Toilet Wars: The fill valve strikes back

You should recall from an earlier post that I know my way around repairing a toilet. I've replaced the seat and (previously unmentioned) the tank lever, commonly referred to as "the flusher." After installing the new seat just last week in our master bathroom, I thought I could take a break. Those dreams were flushed down the toilet when Sergio let me know that the water wasn't refilling in his bathroom toilet.

Why, God, why? I felt like Job (Biblical, not Arrested Development) being tried in my faith, but instead of losing wives and children, I had to deal with a series of toilet repairs. So be it.

First, I had to diagnose the problem. I was immediately concerned that a pipe had froze on me, which would SUCK. I could turn on the hot and cold water in the bathtub next to the toilet, so I figured this wasn't the case, but I had to double-check.

Strangely enough, crawling under the house doesn't scare me. It should. Our house was built in 1904. It could crumble at anytime. There are lots of "fixes" under the house that have been applied over the years, and basically you've got a lot of pillars of wood upon brick upon wood and it all looks like a Jenga stack to me. I was careful moving under the house not to accidentally nudge one of the pieces. The ground is very uneven and for all I know there could be dead bodies buried beneath. We joke that there are dead bodies in the ceiling for all of the room between the downstairs ceiling and upstairs floor. Either way, it makes for soundproofing and good insulation.

Back to the story, I maneuvered to a location under the bathroom and saw a minor leak but no frozen pipes. This was good news.

I went back in to the house and did what any guy in my situation would do, I messed with things. I took pieces apart and tested. I evaluated. I swore under my breath. I had moments of enlightenment. These were masculine moments.

I was able to determine that the water was coming in and the pressure was there, but something in the fill valve wasn't working. Bad, fill valve, bad. Go to your corner.

What is the fill valve, you ask? It's the thingy-majiggy that draws water into the toilet tank after you flush, I think. See the artsy graphic below.

I ran to Lowe's the following day to pick up a replacement Fluidmaster fill valve (~$10) and got back to replacing it last night. The whole installation process took about 25 minutes - 20 minutes longer than it should have - but I managed to do so with little self-inflicted stress or frustration and without getting toilet water in my mouth. Win-win.

After completing the task, I ran up to tell Sergio in my best Tim-Taylor-Home-Improvement voice: "I have fixed the toilet!"

Sergio shrugged, unimpressed.

I guess you had to be there.

Photos: Wrapping up Indiana

Here's the last of my Indiana photos. Enjoy! Roger playing with Mason.

He looks innocent. Don't be fooled.

Abby and alligator.

Amanda and sister-in-law Amber at some Indiana knock-off Nordstrom.

Me from Target's POV.

Ribs!

Family photo!

Mousetrap!

Amanda's Dad, Roger, built this room himself. One time I completed a Lego kit. True story.

Amanda with her grandparents on the Artherhults side.

You're seeing that correctly. Amanda's friend Gwen painted an abstract picture of her.

Fin.

Foto Friday: Indiana alien

Definitely from Indiana (Amanda's dad, Roger):

Also, definitely from Indiana (Amanda's brother, Ty):

Definitely NOT from Indiana:

Video: 'Paolo Sr. and the Art of Making Tiramsu'

I'm wrapping up another quarter in my UW master's program (I still need to write a paper this weekend), and I just showed this video to my class for a final project. We were tasked to make a video about food, so naturally I tasked Sr. to make his famous tiramsu.

Trust me, it tasted as good as it looks.

Thanks, Dad.

Living in an Amish paradise

There is little more I love in northeast Indiana than the Amish who roam it. During my previous trips to Indiana, I just observed them from afar. Whenever we'd see a horse and buggy on the road I would point like a 2-year-old at the zoo and repeat "Amish! Amish! Amish!..."

Last week I had the privileged opportunity to see the Amish up close and in person and interact with them. This is somewhat similar to jumping in one of those shark cages in open water.

I have a lot of respect for the Amish and am crazy fascinated by them because they manage to thrive living an unconnected, more simple life -- the exact opposite of my native computer geek culture. According to Wikipedia, the Amish have church rules that cover most aspects of day-to-day living, and include "prohibitions or limitations on the use of power-line electricity, telephones, and automobiles, as well as regulations on clothing." Amanda's dad, Roger, tells me that they have their own albeit primitive independent banking and health care systems (they loan money and land to each other and take care of each other when they're sick).

My first exposure to the Amish was actually in middle school when Weird Al Yankovic parodied Coolio's "Gangster's Paradise" (and Stevie Wonder before him) with "Amish Paradise." I have to say, Weird Al wasn't too far off portraying the Amish style. All of the guys look and dress like Abraham Lincoln (the men wear beards when they're married) and all of the women wear bonnets and look like they just got off The Oregon Trail.

There are several sects of Amish thoughout America, but the Amish in Indiana are hardcore. As Wikipedia notes:

A subgroup of the Old Order Amish, known as the Swiss Amish, speak a dialect of German known as Swiss German amongst themselves instead of the more common Pennsylvania Dutch. They are found primarily in Allen and Adams County in Indiana. The Swiss Amish only use open-top buggies and are more conservative than most other Old Order Amish districts. They also are the only Amish group to practice yodeling.

Guys, Amanda's family LIVES IN ALLEN COUNTY. Do you see now why I am so excited by this?! Yodeling! And to put in perspective the open-top buggies, imagine commuting to work this morning in a convertible towed by horses. Impressed? I thought so.

On our last night in Indiana, we went to the Noldt House - an Amish buffet restaurant. This isn't like saying you're going out for Mexican food at a strip mall. This is in rural Indiana on a farm. You park next to the horses. The entire house/restaurant is hand-built. It's easy to forget that when you see the commercial-quality craftsmanship.

The food, oy, the food. AMAZING. It's old-fashioned Americana. You got your salad bar, the most amazing mashed potatoes and gravy you've ever had in your life. You got ribs, fried chicken and some crazy, peppery fried noodles, canned green beans, corn and everything else you'd picture being turn-of-last-century-covered-wagon American food. We had black raspberry pie and vanilla ice cream for dessert. EVERYTHING was homemade/homegrown.

Amanda's mom, Sheree, said this is traditional wedding food. It made me rethink our caterer.

Of course I wanted to take pictures of everything, but Roger told me that the Amish think if you take their picture you take their souls with it. Obviously this isn't true (Right?), but I respected that they didn't want my technology up in their face.

Naturally, I pretended to take a picture of Amber with my iPhone to capture the scene instead.

Check out those bonnets!

Everyone coming to Indiana for the wedding, we're going to the Noldt house.