Appliance Shopping with The Dilettante

“Hi. I need a new fridge. What’s the smallest one you’ve got that is Energy Star rated?”

This has been my opening line for the last four months in every appliance store in Sydney. Nobody was able to answer it. Not one salesperson on any floor in this town was able to point me at an Energy Star appliance of any variety, even though (except for one) they all had at least one available. It strikes me that nobody is looking for these appliances after years of this program, at least in Sydney. So, since I had to find the answers on my own, and that is the sort of thing I do as a dilettante, I would share the information I have gleaned.

In case this is new to you too, Energy Star ratings are granted to appliances that use at least 20% below the average for that type of appliance. In this case, smaller fridges are compared against one another, and larger fridges are grouped together. Since I’m focused not just on the relative use of energy, but our absolute consumption, I chose to go for a small fridge. For the sake of comparison, I will point out that our family of six has been using an all-fridge of approximately 14 cubic feet for the last 4 years, and it has been quite adequate to our needs. However, it is clearly on last-legs, making groaning noises, and leaking inappropriate amounts of water. All the dividers have broken over the years, and the drawers in the bottom were removed about two years ago when the lowest shelf snapped off. Pretty much we’ve got a big leaking box with a couple of shelves in it. It does still keep things cold, most of the time. Since we are food people, who also need to store several dozen eggs at a time, it is about time for a new fridge.

In my moments of perfection, I desire a Sun Frost RF 16, which uses only 0.48 kWh of energy per day, but would set me back about $4000, including shipping from the other side of the continent. We measured the power consumption of our old fridge, which surprised us by coming in at 0.7 kWh. With these numbers as my standard, I have been wandering the world for several years with the mythical number of 1 in my head… that is, I have been trying to keep our refrigeration under 1 kWh per day. (Please ignore the upright freezer in my basement, which appeals to an entirely different type of efficiency, and will get its own post someday.) My eventual goal is to be able to get our refrigeration and water systems off-grid so that we continue to have the most important technologies during power outages, so the lower the power, the better. The difference in power system cost for 0.48 and 1 kWh per day is several thousand dollars. However, I don’t have $4000 for a fridge right now, no matter how super-duper it may be, and no matter how much it would save me on a hypothetical renewable energy system (that I also can’t afford).

Since energy consumption is documented on new appliances in kWh per year, the key number was 365. I assumed that to stay below that number, I would have to continue to use an all-fridge in my kitchen. However, the only company that made them in Canada went out of business, and none are available. I went back to the drawing board, looking at very small fridges – but the very smallest fridges are designed to appeal to the discount market, and are not particularly well-constructed, or well-insulated. Therefore, they often use more power than the mid-sized versions. Hence, the precise wording of my question: “… your smallest Energy Star fridge.”

Since nobody could answer that question, I resorted to opening the door of every fridge in town, including the fancy-shmancy side-by-side with bottom freezer drawer, $4000 jobbies. Whoah, is all I can say about that. 700 – 800 kWh per year, mostly on “features” and width (read, sacrificed insulation). “Well,” said the salesperson in all honesty, “nobody who can spend $4000 on a fridge cares how much it is going to cost to run it.” Once again, we are back to the question of entitlement… so many battles to fight. Hey, here’s one: how about we have required energy standards, instead of this voluntary Energy Star thing? Oh. Sorry. Ranting. Back to the fridge.

Just to be clear, I’m not overly fussed about the cost to run my fridge. At the moment, an extra 100 kWh of energy only sets me back $12. I’m not doing all this for the sake of saving $1 a month. Nor do I think that my family reduction of 198 pounds of CO2 will make a difference. (This is based on our power coming from a coal plant, and coal generating ~900 g of CO2 for each kWh, found here.) It’s a nibble in the big scheme of things. However, the nibbles DO add up. If we all applied a reduction of 25% to each of our activities, we’d achieve, oh… a 25% reduction. As long as we didn’t just start doing other things with the savings (which is actually what tends to happen, but that is for another time).

In the end, the winner was a GE 18.2 cubic foot, with glass shelves and a deep door. It is pretty, it has a freezer, and it claims to use only 335 kWh per year, which is within striking distance for renewable power. Most of the comparable fridges I looked at came in around 475, so it amounts to a power reduction of about 30% for essentially the same features. Oh, and it was on sale, too, so the delivered cost was under $700. Frugal, energy efficient, and feature-rich: We’ll call that a win. And someday soon, you can anticipate the series on building the renewable energy system to back up the fridge.

Flooding and the Christmas Conservatory

We have passed on the traditional Christmas tree this year, after a prolonged conversation in the car regarding the focus of the holiday. My daughter was working her way through the symbolism, and my contention was that the mid-winter holidays, in general, were about feasting in defiance of the prolonged period of cold to come, the lighting of fires to call a return of light, and the enduring nature of life despite the grey, damp, and/or freezing weather. She was perplexed by the idea of going out and killing a tree to celebrate life, so suggested a living tree. (First she suggested bringing in a dead tree, but I suggested that, although I applaud  the motivation, it might not exactly be in the spirit of the thing.) A Norfolk Pine was duly obtained and added to the growing collection of greenery, creating what we are calling the Christmas conservatory.

Gifts will be added among the plants. No doubt more decorations will be added as the children realize that there is still half a box of various objects available.

Meanwhile, it rains. And rains, and rains. We had sun on Sunday (four days ago), and prior to that on Wednesday, but we have another five days of rain in the forecast. As a result, the river has come back through the culvert and is slowly working its way up the creek next to our house. The high water mark in front of the neighbour’s house is already on the road.

We are holding our breaths (between cookies) and hoping that we don’t have to empty the basement, as that is where the bedrooms are in our house. This involves a significant amount of packing, and carrying… if the water doesn’t start advancing faster, in which case it involves a significant amount of abandoning, and weeping. It is a wide and placid river, though, and I am assured that we will have warning if it comes a-callin’. The number one problem is that to get to our basement, it has to come through the septic bed. Let us not think on that too closely. Many of our in-town neighbours have already suffered flooded basements, so there will be many a wet Christmas in Sydney. [Update: It has stopped raining since last night, when I took the video. The river has started to recede, but there is still rain in the forecast. We might get away with this river-side living, yet. For now.]

Hope you and yours are having a pleasant week, and that it is less wet where you are. Unless you are suffering from drought, in which case, I hope you are soon blessed with just a fraction of the good, clean water that is falling on us.

Menu for a Blustery Solstice

We missed the lunar eclipse, hunkered, as we were, against a storm that included/includes 90 km/hr winds. I was up battening hatches at 4 o’clock this morning. This will continue for at least the next two days, apparently. There will be no white Christmas here. Hopefully our missing flock member will manage to make his way home, and not experience flight cancellations.

So, on a grey solstice, to honour the sun and the turning of the year, I offer the following menu:

  • Cheese platter for abundance, and feasting. Including a puff-pastry baked brie.
  • Challah (because nothing says Pagan like a Jewish egg bread braid)
  • Leek and Potato soup (with leeks from our garden)
  • Moosewood’s Vegetarian Mushroom Moussaka
  • Cachumba-inspired Mango and Cucumber salad
  • Chocolate custard
  • Cookies from the cookie exchange we went to yesterday
  • No doubt, additional contributions from the guests

We have been cooking all day in anticipation. This should take the chill off a not-very-cold, but very-nasty-indeed winter evening and fortify us well for the coming vigil. We might take it in shifts, since somebody still needs to be The Parent tomorrow. :)

Happy Yule! Merry Solstice! For pagans and astrophysicists, all!

Christmas Present Traps

I am facing the challenge of living up to my claims of simplicity. Also, to my desire not to break the budget.

It is ssssssooooooo easy to fall into the “Oh! But I don’t have enough!” trap. It is particularly challenging when you spent a significant portion of the budget on bed construction three weeks early. Here’s a hint for younger parents: don’t fall into the Early Christmas Present reasoning. It goes like this: Oh, I will give my child this thing on December 2, and it will be an early Christmas present. Trust me. You will not stick to your guns. You will wind up giving just as many things on the Big Day, because when you look at the stash for the two younger ones, you will have Guilt.

Here is another I have fallen for this year: The Gift that Needs Accessories trap. (Since my kids don’t read my blog, and I already put it on Facebook…) There’s a Wii, which was graciously gifted by a generous grandmother, at my suggestion. To which I have already added an additional controller. And some games. And probably, since my kids span 8 years, at least one Dora the Explorer or similar option will become necessary. Ack! Phtt! There goes another $100.

Let us not forget the Teenage Gifts are Small Objects trap. Gift cards. Computer games, DVD’s, CD’s, MP3 players. These things do not look impressive under the tree next to dollhouses and kid-kitsch. The stack can cost 3x as much and still look paltry.

Then, for the adults, there is the “Oh, I’ll just add one more bottle to fill up the stocking” trap. Unless you were clever enough to stop in New Hampshire in August, that’s another $40. *I* was clever enough to stop in New Hampshire in August, but the willpower, Oh! the willpower! (The bottle is intact. Phew.)

And possibly the greatest risk: The Who’s Filling the Stockings Trap. Last year we had a miscommunication and wound up with enough chocolate to carry us through to Valentine’s day. Other years we have had to cannibalize the cupboards for snack foods. This doesn’t seem like such a big deal, but in a family of 6, accidental duplication can be a big chunk of the Christmas budget. And who *really* wants to take back half the “stocking stuffers”.

No! No! I cry! It isn’t about the stuff! It’s about the love, the friendships, the thoughtfulness! Man, though. It’s hard to wrap swimming lessons in a way that they’ll recognize the effort. Oh, no… Do I need to get new bathing suits??? In December?

Never mind me. I’ll be over here on the couch, trying not to go to the mall.

Traditions: Does Rebellion Count?

Welcome to the December Carnival of Natural Parenting: Let’s Talk Traditions

This post was written for inclusion in the monthly Carnival of Natural Parenting hosted by Code Name: Mama and Hobo Mama.

Please read to the end to find a list of links to the other carnival participants.

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Our approach to traditions has been stripped down over the years, in reaction to what goes wrong when we get too caught up in expectations. We started with… well. Really, we started with the wedding, went on to Christmas and birthdays, and have wound up applying a standard of low-key to all our activities. In a world which offers “perfection” as the usual standard for all activities, we have chosen instead to go for “good enough.” I am assured by the happiness researchers that this is the path to salvation. :P

Our simplest ritual involves sitting down for dinner. We were having stressful evenings almost every day, with yelling, tears, arguments, and stomping away from the dinner table. Sometimes it was even the kids. Now, our nightly routine at the dinner table includes a moment to hold hands and breathe. That’s it. Sometimes if supper looks particularly complicated, or is something that is particularly well-loved, it gets a murmur of thanks. When there is meat, somebody usually says a word of thanks to the animal. And that’s it. Our dinner routine. It has made an enormous difference, because it reminds us of why we are there, and how lucky we are to be together in a part of the world with such abundance.

That being laid out, let me explain what happens at our house on Christmas day. We’re not Christians. (Shhh… some of the grandparents may not have figured that out yet.) But let’s be honest. This is the day to end all days in the North American kids calendar. I’m just not committed enough to my own religious beliefs to turn away from that. Even when we were first married, we always insisted that Christmas Day was to be held at our own home. I am unwilling to get the kids up and then make them move to a grandparent’s house in the middle of the day, and I wanted to set that up before it was an issue. This is a day on which I insist that the grownups be grownups, and leave the realm of expectations to the kids.

Over the years our day has evolved. One year, maybe when we still only had one child, my husband and I decided to forgo Christmas Dinner in favour of whatever struck our fancy. That year, we had grilled coriander root chicken from the cookbook Hot, Sour, Salty, Sweet. (Naomi Duguid and Jeffrey Alford. Best series of cookbooks/travelogues EVER!) It worked so well that we instituted a tradition of “Whatever we feel like cooking” in place of the turkey with the trimmings.

About five years ago, that all went wrong. What I felt like cooking was a very fancy meal, but everybody in my family had been ill, and nobody felt like eating it. We had a sad dinner, I had a fight with my husband, and I swore I was never doing it again, because I had become over-invested in the outcome. Our big dinner is now held some time in the week before The Big Day, and the link to Christmas has been removed, reopening that day to freedom, joy, and lying around like slugs. That’s right. Our Christmas tradition has become one giant Pyjama day. The tree always has a collection of puzzles, boardgames, family movies, and new books. If people’s PJ collection is looking scant, a new pair will arrive. The stockings always contain favourite snack foods, a sphere in the toe and a cylinder in the leg. I have a great time finding gifts that will surprise people and have the right shape. (A rolled up magazine makes a great stocking extender, BTW.) And dinner the last few years has been a frozen lasagne, because I want a day off, too. It is an utterly unconventional approach to Christmas, but traditional in its own way. I look at it like this: This is the last day of the year that things are still closed. It is my last-ditch attempt at what passes for Sabbath. A day of rest. We used to be expected to take one every seven days; it is not unreasonable to institute one once a year. So our new rallying cry is: “Merry Christmas! PJ’s All ‘Round! Who wants another piece of chocolate?”

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Carnival of Natural Parenting -- Hobo Mama and Code Name: MamaVisit Code Name: Mama and Hobo Mama to find out how you can participate in the next Carnival of Natural Parenting!

Please take time to read the submissions by the other carnival participants:

Can Knitting Save the World?

I said to my husband one night, “Do you know why I started knitting?”

He allowed as how he didn’t. I said, “Because everybody else was doing it.”

He (understandably) expressed some surprise. Usually I have much better reasons for my activities. At the time (some months ago) I wasn’t even convinced that I actually enjoyed knitting. But if I wanted to go and hang out with the women of the coffee shop, knitting seemed to be the expected activity. (Yes, I live somewhere with one coffee shop. And it closes at 8.)

Let me now answer my first question: No. Knitting will not save the world. It won’t even clothe it very efficiently. It takes 15 – 75 hours to knit a pair of socks by hand. Depending on the density of stitches, a sweater takes 20 – 200 hours. This is a very slow way of making cloth. My weaver friends assure me that, although it takes a long time to set up a loom, the production of the cloth is much faster. Yet, here we sit, week after week, clicking away at a skill that was rendered obsolete by the ready-to-wear industry decades ago. Some of the more… um, let us be kind and say, diligent… start with raw fibre, and spin the yarn before they start to knit.

I’m not going to take up spinning. I have to draw the line somewhere. If I had to pick a single textile craft as my life’s work, I would prefer to sew. (In fact, for the immediate payoff, I find carpentry pretty sweet, but the circular saw is understandably unwelcome at the cafe.)

Knitting is slow. Reaaaaaallllllly slow. I have all those beautiful dress patterns, and I know I could knock off something comparable with the sewing machine in a couple of hours… but no, I’m going to spend three months making a skirt. And that drawback of knitting, in a nutshell, is also the main benefit. It slows you down. Right down. You get a bit faster at it with practice, but in the end, there’s just you, the yarn, and 16,000 stitches. And that slowing down might help a little with saving the world.

Let’s look at it this way: It definitely impedes my ability to consume resources. While I’m knitting, I can’t drive. I can’t eat. I can’t go shopping. Even better, it’s a lightweight hobby. Those 16,000 stitches only take about 100 grams of fibre. It tends to tether me to interesting conversations: “Why don’t you come over and we can knit and have a cup of tea?” These informal social networks are precisely the kind of community that is being extolled for its contributions to happiness, health, and meaningful relationships.

So, there’s my take on it. Knitting: Not going to save the world, but world saving is a potential side effect. And at the end of the day month, I have new socks to show for the effort.

On Debates and Being Right

Margaret Wente has declared the debate on Anthropogenic Global Warming over. Her side has won. We have decided what we are going to do about climate change, and the answer is… nothing.

Congratulations, climate change deniers. You played your hand well. Apparently our culture is unwilling to make any sacrifices to preserve an uncertain future for people who haven’t even been born yet. It’s a terrible pity, though, that it wasn’t a game.

You seem to be right in your calculation that we don’t value life enough to give up (or even scale back) this:

or this:

or this:

So that these people:

Residents of the island nation of Kiribati

or these people:

Bangladesh flood survivors

or these people:

The children at the end of my driveway

Can be assured of having this:

Rice Grains: by Ashok Menon, via wikimedia commons

or these:

Medical Facility - Intesive Care Unit. Norbert Kaiser via wikimedia commons

Fir Trees, by Cruizer, via wikimedia commons

Or these:

It’s really too bad that the planet won’t do the decency of conforming to your expectations. Although your rhetoric is strong, and your resources are formidable, the molecules that our world is made from are going to stubbornly insist upon obeying the laws of physics. Which, I fear, are far less forgiving than the “laws” of the market. If only, along with being powerful, manipulative, and convincing, you could also be right.

Breast Feeding, Formula and Risk Analysis

The choice between formula and starvation is a no-brainer. I had an inadequate milk supply. I did. Yes, I tried that. I tried that, too. With my first baby, I saw, oh… something like 17 doctors, lactation consultants, and midwives, including Dr. Jack Newman (the guru of Canadian breastfeeding). There were herbs, and pumps, and supplementing at the breast, and speed pumping, and breast compressions until I had repetitive stress in my hand… trust me. I didn’t have enough milk. It got better with each one, but it was never enough to exclusively breastfeed.

I did nurse my three babies for 12, 16, and 21 months, but they got an awful lot of their calories from formula over the first 6-8 months of their lives. That is what is available in Canada. We have good access to clean water, sterilization equipment, and I had enough resources at my disposal to provide fully mixed powder formula. All in all, they weren’t at great risk. Formula is an adequate source of calories for human babies. Adequate. Not good, not great. Just adequate. Artificial human milk was never intended to be a first line of defence. It was designed to be used as a supplement, or in place of milk when nothing else is possible. Using formula to feed is the final step in the WHO’s guidelines for feeding, coming after donated milk from a healthy mother. And although the choice between formula and starvation is a no-brainer, the choice between formula and donated breast milk is more subtle.

I have three children who were all partially breastfed, and partially supplemented with formula. They are fine… but that is not science, that is anecdotal. The odds are pretty good that most of the kids who are fed some formula some of the time will be OK at the end of it all. In fact, in the developed world with access to clean water and basic sanitation the odds are good that kids who are fed nothing but formula will be basically OK. But that doesn’t mean that formula is safe. It means that it is safe enough.

The Canadian Paediatric Society’s response is pretty cut-and-dried: [paraphrased – feel free to correct me if there is a misinterpretation here.] Formula is safe. Informal breastmilk sharing is not. You should only ever use milk from a bank, or use formula. Period. End of discussion.

This is an understandable position, given our past experiences with transmitted diseases from human fluids. It is not, however, subtle, or complete.

There is no way that a person like me would have had access to a milk bank. Even where they exist, they are (must be) extremely tightly regulated. The milk in them is distributed to hospitals to feed to infants whose lives are in immediate danger because of a lack of access to human milk. That is as it should be; the costs of $2 – $3 an ounce for pasteurized, screened milk are far beyond what can be borne by our society, or any family for the long term, except under the most dire of medical needs. My kids were never in immediate danger. They tolerated the cheapest formula well, didn’t require any additional interventions or any of the fractionated versions. It was OK. Basically.

But that is not true in all cases, for all people. And we can’t proceed with a risk analysis that starts from the premise that all things that might happen with shared milk are real, and all things that might happen with formula are a non-issue. The Cambridge Health Alliance study that was released last April indicated 911 excess deaths in U.S. infants due to “non-compliance” with exclusive breastfeeding recommendations. (I’ll probably have something to say about blaming individuals for the nasty structures they find themselves immersed in, but some other time.) This is only the deaths; the widespread use of formula also results in additional illnesses and hospitalizations. It is fair to say that formula is relatively safe, compared to alternatives, but to state categorically that it “is safe” (as Sharon Unger did on The Current this morning) overstates the science. It is particularly troubling when it is combined with a resort to anecdotal “What if’s” regarding breastmilk sharing. Dr. Unger posed the following question: “What if a woman with a cold sore donates breastmilk when she has open lesions on her breasts???” Well, yes. Clearly that would be a problem. But is there any chance that it could be prevented by telling women that it isn’t safe to breastfeed or pump (even for their own children) when they have open herpes lesions, rather than by declaring a blanket ban on milk sharing?

This type of position is very common in our public health discussions at the moment. It is common to this issue, food processing, and to medicalized births, as well as other subjects. It treats any risk associated with informal, local, and personal solutions as if it were very high, and then compares it to an imagined zero harm for the default (industrial) process. Ever more remote possibilities are imagined, and then treated as real risks, without any numbers applied to the risk analysis. Informal sharing is presumed to be dangerous, because something might go wrong. Formula is treated as safe because we have checks and balances, and thus accept the consequences as unavoidable. This is intellectually incoherent. We are willing to accept risk and harm mitigation in industrial systems, but we distrust individuals to take the same precautions with their own health, and especially with that of their children.

This type of unsubtle thinking leads to distrust. People who are non-compliant with doctor’s wishes are often highly educated, skilled critical thinkers, and they can see logical flaws in such an argument, but then are at risk of rejecting it in its entirety. Here is what I would like to see: I would like to see all of the “what ifs” removed from these arguments. I would like to see numbers. Hard numbers, backed by data. I would like to see an acknowledgment that a single case of something happening in the late ’80s doesn’t constitute a trend. I would like to see a little more respect for the goals and decision making capacities of parents that included more information and fewer declarations.

Formula is not poison, but it is not a perfectly safe substitute for breastfeeding. Your neighbour who is nursing her own baby probably isn’t going to give your baby syphilis (it came up in the conversation on The Current, but the incidence in Canada is 3.5 cases per 100,000), but nursing from more than one mother will probably expose a baby to a wider range of pathogens… and immunities. To realistically weigh these options, we need a truly objective analysis, not a clear (nuance-free) statement that one is always better than the other.

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For a very good article on informal breastmilk sharing, by someone who focuses on breastfeeding (among most of the other challenging parts of young parenting) check out PhD in Parenting’s very subtle analysis.

Remembering Montreal

Hélène Colgan, 23;
Nathalie Croteau, 23;
Barbara Daigneault, 22;
Anne-Marie Edward, 21;
Maud Haviernick, 29;
Barbara Maria Klucznik, 31;
Maryse Leclair, 23;
Annie St.-Arneault, 23;
Michèle Richard, 21;
Maryse Laganière, 25;
Anne-Marie Lemay, 22;
Sonia Pelletier, 28; and
Annie Turcotte, aged 21.

In 1989, on December 6, a gunman executed 14 female engineering students at Ecole Polytechnique, in Montreal, PQ. I will not deign to name him. But I will say that I use the word “executed” quite intentionally, as he made it clear that he felt entitled to punish these women, for being successful, for being feminists, and for taking his spot in the engineering program.

I was 17. I was one of two girls in my electrical engineering class of 200, in my first term at the University of New Brunswick. The first thing I heard about this massacre was an awkward attempt by a classmate to make a joke about keeping me in line. And when they told me what had happened, I was. Flattened. It was one of those moments that burned itself in my memory (however inaccurate it may be).

Today, I went to a small memorial service held by the police department in town. They had a different person lay a rose for each of the 14 women, and then they had a rose laid for each of the women who has been killed in Cape Breton since then. But they didn’t lay a rose for the 17-year old who was killed on Friday, because they haven’t yet informed all of her next of kin, and she can’t be named in public.

I didn’t know you, but I’ll remember your loss.

Mama Wants a Table Saw

On Friday, I built my son a new bed. Mostly.

This is the semi-room that we refer to as “The Nook”.

It is a 7’2″ by 7’3″ alcove off the main hallway. We suspect that it held a TV at some point before we lived here, since there is still a co-axial cable running through the window frame. Over the last four years, it has been a reading room, a nursery, and a play space. Now that my oldest is verging on the teen years, it will become his very own room. Eventually, the bed will be joined by a wall, and it will no longer be referred to as “The Nook”.

For now, though, I need to figure out how to use a 7’2″ space… and I came, naturally enough, to built-ins. (Also, I secretly want to live on a boat, so I’m keen on those hyper-efficient approaches to space design.)

It started, like all good built-ins, with a tie into the wall.

In fact, the room is so small that I tied into three walls:

This is the foundation for the bed, which also is getting an attached bookshelf/footboard. We are avid readers, every one. Since he keeps books in his bed anyway, they should get pride of place. And protection from being rolled on.

So, this is what it looked like once the main structural components were in place. The front sagged a little when I climbed on to nail down the slats, but there is another support and additional reinforcement coming.

I was almost finished when my last 1″x8″ split, and I discovered that the remaining 2″x3″ was 2 inches short. Also, my husband said something about not being able to get the kids to bed while I was running the circular saw. So, this is my interim version.

More lumber is supposed to arrive momentarily, so it might be finished before the post goes live.

***

Update: I got more lumber! This is the bed that my son went to bed in last night:

I feel so accomplished!

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