I enjoy chewing through the intricacies. I enjoy watching ducks line up in logical and reasonable progression. I take pleasure in slinging the lingo to the benefit of all involved. Finding tripwires, land mines, and tail-bites, flagging them, and -- in those cases where I can -- fixing them. The give and take of a good negotiation is like a good conversation. There's even some pleasure, when it's clear that "take" is going to outweigh "give" by an unacceptable margin, in saying "I appreciate the opportunity, but I think I'll pass on this one."

And when the scales balance and things are right, there's a great deal of pleasure in being able to say "Yes."

I've spent the last several weeks enjoying this particular past-time on a couple of fronts. One in the context of a volunteer organizational position I cover, and one in the context of my working life. Of the latter, there will be news in the near-to-nearish future, and you'll find out why I'm smiling. I'm hoping it will bring smiles to faces besides mine own.

I like contract fu. I'm weird. This is news?

Sneak peak page at http://www.midsouthcon.org/

Yes, they have me listed as Toastmaster, but I've pleaded recognition of my chromosomes and asked for a fix of that when their WebWizards have the time.

Should be great fun!

Shortly after Hubby and I married, he got me a belated wedding present: a camera system that duplicated his own. Olympus OM, and two of the lenses he used most often. He claimed it was because he knew I liked them so much. I think he just got tired of me borrowing it so often.

Some months ago, Hubby went SLR digital, and I found myself falling in full-blown camera lust. I'd already succumbed to the joys of digital photography, thanks to a Kodak CX4230 that was a Christmas present a few years ago and tucks nicely into my purse. But, in my heart of hearts, I'm an SLR gal from waaaaay back, and I missed it. Shooting SLR has always felt like working with a well-balanced blade or a firearm that "fits"; it's not so much a tool as an extension of the senses and hand.

My birthday present arrived on Thursday, late but who cares! History repeated itself; Hubby"cloned" his system for me. I'm now the proud possessor of an Olympus E-520 and two lenses (14-44mm and 40-150 mm). It and I are getting acquainted.

A tree service recommended by Hubby's favorite organic Texas gardening expert was called, and one of their certified arborists came out, surveyed the work to be done, and gave us an estimate for removal of the Bartlett Pear and work on the maple. The estimate was about a third of what I was expecting. Coupled with a very positive "read" on the arborist, we scheduled the work.

Promptly at the appointed hour yesterday, four young men showed up. They arrived in a huge hauler truck, to which an industrial-strength wood chipper was attached. I confirmed the amount of trunk we wanted left, then got the heck out of the way.

In very short order, the sound of stereo chain saws filled the air. One guy was up in the maple, taking out damaged and dead limbs and singing South American folk songs as he worked. The rig was moved to the alley next to the pear (missing fence made that possible), and the other three started dismantling it. A wood-chipper descant soon joined the chorus.

Periodically, it sounded like they were feeding a body through there.

The felines, as you can imagine, didn't like all this noise one little bit. I went back to my office to find both of them peering out at me from under my desk, wide-eyed and spooked. The minute I sat down, I had two furry anklets disinclined to let me leave. They stayed that way until the noise stop.

Which it did, about an hour later. I disengaged the feline shackles and went to see what was what. The rig had been moved back to the front, where it had just finished chewing up the trimmings from the maple. The maple itself looked gorgeous: nicely-shaped, thinned out in careful fashion, and perkier than it's been in a couple of years.

As for the pear, it was gone. The trunk was at the precise height I'd requested. And there was not a scrap of anything that wasn't the pile of fence sections anywhere in evidence. It was downright pristine.

If anyone in the DFW area needs the name and contact info for a good tree service, with certified arborists on staff, I've got one for you. They do very fine work.

Although official word won't come for several weeks yet, unofficial word is that the trip was a success and reasons for the trip were achieved.

This morning, the big truck and mechanical conveyance are working in front of the hosue. The pile of debris across the street has gone away,   and it sounds like he's working his way back along our side.

Ah, progress.

Shortly after the guys from the city wielded their chainsaws against the downed half of the pear tree and cleared the alley and access to the gas hook-up, one of the neighbors from a few houses to the east arrived and asked if we had any plans for the wood. Pear wood isn't one I'd be comfortable burner in the fireplace, so we said no. So yesterday he began cutting up the pieces of trunk too big for Hubby to move, and hauled off two pick-up loads. Even if he doesn't come back for what's left, the pieces are now small enough that they can be placed for the city's brush removal trucks as soon as the piles current there go away.

With the removal of the limbs resting on our across-the-alley-neighbor's fence, it was possible to see what damage had been done. One section of fence involved, one of two 2 X 4 cross braces broken. Hubby went over yesterday evening and talked with the lady, who was worrying about how to get it fixed. He offered to do it, if she didn't mind waiting until next weekend when he was back. She was delighted with the idea.

It turns out that our own missing fence sections are largely intact. The fence posts are toast, but they were wood and replacing them with metal posts was on the longterm plan anyway. And having those sections gone will likely make tree-removal easier.

We've even started thinking about the effects of the tree being gone. In terms of providing shade, it was a +3 shield, which was good for the house but terrible for most of the back yard where things that needed sun never got enough. The rose bushes back there are going to be very happy now, and I'm thinking of added a few more. We're also thinking of putting in several raised beds for use as a vegetable garden. Shading of the back windows looks to be doable with a cover added to the latticework over the back deck.

And so it continues.

He's off to the Home Of American Thunder and Domestic Beer for an intense week of career-enhancing training. If all goes well, he'll return with a certification that will translate into corporate good karma points (they must think so, since they're paying the full ride) and consultancy cred to fall back on in his old age or in the event the economy rattles the present cage.

The timing could be better, but then we didn't know, back when he signed up for this, that the weather would get so interesting in the days before his departure. We did know that it would mean him being gone on our 20th wedding anniversary. I'm not exactly happy about that, but it was me who pointed out that sooner was better than the later possible week when the training would be given.

So he is off, and I'm as battened down as I can be. Supplies have been laid in. Thanks to major miracles and various technicians going above and beyond the call, I have air conditioning and hot water. In the event of prolonged power outage (we had an hour-long one yesterday) or the rest of the broken tree coming down and taking out the gas meter and the kitchen, I have a fall-back position.

Unless something changes, the tasks slated for this week in the ongoing effort to get this place back to a safe level of normal are nothing I can't handle. The city's going to be hauling brush away for several weeks to come, if not longer, and the piles already made should keep 'em happy for the first pass. I've got a list of questions for the guy coming to give the estimate on removal of the broken tree and examination of the maple out front. Other than those, there's nothing that can't wait until next week, and if something of an emergency nature comes up, I'll handle it.

And I have stuff to keep me happily occupied. Besides three short stories lined up in the backburner with comfortable deadlines, I'm working on one of the novels. And my early birthday present to me arrived. Thanks to a heads-up from Joe Abbott, I now own all five seasons, the movies, and a direct-to-DVD follow-up of "Babylon 5", most of which I've never seen, for a very happy combined price.

I did succumb to one bit of mild snark this morning before he left. The following words were uttered. "Come back with your certification or on it."

Miracles were achieved, and -- with the exception of one city building inspector with a mean streak or a serious grudge -- the various tradesfolk involved in this mess, to a man, went way above and leagues beyond in pulling it all together

We almost lost the profile due to that building inspector. He left our inspection off the master list for the morning, showed up close to two-and-a-half hours after the close of the window he told the plumber, and delayed logging the sign-off in or notifying Atmos Energy. But the plumber hung in there, and got his sign-off, after explaining the situation to his bosses and being given leave to stick with us til we were good to go. I told him that, should his bosses decide to pursue a complaint against said inspector, this old, wheelchair-using lady who would be in serious trouble if all was not accomplished before the beginning of the weekend and who could verify from the resident's end what the city had on record for the incident, would be more than happy to provide supporting information.

The Atmos tech waiting for the sign-off also went to the wall for us. We called late morning to find out what could be done if the inspection screwed the pooch, and were assured that, if they got the sign-off anytime before 5pm, that meter would go in today or tonight.And apparently, they were prompting the department to question why it hadn't been entered into the log.

Mid-afternoon, the Atmos tech called and said he was en route, and about a half-hour later rang the doorbell. He lit the pilot on the water heater and assured it was getting gas and checked the furnaces' feed. He'd already been out back, putting in the meter and getting us up and running.

And about an hour ago, I took a lovely, long, BTU-enhanced shower. It was downright sybaritic.

Removal of the broken tree in back, removal of debris, and a look-see at the maple in front still needs doing. There's a fellow coming out from the second business on the list (the first one didn't return two phone calls) to give me an estimate next Friday morning. After that, we'll look into fence repair.

Thanks to all for hanging with me for the ongoing saga, and for the commiseration and encouraging messages. Keeping you posted and your good words kept me from losing it through all of this. And I appreciate it greatly.

The saga isn't ended, but it's not a three-ring circus anymore.

Around 11:00am, the noises from the attic stopped and the action moved outside. A few minutes later, the A/C tech went to the thermostat and said, "Cross your fingers." He then started checking the output of the vents, and waxed cautiously optimistic. It did appear that the air coming out was of the cool variety. A few minutes later, it was appreciably cooler in here. The tech pronounced it "working", and was rewarded with a cold soft drink. His assistant opted for water.

Swapping out the expansion valve (Trane insists that be "tried" as the "next step") involves dismantling of the evaporator coil assembly. That was the banging heard. It's also the first step of the process that will be next if this fix turns out to be temporary. The tech and I are in agreement that it's likely, and that it will manifest at the beginning of the Fourth of July weekend. (Tech, of any discipline, equals pessimist. Former tech here.)

But in the meantime, it's blowing cold air, the house is cooling down, and the tech and I are in accord on the good-natured wish of "don't take this the wrong way, but I really hope I don't see you until time for Fall Maintenance on the furnace."

And because it's cooler in here, laundry has commenced again.

The plumber arrived first, at around 7:30am, for the purpose of meeting a city building inspector for inspection and (hopefully) sign-off on the gas line repair. He was provided coffee...least we could do, you know?

He's still waiting. Building inspector has been nowhere in sight. He's afraid that if he went off to take another call, he'd be in the middle of something he couldn't leave when the building inspector did show. We're checking periodically to make sure he has liquids.

Shortly after the plumber arrived, the A/C tech's assistant did. A/C tech wasn't far behind. Judging from the noises directly above my head, work on the evaporator is happening. Judging from the volume of the noises, it's not happening smoothly.

No callback yet from the arborist, and he has until noon to return our call. Then we call the second possibility on our list. The weather forecaster is saying we're in for another round of storms, as bad or worse than the ones on Wednesday, Tuesday or Wednesday of next week. That half-tree in back might be solid as a rock, but I really don't want to think about dealing with it coming down and taking out the kitchen while I'm soloing.

With all this activity, the cats have gone from twitchy to psychotic, and have been secured in their kitty condo with plenty of water and frequent visitations from one of us.

With all this activity and outside temps headed for the mid-to-high 90s, I've gone from twitchy to psychotic, but there is no Lee condo. Darn.

I would kill for a not-cold shower.

Esther M. Friesner, whose most recent anthology WITCH WAY TO THE MALL is now on the shelves and includes my story "Nimue and the Mall Nymphs", has accepted another story from me. "Sarah Bailey and the Texas Beauty Queen" has been tagged for inclusion in her yet-to-be-titled Suburban Vampire anthology.

And there is GREAT rejoicing in the halls of HarpHaven.

When last I reported, the Atmos tech had just arrived. It was not good news. He capped the gas company's side of things and told us'd have to get a plumber to repair the house side of the break, pressure test the line, and log it with Atmos. He departed, carrying our meter.

One call to Roto-Rooter later (we've been quite delighted with their service in the past few years), and we were told to expect a plumber's arrival in one-two hours. Excellent, we thought. About fifteen minutes later, the phone rang and we were told the plumber would be there in a few minutes. And, lo, it was so.

Plumber takes a look, and we find out there are additional steps to the process. We need a city building permit for the work (we'll pay for that, but he can call for one right then and have it faxed to his in-truck mobile), and that means a city inspector will have to come, inspect, and sign off on the work before Atmos will come back out to re-stall the meter and check the gas appliances. (Water heater and furnace).

What can't be helped can't be helped, so we move on to the estimate portion of the procedure. If the line pressure-tests okay, it'll be around $400. If it doesn't, all bets are off and we hear a new and likely frighteningly higher figure that involves digging and pipe-laying and destruction, ohmy. Crossing our fingers, we give it the go-ahead. The building permit beeps in by the time he goes out to his truck for tools.

At this point, let me break for a humorous anecdote. Both cats are understandably twitchy, given last night and today. Eggnog was in Hubby's lap, seeming to settle down a bit, when the plumber opened the back door to tell us the permit was here and he was going to start work.  Eggnog whirled around to face the door and growled at him. A real "I'm going to do an imitation of the Facehugger from ALIEN and eat your eyeballs" growl. I guess I really do have attack-trained cats.

Okay, back to the ongoing saga. Good news again: repair went smoothly and the line pressure-tested just fine. And the plumber will call the city building inspectors' office tomorrow morning between 7:00 - 7:30am tomorrow morning, and thinks we could be inspected by noon. At that point, Atmos gets called, and we could have gas service by the end of the day. Of course, if there's a delay in any of this, I'm going to be taking birdbaths into next week and Hubby will need to figure out how to get a shower before jumping on his airplane Sunday.

And let us not forget that there will (hopefully) be the A/C tech at work tomorrow morning also.

Things have settled down a bit for the time being. Hubby is trying to find contact info on the arborist who did such a nice job with the maple a couple of years ago. We don't think it took much damage, but an expert opinion would not be out of line. And what's standing of the pear in back could do some major damage to the house if it came down in an uncontrolled manner. Sooner the better for that.

We just keep truckin'.

The call to the city, which mentioned "...and it's completely blocking the alley", resulted in two city workers with chainsaws and mad chainsaw skills showing up and dissecting the fallen half-o-tree. Not only that, but they helped Hubby and the diagonally-across-alley neighbor divvy up the pieces and make brush-truck-fetchable piles everywhere there wasn't a driveway. Alley now unblocked, and they went above and beyond clearing access to the gas meter. Hubby got their names, and we're going to write an attaboy letter, youbetcha.

A/C tech arrived, saw carnage out front, and commiserated. I invited him to view the even-greater carnage out back, where labor was furiously happening, and he really commiserated. Then it started to rain again (storms have been freight-training through all morning), and he suggested he come back tomorrow morning. A combination of "you've got enough on your plate right now" and the fact that part of the work to be done is outside and the unit cannot be open in the rain convinced me.

He dropped a bit of info during the visit. Seems that Trane is insisting he try a different fix than the one he thinks will work before authorizing the one he thinks will work. Because it's cheaper. He is sincerely pissed about it, to the point of saying "you've been jacked around enough over this piece of.." glare.

So A/C fix, Take 27 tomorrow morning.

With the gas meter now seeing the light of day again, Atmos Energy was called as instructed, and that tech just arrived. He's now out back with George, and I await the verdict.

Honest to Pete, people: I've had calmer days net-controlling a weather net with fifty operators in the field and three tornadoes on the ground.

House proper does not appear to have sustained damage. (Inspection still ongoing). Which is a bloody miracle considering the rest of the story.

The big maple in the front lost limbs, but nothing that can't be dragged away by hand, and nothing that landed on our roof, the neighbor's roof, or the neighbor's vehicle parked out front. The back of the house is another matter.

The big ornamental pear tree in the southeast corner split its entire length. Could have been lightning, but I think, even if the middle of everything, one of us would have noticed a lightning strike. I'm betting multi-directional wind. A bit more than half of it came down, taking out a big chunk of the backyard fence (yes, the same fence Hubby rebuilt when the windstorm took it out) and the gas meter. Said more-than-half of tree is completely blocking the alley, but at least it doesn't appear to have gotten the cross-alley neighbor's fence, vehicle, or house. (Further survey happening now, in daylight, and this may need to be amended.)

Broken meter started spewing gas, and Hubby called 9-1-1 while I bailed out the front of the house into the monsoon. No gas leak in the house, as far as either of us could tell, but if something (like lightning) ignited that broken pipe, I wanted distance and mass between me and it. Fire dept. responded promptly and plugged the leak, and blessings upon the heads of all first-responders.

Oh, and did I mention we lost power?

For me, that was the last straw. We grabbed jump kits and bailed to a La Quinta. A hot shower and a cool night's sleep had much to commend them.

We got home about 45 minutes ago. George has taken the day off, and is making phone calls. He leaves on Sunday for a week off-planet, and we're trying to get as much lined up as possible before he takes off. (And, no, canceling this trip is not an option.)

The scorecard currently reads:

Gas shut off pending Atmos (more likely plumbing contractor at our expense) repair and check-out. We've been told the tree needs to go away first.

Tree across alley: anybody got a chain saw we can borrow? Hubby is checking with the city now to see if this falls under their domain.

Electricity is back on.

No contact from the A/C folks yet today.

Will keep ya'll posted.

He said he'd be back in an hour, and he was. About an hour later, he came in and said he was going to start charging the line. About a half-hour later, he came back in and he was not a happy camper.

It wasn't taking a full charge, which meant a kink somewhere in the system. The possibility of needing a new evaporator in the attic was a possibility. He went off to consult with Trane. He came back and was an even less happy camper.

A guy from Trane is going to meet him here tomorrow and replace a part on the evaporator which, if it's failed, would restrict coolant flow and take out a compressor.

He asked if I wanted to have them partially charge the system to get me through the night. (I apparently look like I feel, which is a couple of degrees just shy of heat stroke.) I asked if that would stress the compressor, or possibly burn it out. It could do either, he said. I said "then, don't, unless you can show up tomorrow with another compressor in hand."

I'm tempted to start a pool, with prizes, for the person who guesses when this nonsense is resolved. If it doesn't resolve within the next 48 hours, I might not be around to pay the winner, though.

Right off the bat, the A/C in the Cripmobile felt like heaven.

We looked at several similarly-sized units from a couple of manufacturers, and settled on the one in the middle price range that looked like it would fit the window dimensions with the least amount of creative tailoring. With getting cool, my appetite returned; we had supper out, also in cool surroundings, while talking over the logistics of the installation.

I went off to handle a couple of things in the office that couldn't wait until morning. Less than an hour later, he called me into the bedroom, which was a good fifteen degrees cooler than the rest of the house. The new unit was in and chugging along in blissful fashion. He'd even managed to relocate the perimeter sensor for the new configuration. Right handy, that man.

I slept like the dead last night, in sheer sybaritic cool comfort. It continues to happily cycle along, and occasional breaks in the bedroom are keeping me from dissolving in a puddle. Mid-afternoon, I'll probably relocate in there with the laptop, a book, and possibly the intention to nap.

So far, so good.