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Currently don’t have an overhead vent hood – so obviously this comes in kinda handy when smells and smoke go awry. It also keeps it good and cool when the oven and whatnot is pumpin out some serious heat. Pops was concerned because of the orientation of the fixture – the previous owner’s kitchen redo was wanting in a number of areas – and we weren’t sure we were gonna be able to use the fan – due to the awkward plaster cut you can see in one of the photos.

It went a lot smoother than we imagined — and the fan was up and running in about an hour.

Voilà . We haz fan on 12seconds.tv

Still plenty of work left to do to make this kitchen a helluva lot more functional — including finding some time to purchase that elusive kitchen cart.

Thanks to pops – of course – but thanks also to moms – who went about dusting and cleaning and beautifying the way only moms is capable of.

Moses has been staying with us for a few months now, but I only began trying to teach him this classic a couple weeks ago. Success.


Caretaking of Moses from kevinyezbick on Vimeo.

I’m cleaning up the urls from the migration to wordpress from movabletype. Once that’s done I’ll get rid of the default templates. Whee.

*Update* screw it. Nobody ever linked here in the first place.

Yup. I’m an Uncle again. Congrats to Micki and JB and Aardvark. Can’t wait to meet him in real life. Mom and Baby are doing fine.

SHOCKING!

three costumed people

(l-r) Vicky as British Redneck, Mark as Humanoid Mosquito, Me as Avian Bird Flu Guy

We’d slip ourselves waist deep into the pillows – hanging on to the edge of the pillowcase above our lap — the pillow itself cushioning our bottoms as we slid down the stairs at what seemed to be a great rate of speed…

It was all great fun – until mom would inevitably catch us and tell us to “Either go play outside or in the basement!”

She was mad because our bottoms would wear down the carpeting on the stairs.

We were mad because it was really fun…

until we got caught…

I think that quite possibly this has been the longest hiatus I’ve been on yet when it comes to the feeding of this blog creature. I must tell you — however – that as with any hungry being – this blog was a whiny little bastard.

I couldn’t sit down to the computer to knock off menial school tasks or question little curiousities of the world without hearing the plaintive wail begging me to drop a few morsels. There it was, sitting there, staring up at me with its blank forms — and I could only pull my lips tight and shrug. The pressure was too much. I was stifling my outburst.

But here it is a couple of weeks later — and I suppose I should finally go ahead and try to get it out of my system so that I can move on and get back into some sort of rhythm.

Two weeks ago — grandma, aunt barb, mom and pops and I piled into the Ford Windstar and drove down to Spring Hill, Tennessee to celebrate my cousin Sean’s earning a doctorate. Muchos personas that belong to the extended family were also present…and while there are several things that I COULD write about — I’m lazy — so I’m only going to concentrate on one aspect of the weekend…and besides — For some reason, I don’t remember much else.

What I want to relate are a few observations picked up while on a tour of the Saturn facility in Spring Hill. I won’t rehash the entire tour — nor will I give an extensive review of it — as someone else, interestingly enough – someone involved in the Special Libraries Association – has already done that. So – some highlights:

1. There is a display in the visitor center with a shopping cart and a Saturn car door. If you push a button – the shopping cart rams into the “dent resistant” door. There is a sign nearby asking that the button only be pushed once. Unfortunately – I never saw the button – but I hear from Aunt Barb that the thrills were magnificent.

2. One warning: Do not for a moment joke about your name! At the start of the tour – a big burly man called us over and began asking, “OK, who’s Patrick,” and ripping off a sticker bearing “Patrick,” moved on to, “OK, who’s Michael?” When he made his way through the list, leaving only me to be called out, “OK, where’s Kevin?” I responded: I guess I can be Kevin today…”

He was not amused. “What’s your name?” He grumbled.
“Uhhhh. Kevin.” I said sheepishly, looking for a pebble to kick.
He didn’t belong in the visitors center.

3. It has now been determined that my seestore can indeed name her son-to-be “Aardvark.” The family had been discussing the possibilities – as her husband’s family has a tradition of the first born son being named with the initials A.J.

Seestore has expressed an interest in wanting to name him after something from nature – and since “Apple” is already taken – the most reasonable moniker she could come up with was “Arbor.” We mocked and we mocked and we suggested, jokingly, Aardvark as an alternative.

Imagine the surprise of the ten or so of us when we arrived at the visitor’s center of the Saturn tour and were told that our tour driver was named “Aartvark.” While the speaking half of our tour guides went on about safety precautions, the Yezbicks all exchanged knowing glances — until my mother interrupted with, “That’s what my grandson is going to be named!”

Aartvark looked like he didn’t know what hit him — or was just plain incredulous. No matter. Seestore — your child has been named. Aartvark would go on to explain that it was a nickname — but I could read it plain as day on his ID card. So I says to him,

“I’m surprised they let you put your nicknames on your ID badges.”
“Why’s that?”
“Cause that guy over there got really upset when I made the suggestion that my name wasn’t really Kevin.”

4. While touring the factory grounds, being towed around by something akin to an airport luggage hauler — the shuttle winds its way past several workers on the line. Passing them by, they often stop their tasks to raise a hand and smile in greeting. There is such a pattern to it all that one begins to lose sight of where the robotics end, and the workers begin – reminiscent of the animatronics of Chuck E. Cheese or Showbiz pizza.

5. In the Q-N-A session afterwards — I was happy to see other Yezbicks peppering the guides with questions. Barb asked perhaps the one question we were all really thinking,

“How do they feel about being forced to wave to all of us?”
“Oh they love the tours!” Cheryl insisted. “There are about 4 tours a day and the workers wave because they want to. No one is forced to wave.”

Which led me to follow up with a question about safety. Having toured the Ford Rouge plant – I knew that Ford explicitly forbid the tourists from drawing attention to themselves by either waving or calling out to the workers. In light of this, I wanted to know,
“How much of a concern is safety?”
“Oh, safety is one of our top concerns at Saturn. Our workers are very important to us…”

To which I followed up with the rather morbid:
“So, when was the last time you guys had an accident on the line?”
“Uhhhh,” Cheryl paused. “I don’t have that information.”

WHAT?!? Hmmm. Oh well.

6. Only later did it occur to me just how much of a threat we truly posed to those workers on that fateful day. While they may be used to 4 tours going through during their shift — they must’ve been thinking during their break:

“Hey, did you notice anything weird about that last group that came through?”
“Yeah. Yeah there was definitely something odd about them.”
“They all looked kinda, uhhh, I don’t know…weird?”
“Yeah…Yeah I did notice that. Weird.”

7. Then – on top of all that…(it has come to my attention, or it has been recalled for me, that not all involved are aware of this occurrence yet, and therefore this piece has been edited) congrats again…

8. There are some movies now sitting in my brother’s yahoo mailbox — waiting to be edited together in some shape or form — that capture some sort of semblance of the weekend…

Peace Out Obligatory Family Post!!! I’m free of your bonds!!!!!!