Installing a Microwave Oven in 210 Days: Part 2

Our new microwave awaits.

In April, we discussed how to approach our problem.  When we had purchased the house, the previous owners had paid contractors to remodel their kitchen.  They had installed tile all along the bottom of the cupboards and the microwave.  As our new microwave was taller, this meant we either had to chip away tiles and set it lower, or find room up above.  Well, we had worked with wood before, but never with tile.  The way the old tile had been cut, we knew we would have to chip away a lot, then lay matching tile along the profile of the new microwave.  We weren’t sure that we wanted to spend our first tiling project attempting to replicate someone else’s work.  What if we couldn’t find an exact replacement tile?  What if we ended up needing to remove the cabinets anyway to remove or install tiles beneath them?  Soon May was upon us, and our upcoming trip to England beckoned.  We would get to the project when we returned, we vowed.

Earlier this year, a family member had died.  (See “Awake with Connie Willis and Amaryllis”).  As the service was a full day’s drive each way, we hadn’t been able to travel to her funeral.  A “Life Celebration” was scheduled for early July.  So yes, you guessed it: after we returned home from England…more traveling. 

A few weeks after that, we pulled out the oven and unhooked the gas line.  We studied the wall template, as well as the holes in the wall where the contractors had hung the previous frame.  We decided we would need to remove the oak trim from the shelf above, as after we hooked the microwave onto the frame's lower support tabs, the trim would get in the way of swinging the microwave up.  This involved using a square head drill bit, which we had previously bought at Home Depot, enlarging the pocket-hole area around the screw head with our Dremel rotary tool, and patience.  Then, to our delight, a little tapping with a hammer was all it took.  The finishing nails that had held on the trim also emerged nice and straight, so we could tap the trim back on later. 

After drilling holes in the wall for the new frame, we discovered that our stud-finder’s readings had been slightly off, and the left hand side of the frame would not sit in front of a stud after all.  This meant that we needed four toggle bolts.  The installation kit included three.  We had a few smaller ones at home, but wondered if they were strong enough.  As it was approaching noon, we decided to add Home Depot to our list of the day’s errands, and headed out.  Our first stop: lunch at our favorite burger joint.

It’s been several years since we attempted serious Do-It-Yourself (DIY).  Or, if you prefer, Doing-Yourself-In (DYI).  In that time we had forgotten some basic skills.  So that afternoon we made the mistake of letting the toggle portion go all the way through the wall before we tightened the bolts.  Thankfully, my wife figured out a slow way to rectify the problem.  We also used the template for the shelf to drill holes for the upper support bolts and the power cord.  Then we headed into the living room for our new microwave.

We carried it into the kitchen, squeezed it between the two cabinets, set it on the bottom support tabs, and swung it up.   The new microwave cried foul: its top rear corner jammed into the shelf above before it could reach the wall.  So, as we had feared, we would need to remove the shelf and position it higher.  Hopefully, this wouldn’t involve relocating the cabinet doors. 

By now, our energies were ebbing.  We removed the vertical supports between the ceiling and the shelf, but opted to remove the shelf tomorrow. 

Pushing the oven back in place and hooking it back up seemed like too much work.  So we went out and got a double-pepperoni pizza for dinner.  Life is hard.

Still to be continued,

Dragon Dave

Related Dragon Cache entries

Awake with Connie Willis and Amaryllis

Movie Trailers That Turn Us Off

I used to look forward to watching movie trailers in the cinema.  On TV, trailers for an upcoming movie generally last only twenty or thirty seconds, whereas cinema trailers can extend up to two-and-a-half minutes.  Like miniature movies, movie trailers employ a three-act structure, and are crafted to tell a story that entrances the audience while leaving them hungering for more.  But nowadays, when cinemas screen TV-style ads, promote special one-night-only shows, then follow these up with eight or ten trailers, I’m sometimes exhausted, or at least annoyed, by the time the feature starts.  

Nevertheless, I still love trailers, whether I watch them online, in the theater, or on DVD.  Their creators must work to overcome certain limitations, such as making the trailer before the movie crew has wrapped up production.  In addition to piecing together video from rushes (scenes which may or may not make their way into the final movie), they must also serve as their own composers, and create their own sound effects, as the finished sound and score are often not finalized until shortly before the film is released.  The efforts of such unsung heroes are celebrated each year with The Golden Trailer Awards and the Key Art Awards.  Occasionally, such people even find their way onto the big screen: in “The Holiday,” Cameron Diaz plays Amanda Woods, a movie-trailer creator, who find love when she decides to spend Christmas in England.  

Like all art, trailers have gone through notable periods of mutation.  Sci-Fi movie trailers from the fifties, for example, often feature large text punctuated with exclamation marks.  “The flying squid monsters from Venus!  Watch your head!  They’ll eat your brains!”  Movies from the sixties and seventies, and perhaps even the eighties, show scenes from the movie, overladen with a presenter’s rich, deep tones saying things like “See the fantastic world of tomorrow,” “Watch [the hero’s] amazing journey,” “Thrill to his death-defying struggle,” or “Marvel at the spectacular special effects.”  While looking back on the trends of an earlier era can be fun, I wonder how today’s trailers affect us, given the current decline in cinema attendance.

Two years ago, my wife and I saw the movie trailers for the upcoming remake of Ray Harryhausen’s final film: “Clash of the Titans.”  Despite her love for the original story, the tremendously upgraded special effects, and exciting imagery, she refused to go see the 2010 film in the cinema.  This year, I finally convinced her to watch the movie on DVD, and she proved not only an ardent fan of the remake, but the motive force behind getting us out to see the sequel.  Yet, while she enjoyed last weekend’s “Wrath of the Titans,” she found herself losing interest in the upcoming Ridley Scott film “Prometheus.”  While earlier trailers had prompted her interest, she literally could not watch the latest one; she had to close her eyes to keep from growing ill. 

Current big-budget action movies, and particularly ones geared toward the Science Fiction and Fantasy crowd, seem to utilize several common elements.  Some of these techniques involve: interspersing brightly lit scenes with intensely dark scenes; using a moment of black or white to divide two intense scenes; or using black to break up a fast moving scene to produce a stutter-like effect.  Married with such violent exchanges of lighting are sound effects such as deep booms, clanging symbols, electronic wailing, or clashing notes or chords.  Alternatively, the moment of black separating two scenes may momentarily break up loud sound with silence.  The latest trailer for “Prometheus” maximizes the usage of such techniques: while the trailer begins with more sedate imagery, toward the end scenes are interrupted with repeated wailing and strobe-like flashes of white.

While I’m not an expert in any field of medicine, it seems likely that prolonged exposure to such interchanges of light and sound can stress the eyes and ears, tighten ones muscles, and induce headaches.  I’m not arguing that watching a succession of such trailers can provoke an epileptic seizure, or lead to other significant medical conditions.  But there have been a number of times in the past few years that my wife would turn to me after watching a movie trailer and say, “That one looks too intense for me.”  And that's it.  We may watch the movie later on DVD.  Then again, given all the demands of life, we may never see a movie that we might otherwise have fallen in love with.  

As for the 2010 version of “Clash of the Titans,” it may not have been the best movie ever made, but I nonetheless wish we could have watched it on the big screen together.  To a certain extent, I feel like we’ve been cheated.  For we’ve missed out on a unique experience that can never be repeated: experiencing a great film for the first time on the big screen (with or without soda, popcorn, and a box of Whoppers).  I wonder how many other people have been turned off by a trailer's over-hyped intensity, and thus contributed to the decline in overall theater attendance.  

We all yearn for a little intensity to spice up our lives, but as with the level of complexity in the dual-realities of the TV show “Awake,” sometimes too much of a good thing actually turns us off.  

Related Internet Links

A Movie Trailer primer from Wikipedia

An Article on Light Stimulation from the Canadian Epilepsy Alliance

Effects on everyone from Light Sensitivity from the Epilepsy Foundation

Too Many Tragedies

Recently, I’ve been mourning the loss of a TV show.  This may seem premature, as it has not officially been cancelled, but the writing seems to be on the wall.  While the ratings for “Awake” started well, people have stopped tuning in as the show has continued.  Likewise, the journalists who raved over the series’ promise now criticize it.  When passengers and crew push and shove each other to secure a berth on a lifeboat, one wonders what is wrong with the ship.  What has caused people to abandon the show they once found so promising?

The show mixes two popular genres: science fiction and police procedural.  Added to this is the drama concerning the Brittens’ struggle to overcome a family member’s death.  With sci-fi, usually the concern is cost, but as the dual realities are set on present day Earth, there are no special effects to worry the accountants.  Instead of one crime, each episode usually offers two crimes to be solved, giving the viewer twice as many clues to ponder.  Critics and viewers are always interested in the forces that threaten to tear a family apart.  Well, thanks to his two realities, Michael Britten now has two families to hold together.

Last week’s episode, “Game Day,” offered up a familiar science fiction argument concerning the multiverse: that for each dilemma or event, a new universe is created in which each potential choice or action is played out.  The intense rivalry between two football teams (and their fans) comes down to the last, crucial field goal.  In one reality, the green team wins; in the other, the red team wins.  (This ties in nicely with the green and red rubber band notion).  In one reality, a shopkeeper loses a significant bet.  In the other, a rabble-rousing fan is murdered.  In one reality, Michael Britten’s son is mourning the breakup of his relationship with his girlfriend.  In the other, his wife has finally talked Michael into moving to Oregon to start anew.  The detectives investigate the shopkeeper’s establishment after a fire: they determine it was caused by arson, yet it has also become a murder, as an employee slept on the premises.  The detectives catch a man who was seen to brawl with the rabble-rouser at the game, yet he doesn’t remember his actions: he had too much to drink.  At best, the above summary is incomplete.  Yet it establishes one inarguable fact: there’s a lot going on in any episode of “Awake.”

Any storyteller will admit that a chief concern is getting the mix right.  Once a filmmaker has wrapped up production and begun assembling his movie, he starts deleting scenes that he feels will dilute the viewer’s focus from the primary storyline.  Likewise, after his first draft, a writer sometimes combines two characters who performed similar roles, or whose individual tasks weren’t significant enough to warrant the reader’s attention.  A certain amount of complexity is essential to good storytelling, but, as everyone knows, sometimes it’s possible to have too much of a good thing.

Perhaps that’s the real tragedy of “Awake:” there’s simply too much going on in any one episode.  When it comes to mysteries, people love red herrings and lots of suspects: they love following the detective’s search to discover the person who actually committed the crime.  Yet two crimes per episode prevents the detectives from questioning and investigating a long list of suspects for either one.  Then throw all the other various dramatic issues concerning the Brittens into the mix.  The last episode offered the two psychiatrists little more than token appearances.  Then there’s the essential question lurking behind the series: how is it that Michael Britten can perceive these two realities?  Why is his captain in one reality seemingly aware of Michael Britten’s ability to navigate between the two?  And who is the man she’s in touch with, who has promised her he will kill Michael Britten unless he moves to Oregon?

“Game Day” overflowed with tragedies to wrench the heart, excite the mind, provoke interest in what will happen next, while promising to endanger Michael Britten in at least one reality.  Yet given the series’ ratings, I fear I’ll never learn how these two universes split apart (if they have), or watch Michael Britten navigate between them while holding his two families together in the years to come.  For me, that’s the ultimate tragedy of "Awake."

Related Dragon Cache entries

“Awake” with Connie Willis and Amaryllis

Lucius Malfoy and Vlad Taltos: Kindred Spirits

Internet Links

Follow the green and red rubber bands at Wikipedia

Watch last week’s episode at the NBC website

Lucius Malfoy vs. Neil Gaiman

I never cease to be surprised by the ironies of fate.  Why one artist, despite similar talent and ability, rises to stardom, while another toils in obscurity.  Recently, I realized that the actor Jason Isaacs, who came to my attention through the PBS miniseries “Case Histories,” and currently stars in “Awake,” also played Lucius Malfoy in the Harry Potter movies.  Given his strong portray of the villain, one would think the actor would have felt some assurance that his services would be requested for all the movies.  Yet, after “Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix,” Jason Isaac’s reportedly had to get down on his knees and beg J. K. Rowling to include him in the final three films.  Talk about the glamorous life of an actor!

"Please, Ms. Rowling, please write me in!  Please please!"

I find it ironic that despite his incredible range, and noteworthy performances in a long list of movies, TV shows, and stage productions, Jason Isaacs remains solidly under the radar of the paparazzi.  Unlike the similarly-featured Daniel Craig, he can take the London Underground to a movie premier.  People may go gaga over him when he’s on the red carpet, but they don’t notice him on the train ride home.  And that’s the way he likes it.  While he imagines he’d like to earn “obscene” amounts of money, he prefers his “calm, sedate and suburban” life to what he sees as the “hideously compromised” lives of those who have skyrocketed to stardom.  Such as, for example, his body double Daniel Craig.

Like J. K. Rowling, another author who has learned that becoming a superstar writer will cost you your anonymity is Neil Gaiman.  I had the pleasure to seeing him at last year’s World Fantasy Convention.  I admire his work in the Science Fiction and Fantasy genre, as well as for connecting so readily with his fans through his website, blog, Tumblr, and Twitter.  But I think he first drew my attention for his simple approach to writing.  He repeatedly tells authors aspiring to be published that there are three things one must do to become a successful writer: 1) Write, 2) Finish, and 3) Submit.  Anyone who can boil down all the intricacies of the marketplace, and the essential makeup of a successful author, into such a basic formula obviously exhibits a certain clarity that can only aid them in communicating to readers through their fiction.  

At the recent World Fantasy Convention, I laughed until my sides ached during his panel discussion with Connie Willis.  I took careful notes as he charted his progression as an author during his Guest of Honor interview.  But then the breath caught in my throat as he announced that he was considering dramatically cutting back on his internet activities to concentrate more fully on his writing.  And when he admitted that he was seriously considering not attending conventions any more, my jaw dropped.  

He went on to share that he no longer enjoyed attending conventions because he could not walk the halls unnoticed.  He couldn’t peruse the books and other items for sale in the dealers’ room, or contemplate the works displayed in the art show.  He couldn’t simply hang out in the hotel bar and hope to meet a few new friends.  Why?  Because he had grown too popular.  His fans were always hunting him down to ask him a few questions, or asking him to sign their books, and that would be all right, except for the sheer number of them.  To paraphrase a popular Carpenters song: “Crowds appear whenever Neil Gaiman is here.”

Neil Gaiman: A Literary Giant

Despite my perfectionist tendencies, I sometimes wonder if part of my reluctance to follow Gaiman’s formula through to completion stems from my fear of the disruptions and change success might bring.  To quote Charles Stross, “Writers are often boring people.  They stay home and they, like, write for hours and hours every day.  Watching them write is really boring, because believe it or not, it takes much longer to write a book than to read it.”  Charles is being somewhat tongue-in-cheek here, as anyone who has ever seen or met him at a convention knows that he is anything but boring.  Still, he has a point.  While Alf Wight (who wrote as James Herriot) may have written his books in the living room, watching TV with his family, for most of us the writing life means willfully condemning ourselves to solitary confinement, and then having little to talk about when meeting others socially.  

Typical Nonwriter/Writer Interaction at Party

Nonwriter: "So, what've you been up to lately?"  

Writer: "Um, er, well...let's see...I've been writing?"

Nonwriter raises eyebrows.  "Really?  Please excuse me while I refill my glass.  Then I want to hear all about it!"

While I’ve come to grips with this aspect of my chosen endeavor, and even to enjoy the solitude and quiet, I need to validate my efforts by finishing and submitting.  Do I want to walk in the shoes of someone like Steven Brust (or Jason Isaacs), with a number of well-loved books to my name?  Absolutely.  Do I want to be like Neil Gaiman or J. K. Rowling or Daniel Craig, making “obscene” amounts of money and living a “hideously compromised” life?  Not so much.

Still.

I guess, when you think about it, worrying about becoming a superstar player is incredibly stupid.  Especially when you’ve yet to make the team.

Related Dragon Cache entries

The Sausage That Brings Isolation Part 2

The Link Between Assumption and Cowardice

Sherlock Holmes: The New Bond

Related Internet Links

Neil Gaiman’s website

Charles Stross’ blog

J. K. Rowling’s next novel

Lucius Malfoy and Vlad Taltos: Kindred Spirits

My wife and I have this argument (sorry, discussion): she contends that watching movie credits is a waste of time; I find them interesting.  Case in point.  Last weekend, we had just finished “Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix” when a name popped out at me: Jason Isaacs.  To her chagrin, I watched longer, until the cast list appeared.  What?  Jason Isaacs plays Lucius Malfoy?  No!

(Note: When I’m screaming “No!” like this, picture me as Captain Kirk in “Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan,” after Khan has seemingly left Kirk for dead inside the asteroid.  But instead of “Khan!” I’m shouting “Noooooo!”)

As an aspiring writer (sorry, a writer aspiring to be published), I don’t usually track actors.  Instead, I follow people like screenwriters, directors, and producers.  You know, those “creative” types.  It appears, from scanning Mr. Isaacs’ resume, that he’s been in a lot of productions I should have seen, along with a few I have.  But the first time he really stood out for me was in the recent PBS miniseries “Case Histories,” about private investigator Jackson Brodie.  Part of the reason the show impressed me was that it was set in and around Edinburgh, a city I’d love to visit someday, and have always associated with SF/Fantasy authors Charles Stross and J. K. Rowling.  (In the Kate Atkinson novels upon which the PBS miniseries was based, Jackson Brodie apparently lives in Cambridge.  Like I said, these “creative” types).  

The Edinburgh Duo
"In this corner..."

But another, and perhaps the main reason the miniseries sucked me in was Jason Isaacs’ performance.  The cases he sought to solve didn’t matter all that much: what really brought the show to life was Isaacs’ performance.  I really felt for him when he tried to convince his divorced wife not to move away, and to allow him to continue seeing his daughter, despite his violent career-choice.  I believed the love he felt for his daughter.  I understood why others remained his friends, even when circumstances dictated they should shift their loyalties.  His portrayal of Jackson Brodie reminds me of why so many love the Vlad Taltos novels of Steven Brust.  Like Vlad, Jackson seems the perennial outsider, and there are constantly forces at work to prevent those friends and family members from helping him.  Yet they risk their reputations and their lives repeatedly for him, because of who he is, and what he has become to them.  

While I find the storyline of “Awake” compelling, the main reason I started watching the Science Fiction drama was because of Isaacs’ performance in “Case Histories.”  While I miss the moody setting of Edinburgh, I find his portrayal of Detective Michael Britten just as compelling.  In many ways, his looks and on-screen presence remind me of Daniel Craig, another British actor who has shot to worldwide fame since he started playing James Bond in the Before-He-Was-Bond productions of “Casino Royale” and “Quantum of Solace.”  But Jason Isaacs as Lucius Malfoy?  I’ve seen all the Harry Potter movies at least once, the earlier ones several times, but never would have connected him with the somber, brooding Jackson Brodie, or for that matter Michael Britten, in a million years.  Recognizing this, I’m less surprised that his portrayal in the miniseries connected with me so strongly.  If he can transform his features and mannerisms so completely from one role to the next, he seems capable of tremendous range for an actor.

This ability, combined with the respectable body of work he has accumulated, begs the question of Isaacs’ relative obscurity, in comparison with Daniel Craig, an actor who, from my perspective, exhibits similar looks and capabilities.  (Given all the high profile roles he’s been offered since he took on Before-He-Was-Bond, I’ve never seen Daniel Craig subsume himself so utterly in a role as Jason Isaacs did with Lucius Malfoy).  But then again, I might as well ask why Steven Brust, despite his impressive body of work, his creation of an unforgettable character, and having built a strong following, has yet to achieve a superstar status in the literary community similar to that of J. K. Rowling or Neil Gaiman.

Ah, the quirks of fate!

This entry will conclude with Lucius Malfoy vs. Neil Gaiman. 

Related Dragon Cache entries

The Curiosity Factor

Monty Python’s Crusade Part Two: “…For You”

Controlled By Chaos

Related Internet Links

Jason Isaacs’ Wikipedia page

Kate Atkinson’s website

A fan’s depiction of Vlad Taltos

Awake with Connie Willis and Amaryllis

Like flowers, memories periodically awaken.

I’ve been thinking a lot about death lately.  Partly this is due to the TV show “Awake,” in which Detective Michael Britten simultaneously inhabits two realities: one in which his wife died in a car crash, and another in which his son survived, but his wife died.  But partly this is also due to a family member who recently passed away.  From an outsider’s perspective, it might be judged that she made little impact upon our lives.  But we know differently.

From virtually the moment she entered our lives, she endeared herself with her quiet, peaceful spirit.  While a woman of few words, those she spoke were always kind.  She cared about her family, loved her husband, and played graceful host to us numerous times.  She was utterly without pretention, the kind of person who always puts you at ease.  

I wish we’d lived closer to her, and known her better.

In a way, the most important thing she ever did was give us flowers.  In particular, Amaryllis.  Every Christmas, we could count on receiving Amaryllis bulbs in a pot with which we could decorate our home.  After awhile, I got tired of receiving the same gift.  Yet now I’m wishing she gave us even more.  For my wife has planted all those bulbs in our yard, and every year those plants reawaken, thrust their heads above the ground, and shine their beauty upon us.  

Whether they're summoned or arise unbidden...

In “Awake,” the police department forces Michael Britten to see a counselor.  So, regardless of which reality he currently inhabits, he faces a psychiatrist’s scrutiny.  In both realities, their advice is the same: he must come to grips with the fact that his loved one is gone.  He must release someone who once meant everything to him: he must “get on” with his life.  I remember once, back when I was in college, putting the same argument to my grandmother after the death of her husband of over fifty years.  And her response to me was the same as Michael Britten’s to his counselors: No.  I won’t let him (or her) go.

Connie Willis is adamant in her belief that we never really get over the death of a loved one. She even wrote a story about what death is (or might be), a science fiction novel called Passage, which made a lasting impact upon me.  While the intensity of our grief gradually fades with time, those we love never really leave us.  Instead, we carry their spirits with us throughout the rest of our lives.  We mark and honor their birthdays.  To the memories they left us with, we create new ones.  During the difficult times, we imagine them with us, and wonder what counsel they might offer.  In some faith traditions, people even pray to them, believing that, as they have transcended the physical realm, they can speed our requests on to the Divine.

I hope this poor memorial to a fallen loved one will cause you to reflect upon those who, while they might have departed this reality, still inhabit your lives.  Perhaps, amid your busy schedule, you might even give some thought to what you will leave behind.  For our lives don’t end when we die.  At least, not for those who loved us.

They remind us of those we loved,
and the kind of person we long to become.

Related Dragon Cache entries

Overwhelmed By Life

A Quiet Man in the Star Wars Universe

My Uncle, Hercule Poirot

Related Internet Links

Awake

Connie Willis

Greg Benford dreams of friends