
My name is David Robins: Christian, lead developer (resume), writer, photographer, runner, libertarian (voluntaryist), and student.
This is also my son David Geoffrey Robins' site.
We played several games; to Honey's cousin Will's delight, Risk (uncle Dave and I beat Honey and Will, by managing to take over two continents (Indonesia and Asia), and then arranging our men so as to give one of us the troop bonus for each, and then noticing that we win by just taking out either one of the opposing team's armies, and focusing on Will). They introduced us to Guillotine, a fun card game where players are executioners and have to collect noble heads, and in turn we brought Stock Ticker, a Canadian game simulating a very simplified stock market. We didn't play Scotland Yard this time, but for Christmas they got the U.S. equivalent, New York Chase, upgraded to give detectives helicopters to aid in the search (kids these days have it so easy...).
I've just been shuffling some papers from our "disaster folder": scraps with notes about calls made and responses, all the way back from getting the tree out to getting a contractor; a copy of our insurance policy; a printout of a Word file I made up at work with similar notes last week; a contract from the contractor that's been doing the cleanup (and we think we'll use him for the rebuilding too, provided he and the adjuster can converge on an estimate); a MetLife claim folder; an envelope with copies of receipts thus far; a note from the gas company; a printout of an Excel spreadsheet with our interior claims; and a partridge, resting comfortably in a pear tree.
December 16: We called several tree services from the hotel, and eventually Alpine Tree Service agreed to come out; we met them at the house at 1030. They climbed onto the roof from the top deck and removed brush and cut off branches (which they threw into the driveway; good thing we got the cars out first) until they could get to the main trunk, which they sawed up until it could be removed with ropes. They covered the opening with a tarp that Honey picked up at the local hardware store, still leaving a side gap which I covered with a smaller tarp later. They left after the tree was out, without removing the brush (they're trying to maximize jobs while the getting's good), but it turns out that was a good thing as they were overcharging horribly and we later called them back and told them we'd have someone else take care of the brush removal.
We spent the night at the hotel again; the house still didn't have power, and heat leaching through the gaps rapidly, even with the door closed (and recall the bathroom door wouldn't close since the skylight was resting on it). Lisa was around so I drove the three of us to a nearby Fred Meyer, which was open despite being without main power, and we bought food and games. We played three games of Scrabble at the hotel (the second without using the bonus squares), and I won all of them.
December 14: It was, indeed, a dark and stormy night. The power went out at about 2030 Thursday night and we went to bed around 2300 with the the wind tearing around the house, whistling horribly; eventually we sunk into fitful sleep, and then the roof caved in with a great tearing and we were choking on clouds of insulation and looking up at a midnight-blue gash in what used to be our bedroom ceiling. It was 0230; it was pitch dark (with all the grues and pits that entails); I rolled out of bed and helped Honey out my side since hers was blocked, and we ran into the hallway, holding onto each other for dear life. Still filled with adrenaline, I went back in to retrieve some clothes and my big Mag flashlight, which was standing on my side table but was now buried under it. Neither of us had our glasses, and after a couple of checks, still uncertain about how stable the room was, I gave up the search and we went into the street; I had on a pair of jeans I'd fished out of the ankle-deep insulation, and a dressing gown; fortunately my keys, wallet, etc. were in the pockets of my jeans. We went into the kitchen to get a drink and try to clear out some of the insulation.
December 15: In the morning we washed up as best we could in the adjoining shower, and strolled down blearily (no glasses, if you'll recall) to the nurses' station; they directed us to another desk where we attempted to call a cab, but were thankfully diverted by a lady named Lynn from the hospital foundation, who took us to breakfast in the hospital cafeteria and also paid for our cab (I remember the meter showing about $40 when we got to our house). The power was still out, of course, but we were able to survey the damage for the first time: a large cedar (100-150') had broken off and had sheared right through the roof and bedroom wall, and was laying across the bedroom, from the lower far right corner of the room to the upper left, over the bathroom, with a collection of smaller branches reaching all the way to and over the front porch. The tree had knocked the bathroom skylight down so that it rested on the door and had pierced through the next bedroom's wall; the bathroom was also full of insulation. The other (en suite) bathroom was fine, except for a light knocked askew (but it still worked); there was a crack in the ceiling of another bedroom (the one the skylight had poked through). Our first problem was retrieving our glasses; fortunately I was able to lean over the bed and find them in the rubble. In the daylight it was a nightmare of downed trusses (seven in all, we were to find out later), beams, shingles, drywall, and tree branches. Fortunately the structure of the lower floor didn't seem compromised, but not knowing this I went into the bedroom with some trepidation.We Will Never Buy Another Vehicle from Bustard ChryslerI'll bet thousands of people saw that sign. I wonder how much it affected Bustard Chrysler's business? Takeaway: don't annoy your customers—even if you do get the sale, you may lose more than you gain. Sometimes it's best just to back off. Until Toyota of Kirkland called us to say the trade-in paperwork was finalized, I was not very far from making my own sign.