my life

Are negotiable.

'Tis perhaps one of the signs of advancing years that the days I look back upon with the most satisfaction and happiness were days in which nothing special happened. The distinguishing mark of a "good day" to me is my level of productivity. I decided I'm going to have a lot of good days this year.

I began the day with an extremely greasy but tasty breakfast (bacon and homefries), during which I finished my initial readings for my Tuesday and Thursday class (African American History, 1865 to present). Then me and my clogged arteries wandered into the garage to see what needed doing. I recently purchased new boots, so I began the Leather Luster process.

I wonder sometimes why more military members don't avail themselves of the pleasures of Leather Luster, but I think I know the answer. First, not everyone is quite so...well, anal I think is the word...about their uniforms as I am. I'm not saying they're slobs (some of them are, obviously, but lack of anality does not imply slobbery). They just don't feel the need to be mirror-shined at all times like I do. For most folks, Kiwi is more than sufficient. After all, the regulation says that boots/shoes should be "clean, black and polished." It does not specify that you should be able to see your face in them.

Second, many people have some strange idea that Leather Luster destroys the leather. For those of you out there asking yourselves, "Selves, what the heck is Leather Luster?" allow me to explain. It is a black enamel coating you paint onto your shoe leather. It is guaranteed to not harm the leather--and I'll vouch for this, having used it with outstanding results for about four years now. But it has to be done with care, or it looks for all the world like someone slopped paint on the shoe, giving it a less than presentable appearance. Which brings us to our third point.

To wit: among those who understand that Leather Luster will not harm the shoe and who want to present a superior military image, there are precious few who want to invest that much time and effort up front. This is something I realize on those rare occasions that I need to do the Leather Luster drill (which, incidentally, happens only when I purchase new shoes/boots, as the sole of my shoe wears out before the Leather Luster does).

The LL drill consists of a couple of hours (all told) of cleaning the Kiwi off the leather with a special wax-eating compound and a disposable towel from your ragbag. You allow the leather to dry, then you carefully paint on the first coat of Leather Luster. It looks like crap at this point. You let it dry naturally (eight hours is recommended), then paint another coat on. It still looks awful, with several rough spots and drip areas that are practically unavoidable.*

* Considering this, there may be a fourth reason people don't use Leather Luster: they try it but give up after a couple of coats, probably angry that they've destroyed a perfectly good pair of shoes for their efforts.

After the second coat has dried naturally, you take steel wool to them and smooth out all the dribbles and wear it to a matte finish. Then you clean them thoroughly (so there's no stray bits of hair, fluff or steel wool on them), then carefully apply a third thin coat of Leather Luster. Allow it to dry naturally, and voila! Perfect shoes.

They are superior to clothing sales chloroframs* in at least four ways: 1, the style is more pleasing to the eye; 2, they're cheaper; 3, they're comfortable because they're leather and not plastic, which does not breathe at all and never conforms to the shape of your foot, so it gives you blisters/bunions and makes your feet sweat and stink like you didn't know was possible; and 4, the shine is better, not to mention reparable. That's right. If you scuff the Leather Luster, all you have to do is wipe the shoe and the scuff goes away. Not so with chloroframs. Just ask a soldier.

* Not "chloroforms," as some semi-literate military members seem to think. I don't think they are officially "chloroframs" anymore, although this is what military folk know them as; they seem to be sold as "high gloss" shoes, though they're the same plastic junk.

So I began the biggest pain of the LL application this morning: cleaning off the wax. Then I moved to reassembling the lawn mower.

I'm not a mechanic. I've never pretended to be. However, I have a hard time taking any equipment to a bonafide mechanic if it looks like something I could fix easily enough, particularly if it looks like I have directions. You perhaps see the potential problems of such an attitude....

Apparently, during my recent extended absence, Michelle figured out what was wrong with my riding mower. Allow me to explain.

It always made the random metallic KACHUNK sound. Despite this noise, it mowed just fine, and since I am not Noel*, I never gave it much thought.

* Noel is my big brother, who is and always has been a mechanical/electrical genius. I'm not overstating the case at all, I assure you. He has this...gift. But he also refuses to settle for less than perfection in anything mechanical or electrical, a quirk that morphs his gift into a curse from time to time. He simply cannot bring himself to watch an entire 30-minute sitcom on a television with less-than-perfect reception, for example. He'll watch for 10 minutes (maybe), then spend the last 20 minutes fixing it. He'd have been able to deal with my riding mower for less than 15 minutes before the whole thing would be scattered around in pieces. He's my brother and I love him. I also think he's mental.

In my absence, Michelle appealed to friends to assist with the lawn, and in the course of human events, someone figured out that the KACHUNK sound was being produced when one of the blades contacted a metal piece on the lip*. A new "lip" was purchased, the old one was removed, and the new one was...not installed. Apparently, they discovered at this point that new blades were in order, as at least one had been irreparably bent from its unprecedented contact with the aforementioned lip. Why they did not simply purchase new blades while they were at it escapes me.

* You know...the mostly-plastic bit that directs grass clippings into traffic. Seems like it's a "blade guard" or something like that.

I removed the old ones a few days ago, realized they were bent almost beyond recognition, and called Walmart to see if they had replacements. I was put on indefinite hold by the unfortunate who took my call, so I hung up and just ordered a couple of new blades online for about $12. They arrived a couple of days ago.

I turned to this project upon wearying of rubbing my boots, and installed the new blades. (Which way do they go, though? 50-50 chance there.) Then I spent a while working out how to reinstall the pin and spring assembly with the lip. Let me just say that if you aren't the person who takes something apart in the first place, you probably shouldn't be the one trying to put it back together--particularly if it involves a spring, because springs never look the same once they're off as they did when they were properly installed.

I spent a while inspecting the old "lip" for wear-marks that might provide hints on how to install the spring, then studied the breakaway diagram of parts in my owner's manual, which only reassured me that the spring I was holding and the spring designed to go on the mower in that particular spot were not of the same design. Great. So, lacking alternate recourse, I applied common sense. In the end, I got the parts together, working as they were designed to do. However, the way I put them together was opposite the way the spring had apparently been installed on the discarded lip--which might go far toward explaining why that lip and the blades made contact so often.

I checked everything else, reinstalled the mower deck, leveled it, then we* set about mowing. Yes, we. Michelle is keen to mow, so long as her part involves the riding mower and not the push one, which I use for edge trimming and difficult spots, mostly. She said the yard hadn't been mowed because the riding mower was out of commission and she couldn't start the push mower.

Once she was off on the rider, I checked oil and gas on the push mower, which had no doubt been dormant since I left in August, shoved it out of the garage, and pulled the cord once. It roared to life.

We spent the next hour or two mowing, and I chopped up some more firewood until my back complained. I hauled the chopped bits to the pile, then took a hot bath.

Life is good. We were planning to visit the Rosa Parks Museum this weekend (having been to the Martin Luther King, Jr, memorial in Atlanta a couple of times), but they apparently do it by appointment only, and they charge. Which discourages me. Seems to me like something as important as the Rosa Parks Museum would be open regularly and be funded by the state. Oh silly me. They're too busy funding football.

Priorities.

d