More Tales of Appliances

For the two of you that might possibly read this, my apologies for being away so long. In the past few weeks I've discovered Facebook, so I've been spending most my online time there. But there's a whole 'nother possible blog entry there, so let's move on to my recent adventures with major appliances.

Thanks to a bonus, we were finally able to purchase a new dishwasher to replace the one that died months ago. After months of washing dishes by hand, I should never complain about having to unload and reload the dishwasher again. I didn't say that I won't, but I shouldn't.

We selected a mid-range model and while I might possibly have been able to install it myself, I've seen some of the difficulties in doing so and opted to pay a professional to do it. We even bought a service plan on it. Historically, this is something we avoid, but given our history of problems with dishwashers, it seemed prudent this time, especially considering all the things it covered.

If you read my previous entry about making an emergency clothes washer purchase, we bought it at the same store as we did that. This time, however, since we had a bit more leeway, we didn't opt for "what do you have in the back right now." Oddly, this still worked out in our favor. The store called the morning of the delivery and said, essentially, "we don't have the model you selected, but would you be willing to take the next model up for no additional charge?" Naturally, we said yes and wonder just who turns down such offers that they feel it necessary to ask? I mean, it was still the color and manufacturer we selected, just a model that might offer an additional feature or two and cost about $100 more. Looked at from a certain perspective, that essentially means we got the five year service plan for free.

I'm no Eastern philosopher, but it seems karma dictates that this good fortune come at a price. A few nights later, around midnight, my wife woke me up to tell me the clothes dryer was making a funny noise. I checked, and yes, it was. Seeing few options, I took it apart. Just after 1:00 a.m., I had diagnosed the problem: one of the rollers for the main drum had worn out. It had obviously been working on it for a long time, but I guess something just finally gave. (I apologize for not thinking to take a picture of our laundry room with bits of dryer spread around it.)

My wife said she hadn't expected me to take it apart. However, I've seen the appliance repairman do so once before, several years ago. They're not that complicated inside. If the drum is turning and the heating element is working, there's not a lot left to go wrong with a dryer. I might point out that this dryer is probably 20-30 years old. We bought it from the people who sold us the house 15 years ago, and it was old then. I've been told, probably by the same appliance repairman I watched, that a dryer can last through about three washers. Most people replace them at the same time just so that they'll match. As we're not in the habit of inviting friends over to watch us do the laundry, we don't really care. They're both white and box-shaped, so I suppose that's close enough. Oh, and we're on washer number three.

Now, at 1:00 a.m., there's not a lot of options for getting dryer parts, so the cloth diapers she was trying to dry would have to wait to go out on the line when the sun came up. I did so before I left for work. Naturally, it rained during day while Dorothy was away from the house, so they didn't get dry. Luckily, some friends down the street let her use their dryer so we at least had clean diapers. I, unfortunately, had a meeting right after work. I hit one of the big-box hardware stores afterward, as they were the only things open. While they did have some generic dryer parts, as I feared, they didn't have what I needed. Thus ended the second night without a dryer.

The next day, before work, I attempted to visit the appliance parts store I'd been to once before, but they'd moved farther away from us. Next I checked what I could do online. Sears.com – it's a Kenmore dryer – led me to the where I could buy the parts. They weren't too expensive, but having them shipped next day delivery just about doubled the cost. So I called Bob Wallace Appliance, a locally-owned store listed in the yellow pages. They confirmed they had the part, so I went by on my lunch break. Once there, I told them I wanted to replace the belt too, at which point he said, "let's check the price on this maintenance kit." It turns out there's a set of pre-packaged parts that covered what I wanted/needed to replace, plus another part. And it cost less that buying replacement rollers and the belt separately. I'm sold!

So, on the third evening I go to work. I didn't pay attention to how long it took, but I eventually had all the new parts installed and the dryer back together. And it seems to work. I mean, it's been a week or two now and the clothes are getting dry. Paying $32 for parts certainly beats a service call, even if it took a couple days.

The dark side of Facebook

Until now, I mostly stayed away from social sites like Facebook and MySpace. I flirted briefly with MySpace when Weird Al began his account there, but the interface was so horrid I deleted my account after a while. Then an online acquaintance invited me to Facebook about the same time I found out my next high school reunion was being discussed there. So I joined.

Wow! So this is where everyone I've ever known has been hiding online. I've found people from grade school – well, only because they also went to high school with me – to college – well, mainly because I was still in touch with them – to past jobs – now some of those were surprising. In this respect, it's great; I get to find old friends I remember fondly and find out what they're up to these days. I've only been able to do this sporadically until Facebook. And I've found it to be incredibly addictive. I've found friends I haven't seen high school graduation, my old band director, and the boss from my first full-time job, all of whom have been kind enough to accept me as a Facebook friend.

But there's another side to this coin. You start getting friend requests, too. Some might be from old friends you just hadn't searched for yet. Some are from classmates, but you were never close. Some are from people you'd done school activities with, but you'd mostly forgotten. And others . . . well, others you happened to go to school with, because you can find them in your old yearbooks, but they weren't in your class and didn't seem to be in any of your activities. What do you do then? Did they "friend" you because you inspired them from afar? (Be nice if they'd said so in a message with their request.) Did they have a secret crush on you? (That would be flattering to know, too.) Has your brain become swiss cheese when it comes to 20-year-old memories and you just don't remember that one class you had together? (Maybe.) Or are they just trying to accumulate as many Facebook friends as possible? (Most likely.)

I'm still new at this, so I'm unsure how to handle it. I hate to ignore someone that I did at least go to school with. But on the other hand, I don't really want someone I have little connection with being able to see all my information, either. I guess my main problem is this paranoid notion that I was somehow important to this person at one point and I don't want to snub them. Is there accepted etiquette for this? It seems rude to ask. (But then, it seems rude that they didn't say, too.) There is, at least, the plus that if you ignore them, they don't get a message saying you've done so. (But it's easy to figure out if they're paying close attention.)

At least it's taught me one lesson. If I'm friending someone I haven't seen in a long time, I make sure I include a message with my request to help jog their memory.

Rom sales: April 1984

Here's a quick quiz for you. Which out of the following issues sold the best on the direct sales market in April 1984 (cover dates of August 1984)?

1. Captain America #296
2. G. I. Joe #26
   
3. Iron Man #185
   
4. Incredible Hulk #298
5. Micronauts #59
   
6. Rom #57

If you guessed Rom #57, you're correct! (And if you didn't, all I can say is, "yo, dude, this is the Rom blog.") This bit of information comes from a May 29, 2007 blog post by Marvel editor Tom Brevoort I recently discovered. For that month, Rom, with 73,800 units, outsold all the other titles listed above.

There is, of course, a caveat. The direct sales market was still very young in 1984 and Marvel was still seeing most of it's sales in the traditional, newsstand market. The difference between the two is that newsstands could return unsold comics, while direct sales shops couldn't.

So what sold better than Rom? The usual suspects (X-Men, New Mutants, Spider-man titles, Fantastic Four, etc.) plus Marvel's hot new limited series, Secret Wars (#4). If you want to see the complete list, visit the blog entry linked above. For now, I'm (naturally) going to focus on Rom's numbers.

Rom ranked 16th amongst Marvel's titles, down from 15th the previous month. It was pushed down by Power Pack #1, Alien Legion #2 (a bi-monthly that wasn't published the previous month), and Quest Probe #1 at 15th (78,800 units). Rom saw a remarkable increase in sales of 12.5% from 65,600 the previous month. Mind you, a quick glance through the numbers shows that most titles were seeing increasing sales. This is just another reminder that the direct sales market was new and expanding.

Three issues prior, in Rom #54, Marvel had printed its statement of ownership. It revealed an average sales per issue of 160,741 for the year and 170,588 for the most recent issue. That means direct sales accounted for approximately 35-45% of the title's sales.

So what's the bottom line here? When he was in print, Rom was not the third-tier character comic fans tend to think of him as now. While consistently outselling Dazzler, Doctor Strange and Power Man & Iron Fist may not sound like something to brag about, how about Marvel stalwarts like Iron Man, Captain America, and the Hulk? Not to mention other licensed comics like Micronauts, G. I. Joe, Conan, Star Wars, and Indiana Jones. You might say I'm jumping to a conclusion, but I think the only reason we haven't seen full revivals of him is because of the Parker Brothers license.

Finally found a copy of Zap!

[The following was originally posted to the Usenet group rec.games.video.classic. I waited until after Christmas to post it to my blog so my mother wouldn't know what she was getting. As a result, this post has been backdated from when it was actually posted, five days later.]

My mother is hard to shop for, but an avid reader, so today I went to a used book store to see if I might find something for her. This led me to wander through a lot more of the hard cover section than I usually do on my infrequent trips there. And in doing so, I finally came across the game section. And what do I find on the shelf between the books on chess and bridge? A copy of Zap!: The Rise and Fall of Atari by Scott Cohen. I have been looking for this book for years! (Possibly because I've been unwilling to pay eBay prices.)

I've actually already read it before. It turned out my local library has a copy. (And yes, I considered doing something unethical like checking it out, failing to return it, and paying the fine, but I'm not that kind of person.) I realize it's not a perfect history. I also realize that it was republished by John Hardie through Xlibris. But that's just not the same as having an original, hard cover copy from 1984.

It makes a lovely addition to my collection. It's in very good condition with a tight spine, free of markings, and still has the dust jacket. Just some light wear along the top and bottom of the spine. Looks like it may have been read once (or possibly not) and then sat on someone's shelf for years before being traded in. Heck, for all I know it could have been sitting on the shelf at the book store for years. (Although not since the '80s, as they had a fire 11 years ago which forced them to restock.) Oh, and the best part was the price: $4 plus tax. (And I did find something for my mother, too.)

R.I.P. Rufus, 1993–2008

We had to put our cat, Rufus, to sleep today. It was the most difficult decision I've ever had to make. He's now at rest in the raised flowerbed in our backyard next to our other cat, Somalia.

It appears Rufus had a blood clot or possibly a stroke. Back in September, I came home from work and heard a thud. Rufus had apparently attempted to get off the couch to greet me, but instead fell. I stood him up and he was having problems walking, so I rushed him to the vet. I called them as I was preparing to leave and they stayed and waited for me. The cause was uncertain then, but when he hadn't improved much the next day, they thought he'd probably had a mild stroke. The main symptom was his walking in a drunken stagger. Within just a few weeks, however, he'd appeared to have recovered.

We had to board him while we were gone for Thanksgiving. He seemed to do fine, but then I noticed after a few days of being back home he had appeared to stop eating. I might have noticed sooner, but the job of feeding him had been given to Andrew, and he didn't bother to mention it to us right away. A visit to the vet seemed to get him back on track, but then – after they'd done a follow-up call, of course – he seemed nearly to stop again.

I'd planned to call the vet today, but this morning, after Hannah woke us up, I heard him calling from the living room. I found him lying on the floor in front of the couch. Upon trying to stand him up, it seemed he was unable to. Further examination showed no movement in his tail or back legs. He was happy for the attention, though, calmed down, and began purring.

Once we got to the vet, the prognosis wasn't good. The options boiled down to more of the kinds of tests he'd had lately or putting him down. After much heart-wrenching discussion, we decided for the latter. I stayed with him while it was done, which broke my heart.

I think I understand, now, an emotional reason for burying the dead. Digging a large hole to put a loved one in helps a little, because it actually gives you something to do and focus on. Putting him in and preparing to cover him, however, I broke down again.

Dorothy and I got Rufus from the Humane Society back in 1994. He had gotten sick and his family had been unable to care for him. The Society had gotten him healthy again and then put him up for adoption. He was about 13 months old and came with the name Rufus.

I had taken Somalia from Dorothy's family a year earlier. She was a stray who was obviously uncared for and they couldn't really handle another cat, as they had many. We naively hoped that maybe she'd get along with Rufus immediately since she hadn't been a problem for Dorothy's family. We introduced them far too soon and, naturally, she attacked Rufus, the intruder. I grabbed the cat who was closest, which happened to be Rufus, and paid for it with numerous scratches on my hands and arms. Eventually, of course, they got along, although Somalia seemed to remain the dominant one.

Rufus was an unusual cat and extremely laid back. He loved to have his belly rubbed. Once we had children, Somalia tended to just stay away from them. Rufus, however, tolerated them better.

Sometime after Walter learned to crawl, Rufus came, laid down in front of him and rolled over for a belly rub. Walter, not knowing how to pet, just grabbed his fur. Rufus didn't react, other than to give him a look like, "what are you doing? That's now how you do it," and then got up and laid down a little further away. Walter crawled over and the scene repeated itself. Rufus tried a third time before giving up and wandering off.

When Andrew was one year old, he tried riding Rufus. Meaning, essentially, he sat on Rufus, although not putting his full weight on the cat. Rufus just sat there until he could get away. Other, more high-strung cats might have responded with clawing and/or hissing, but not Rufus. The above photo of baby Andrew and Rufus is not from either incident, but was one of the few I was able to find of Rufus with one of the kids.

I realized while burying him that Rufus had been in my life longer than any of my children and almost as long as Dorothy. While I felt sad when we had to euthanize Somalia, it didn't hurt as much. That was, perhaps, because while Somalia let us feed her and pet her, she remained aloof as only a cat can. Rufus was more affectionate. I don't know that I'll ever know another cat like him. Goodbye, kitty.