Giving up the garden

If you're waiting with bated breath for part two of my "It's not that easy being green" series, bear with me. It's been busy-ness as usual for me, so I haven't had time to delve into the saga of the wall-hung boiler (which may itself turn into a multi-part series).

Instead, I'll post a quick update about the garden.

As I've written before, the garden seemed like a great idea, but in practice, it's been so-so at best (the photo to the right was actually taken on a good day). Having one of the less than a dozen garden plots (for 34 units), we've considered giving ours up for a while. But every spring we pledge that this will be "the year" for our garden.

A couple weeks ago, we finally gave it up. But it had nothing to do with the work involved.

This year, a fellow gardener had the thought that because our garden plots are situated on industrial-filled land, a soil test might be in order. The results showed the sporadic presence of heavy metals, including lead (we're still waiting on exact lead numbers).

My wife and I have always tried to eat organic (or at least locally grown) produce, especially since our daughter was born almost two years ago. So needless to say, those preliminary soil results led (no pun intended) us to give up.

Not having a garden should mean more family time and - of course - finishing home projects. I only wish we'd gotten the soil test results before I dug two-plus feet down in our plot so we could line it to keep the grass out.

It's not that easy being green, part 1

When converting our building from a vacant shoe assembly plant to lofts, the forward-thinking developer installed a couple energy- and water-efficient technologies. In theory, this would seem like an excellent decision. In practice, however, each has provided more than their share of headaches. In part one of a two-part post, I'll talk about the first of these: The toilet.

We have a power-flush toilet, which uses air pressure to quickly (and loudly) drain the bowl, eliminating the need for excess water to be stored in the tank. The trouble started within

six months of move-in.

Part of it was my fault. Never having seen a power-flush before, I dropped a sanitizing tablet into the half-inch of water that accumulates under the flushing assembly. This actually caused the chain from the handle to the activator button to corrode and break. My wife was not amused when this happened while I was in Florida on business. Upon returning, I was able to fish the majority of the mostly undissolved tablet out of the tank and replace the chain.

The next headache was with the assembly itself. As a result of our water coming into the building through old pipes, the small amount of sediment it contains builds up over time and causes the stopper to stick in the open position. With this open, the system can't re-pressurize - and the toilet won't flush. Luckily, the sound of running water accompanies this, so I know when to fix it. While this is annoying, it's easy enough to take apart and clean.

The major problem is that I've taken that assembly apart so many times that at least four of the eight screws that hold the cap in place have stripped the plastic holes they fasten to. This also prevents re-pressurization and is more difficult to fix. To seal the tank, I put silicone around the rim of the cap (on top of the rubber O-ring) to hold it in place.

So far, my solution has worked (knock on wood), but I know it's only a stopgap. I've scoured the Internet for a more permanent fix, and so far, the only solution I've found is to use fatter screws. Having no other ideas, I'll try it.

So while our toilet is taking care of the Earth, it's certainly not taking care of us.

Next up: the wall-hung boiler.

"Daddy fix"

One of the drawbacks of being even slightly handy is that you build up expectations. In the past, my not-so-handy (or not-handy-at-all) friends and family have often called on me for advice or ask me to help them install or repair something (or even to do it for them). Partly because I like to get all the experience I can, and partly because I've always had trouble saying no, I usually oblige. Not surprisingly, it poses quite a quandary when it comes to my own projects.

While I enjoy helping, these requests have thankfully dried up in the two years since my daughter. People are respectful of the fact that I don't have the time I once did for my own projects - never mind theirs.

This segues perfectly into the new quandary of high expectations - my daughter's.

As she's gotten older, more independent and very, very smart, she's seen me fix a few things, including some of her toys and pop-up books that no longer pop up. I love seeing the expression on her face when she sees Elmo and his daddy back in their rightful place in one of her books. The Baby Einstein book "Jane's Animal Adventures" was a particularly tricky fix, but it's been restored to as close to its original form as humanly possible.

So now, whenever something breaks, she hands it to me and says, "Daddy fix." Flowers, bananas, books, toys - it doesn't make a difference. I love that she looks up to me as a Mr. Fix-It hero who can repair anything.

Aside from the fact that she often seems to break things on purpose with the thought that I'll fix them, the biggest problem is that sometimes Daddy can fix. Sometimes he can't. For example, you can mush a banana back together. But in the case of flowers, tissues or other un-fixables, if a reasonable facsimile can be found, a little sleight of hand usually does the trick.

So in addition to my continuing education in the ways of DIY and home improvement, I'm also getting a self-taught education in magic tricks.

But given how smart this one is proving to be, I have to wonder how long I can get away with that.