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Jake Gyllenhaal (or, more likely, an auto-dialer that sounds just like him) just got done leaving a message on our answering machine.

No less than three minutes after Jake called, the Human Rights Campaign called. The union of which Sarah is a member called us recently. The Sierra Club called us every hour on the hour yesterday even though neither of us are members any longer. In fact, the Sierra Club has called us several times over the past few weeks.

Numerous partisan and so-called non-partisan individuals stopping by the house uninvited and unplanned over the last month or so met Dalla and her intimidating ‘defend the household to the death’ bark.

In addition to telephone pleas by Jake, Madison has been visited by The Boss, The Foo Fighters, Sheryl Crow, Leonardo DiCaprio, Sharon Stone, and numerous other celebrities and notables stumping for their candidate of choice.

Can the election please be over now?

Elections share the same fundamental problem of public radio pledge drives: it’s like the candidates and their political machines are in the stereotypical police interrogation room. We can observe them through the one-way mirror, but they cannot observe us or react to our actions.

As a result, those in the interrogation room (candidates and public radio) never know when their message has been received and some sort of action has been taken. So, they just have to keep plugging away relentlessly, hoping that something will get through our media filters.

Public radio pledge drives would be much less annoying if giving money to the station would make them stopping hassling you for the same.

Political candidates are much the same. Kerry and Bush probably don’t really care who I’m voting for at this point. They just want to make sure that I’ve either completely rejected them or that firmly I’m with them. If they knew with certainty that nothing they could do or say would change my mind, they would focus their efforts and limited resources elsewhere on voters with whom they still had a chance.

Unfortunately, they cannot get that sort of communication, so they must relentlessly pound us with their messages begging for support.

Living in a swing state, we see ad after ad after ad when we mistakenly turn on the television. We get flyers; we get grassroots supporters turning up on our doorstep; we get so many telephone calls that I seriously think about having the telephone disconnected.

All of that leads to a state of serious election fatigue.

On a dish of red beans and rice, it completely disappeared. I probably added over 1/8 of the bottle, and the dish never got terribly spicy.

However, adding the sauce to a tub of salsa (that was made none too hot originally), perked up the salsa quite a bit.

So, this appears to work best in situations where it is not drowned out by the food on which it is sprinkled.

UPDATED 29 Oct 04Lame, lame, lame. Today, I used upwards of a two tablespoons(!) on a pasta dish without any heat dampening ingredients (i.e., dairy products). This sauce did not hold its heat at all once it was opened. Nearly one month after first opening the bottle, I’m trying to finish it off and the fact that the sauce has almost no heat left is certainly helping the cause.

Two tablespoons(!) of a good, roaring hot habanero salsa should nearly render the food on which it is dispensed inedible. Instead, the food (which was rather bland to start) simply became spicy enough to bother eating.

Earlier today, 80,000 of my fellow Wisconsin residents and I were treated to a two-song mini-show by none other than “The Boss” himself, Bruce Springsteen. In addition, the Foo Fighters provided a nice three song, acoustic opening set.

All in all, it was a nice Bruce Springsteen^H^H^H^H^….err, John Kerry rally.Let me start off by saying that I have absolutely no intention of voting for Kerry. My vote is still firmly in Nader’s camp and, if anything, today’s rally only cemented my thoughts on the issue.

The rally was supposed to start at 11:00. I got down to the area (by bike and foot) about 10:40. The line to get into the rally was already over six blocks long(!). By 10:50, I had found the end of the line and put myself into it. After approximately an hour of stading in line, we were finally let into the area where the rally would be held. Of course, everyone in line dutifully held tickets that were either given to them or printed out from an on-line form. No one ever bothered to check those tickets or even ask for them.

Once we got into the so-called venue (which was nothing more than a three block long section of street and cross streets closed to traffic with controlled access to pedestrians), Russ Feingold gave the opening address. As a reasonably popular Senator who will most assuredly win re-election, he was a good choice for an opening speaker.

Feingold smartly kept his (intelligent, coherent) remarks to a minimum before introducing the Foo Fighers. After all, 80,000 of us did not show up and wait in endless lines to listen to Russ Feingold (nothing personal, Russ).

The Foo Fighters came on the stage and played a three song set with a minimum of editorializing. Sure, they gave us the obligatory “Vote for John Kerry, and even if you don’t, please vote anyway” speech, but it was nicely mixed in between songs one and two and it included some nice personal perspective on the part of Dave Grohl.

The Foo Fighters left the stage about 12:05. A pair of roadies attacked the stage and moved some microphones around, placed some water bottles, etc. Van Halen’s “Right Here, Right Now” (circa 1992, twelve years old) and other assorted 90′s rock songs were piped over the loud speakers.

Time dragged on.

Minutes passed. Thirty of them, to be specific.

The CD of time-filling music obviously reached its conclusion. Van Halen’s “Right Here, Right Now” (now twelve years and thirty minutes old) started up again.

Fifteen more minutes passed. Any energy the crowd possessed after the Foo Fighter’s set died about minute seventeen of the unseemly long break. People started shifting from one foot to the other and looking at their watches. Some people started walking away.

About 12:45 a woman in a tan pantsuit (I have no idea who) gets on stage and yells incoherently into the microphone. She must have been part of the Democratic apparatus as nobody appeared on stage to drag her off of it (unfortunately). Apparently, we were susposed to be inspired by this anonymous screamer. Using some complex logic, I finally determine that she wanted the whole crowd to turn as one and march over to the City Clerk’s office to cast absentee ballots as soon as the rally ended. (Right, they could definitely handle 80,000 people in that little room. Great idea, Incoherent Screamer Lady.)

12:51 (yes, I checked my watch), Bruce Springsteen appears on stage with Wisconsin Governor Doyle. Doyle apparently fired all his speech writers last night because his introduction speech was awful. The oh-so-clever premise was to string together various Springsteen song titles to form an introduction speech. Real clever there, Gov. A normally silent type in public, I was moved to yell “Sit down, Doyle. No one came here to hear you.” No one around me blinked an eyelash.

Finally, Doyle stopped embarassing himself and turned the mic over to The Boss. The crowd went wild. Springsteen’s first words: “That’s the last time Governor Doyle opens for me.” Classic.

Bruce played an excellent rendition of “Promised Land.” He then harangued us about what a great guy Kerry is and how awful Bush is. Thanks, Boss, but there really weren’t any undecided voters at the rally. Everyone there was either a Kerry supporter traveling in full Democratic Party regalia, or a supporter of another candidate traveling incognito.

Anyway, Bruce’s stump speech finally ended. He launched into “No Surrender” which Kerry has appropriated as one of his campaign’s official melodies.

“No Surrender” ended. Bruce introduced Kerry. There was a two minute delay. Kerry finally managed to negoiate his way onto the stage. (I have no idea what took him so long.) Bruce left the stage. Kerry started his speech. I left the rally.

Why did today’s rally cement my anti-Kerry bias?

1. Telling everyone you need a ticket to get into the venue, but then failing to check those tickets.
2. Not adequately planning how to get 80,000 people into and out of a large venue so that the event starts quite late. Camp Randall (home of the Wisconsin football team) holds nearly eighty thousand people and they do not have any trouble starting the games on time (and most of the people entering the stadium are well on their way to fully liquored up). Other college and professional stadiums hold even more people and not only do the games start on time, but the venue operators even manage to do so while checking everyone’s tickets.
3. The unexplained forty-five minute delay between musical acts. What on Earth were they doing during that time?!? There were no conessions, no side stages, nothing else to keep the crowd busy. So, everyone just stood around and wondered what was taking so damn long. Any positive energy the crowd had completely dissipated.
4. Letting Screamer Lady near the mic.
5. Putting John Kerry on after Bruce Springsteen. Let’s be honest. 80,000 people did not wait two hours to see a tiny moving dot that could be John Kerry on a tiny stage two blocks away. Most everyone was waiting around to hear The Boss. Those of us who did not care to hear Kerry speak, simply left after The Boss was done playing. The number who left was not insignificant. If I had been planning that rally, the candidate would have given his speech between the two musical acts, with the more popular musical act following the candidate’s speech. That forces people to stick around for the candidate’s speech if they want to hear the rally’s true headliner.

If the Kerry camp cannot even handle staging a rally over which they had nearly complete control, why on Earth should I trust them to run a country with a multi-billion dollar budget, a good-sized military, and 270+ million residents?

When Sarah and I moved from California to Wisconsin, we used one of the national moving companies. As might be expected, our experience with that company was less than ideal.Soon after we got to Madison, got our household goods, and finished unpacking, I wrote a long rant about how awful the moving company was which was posted on my website.

At the time, my hope was that our experiences would warn others about the moving company and how they treat their customers.

Since that time, many people have visited by website to research the moving company in question. The page in question ranks quite highly in several search engines, as displayed in the following table.

Unfortunately, I have not cracked the Google listings yet. I’m guessing that with the next version of Geeklog, I’ll be able to rewrite a few URL’s and make my site more Google spider friendly.

Regardless, it is a good object lesson of how long a bad reputation can follow you around on-line. This all happened two years ago, but my writing is still out there informing people’s opinions today. Search engines, browsers, and the web make it incredibly easy for someone with a bad experience to color the perceptions of others years after an event occurs.

Digging around in my CD collection yesterday, I found Tori Amos’ excellent album, “Boys for Pele.” Not every song on that album is going to please every listener, but there are several real stand out tracks [mp3 samples]:

• Mr. Zebra
• Way Down
• Marianne

In addition, I slipped Ms. Amos’ “Crucify ” EP into the CD player yesterday. Two of my favorite tracks on that album are covers [mp3 samples]:

• Angie
• Smells Like Teen Spirit

Sarah and I kept ourselves very busy this weekend with entertaining, hiking, working around the house, spectating, and the like.We entertained at our house twice in the last few days. Sheri and Bryan were entertaining her parents this weekend, so we invited the whole clan over for dinner on Thursday night.

Saturday morning dawned windy, cold, and cloudy. After taking Dalla to a nearby dog park, we were back home preparing for more entertaining. Sarah and another graduate student threw Sheri a baby shower at our house.

Once the baby shower was over the guests left, we buckled down and started working on the house. Raking the lawn was job one, and that took about one and one-half hours. Once that was done, we ripped out all of the remaining tomato plants and their support structures. Rearranging the garage was next on our list as we started to move items indoors for the winter. Sarah’s potting bench, which she keeps on the back patio in the summer, got hauled to the basement. The patio furniture came into the garage. The grill got cleaned out and then washed out with the hose before being rolled into the garage. Ira’s outddor pen was unlocked for the winter and his house was taken indoors. While Sarah cleaned and rearranged some of our garage shelves, I worked on making the door from the kitchen to the garage work more smoothly and lock more easily.

After that was done, we took Dalla to a dog park farther from our house for a nice walk. While we had been working, the weather turned very nice: sixty-plus degrees and sunny.

Shortly after getting back home, we ate a quick dinner and then went to our first hockey game of the year. Wisconsin beat Michigan Tech 3-0 in a game that was never that close.

This morning, we got up early and went for a hike in Governor Nelson State Park. There were a pair of sandhill cranes near the parking area when we arrived. Once they saw Dalla, they started jumping up and down and making (what we assumed were) menacing noises. Dalla was several counties this side of afraid. In fact, she kept standing up on her rear legs (which we generally interpret to be, “Hey, look over there! Prey!”) and lunging at the leash.

While I watched the Vikings game, Sarah went to work for a couple of hours at the National Park Service office. Dalla and I picked Sarah up after the Vikings game and we went out to Indian Lake County Park. Once there, we hiked several miles. We left there as the sun was going down and the weather was turning cool.

As you can probably noticed, we kept ourselves busy this weekend. However, with the beautiful weather we had on Saturday afternoon and most of Sunday, both of us felt compelled to get outdoors and enjoy the days.

At some point in the recent past, I learned that the 9/11 Commission Report had been nominated for a National Book Award.

Rather than pay a bookstore ten dollars for a pre-printed copy, I downloaded the various chapters and printed them on my computer. Even as the paper started spewing out of my printer, I found the document hard to put down.I’m about half-way through the report and I can ununequivacably state that unlike every other government document I’ve ever read, and I’ve read more than my fair share, the 9/11 Commission Report makes for compelling reading. The first chapter is as taut as anything a modern thriller either tapped out on a keyboard. Perhaps what makes it so interesting is that all of the events actually happened and weren’t just passing phantoms in the writer’s imagination.

Government actions, committees, and agencies are examined in reasonably harsh light. If something worked, or more likely did not work, as designed or intended, the writers of the report say so in plain english. Such frankness is almost unheard of in a government report on itself.

Since it seems that at least some major subset of the recommendations in this report will become law/policy, and since the report is such good reading, you could do worse than to pick up a copy of the report and peruse it in your spare time.

Sarah and I were in Cleveland last weekend visiting her parents. We flew out to surprise her mother for her birthday. While we were there, we also took in the Cleveland Browns game.At the Browns game, there were some very enthusiastic Browns fans who were very deep into their cups. As the Browns were lining up for their first offensive play of the game, the fans behind us started yelling, “Throw the bomb! Throw the bomb, Butch!” (Butch Davis is the Browns’ coach, for those not in the know.)

The Browns did, in fact, throw the bomb on their first play from scrimmage. The play was a 99-yard touchdown completion.

As the Browns lined up for their first offensive play of their second offensive series, the fans behind us started yelling again. “Throw the bomb!” However, one particularly drunk fan decided to embellish that chant a bit. “Throw the bomb! Go for the juggler!” What he meant, of course, was “Go for the jugular!” However, that did not stop Sarah, her father, and myself from laughing hysterically at the idea of going for “the juggler.” I pictured some poor juggler down the field getting tackled out of his shoes by some middle linebacker with a running start.

As we were standing in the TSA-mandated insecurity line at Cleveland Hopkins airport, the large woman in front of me opened her purse to fish around for her photo ID. As she did so, I got a clear view of the purse’s contents which included both cigarettes and an asthma inhaler. That seemed like a good combination: overweight, asthmatic, and smoking.

Me, while waiting in the TSA-fictional-security line in Madison: “It’s probably illegal to discuss what you can’t discuss in an airport security line.”

Sarah pointed out how the TSA displays a picture of a bomb on its airport prohibited items display. Yes, I’m sure the terrorists will show up with bombs right out of Spy v. Spy, see the helpful “do not bring a bomb like this on board an aircraft” icon, and turn around to begin the journey home.

For the past new months, Sarah and I had been discussing adopting a second dog. On 18 Sep 04, we did just that.After talking about what kind of dog we wanted, we started looking around at the local shelters. After all, that was where we found Dalla, our first dog. Since none of the dogs there struck our fancy, we expanded our search using Petfinder.com.

Some time later, we decided to drive up to Baraboo, WI and visit a dog named Sammie at the Highway of Hope rescue there.

After contacting the shelter, we bundled Dalla into the car, and drove up to meet Sammie. The rescue was nothing special. It is run by two women out of their homes. We met Sammie in the fenced backyard of one of the women. He was a nice looking dog, black with tan and white on his chest.

We spent probably a half-hour in the backyard with Sammie, the woman who ran the rescue, and Dalla. The dogs got along okay for the most part, with the expected jealousy from Dalla the only real exception. We were planning on taking Dalla for a hike at Devil’s Lake State Forest, so we asked the woman who ran the rescue is we could take Sammie with us, as well.

She agreed, so the the four us went for a hike at Devil’s Lake. It quickly became obvious that Sammie had never seen the opposite end of a leash before as he was all over the trail, weaving back and forth and tugging against the leash. However, he clearly enjoyed himself and we enjoyed having him with us. After our hike, we drove back to the rescue and told the woman running it that we wanted to adopt him. Some short time later, after filling out some paperwork, we were on the road back to Madison with two canines in the backseat of the car instead of one.

The first couple of days after we got Sammie home were interesting, to say the least. Dalla clearly was the alpha female and she laid down the law about what Sammie was and was not allowed to do. Sammie was also adjusting to the rhythms of our household. We normally take Dalla for a walk morning and evening. Some days, we take her to the dog park, instead of walking her around the neighborhood. At the rescue, Sammie was let out to run around the fenced backyard with the other dogs. Since we do not have a fenced yard, he could only be let outside on the leash.

We took Sammie to the dog park with Dalla on Sunday. While we generally did not have any problems, he was aggressive towards a beagle that jumped up on Sarah to solicit some attention. This was disturbing, but not unheard of as Dalla was also protective of us and jealous of dogs that she felt were horning in on “her” people.

Monday, 20 Sep 04, we took Sammie to the vet for some shots and to get him microchipped. While we were at the vet, we noticed some spots on his muzzle. The vet thought that perhaps they were old scars.

On Monday, I also tried taking Sammie to a dog park within walking distance of our house. We got to the dog park, but he attacked a beagle-mix that came within range of him while he was on the leash. He also barked incessantly at the other dogs. So, he was never let off the leash, and we walked back home.

Walking both dogs at the same time was something of a trial as Sammie was all over the sidewalk. If one person tried to walk both dogs, he quickly tied himself and the person walking him into a knot. Dalla would often get run over as he swerved side to side, seemingly without care. Given that he was so difficult to manage on leash, Sarah and I were forced to each walk a dog which immediately doubled the man hours spent walking dogs each week.

By Thursday, the bumps on Sammie’s face had leaped out into high definition. Another trip back to the vet got him a prescription for anti-biotics since the vet thought he had a bacterial infection. She also found that Sammie had roundworms, so he was given a wormer to take care of those and an anti-diarrheal because the wormer often causes diarrhea.

About this time, Sarah and I decided to change Sammie’s name to Chili. We knew of three other Sammy’s or Sam’s at the various dog parks. In addition, neither of us was crazy about having a dog that shared a common name used by people.

Friday, Sarah took a plane to visit her Grandmother in Pennsylvania while I took the dogs with me in the car to visit my parents in South Dakota. Whenever I stopped the car at a rest area, Chili would bark fiercely at the dogs outside the car.

After a weekend in South Dakota, there were no signs that Chili’s temperment or bacterial infection were improving. Another trip back to the vet yielded more bills and more tests. Finally the diagnosis came back: ringworm.

The treatment for Chili’s ringworm was to bathe him every five days with a special shampooo, use a post-shampoo antifungal conditioner, give an oral antihistimine twice-a-day, and use a topical antifungal twice-a-day. We would have to do this for the next six weeks. In addition, we needed to start bathing Dalla with the antifungal shampoo to prevent her from getting ringworm.

While all of this was going on, we noticed that we were having trouble getting Chili enough exercise. We couldn’t walk him very long because he was so frustrating to have on leash. In addition, he would eventually see or come upon another dog, and he would lose it: barking, lunging, and growling. We could not take him to the dog park because he had a track record of attacking other dogs at dog park. We could not take him to many of the unofficial dog parks around town because he might attack dogs there, as well. So, we were forced to start seeking out those fringe areas were we could run him, but generally not expect to see other dogs. In a somewhat larger city like Madison, those areas are harder to come by than you might think.

While it was a nightmare to get exercise for Chili outside, we was a pleasure to have when he was inside. He got along swimmingly with Dalla after those first few days. They could eat side-by-side and share the same water dish. They would chase each other around the house, mouth wrestling, jumping, growling, and playing tug-of-war with a pair of old socks. Chili was very affectionate towards us. He loved nothing better than to jump into bed with us, no matter what time of day or night it was. We often had to kick him out after he would try and sneak in to the bed late at night.

Chili loved to play tennis ball and he didn’t care who threw it or where, as long as he could go get it and bring it back. Dalla refuses to play with Sarah for some reason, so Sarah loved having a dog around who would play with her. Chili had clearly been taught to release the tennis ball at his last home because he sometimes dropped it into a hand held below his mouth; other times, he would put it down and push it towards people with his nose.

We loved having another dog in the house with a different personality than Dalla’s. Not that there is anything wrong with Dalla’s personality, but variety is always nice. However, we were constantly worrying about getting Chili exercise and what might happen if he got out of the house by running out an open door.

Finally, that worry and hassle became too much for us to handle. Despite our best efforts, we just could not get him the exercise he needed. His extreme aggression towards other dogs made it just too difficult to take him out into the world.

Earlier today, I brought him back to the rescue in Baraboo. Doing that was a very difficult thing to do, but it was also the right thing to do. If we never had to take him outdoors, Chili would still be here. However, we like to take Dalla out for walks around the neighborhood and to dog park. We like to take her for hikes in spring, summer, and fall. In the winter, we like to take her out on the frozen lakes. We just could not envision doing that with Chili.

While we may have been able to manage his aggression with some intensive training, we could never hope to “cure” it. We would most likely always be worrying in the back of our minds. “Is this the time he loses it and rips some other dog apart,” the little voice would be constantly asking. In addition, that training would have been very resource intensive. It would have taken money and time we don’t have.

We miss Chili. The house is quieter without him and Dalla tearing it up. Coming home is a bit less of an event with just one wagging tail instead of two. But, we do not miss the worry and the aggravation his unfortunate upbringing instilled in him.

Good luck out there, big guy. We both hope you find a nice family with a fenced yard out in the country. That is really where you will fit in best.

This is a copy of a rant I posted to a local message board today.

According to this story everyone processed into the Dane County Jail will be charged $25.

Apparently, the guilty are an undertaxed population. Let’s really go after them.

We don’t charge people money who are arrested at night when police officers have to use their flashlights to apprehend them. Why not charge those arrested a fee to reimburse the city/county for the batteries used?

How about charging people for the cost of the disposable handcuffs used to arrest them?

Maybe we can also charge the guilty a fee to cover the cost of the office supplies used to move their case through the justice system. The more appeals they file, the more office supplies used, the greater the fee. That would discourage appeals and unburden the overtaxed justice system.

With the cost of gas going up, we also ought to charge the guilty for the cost of the gas used to apprehend them and transport them to jail. We could then also charge them for the cost of transporting them to and from the courthouse.

We could also charge the guilty for the food they eat while in jail. That would save us a ton of money.

Utility costs could also be charged back to the guilty. Just make some formula that takes into account each inmate’s average usage of water, electricity, and the like, and then bill them a percentage of the jail’s utility bills. Why didn’t we think of that sooner?

What a fatuous proposal. Then, it is proposed in terms of “Gosh, if we had all this money, we could do all these things with it.” Sure, if the County had big piles of money coming in, it could do great things with it. That’s a no-brainer. The real question is “From whence does that money come?”

Note to the Dane County Board: using ill-gotten gains to do good things does not whitewash out the stains of impropriety.

Some of the movies we’ve seen of late:

• Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban – See it. Really good.
• Mystic River – See it, even though it has Kevin Bacon in it.
• Under the Tuscan Sun – Slack it. Sarah liked it much more than I did.
• Starsky & Hutch – Slack it.
• Sweet Home Alabama – Skip it. Predictable dreck.

Explanation of my movie reviews

A telling excerpt from Dogs Behaving Badly by Dr. Nicholas Dodman:

My sister told me a story about her young German shepherd, who thrilled in chasing squirrels in her backyard. Fawn never actually caught the squirrels but would chase them up trees and off the property and then bark in lengthy exclamation. Both dog and owner were satisfied with this arrangement until one day a fleeing squirrel became entwined in the tennis net.With the dog advancing from the south and the tennis net blocking the northern escape route, the squirrel was spinning its wheels in desperation. As Fawn loomed closer, the squirrel suddenly flopped down motionless, playing possum, so to speak. Fawn had never seen anything like this before and cocked her head in disbelief, creating an image of the RCA-parlaphone signature dog. My sister, an animal lover, saw the squirrel’s plight and called Fawn off in a stern tone. “Leave it, Fawn. Leave it alone!” A confused but well-trained Fawn obeyed by taking a pace back and in so doing taking her eyes off the squirrel for a split second. The squirrel, making its second error of the day, then leaped at Fawn, attaching itself firmly to her lip. Fawn howled in pain and ran around in circules attempting to detach the half-crazed rodent. She was eventually successful in this quest and, having shaken it loose, now knew exactly what to do. In fell swoop, she snapped its neck with her powerful jaws. Game, set, and match to the dog. That squirrel will not be passing on its genes to the next generation.

The forecast for tonight calls for a hard frost in Madison.

Thus endeth the growing season.

Apparently, Summer snuck off somewhere when our watchful gaze slipped.

We spent some time on Sunday working on our house again.Sometime later this month, we’d like to blow a fair amount of cellulose insulation into our attic. However, before we can do that, we need to ensure that adequate ventilation will still get from the soffit vents into the attic.

By using air channels and baffles, we can prevent the insulation from falling onto the soffit vents, and still get air from the soffit vents along the roof, up to the ridge vent. Unfortunately, we cannot reach the soffit vents from inside the attic due to the roof’s very shallow pitch. So, we have to work on the problem by removing the old soffit vents from outside the house. Then, we have to insert the baffles and air channels through the hole in the soffit, and secure as much as possible before replacing the soffit vent cover.

The soffit vent covers are original, which means they are over forty years old. Many of the screens on the vent covers that were designed to keep bugs out of the attic had completely rusted or rotted away. The screen that covered the outlet for the kitchen exhaust fan was almost completely caked over with grease.

Sarah really got us motivated to out there and tackle the problem. She figured out how to craft baffles from cardboard to hold back the insulation. She also took the lead in getting the soffit vents down.

While she was doing that, I was monkeying around on the roof. I put a pair of chimney caps on our chimneys. Those should help keep wind, rain, debris, and critters out of our chimneys. Wind and rain had been real problems. Sometimes, we’d get water in the fireplace, even with the damper closed, as rain water would run down the chimney. We had a fire on Friday night, during a severe rain, and the rain put out the fire on the right-hand side of the fireplace. Hopefully, the chimney caps will prevent that from happening again.

After I finished that, I climbed down and helped Sarah with the soffit vents. Between the two of us, we got a little over half the soffit vents replaced/upgraded in just a few hours.