Notes from Maine - 2023/12/03
It was a busy week here—lots of guests dropping by. Todd is back in Maine—down from the far reaches of Vermont. One day he came by and helped with the kitchen. He and I have worked together on a lot of projects over the years. We don’t work particular well together, but we’ve spent a ton of hours trying. His chosen career (rocket science-etry? rocket scenery? rocketry) demands the ability to look at a very complex problem and break it down into discrete, manageable steps. My kitchen is, unfortunately, not going into space any time soon, so I found some of his suggestions a little over-engineered.
Many times, after I have time to fully consider his approach, I’ll understand the logic of it. It can take a while to catch up to what he’s saying. Here’s one thing I refuse to accept: I have not been “actively trying to sabotage him” every time we attempt to carry something together. He’ll bark out orders, insisting that I’m going too fast, too slow, holding the item too low, or too high, dragging him down the stairs, or pushing him up the stairs. In the twenty-five years that I’ve known him, how can I possibly be carrying every single item incorrectly?
You might ask, “How often can that possibly come up? How often are you collaboratively carrying heavy items with Todd?”
Constantly. For some reason, constantly.
One time I carried an entire buffet sideboard up a flight of steps alone. Todd was no more than twenty feet away at that moment, but I carried it alone just because I didn’t feel the need to be yelled at that day. But, seriously, we get along fine. If anything, it’s our similarities that cause the most friction. We both see a project and immediately formulate an approach. A lot of times, our approaches are identical, but we have such different styles of communication that it takes a while for either one of us to realize it.
I’ve never met anyone who is better at diagnosing broken machines. Even with no previous experience, he can glance at an appliance and tell you why it’s malfunctioning. He will describe parts that he has no name for, but sure enough that will be the broken item. All you have to do is translate his description into what the industry has named the part and then you’ll be on your way to replacing it. When something breaks down here, I’ll often call him just to get Todd to remotely diagnose the failure. I guess that probably comes in hand with rockets. You can’t exactly pull over and inspect a valve during a launch.
Yesterday, some friends came over to discuss a script I wrote years ago. They are puppeteers and I wrote the script for them to turn into a show. We met because the idea has morphed over the years and warrants a new pass at the story. I had a short story adapted for the theater years ago, but I haven’t seen a production of my work since. It was a lot of fun watching the characters come to life through actors. I wonder if it will be the same with puppets—it will be fun to find out.
The puppet show is tentatively scheduled for a year from now. It’s fascinating to project forward twelve months and think of what life might be like then. Maybe there will be a new little horse running around (I really miss having a baby horse here—she was so adorable). Maybe Todd will come and visit again after he does his walkabout. He’s currently between rocket jobs and will be roaming the country while he decides his next move. Maybe my kitchen remodel will reach the halfway point in twelve months. It’s unlikely, but it’s fun to dream.
