there doing everything I could do to not make eye contact with anyone, and also not to laugh. I knew, that at least for me, eye contact would mean sudden, and uncontrollable laughter.

I’m sitting there trying to concentrate on how proud I am of JF for not laughing, when she bursts out laughing.

Of course, after that a good laugh was had by all…even those who had no idea what we were actually laughing at.

Ah, kids…they say the darndest things.

Things Are Getting Better

I know enough about the grief process to know that it cannot be avoided. I think it may be possible to get stuck in one of the stages, but when someone this close to you dies, like it or not, you’re going through it.

I think I still have the “why him” questions. Maybe I always will, but this morning while I was thinking/praying about the events of the last few days I stumbled across a piece of reality that is helping to make all this better.

In my last posting I said, “I want to be able to wrap my mind around some concept, some truth, some piece of reality that will make this all better.”

The truth is that I have been given a gift. I was able to be a part of Homer’s life for almost 20 years. I had the opportunity to call him family. I’m not sure what I’ll do with this truth, but for now focusing on that is helping.

Thanks for listening.

I don't understand...

I went to a close friend’s funeral on Tuesday, and it was quite possibly the hardest funeral I’ve ever had to attend.

You see, Homer was my car enthusiast pal, my house painting buddy, my guy to call when you need a favor right now…Homer was my father-in-law.

I want it to make sense. I want to understand why.

I know life and death and living and dying rarely if ever make any sense, but damn it, I want this to make sense. I want understand what part of God’s big plan needed for Homer, a perfectly health man, to go to bed one night and then just not wake up. I want to be able to wrap my mind around some concept, some truth, some piece of reality that will make this all better.


I don’t think this is too much to ask.

Spelling Tests and 4th Grade Hecklers

Whenever I give spelling tests I try to add a wee-bit of humor to the day. Sometimes I’ll have students think of and blurt out different nouns, and then I choose one and use it in the sentences that I say with each word. Other times I’ll pick one student and have that student doing strange things in each sentence. And still other times I just say whatever wacky thing happens to pop into my head.

Today I went with my off-the-cuff, whatever pops into my head routine…and baby I was hot! I had ‘em in the palm of my hand. And let me tell you, it’s not quite as easy as you might think to keep a room full of nine and ten year olds in stitches. Well, maybe it is, but never the less, I was on fire.

I looked down and “gown” was the next word. Of course the first thing I think of is wedding gown. Before I knew what I was saying this sentence popped out of my mouth.

“At my wedding, the gown looked great on me!”

And everyone laughed.

However, just as the laughing was beginning to die down, a tiny voice from the corner of the room squeaked out these words,
“Mr. A, are you trying to tell us something?”

And the room completely fell apart.

Just when you’re thinking about taking your act on the road, you get taken down by an unruly 4th grade heckler.

Sometimes teaching can be brutal.

An Unusual Sight...at Least for Me

unusual
adjective
1. not usual or common or ordinary;
2. being definitely out of the ordinary and unexpected;
3. not commonly encountered;

While I think all three of these definitions would make sense in the context of my situation yesterday, really the third definition is the one that makes the most sense…at least for me.

You see, yesterday my daughter brought home here first jr. high report card and she got all A’s. She even had a 100 average in not one, but two of her seven classes.

I think I’ve mentioned things before about my lack of success as a student, at least through my high school days. I mean I never saw all A’s until I was in graduate school. And I’m sorry if this ruffles your feathers, but getting a 4.0 in seminary just ain’t all that hard!

So my head is still spinning as I try to wrap my mind around this crazy new world.

Because all A's on a report card really is an unusual sight...at least for me.

Life on a Cloud

Feeling safe and secure in my own little space,
Yes, safe and secure, cause there’s never a trace

Of any real danger or sadness or hurt,
I always have dinner and usually dessert

The world that I know is not a cruel place,
When I go to sleep, there’s a smile on my face

I have a wonderful family, supports always there,
I’m surrounded with love, compassion and care

Yet I know that not everyone lives like I do,
That our world, it has pain and suffering too

It’s just far too easy to look past the pain,
To live in my world and try to stay sane

I exist on a cloud with the pain far below,
If I squint I can see it, or at least I think so

Sometimes from way down, I can hear a faint hum,
So I toss down some pennies, a quarter…a crumb

Then I fluff up my cloud and think, “Man, I’m sure nice!”
Of the folks down below I don’t even think twice

But my cloud took a dip, and I came face to face,
With a world and an image my mind can’t erase

What I saw was a world where children have fear,
Where they’re yelled at and beaten, but just why was not clear

I looked deep in a face, whose gaze came back hollow,
The despair that I saw was a hard pill to swallow

With my cloud way up high, my life was so easy
But now I’m uncertain, and I feel a bit queasy

Now my cloud’s not so fluffy, and a little less white
The temptation to clean it, I hope I can fight

I’m still trying to figure out what I should do,
Cause if clouds can float down, I’m sure help can too.

I'm trying to write...no really!

Have you ever had one of those periods in your life when you just don’t seem to have time to get everything done that you want to?

And when you have those times, do you find yourself prioritizing your to-do list for the week?

Then does it always seem like you can never find time to accomplish the last few things on your list, so you just keep moving bumping them over to the next week in hopes of somehow finding the time to do them?

If so, then welcome to my world.

The beginning of each teaching year is like that for me. Nothing, other than school stuff, ever seems to get done. Due to my inability to “jump” right back into the swing of things I spend what feels like an eternity playing catch up.

You would think after 14 years of teaching I would have figured out how to flip my school mode personality on and off like a light. However, I spend several weeks winding down at the beginning of the summer and several more getting geared back up in the fall.

All that to say, I’m trying to write…I really am.

On a fun note, I read my Frog Memory (You can read it here) story to my class and they laughed like it was the funnies thing they had ever heard. I even got a few fun comments and two or three odd looks from some of the parents the next day.

I’m not sure, but I think this only confirms their suspicions that they have a strange teacher. A mindset that I do everything I possibly can to encourage.

With this age of kid, the weirder you are the better…at least in my mind.

What ever happened to Jr. High?

When I was in jr. high it was very different than it is today…at least that’s my impression. Sure, it was 30 years ago, but I don’t remember there being such a huge effort to teach organization skills as well as the curriculum.

At my daughter’s school every student has a day planner that they MUST have with them at all times. If you are ever caught without it, then you get after school detention.

I had never even heard of a day planner until I was in graduate school, and by then all my bad scheduling habits were so ingrained that it was literally teaching an old dog new tricks. Actually, one of my goals for this school year has to do with organization. I’m going to do my lesson plans on the computer, because I tend to keep better track of the things I do if they are on the computer.

But I digress…

All I remember about jr. high was trying to look cool while at the same time keep my grades above the D mark, a stunt that didn’t always happen. The only choices I had were whether or not to play football and if I wanted to take art or music. I just circled my choices on a sheet of paper and stuck it in a box.

For Macy it’s a lot like college was for me. She has to decide about athletics, pre-AP classes and band. Basically she arranges her own schedule. She’s making decisions in jr. high that effect classes she will be able to take in high school that can give her college credit!

Growing up in El Paso, my dad was of staff at UTEP, so I knew what college was. I probably couldn’t have spelled the word college, but I knew it was a place people went after high school.

There’s always somewhere she’s supposed to be, something she’s supposed to have and somebody we’re supposed to give money to. All I know is Melissa and I are being baptized by fire.

It’s a whole new world.

Another FUNY Thing Happened...

I'm sorry about the spelling problem with my last posting's title. You would think that I could at least write the title without any spelling errors!

Now let me see...what would I say to one of my fourth graders if he or she turned in a paper with the title misspelled?

I bet it wouldn't be funy...

Funy Things Happen...

My school has a new principal.

This is my 14th teaching year, but only my first time to get a new principal. I’ve changed schools twice and have changed principals both of those times, but this is a wee-bit different.

Having your boss be the new kid on the block is a little strange. However, his personality and his “If it ain’t broke don’t fix it” attitude, are making the transition very easy.

Last week he sent out an email to the entire faculty. It sounded something like this:

“For future reference, if you happen to see me walking through the building with a dab of icing on my chin, please feel free to point it out to me.”

As I read the message I wasn't sure if he was trying to just make a random request to break the ice with his new staff, or if something like this had happened to him.

The next time I saw him I asked him why he would make such a request and he turned red.

It seems that early that morning someone in the building had given him a cupcake. He ate the cupcake and went about the business of being a principal. He had spent time in the office, walked through several classrooms, and more than likely had talked with more than a couple of parents.

Sometime around lunch he happened by a mirror and noticed a spot of icing that had been on his chin for most of the day.

I must admit…I laughed out loud at his story, but he laughed too.

It makes things much easier when you discover that not only is your new boss a regular guy, but he's also kind of person who can laugh at himself.

Like I said, funny things happen!

My Jesus Shoes

Growing up in El Paso I wore flip-flops all the time. This was long before flip-flops were such a huge fashion statement. Due to the fact that, like most boys, I either tended to be extra rough on, and or lose items of this type of clothing, I can’t imagine my mom spent much more than a dollar for each pair of flip-flops.

A few years ago I was walking through Dillard’s when I saw a pair of Tommy Hilfiger flip-flops sitting on a sale table. They were originally $35.00, but marked down to $12.00. I’m not sure exactly why, but I decided to buy them.

So began my rekindled love affair with flip-flops.

For a while now my flip-flops have been showing signs of age. However, it wasn’t until the cruise that they began rubbing a blister between my toes. Sadly, I decided to retire my flip-flops and search for a new pair.

I tend to be rather picky about things like shoes and spent a few months looking. I didn’t look everyday, or even every week for that matter. It was just if I happened to find myself in a store where they happened to sell flip-flops I would take a look and see if anything caught my eye.

I had just about given up hope of finding a pair when I happened though that same Dillard’s and came across the perfect pair…on the sale table. There are no flashy colors, no zippy slogans, and no fancy stitching. They’re even a little jagged around the edges.

Melissa and Macy think they are ugly and can’t stand them. (A fact that makes wearing them all that much more fun!)

Looking down I said, “You know, if Jesus was here today I think that this is precisely the type of shoe he would wear. There’s even a fish on the bottom!"

"I guess it’s slipped your mind that Jesus hung out with a bunch of fishermen!”

My goal was to shame them into liking my shoes, but alas that hasn't worked...yet.

Maybe someday they’ll see the light, and embrace my Jesus shoes.

Now That's Farmin'!!!

I’ve got this neighbor who we’ll call Old McDonald.

Now, Old McDonald is quite a guy. As far as “Do-It-Your-Self-ers” go, he is the man. Old McDonald has lived here for over 30 years. I’ve only been here for the last 10 of those years, but that’s long enough to be quite amazed by the jobs he’s pulled off. To date, I’ve been a bystander as he installed his own sprinkler system, laid the wood floor in his house, tiled his front porch, and hung his own front door. However, in the 20 years before I got here there’s no telling what he did.

I like to think of myself as a fairly savvy, home project kind of guy. Thanks to my dad, I can fix more than my fair share of things around the house. However, it’s more than a little bit humbling to discuss home repairs with Old McDonald, because I know that inside he’s just laughing.

Old McDonald is also quite the farmer. In the back-40, which is really just a strip in the alley out behind his house, he’s always got something good growing. For the last couple of years it’s been tomatoes and peppers. And baby, these are some seriously good tomatoes and some seriously hot peppers. Old McDonald went out of town for a few weeks and told me I could have any tomatoes that turned red while he was gone, not many did, but the ones that did were very, very tasty. Every time I went anywhere I made a close inspection of each tomato in the garden.

Little did I know that Old McDonald was taking his farming to a new level.

It was after Old McDonald got home, and we were talking over the fence about the tomatoes, my new foundation repair and all kinds of stuff, when he was telling me about some problem one of his gutter downspouts was having due to all the rain we’ve had.

He was in mid-sentence as he gestured up to the gutter on the second floor above his garage. What we saw silenced him, raised my eyebrows, and made both of us smile.

“Went with corn this year did ya?” Was all I could think to say.

I don’t remember exactly who said what, but we each made several wisecracks about keeping the rabbits off, how hard it was to plant, and being a bitch to harvest.

Like the song says;

“…and on his house he had some corn, ee-i-ee-i-oh!”

OKC

“Oklahoma City? What’s in Oklahoma City?”

These are the words that somehow stumbled out of my mouth when I was asked if I had any interest in making the journey.

I was quickly informed that the Oklahoma City (OKC for short) has one of, if not the, largest collections of Chihuly glass in the world. I’ve seen some Chihuly glass, and it’s pretty amazing, so I said, “Sure, let’s go.”

I think I was more excited about making a road trip with our friends Darryl and Winjie than I was to see the Chihuly, but I figured the glass would be fun too. I really wasn’t expecting much more that a fun time with some good friends, and the chance to see some Chihuly glass…but it turned out to be better than I expected.

First things first, the Chihuly glass was incredible. I am officially a fan. Not that I’m going to be buying any to decorate my home any time soon, but seeing this huge exhibit and watching a video showing the incredible process each piece goes through has made me think twice about buying some...you know, when we win the lotto and all.

We also went to the National Memorial of the Oklahoma City bombing. I was both very impressed and deeply moved. I’ve written before the closed head injury and my emotions, and this was really hard for me to make it through. I mean if you cry at Tide commercials, something like this puts you through the ringer.

The memorial, inside and out, is wonderfully done. It walks you through the day and you leave with a true understanding of what this did to the community and how the community pulled together to overcome such a horrible time in its history.

I must admit, I never really understood the whole empty chair sculpture thing out on the lawn. I thought it looked good, especially lit up at night, but now I understand…it makes sense.

I gave up trying to put into words here how seeing it made it all make sense, because nothing I wrote seemed to do it justice. Visit if you have the chance and I think you’ll see what I mean.

And last but not least, we went to the National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum. We had been told by Melissa’s mother that it was a good museum and worth seeing. I went along simply because I didn’t think it would kill me. However, I was pleasantly surprised. There was a whole section devoted to John Wayne, Buck Rogers and all the old movie cowboys. Not to mention, the all the great guns they had on display. Overall, the museum was fun. Well, except for when Darryl and I were forced to dress up like cowboys for a picture. I’ll post a picture of the two roughriders in western garb as soon as I get one from Darryl.


Now for the food:

I didn’t want to go to Oklahoma City and eat at places I could eat at in Dallas. Chili’s, On the Border, or places like that. I wanted to experience some real OKC cuisine. And experience it we did!

There’s a place downtown that Melissa and Winjie knew all about called, Bricktown. Bricktown is a kind of downtown revitalization thing, I think. While we weren’t all that impressed with what Bricktown had to offer in the way of Friday night entertainment, it does have a fun micro-brewery called Tap Werks, and Tap Werks has good food, cold beer and a fun atmosphere.

We also ate a fun place called Shorty Small’s. It’s a BBQ and burger kind of joint that was also rich in OKC flavor and tradition. It was good, but the BBQ sandwich, while good, couldn’t hold a candle to Peggy Sue BBQ here in Dallas. This is a fact that I decided against sharing with our waitress. However, their blackberry cobbler was more than a wee-bit tasty.

Saturday night, we went out to the lake, and sadly I don’t even know which lake it was. It was one of those lakes with lots of water. We went just to go see the sunset and sit and talk. We went to a restaurant/bar called Pearl’s Lakeside, had some more to eat, and sat outside by the water and listened to a band called 2AM. They were good enough that we even bought one of their CD's.

Get this; we even closed down the place! I know what you’re thinking, “Man, they are some party animals!” However, I should probably tell you that last call was at 11:00PM and not 2:00AM.

What can I say – It’s Oklahoma.

Sunday morning we had breakfast at a place called The Classen Grill. It was another old time, been there for over 50 years kind of OKC institution, and it was good too.

I have to thank Winjie for doing all the restaurant research. She somehow found our about all these great places and she even had directions and maps to boot!

So should you go to Oklahoma City for your next vacation? I’m not sure it has all the makings for full-blown vacation, because after a couple of days I was ready to hit the road.

But next time you’ve got a weekend to burn, give OKC try, you may just enjoy yourself…I know I did.

This is the Life!

The only 7-Eleven in Texas that changed to a Kwik-E-Mart for the Simpson's movie is only about 5 miles from my house. So of course I had to go get a Squishee and some Buzz Cola. I decided to buy a 6-pack so I can send a couple to Gordon.

Here I am with my recent purchases.

Foundations of Life

Unlike the title of this post might suggest, this isn’t writing with a deep theological meaning. I’ll leave that to Real Live Preacher.

I first began to notice some foundation issues a few years after we moved in. Doors sticking, cracks in the sheetrock, and a couple of cracks in the bricks on one side of our house. We had a soaker hose that went around about half of the house, and at first, simply having that on for an hour or two was all we needed to fix the sticking doors.

Sadly, the soaker hose hasn’t been fixing things recently and I decided it was time to bite the bullet.

There are about 10 guys are out there working, so I decided to take a few pictures and write a bit about what’s going on. For a man (some say simply a big kid) with a love of anything mechanical, this was a dream come true! Baby, I’m having a blast.

I put a cooler full of ice and water bottles on the porch this morning for the guys as kind of a bribe. I think it worked, because they haven’t minded me poking around and taking pictures.

The type of repair we decided on is the concrete pressed pilings. These are six inch in diameter x 12-inch long cement cylinders with a hole running straight through the center of the length of the cylinder. The put rebar in the hole and a kind mortar between the cylinders to stabilize the piling. They dig as many of these holes as the engineer says they need. For us it was it was 14, but the average is 10.


Cement cylinders

First, they dig a 2 foot square hole, that is about 5 feet deep right next to the foundation. Then they put the cylinders into the hole one at a time and use a hydraulic jack to press them down into the ground. They keep on pressing these into the ground until the amount of force needed to press the cylinder into the ground is greater than the amount of force needed to lift the house. Then they put a wider piece on top of the last cylinder and use jacks and shims to level it
off.


Looking down into a hole



One wall of holes



Finished piling with shims

Even as I’m writing, I can both hear and feel the work that’s being done right outside my window. This is the closest I’ve ever come to being in an earthquake…it’s kind of fun.

My cats are freaking out! I’m talking arched backs, big tails and everything!

They should be finished today, with maybe a little bit of work to do tomorrow. You know, holes filled in and bushes put back – that sort of thing.

They’ve barely started to shim things up, and already my two doors that stick aren’t sticking anymore.


Not too shabby, not too shabby.