Huh? What? Same to you buddy

A small challenge for the lot of you

2009-06-12T17:55:00.000-07:00

For some time now I've been attempting to read the classics. In particular, I'm trying to read all the classic adventure stories that we presume everyone read as a child, even though it seems that few actually did. I'd like to fix that problem. Of course, this being reality, one problem is quickly followed by another. At this moment in time Swiss Family Robinson is almost half read, and quickly moving to the end. What should I read next? I'd like everyone to start suggesting those classic adventures for me. Try though I might, I just can't think of enough titles to keep me busy for long. I know many of them, I just can't recall them just now. Any help you could give me would be appreciated.

Lessons learned and answers pending

2009-06-04T23:40:00.001-07:00

My cat just taught me a lesson on how to operate my computer. Some time ago I visited a website on a somewhat regular basis. One day the resolution of that one site went all wonky on me. To this day the resolution of that one page is still odd. I have never been able to determine what happened to it. Today the cat stepped on my computer and the page I was on exploded. It was almost completely impossible read due to the stupid size issues. Every other page retained original size. There were only two possible conclusions that could be drawn from this. Either there is a keyboard command of which I am not aware, or my cat is magic. Upon observation of the cat who was occupied cleaning his bum, I concluded that there must be a keyboard command. After several minutes attempting to locate the general region of the keyboard stepped on and further attempting to deduce any possible key combinations, I found the solution. To confirm, I reset that first page back to its original size, then rested content in the knowledge that I am not a complete failure. Also, where do cats keep their bones when they are not using them?

Getting a cat isn't like getting a lawn mower,

2009-05-27T21:21:00.000-07:00

yet they sometimes come from the same sources. In this case, they come from Jeremy. A week ago I had one barn cat, yclept Chance, with whom I spent the most limited time. He is friendly enough, but rather pointy. I was quite content with just that one cat. I had no need for any more. Enter Sophocles; 17 pounds of orange, long-haired, affectionate, drooling, shedding chaos. He is inspecting the dust and spiders behind the couch, just now. I suppose there is some logical reason for a cat to play with spiders, but I've never found it. I don't like spiders. Too many legs. But then, cats start with rather more legs than I, so I suppose that they naturally have got a quarter less of a problem with the aforementioned spiders than I have. Of course, that still leaves three quarters of creepy spider to dislike. Lets think about that for a moment more, shall we? I have two legs and dislike spiders, which have eight legs. A cat has four legs, and likes spiders, which have eight. So. I have two, and a cat has four, so we need to subtract two in order to keep this whole thing logical. Thus, eight minus two equals six. So to a cat, a spider only has six legs. Most random bugs have six legs, but I hate them half as much as I dislike spiders. So, if a cat (equaling four) likes spiders (which now equal six) and six is half as offensive as eight, then to a cat, a spider must equal three (for the half of the bug that is objectionable). Now it is obvious that three is less than four, which makes it possible to like things with three legs one quarter more than something with four. With this said, we can logically conclude that cats like spiders a quarter more than we like cats because (by our entirely reasonable calculations) spiders have one less leg than a cat does. I assume that many people like cats. If I also assume that my above reasoning is correct, then it follows that cats like spiders one quarter more than people like cats.

Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass

2009-05-10T21:57:00.000-07:00

I've recently set up my old phonograph and have started spinning my grandmother's records. The crisp sound and faint crackle please me though I am not entirely sure why. My grandfather's paintings are hanging on the walls, looking very familiar in their details, but very different on my walls rather than his. I cooked my dinner tonight using a pot from my grandmother's kitchen and I sit here eating it listening to her music. Earlier I looked up a word in the muckle great dictionary that two generations of my family have used as a booster seat. The night seems warm and comfortable. It is odd that these things remind me so much of the loss of my grandparents, and also that these things can comfort me and make me feel somehow as if they are standing here at my side.

What next?

2009-04-07T21:55:00.000-07:00

The last several days have been interesting. Jeremy is slowly going insane and has decided to take me with him. Some years ago I worked with a college friend of mine who was into fish. He had the most fantastic coral reef tank in his living room. It was huge and colorful, and looked like it cost a fortune to build and maintain. I always did like aquariums. He gave me a small tank he wasn't using, and helped me set it up as a simple freshwater tank with a few fish. I learned it was possible to grow aquatic plants in a fish tank and decided I wanted to plant myself a little watery garden. A few years or so went by before he gave me a bigger tank to try. I retired the first small tank and planted up the larger one after joining a local aquatic plant community. Enter Jeremy. His house has a tank built into the wall in the entry way just below the stairs. I had brought him along to a plant club meeting and he came home with a large bag of cuttings. Since then, he has joined the club, and started gathering more tanks. He now has the built in tank, a small tank he once had a turtle in, a tiny tank to isolate pregnant fish, a 29 gallon I gave him, a ten he found on craigslist, and a five gallon tank he just started keeping frogs in. I had three as of a few days ago. A very large 55 gallon tank my ex-boss gave to me, and the two Manny gave me. I've been thinking that might be more than enough. The small tank I put back together just to breed a cherry red shrimp colony I had been given. I had meant to take it down again once they had bred out enough to populate the two larger tanks. Jeremy has other ideas. He just went out and picked up another ten gallon tank from craigslist, then bought a 20 gallon tank for cheap at a local pet store. He has also been gathering other bits of aquarium equipment for some time. I don't even want to know how much he spent gathering stuff he didn't even need. Now he has decided that I need more tanks. He found out I have another aquarium stand that I used to use. It will fit two small tanks. So. He's now given me those last two tanks. He came over today to put them together. Holy crap. That makes five tanks in my place. I like aquariums and zoos, but I am not sure I want to live in one. Not content just to slowly fill my house with fish, Jeremy decided he wanted to see what free stuff he could find on craigslist. He found a bunch of shit piled all over the south bay and decided that he might want it. I talked him out of most of it, but he did find one thing that I had to have. I juggle. I'm not very good, but I enjoy it. Some years ago, I bought a set of juggling clubs, which seems to impress him. I don't use them enough, probably because it really isn't an inside sport. They make messes indoors. There was a friend of ours at leland that had a set of juggling torches. They were made by the same company that made my clubs and have the same balance, so that if you could juggle the clubs, you could also juggle their torches or knives. Jeremy found a fellow on craigslist giving away a set of torches for free, providing you could prove you could juggle. We went to meet the gentleman in question in Milpitas. He was older, with grey hair and rather quiet. Businesslike, but quiet. He gave me many tips on how to use the torches, how to light them, put them out, and what fuels to use. His companion (wife? daughter? girlfriend?) made sure we learned who used to use these torches. He didn't juggle he said. He was a magician. Two of the torches had been modified to mount to either end of a staff. The girl again insisted he tell us who used the torches. He didn't seem like he really wanted to talk about it, so she did instead. The last person to use them was a trained elephant. It turns out he wasn't just a magician, he was also an elephant trainer. In one of his acts, he would hand the torch/staff to the elephant who would use it for who knows what. So now I have in my possession a set of antique juggling torches that were once used by a magician/elephant act in a circus.

Take that USGS

2009-03-30T11:00:00.000-07:00

A good number of us just sat through one of the thrills of living in California. The light earthquake. The fun ones that are strong enough to get the lamp swinging, but weak enough not to break anything. It was fairly long though, it just seemed to keep on rolling. Once it stopped, I set the book down I had been holding over my head in case the window behind me decided to throw glass at me and picked up the computer. I went to the US Geological Survey site. They track these things. They didn't know the magnitude yet. I thought I did though. 4.6? No. Not quite. 4.4 then? Yeah that sounds better. Then the USGS confirmed it for me. Its good to be the king. It is a bit disturbing though. I would gladly trade that super power for x-ray vision or lickity-speed. Also, all the wild turkeys behind my place think the sky is falling. They keep gobbling away as if the world is still shaking.

Note: In the last few minutes the USGS has reviewed their data and rated the quake a 4.3

What is it with grassy knolls?

2009-03-12T22:31:00.000-07:00

Todays adventures didn't involve lawn mowers, but they did involve getting one forklift, one truck, and one trailer with a car on it all stuck in the field behind my house. At the same time. Stupidity strikes again. Considering that I don't work right now, I tend to stay up late and get up even later. There weren't any real plans for the day yet, so I was taking my time getting ready for them. After sitting around for a bit I finally got into the shower sometime around noon. Just in time for the phone to ring. Figures. After a moment or so of thought I decided it wasn't worth running naked through my house dripping wet and possibly ruining my phone at the same time. Eventually I got around to returning the call. It was Jeremy. Not too surprising. He is good at hatching up things to do. Today he wanted to drive to Morgan Hill to pick up a few small parts for his MGB roadster. He wants to drive it to the same shop this weekend for an MG Owners Group tech session. These are half car-show, and half a bunch of gear heads tinkering with each other's automobiles. They are kinda fun though. It wasn't just that Jeremy wanted to drive down, or that he wanted me to go with him. It was that he wanted me to bring Dad's truck (which is being stored at my place) so I can bring a borrowed trailer home. Next question. Why do you need a trailer? "I don't," he says. "We need it for your car." My car? Its an MG show. "Yeah but I thought we could bring your Metropolitan." What? So. Some short time later Jeremy and I were on our way to Morgan Hill in Dads truck. Once we got there Jeremy sat down for an hour or so trying to exorcise a few demons from Bill's (the shop owner) computer. Eventually we got around to hitching up the trailer only to discover that we didn't have the right adapter to allow us to actually have working brake lights. Thankfully I live out on a country road where it isn't likely to be a problem. Home we went. We parked the truck in the yard pointing nose first out the back gate so the trailer would be in the right place. Its been a while since last I started the Met. To my surprise it started right up and ran well enough for me to drive it right up onto the trailer. We got it strapped down (with borrowed straps) and ready to go. The easiest way to get the truck and trailer turned is to drive straight through the back gate, make a wide turn around the field and come back through the gate facing the right direction. Didn't happen. I got three quarters of the way back to the gate and the foot and a half of grass turned slippery. I lost all traction and got stuck. Hmm. Perhaps if I take the trailer off, it will make it easier to get the truck out. No dice. Thinking quickly, I got the forklift running and went to pull the truck out, carefully not thinking of the fact that the forklift could get stuck on a perfectly dry parking lot with snow tires and chains installed. Some twenty seconds later the forklift was stuck too. Damn. I went back into the house for a few minutes, hoping that food would somehow magically transform itself into a solution. Every vehicle (other than Mr. S' antique tractor collection) was now stuck in the field with the possible exception of my thirty year old BMW. No way in hell I'm get that one stuck too. Now there is one truck, one antique clown car on a trailer, and one antique forklift all stuck in a perfect line in the same field. I called Charlie in a panic and asked his answering machine for advice. None came. Next I called my Dad and tried to explain how I got his truck stuck in my field while begging for help. He came out with his four wheel drive jeep. It worked wonders. First we got the forklift out, then the truck, then finally the trailer with my Met on it. Its amazing. No matter how much stupidity you throw at a problem, it doesn't get any better. Charlie called back less than five minutes after Dad and I got everything back out of the field. After he laughed at me for a good five minutes or so, he gave some good advice on how to get the forklift out if I get it stuck again. All in all, it was a fine day.

Endler's Livebearers and File Gumbo

2009-02-17T22:30:00.000-08:00

Ricardo came by for dinner tonight. Its nice having company, easier to cook for several rather than one, and it is good to give something back to someone who has been so generous to me over the years. File gumbo was the experiment of the day, and it came out well. I'd never made a Cajun gumbo before, only okra and roux based Creole recipes. It was dark and smoky, though it would have benefited from a bit more chicken stock. Making new things is always exciting, and it was made even more so by the fact that I had a captive audience to mock me if all went wrong. I had thought it would be done by about seven or so, but was a bit off on my estimate. Only by two hours though.

Yesterday night Jeremy came over with a fistful of fish. It was rather a surprise for both of us. He had gone to pick up a few cuttings from a club member only to find he had an overabundance of Endler's livebearers. These little fishes have the most remarkable coloration and a nice background story. I happen to like stories. Come on over sometime and I will tell it to you. I like small fish, and I have a lot of open space in my new 55 gallon tank with way too few fishes to fill it. Endler's breed extraordinarily fast, so before long the twenty or so juveniles and the few adults ought to fill that tank nicely. I am rather looking forward to seeing the blinding colors flashing through that tank. After a bit of research I found that my little friends are a pure strain (which I desired) rather than a hybridized strain which is much more common in the fish stores. The colors look (so far) as though they breed a little too true. Dr. Endler reported that in the wild the colors of these fish seemed to have a huge variation, though after some few generations and the possible hybridization with guppies, the colors have started to breed true from parent to fry. It might be an interesting study to find another pure strain and try crossing them with mine in order to broaden the gene pool enough so that the random colors start popping again.

Two cherries and a plum

2009-02-17T22:12:00.000-08:00

I did a bit more investigating of the slot machine this week. There is not much information out there on the internet about these old nickel slots, but there is something. Mostly I found a number of people talking about the machines and very little useful information on the workings thereof. After some time of poking around I did find a number of pictures. One of which showed a slot machine that was very similar to mine, with several small differences. I did more research and eventually came to a cautious conclusion. It is a Caille Cadet nickel slot made somewhere in the year 1936. It was one of the last machines made by Caille before they stopped manufacturing. Also, stuck in the works I found a nickel dated 1940. It had a bit of wear on it, so it wasn't new when it got lost, but still, it does remind one of the age of this toy.

Damn cat

2009-02-05T22:09:00.000-08:00

My cat just tried to drill a hole in the back of my head. I brought him in for his dinner as I do every night, and as every night he decided that he didn't want to go back out again. We play around for a few minutes before I take him out, mostly as a means of getting me close enough to him to let me pick him up. After he finishes eating he does one of two things. Either he walks to the door and imperiously demands that I let him out, or he curls up beneath my jewelers bench and tries to fall asleep. Considering that he hasn't got a litterbox in the house, I refuse to let him stay for much more than an hour or so after he eats. Usually we play a little bit to get him out from under the bench. I had to get down there with him in order to hook him back out again. He stepped back when he saw my hand coming for him and put one paw quite firmly on the control pedal for my flex-shaft. I payed a bit more for the extra sensitive pedal upgrade, so it doesn't take a cat quite as heavy as Chance to activate it. I also hadn't realized that the hand piece of the flex-shaft was resting on the back of my head as I reached for my cat. I think it rather scared both of us when that thing went off.

Jackpot, almost literally

2009-02-01T21:32:00.000-08:00

Dad came by yesterday when I was in the canyon building east toward Pleasanton. He dropped off a load of firewood for me. I didn't even notice. It was rather dark, seeing as the sun doesn't shine this far out in the country. I'm not that far out actually. It might just be because the sun went down. All scientific questions aside, I found the pile of wood after I listened to Dad's message on the machine. Dad doesn't usually give up all his firewood, but he's decided to move himself off to Willow Glen. That in itself is something I never thought I'd hear. He has a very comfortable house he spent thirty years getting just right, with a large beautiful yard and a swimming pool. Its just weird thinking he might leave it all behind. I called him back to thank him for the wood, and he asked if I could help him store his tent-trailer for a time. I happen to have a bit of empty barn space just now, so he came by with the trailer this morning. He also brought some odds and ends my grandfather picked up somewhere along the line. And a slot machine. It worked when he first brought it home, but somewhere in the early nineties, one of my sisters boyfriends broke it and it has been gathering dust ever since. Dad would never let me open it up and see if I could fix it, perhaps from the concern that I might damage something. Of course, I am a bit older now, and a metalsmith by trade. I happen to be qualified to fix or re-create anything I might break. Dad and I got the trailer and the wood into the barn and he helped tow me and the forklift out of the field when the wheels decided the grass was too slick for traction. It was good to spend a day with him. We don't take the time often enough. After he left, I spent the afternoon pulling the slot machine apart. There were several problems, but none of them major. The mechanism was full of old nickels, the jackpot reserve was overflowing, the coin advance was not advancing, and an adjustment was off. That last being the problem. I think sister's old boyfriend jammed the mechanism then kept pulling the lever, shoving the coin advance far enough out of whack that it could no longer tell if you had actually inserted a coin. All is well now, and the old machine has a place of honor in the entry way. I haven't been able to put a date to the machine yet, but I believe it to have been built in 1935 at the latest. Possibly a few years before, even. Very cool.

¿Qué?

2008-10-14T22:53:00.001-07:00

I am the center of my own universe. Perhaps it is not proper to say it quite so bluntly, but the simple truths are sometimes unavoidable. We are all of us confined to linear time and are mostly obliged to live in the now. Linear time grants us an infinity of now, an endless present to do with as we please or are compelled to do. As time passes from yesterday to today, we gain our past one moment to the next. Our present exists only for one endless instant, but our past grows with each second that passes. Our past actions and the actions of those around us influence our actions in the present and give them additional meaning. Our personal perspective and our accumulated past lends new meaning to our present and influences our actions in the now. The past affects the present, and present actions that formed from the information provided us from that past catapult us into the future. Now there is irony in the fact that we spend so much of our present and have spent so much of our past worrying about and considering a future that has no physical existence. The future has not happened and never will. We cannot leave the now. Our future is only potential. We work towards our goals in the hope that they may become our present. As such, we are gifted with the rare ability to look forward out of the endless present into a land of pure fabrication. The future is made of what we desire or what we may fear. It may also be made of reality, but reality itself is bound to individual perception. As humans, it is not within our reach to effect change to the past, so we cannot manipulate physical reality once it has manifest, but we may perceive it from our individual perspective. We can only interpret the present reality by extrapolating out from our past. If this is true, then the only truths we may be sure of are those that we see, witness, or experience first hand. So. All one can be sure of is what one sees, and reality and time itself are functions of our own linear existence and limited perspective. As such, I am terrified that when I leave the room, all my friends will cease to exist. I know that this isn’t the way things work, but then, all the logical thought in the world can’t trump perception. Truth is only truth if we place ourselves in the proper place for it to appear so. Maybe this is the reason that I am afraid of the dark. If I can’t see it, it doesn’t exist. The world itself winks out of existence every night when I go to sleep. Sorry about that; its nothing personal.

Yes, yes, I know. Lets just move along, shall we?

2008-09-26T21:13:00.001-07:00

I've just purchased a kiln. I didn't know I wanted one until I heard the price. Its used, of course, and rather worse for the wear. The boss was attempting to get the unused or unnecessary crap out of the shop and offered an old derelict of a kiln to me for 50 bucks. Suddenly crap looks better. But then, even though I make my living by casting jewelery, tatooing machine parts, and motorcycle gang memorabilia, how much would I honestly do at home? Also, if I procure a kiln, will I then have to purchase a vacuum table, centrifuge, vulcanizer, wax injector and other needful items? Thats a heck of a potential bill to pay. No thanks. There isn't much else one can do with a kiln without these items. Plus the pyrometer on the kiln is busted, meaning I can't even tell the temperature inside. Translation: useless piece of junk at best, or oven to incinerate money. Never mind. I'll pass thanks. Meanwhile, my brain is working on the topic. I mentioned the lack of a vacuum table to the boss. The vacuum table can do several things more than what I use it for. Mostly I do centrifuge casting, but the vacuum table also serves as a unit for vacuum casting as well as vacuuming air out of my investment. This means that I don't need to spend the money on a centrifuge. Very nice. The boss then offers to order me a vacuum table at his cost (plus a very small bit, to be sure) saving me hundreds of dollars. I still don't have the money, but we're getting closer. I'd also be a very bad caster if I didn't know other ways to make rubber molds without possessing a vulcanizer. One can use a standard kitchen baking oven if one is willing to make some creative use of basic garage tools to vulcanize rubber. Hmm. Better still. The working price of this junk box of a kiln is coming down. But there are still a few needful details to address. Such as the busted pyrometer. After a good deal of looking, I found a brand name on the kiln and plugged it into the internet to see what might come flying out of that wacky place. As it turns out, the company is still in business and still manufacturing the exact unit. More than that, spare parts are still availiable. Perhaps not amazingly cheap, but still a far cry from the $750 the unit sells for new. I can do another 70 bucks or so for a new pyrometer. But then, what will I use it for before I get ideas and many hundreds of dollars of vacuum table? I can anneal the living crap out of anything now. I can enamel. I can heat treat things, and heat harden them. Holy crap. $50 is cheap. I'll buy the stupid money pit. I should be feeling stupid just now, but somehow, I'm still excited. All is well.

Pasta just tried to kill me

2008-01-01T22:25:00.000-08:00

Not long ago I was given one of those fancy pots with holes in the lid for straining pasta water. After remembering that I had a bit of a particularly tasty sausage in the freezer and a jar full of arrabiata, I decided give the pot a try. I'll spare you the flavorific details of what I did with the food, and leave you with a warning. These fancy pots work rather well for draining pasta water, but they don't let steam out terribly well. Remember not to put your face over the pot when you open it after draining. Further remember not to breath through your mouth if you should forget to move your face. I just burned the crap out of my tongue.

Unforgivable

2007-12-27T21:59:00.000-08:00

Now that Christmas and Boxing Day are past, it is time to take inventory in the shop. Mostly this means combat with heavily armed numbers in an unfortunately crowed urban setting. Case in point: I nearly lost my own life today in a misfortunate blunder. There I was, clipboard in hand, pen tucked safely behind my ear, running from one end of the shop to the other in a hopeless effort to save humanity from an untimely destruction by getting the computer to jive with reality, when I almost collided with a little girl petting a puppy. Of all the unforgivable war crimes possible in the inventory season, I cannot think of a more unforgivable sin than to kick the very personification of innocence. Perhaps tomorrow I will try to bump off a busload of nuns. Either that or I slow down and watch where I put my feet.

The new job

2007-12-01T21:42:00.000-08:00

is rather interesting. I could not have predicted any of it. My first project was to draw out a bit of fine silver wire into six gauge half-round. That was simple enough. Then they handed me a dog collar and asked me to bezel set sixteen stones in sterling on it. Ten mother of pearl cabs, and six tiger's eye cabs. What next? Who knows? They tell me these projects are fairly common.

A big pile of ... something

2007-11-16T13:40:00.000-08:00

I went out to feed Chance (my cat) this morning and noticed that my gate was in a different position than it usually is. The wind moves it on occasion, so I didn't think much of it. The tarp had also blown off of one of Charlie's D2 cats (a tractor) in the front yard, which only seemed to confirm my guess. On further inspection, it seems that the wind had blown a few new things onto the property as well. Half way to the barn I found a pile of horse...droppings. I also found a series of hoof-prints. Seeing as all the horses have moved to Washington, I was a bit confused. The pile of crap I could see flying onto the path if the wind was strong enough. Due to the size of the "leavings" it looked like it was a smallish horse, so with wind enough, that too might have flown in. Just because we haven't actually seen Pegasus lately, it doesn't necessarily follow that he does not still exist. So. The wind explains both the horse and the "deposit" he might have left. It does not explain the hoof prints though. I heard no horse coming clippity cloppity into my yard, or out of it again, nor did I hear a rider, nor find boot prints. I wear moccasins in my yard and around my place, so any boot prints would only be left by my visitor. This leaves me with a bit of a puzzle. If I heard no horse moving around, this logically means that he (or she) did not move about and could not possibly have left the hoof prints. The only conceivable way they could have gotten there is that the wind blew them there as well. I was not aware that wind could do such a thing, but now that I've seen the evidence, I know that it can. I love the proper application of scientific reasoning.

About time I got off my lazy butt

2007-11-14T19:19:00.000-08:00

to go to work again. I haven't actually got the job, yet, but the possibility is there. I walked into a local jewelry supply/repair house to purchase a few small items and ask a question or two. I ended up in a rather informal, but informative, interview. By informal I mean that they didn't ask my name until I was walking out the door. By informative I mean that the gentleman in question told me quite a bit about his shop. Also, he asked me to call him on Saturday to find out if he wants to offer me the job. If I get the position, he wants me to learn wax carving, which can be a lucrative skill that might go far in creating those objects I see in my head. I am excited, but cautious. I don't want to build my hopes too much.

Too new to be annoying yet

2007-10-11T21:54:00.000-07:00

The weather has just turned cool enough to light the first fire of the year. This early in the season I still have enough firewood to be both warm and comfortable with the fact that I'm not running out yet. Just for the sake of something different, I lit the wood range in the kitchen and cooked my dinner on it. For whatever reason, I never bothered to light the kitchen stove for heat last year. Due to the fact that there is another stove closer to my couch in the living room, the kitchen stove stayed cold. It really is a very good design. It heats the house quite a bit better than the caboose stove by the couch. It is more central, and considering that it was designed to get hot enough to cook food quickly, as well as circulate smoke around the oven box to heat it as well, it is far more efficient. It radiates far more heat into the room due to its oven draft design, rather than just sending it up the stovepipe, like the caboose stove. This thing is cool (hot), and it cooks food.

Train of Lights

2007-10-11T21:32:00.000-07:00

Its time again for the Train of Lights in Niles Canyon. Last year was a good party, but this year promises to be better. There should be more elbow room, plus we are taking a 4:30 train. The train leaves early enough to see the canyon scenery before the sun goes down, then to see the lights on the train on the return trip. After all the fun of riding a nicely restored antique train wrapped in enough Christmas lights to be seen from low orbit, we will head off to get dinner at whichever fine restaurant seems best. Last year I had access to eleven tickets. This year I worked enough hours to earn the maximum of six free and the option for as many discounted. Now I need to start figuring out everyone's schedules to see who can join me. So far I am going, my mother has been invited, as have my dad, step mother, and little sister. Rich and Jeremy are also likely. Michelle has set the date aside already. Terran? I sent him an email. Manny? I'll start working on him directly in order to get him to commit before December has come and gone. There are one or two other invitations floating around out there as well. I've got a few spaces open still. Maybe Jen will join Manny this year. Everyone start thinking of what they want for dinner in two months.

Snapple

2007-09-07T14:31:00.000-07:00

I was playing Pikmin2 today when my little vegimal space carrots dug up a Snapple lid. It was a very good likeness. So much so that I felt compelled to open my fridge and drink one. They were kindly, or perhaps accidentally, left in my fridge by the most generous and kind Sr. rLog. I shall have to thank him when he returns from Botswana or whichever such place he is now.

Retraction

2007-08-21T22:44:00.000-07:00

After a few minutes perusing the jPg I have determined that we were not at the same beach, but very close. I now give you the jFrog's picture to compare.All the details of the gentleman's blog match rather nicely with what I recall of finding these ants. We found them in a tree just in front of the trail leading to the beach where we found the sand bubbler crabs. It doesn't seem that jFrog has any pictures posted of said crustaceans, misfortunately. However he does have a fine picture of the beach approaches.
My compliments to whomever took this photo of a sand bubbler crab burrow and surrounding demesne.

Sand bubbler crabs and green ants

2007-08-21T22:30:00.000-07:00

In a search for information and identification of some strange little crabs we saw in Australia, I found this. Unless I am very much mistaken (I am counting on my friends to either confirm or deny), this gentleman took pictures of the exact ant nest and bubbler crabs on the exact same beach where we found them. For that matter, I think jFrog has a picture of that precise nest somewhere in his collection. This is just too weird.

If man were meant to fly, he'd have been born with wings

2007-08-15T15:40:00.000-07:00

On my way to my mothers place today I thought I blew a tire or was destroying my car in some other new and interesting way. I was driving merrily along when suddenly there was a violent thumpity, thumpity, thumpity sound very much like that of a tire shredding and flapping about in the wheel well. Its a sound I've had to deal with on two separate, non-consecutive occasions. It isn't something you forget. Luckily I was very (150ft) close to my mom's driveway. The sound got quieter as I slowed the car down, but kept on going even after I killed the engine. After a very confused second examination of the facts I concluded that my car was fine, but that helicopter was flying way too close to the ground. Apparently the violence of the rotors tearing the air apart feel and sound very much like the violence of a car tire tearing itself apart.

Probably an old relative of mine

2007-08-06T20:39:00.001-07:00

Our pyramids, fist-sized gold pendants, and burial llamas were always better than the neighbors. You just wish you had a country half as nice as mine.

Hey, it worked for that guy, and he's only been dead for 3000 years!

2007-07-27T17:20:00.000-07:00

Holy prosthetic toes, Batman!Its an intriguing find, to be sure, but do we really need to try to make more? One can only presume medical science has improved since then.

Distasteful

2007-07-25T21:08:00.000-07:00

As some of you may be aware, my neighborhood has become host to a litter of feral kittens. Sure, they are cute, but they are also a symptom of an increasing problem. Domestic cats that have not been fixed do on occasion procreate, and unfortunately there are not homes enough for these misbegotten fluff balls. Many of them end up in the hills living a precarious existence off of whatever they might find. There is the chance that instinct might give them what they need to survive, but coming from domestic stock, how much practical experience do they have? I don't know enough about how this really works. I do know that feral animals frequently make do by feeding off the scraps of humanity. In this case, by crowding Chance (my cat) out of his food bowl. Once I first saw the kittens (the misfortunate get of the ugliest cat in the neighborhood and the tom that picks fights with Chance) I chose to let nature deal with them. It seemed a better choice to me than to capture them and send them off to a crowded shelter where they would likely sit with hundreds of others waiting for the same cruel fate of either being ignored or put down. In the natural world I figured they would either find that the world around them would support them or they would not. It was a hard choice for me, but I had determined that I was in no shape, ideologically or financially, to support four more cats, in addition to the one I already care for. I am not a cat person. With the exception of mine, I do not like them. Nor, as chance would have it, do I like burying them. I found two of the kittens dead this morning when I went out to feed Chance. Taking a shovel out behind the barn I began to dig a resting place for them. The burial also required a trip to the shop for a pick, and yet another trip back for a breaking bar. Cinnabar clay is persistent stuff. I dug as deep as I was able without doing myself harm, then filled the hole and rolled a wooden cable spool over it to keep the rest of the wild world away. Digging gave me time to think about the law of unintended consequence. I had made a choice to do nothing about these kittens and to let the hills kill them, perhaps to relieve my own squeamishness. It hadn't occurred to me that I would have to face up to it in such a way. As I shoveled I had time to think that this was entirely my fault. I could have fed them. I could have taken them in somehow. The original decision to let the hills deal with them did exactly that, yet I found it easier to be harsh before I had to deal with the results of my (in)actions. The work has already been done.

I would ask any who have not already done so to spay or neuter their pets. For all of its barbarity, it is a far kinder thing we can do than to let their young starve, sicken, and die.

Only Adam West

2007-07-17T23:04:00.000-07:00

I just watched an animated Adam West chase a pizza guy down the street shooting cats at him with a crossbow. It makes as much sense in print as it did on the tube. If not for the fact that I was too surprised to laugh, I would have shot root beer out my nose.

My cat has a thing for cars

2007-07-17T22:17:00.000-07:00

I am not a cat fan. However. I do like my cat. He's just a bit off. Perhaps like his feeder. Note that I did not say owner. There is only a little doubt about who owns what around my place. I do not own the cat. The cat does not own me. He does own at least one car, and seems convinced that the others are his as well. His food bowl is on top of his Ford Escort, he sleeps under my Metropolitan, and just today I discovered that he is not only fascinated by the trunk of my BMW, he also kinda digs the engine compartment. I, meanwhile, was attempting to change the oil. Its normally a simple enough job, but having a cat climb all over you and the engine itself adds a whole new level. Concerned with his safety and the potential smell of shorted out feline, I tried to remove him from the battery, only to discover the elegant stiletto like qualities of his claws. Chance being a very persistent cat, and I a rather complacent human, he remained in the engine compartment. I figured (a method learned from my grandfather) that he would learn soon enough the fun of completing an electrical circuit with his flesh. Luckily for the both of us, it never happened. After quite a while walking about on both the engine and myself as I worked on the car, he decided he had had enough and went about his business, content in the knowledge that he had proven something to someone, somewhere.

Also, he snuck (past tense of sneaked) into the house through two different windows, the first having just been closed against him. Not content with just the windows, he also ran through the front door on several occasions and started exploring the house. Getting somewhat used to this, I no longer keep butter where the cat can lick it.

Just hold on, we'll get there

2007-05-10T21:00:00.000-07:00

I am sleeping less than seven hours a night right now and spending four hours a day traveling to and from. I've got loads of stories, but no time to tell them. Just keep waiting.

Holy crap!

2007-05-03T20:52:00.000-07:00

OK, I know I've been slacking and I've got all sorts of stuff for posts I have not yet written, but never mind that. Zahi Hawaas!! Really! He's giving a lecture at the Herbst Theatre in June! In San Francisco! I am in San Francisco in June! Woo Hoo!!!

"Zahi Hawass
Head of Egypt’s Supreme Council of Antiquities
The Royal Tombs of Egypt * Mountains of the Pharaohs
In conversation with Carol Tang

Dr. Zahi Hawass is an international spokesman for Egyptian archaeology. He is the Secretary General of the Egyptian Supreme Council of Antiquities. For over thirty years, Hawass has studied, unearthed, and protected the mysteries of the Giza Plateau and Nile Delta. His passion for Egypt and expertise in its artifacts have made Hawass one of the world’s foremost Egyptologists. Raised in the small village of Abeyda, Egypt, Hawass completed his doctoral studies at the University of Pennsylvania. His recent significant archeological finds include the Valley of the Golden Mummies, but it is the tombs of pyramid builders and craftsmen that Hawass considers his greatest discovery. Dedicated to the conservation and protection of Egypt’s ancient heritage, Hawass has aggressively campaigned for the return of Egypt’s treasures held in international museums. The Rosetta Stone, currently housed in the British Museum of London, is at the center of the most recent attempt at artifact repatriation. He is often featured on the History Channel and National Geographic, where he is the current Explorer-in-Residence."

How does a bowl of water catch fire?

2007-04-16T22:09:00.000-07:00

Link

Read this. I give you no choice.

2007-04-10T22:08:00.000-07:00

Link

Youtube

2007-03-21T00:32:00.000-07:00

This past weekend the Niles Canyon Railway hosted Steamfest 2007. We are celebrating both the restoration and return to service of the Robert Dollar #3 and the 20 year aniversary of the Pacific Locomotive Association opperating in Niles Canyon. We invited Granite Rock Co. #10 to celebrate with us by triple-heading a mixed passenger and frieght train through the canyon. I went to Youtube to see if one of the hundreds of people with cameras posted any footage of the weekend only to find a video not from this weekend (there were many of those, too) but a video posted not long ago from a run made over a year ago. If you look carefully, you will see me having a conversation with the jFrog on the east end of the K.C. Bones.

Pinto

2007-03-21T00:20:00.000-07:00

Some time ago someone brought be a trumpet and asked me if I could "remove the plastic from the valves." It turned out that the plastic was the valves. My boss, who has an amazing store of knowledge about these things, says the Pinto was an attempt to make a cheaper trumpet for the less fortunate student. It wouldn't bother me quite so much if they didn't color the plastic like the bean.

Thank you Michelle

2007-03-21T00:18:00.000-07:00

Dimly lit table
Poetry on a napkin
Disposable words

Laughable

2007-03-11T20:05:00.000-07:00

and just strange enough to potentially be a new squirrelish plot against us.

Read the story here

"Quarks of Death" I kind of like that...

2007-02-26T22:42:00.000-08:00

An edited bit from this last weekends track report, written by Henry

"Well, as expected, it was another low turnout for the track gang. We knew going in that our spiritual leaders Hugh Tebault and Steve Jones would not be out this weekend, and then the forecast was for rain, which of course prevents all the sugar-based ballasteros from leaving their homes. When I got to the canyon, the only ones there were Bob Zacher and Steve Barkkarie. Steve Barkkarie had promised Dexter he would take the tamper East and tamp up the 45 ties H&H put in Friday East of Farmer’s Crossing.

Bob and I had a quick confab to discuss what we would do today. Turns out Bob was going to be relegated to light duty as he was still recovering from what was the absolutely worst case of Poison Oak I had ever seen. His arms were covered with the rashy stain, past the elbow, and the swelling was still evident. Bob reported that the Poison Oak treatment kit Steve Jones had presented him with last Sunday after the Niles Planning Committee meeting appeared to be working, as it definitely prevented it from spreading and minimized the itching. But the swelling was making movement difficult...

...Getting back to Bob, his Poison Oak is a result of last week’s brush cutting operation. It seems everyone involved in the chipping portion of the task got a pretty significant dose of the nasty stuff. This happens when the people cutting aren’t as skilled as they need to be in identifying Poison Oak in its dormant state. With long sleeves and gloves, the dormant PO twigs aren’t a real danger unless you wipe your bare skin with your gloves. They can be cut and stacked without much danger to the cutters and draggers.

But if it is misidentified, watch out. Chuck Navarra and Bob Zacher were zealously feeding the chipper with slash from the ‘Not Poison Oak’ pile when John Pelmulder happened to walk by and stopped them. He informed them that what they were feeding into the chipper was indeed PO, and they needed to stop. Which, of course they did. But by that time, the damage was done.

When you feed PO into a chipper, several things happen. First, yes, it gets chipped. In fact, it chips very nicely. And the chipper broadcasts that radioactive cloud of Ureshiol-saturated dust into the wind. Invariably, everything nearby gets covered in that film, including the chipper. And the chipper operators. Secondly, the chipper blows back small chips while additional items are being fed in. So the chipper feeders get exposed to those tiny but high velocity Quarks of Death. And lastly, from the slash rubbing on the sides of the input chute as they are being fed in, the chipper itself becomes a giant hunk of metallic Poison Oak just waiting for unsuspecting folks to rub against it. (I know that for a fact, because the worst case of PO I ever got came from rubbing the sides of the chipper after someone previously ran some PO through it.)...

...Bill wanted 8 or 9 ‘reasonably whole’ ties to take back for the Swanton Pacific railroad to use in a fence project (Swanton-Pacific uses 4x6s for ties), and when we got to a bunch of them, he brought his pickup over to receive them. Bob used the Tie Handler to gingerly place the ties in the back of the truck (which is fairly new and in great shape). Bob did a fantastic job, but the stress was showing on his face! Very understandable, but made even more so by the fact that this was the first day Bob had ever used the Tie handler. Great job, Bob.

Oh, we probably should have filled Bill in on that little fact, seeing how he seems to like his truck. But everything went well and safe, so, no harm done. It was now getting dark, so we all hightailed it back to Brightside."

Shavingscream

2007-02-08T22:37:00.000-08:00

A year or so ago I decided to bite my thumb in the general direction of the Gillette corporation and switch to shaving with a straight razor. It has taken quite a bit of time to find all the needful accoutrements, but I will soon have them all. Meanwhile, I have long since stopped using canned shaving foam and switched instead to shaving soap in a mug and a brush. It seems that the Drug Emporium next to my shop sells (sold) not one, but two different brands of shaving soap. Enough time has passed that I have gone through two cakes of the stuff. The soap goes a long way, considering you use very little. They have sold out their stock now, and are very slow about replacing it. Likely they will not bring more in. So. I have gone online and procured two different fragrances of shaving soap and all the strop dressing I need to actually attempt to cut mine own throat. Mostly I dislike fragrances, though this time I'll give it a whirl. There is a bit of nostalgia in the smell of shaving soap. Mostly I'm telling you all this for an excuse to post the picture. The first time I saw it I think my laughter spooked my neighbors horses.

Confusion

2007-02-01T23:35:00.000-08:00

I just saw a Bowflex commercial advertising a new excercise machine. In it a woman using the machine tried explaining that one of the reasons she liked the unit was that the plates were "very light weight." Does this not seem a bit odd to you? If you are using a machine for excercise and/or strength training, why would would you complain about the parts being heavy? Am I missing the point?

Poison Oak

2007-01-30T09:23:00.000-08:00

I woke at six or so on Saturday, with every intention of making it out
to help with tie replacement, only to find it dumping big rain all over
the property. Also considering I did not get to sleep quite as early
as I had meant to the night before, I stayed home. Of course, just
about two hours later, the rain had stopped completely and the day
turned out beautiful. Instead of covering myself in railroad filth, I
donned my overalls and covered myself in yard filth. I fired my dads
old chainsaw up and finally got around to sawing up all the old
over-sized peices of firewood. Beyond that, I figured I ought to do
something about the half acre or so of volunteer grass that nature
decided to chuck in my general direction. The only tool I could locate
to deal with the situation was a push-mower. The job was always done
with goats in the past. I also discovered that grass growing on what
was not long ago a goat pen grows very healthy and fast. The oil in my
car changed itself with only a little help from me, and I added a bit
of antifreeze to the mostly water contents of the radiator. Throughout
that very productive day I kept looking up and feeling guilty. The day
was very productive and very needed, but I still wanted to be out
shoveling ballast. It makes no sense. I hate being dirty, but I miss
the opportunity to get that way.

There was an email in the box last night from Steve. It appears that just about everyone who was out tossing wood babies with us that day came down with poison oak. Fun, fun, fun.

Here we go

2007-01-24T00:16:00.000-08:00

I've done it. This morning I called Revere and committed myself to paying money I don't have. A lot of it, in fact. I need to come up with about four grand before the first of March and another three or so before the April Fool tries to have my legs broke.

A warm friend

2007-01-22T23:40:00.000-08:00

From time to time it is good to step back from all the familiar things that we take for granted and examine them again. We can re-evaluate their benifits and uses and realise how much they do for us once more without the familiar contempt. Take fire for example. Mankind has had fire for so long, and advanced ourselves (using fire as a tool to do so) beyond our immediate need for it. We still build our houses with fireplaces, but mostly for the pleasant social experience of sitting beside it rather than for heat or cooking or any other purpose. Some of us, however, use it for its most basic purposes. It provides me with heat, food (on occasion I feel like using it to cook, or perhaps, to reheat) and a warm pleasantly crackling friend. It is good to remember to take some small delight in the day to day mundane fixtures of life.

Also I was struck today by the irony of selecting the best pieces of firewood to bust up into kindling.

Tossing wood babies

2007-01-20T20:23:00.000-08:00

Never mind. I know I've been lax in keeping this thing up. The last few weeks have been interesting for any number of reasons. My first class (fabrication 1) at the Revere Academy was a smashing success. It was entirely worth the money and left me wanting the day to be longer at the end of each class meeting. This class was to be a bit of a test to tell me whether I like the work well enough to continue. I've decided that I do want to persue this line of work. A call to Revere told me that they still have several places left open in the Intensive Program, one of which I mean to fill. All that remains is a down payment of $1000 and two more payments of about $3000, give or take, each. In addition to said dough, there is another grand or so of tools to purchase. I will reserve my space on Monday, then spend a bit of time in the bank discussing a loan with the fine people there. Hopefully they will be kind.

The cold of the past week or so has seriously depleted my stock of firewood. The Stangelands have put me to work draining the water out of all the trucks, tractors, and other vintage bits of machinery. In order to keep from freeziing to death, I already rummaged my neighbor's dumpster for scrap ends of wood from his barn building project. They burned quickly. I then took a load of very well seasoned (just starting to go punky) firewood from the right of way in the canyon. We picked up enough wood to completely bottom out my springs in the BMW. Once I emptied the trunk (leaving the back seat full) the car rode more smoothly. The next day found me back in the canyon for a meeting of the Niles Planning Committee. Since I was there, the trunk was reloaded. I lit a fire with it that burned for a bit less than a week before I ran low on wood again. The last two days were a bit cold. Today I returned to the canyon for my usual day of working on the right of way. We went to a stand of almond trees that have been dead for the last three years. Since they were still standing upright, they did not have enough moisture to begin rotting. Again I loaded my trunk. There was enough wood left (I piled it behind Blake's Palace) to give me at least two more carloads. It is wonderfully dry and splits like a dream. The wood is very hard, and yet very brittle. The axe makes it almost fly apart. I can only imagine it must be wonderful to carve. Perhaps I will try a piece of it. In order to get the wood loaded into the PG&E car (origin, not ownership) we formed a human chain with the chainsaw on one end and the car on the other. Steve looked quite a bit like he was tossing me a series of very wooden babies. I don't hesitate to tell you that these babies will keep my place warm all week.

It's a clown car dammit,

2006-12-19T23:57:00.000-08:00

not a car for suburban house wives! I do not drive a girl car.
Article
This is both about the car and a good friend of mine. Though I noticed that the picture of him with his "30" Mets includes a few I happen to know do not belong to him. It's still a good picture though

A buck a pop...

2006-12-19T23:03:00.000-08:00

I only needed a few things from the store, so I stopped on my way home from work. I left $103 later. I still haven't figured out how I manage to spend more when things are on sale. Charlie started me stockpiling when things are cheap. Things kept whacking me in the head with low prices, so they ended up in my cart. The apple bowl was empty yesterday, so they too ended up on the list. Of course, the apple bin at the store was fairly well picked over. They did have bags of bulk apples for a decent price though. Not very good ones however. Last week I bought a bunch of oatmeal, so perhaps I might take my crappy apples and combine the two into something more eatable. Edible. Whichever. Also A&W was 10 for $10. Dinner tonight was perhaps not as satisfying as it might have been, but the hotdog wasn't bad. Not all was lost. The environment in which I ate it was nice though. I had a good hot fire on Monday night due to company coming over. When I got home it was only 48 degrees. The others might not appreciate a house that cold, so I stoked up the stove really well. I packed it full again when I went to bed. The coals were still glowing in the morning so I packed it again. When I got home again the house was still a touch warm and the coals still glowing yet again. Apart from running out of wood, I could get used to a warm house.

Not as bad as I thought

2006-12-10T22:14:00.000-08:00

Instead of my usual Saturday of working on the railroad (getting the song out of your head is your responsibility), I went to the Christmas party being thrown by my Metropolitan car club. It was a bit of a drive into Tracy, but entirely worth it. The food was good. The fine gentleman hosting happened to own a beef cattle ranch. Needless to say, he made a fine steak. After that fine lunch, we got down to business. That is to say, those inlined to do so got down to business. Bob, Larry, and I got down to business of our own outside, discussing the ins and outs of Metropolitan restoration. This is to say, of course, that Bob and Larry talked and I listened. The three of us took off a little early to head back to the shop in Pittsburg. We did a bit of car shuffling and divided as many hard top Metropolitans as we thought nice enough between us and various family members. From there we drove down the way a bit and entered ourselves and the others (still in Tracy) into a parade in downtown Pittsburg. I had mentioned during lunch that I really didn't know what a proper Met drives like, considering the condition of mine. Bob and Larry promptly crammed me into one from the shop. Of course this means that my first time driving a Metropolitan was in the rain. Keep in mind that the Met is not known for doing well in the rain. It is a fun little car that I don't fit into terribly well. It is possible that I just couldn't move that particular seat back well enough. The pedals are very high, and the windshield very low, meaning my knees sometimes interfere with the steering wheel and I hunch over a bit. I still like it though. Also, they lean on even the slowest turns, have huge blindspots, no synchros in first (gotta love that grinding sound) and a windshield wiper motor that sounds like a blender with a spoon in it. Just off the parade route, Wayne's Metropolitan truck conversion lost a clutch. Bob lived just down the road, well within limping distance. A pleasant introduction into practical Met driving. We managed to take first place in the car category of the parade, before heading off to Wayne's house in Brentwood. During conversation that night I got the club interested in taking a trip to the NCRy. Cool. Now I know that my car is not that bad, but rather just slightly more cranky than a well restored, easy to drive one.

Fatman has left the building

2006-12-06T11:40:00.000-08:00

According to Charlie, moving a waterbed is like trying to move a dead fat man. Having little experience with moving actual dead fat men, I can only imagine that he is right. Charlie moved out last February and has been sleeping on an air-matress ever since. Sometimes he uses the couch. What do you do about leaks, I asked. Plastic Safeway shopping bags and superglue, quoth he. Now he has actually moved the waterbed. We tried to drain the bed as much as possible with the drain kit and the time allowed us. The draining process took hours longer than it should have using the kit supplied. We got it drained a bit more than half, then started disassembling the bed from around it. As soon as the side board was removed the entire bag slithered off the elevated bed frame and enveloped the bedroom floor. The three of us decided to attempt to carry the fatman out, but due to the lack of bones and the weight of water, we only managed to slide/roll the bag out the front door. Once on the front porch, we let the water out. Charlie and I also managed to pull the White out of its shed and load it onto a trailer for the trip north. That was the easier of the two jobs. It only required us to play leapfrog with three semi trucks.

Addendum

2006-11-11T22:51:00.000-08:00

Jeremy might remember a nice little decal on a few cars at the state meet that said something to the effect of "actual size." I have one now, and it doesn't just say something to the effect of "actual size," it actually does say "actual size." I might have to finance its purchase, however. It cost a whole dollar. At the time it seemed like a wise aquisition, but now that I have leisure to really consider it, I believe that it was a completely mindless thing to not to have done.

A most profitable day

2006-11-11T21:42:00.000-08:00

The day started at Brightside Yard at eight. It was raining of course. There weren't a whole lot of us and the Train of Lights was fouling the main. Current estimations put this train at 942 feet long. This is huge for a historical volunteer based railroad. Since there was little we could do with so few of us, we tackled some small jobs in the yard. I had the GBAM annual business meeting to attend in Hayward at noon, so I left Brightside at about 11:30. The meeting was good, though due to the weather there were only two Metropolitans there. One was Beth's (hosting the meeting at her house) and the other belonged to Wayne. This is all well and good, but it delays the point of this post. I have an original windshield to place in my met now. I also have two original door panels to either use (unlikely, they are a non-compatible color) or to make patterns from. I was given a steering wheel which may be better than mine (and information about a man who refinishes them with spectacular results), two bumperettes (dented but shiney), and a new license plate holder mount/light combo. Bob of course (not me) was very helpful in the whole "how the hell do I do that" department. After the meeting ended there was enough time left in the day to head back to Brightside to finish the days work.

Figures

2006-11-10T21:25:00.000-08:00

I've invited a few friends over this evening. Festivities were to start at eight. It is now twenty past nine. There was time enough after I got home (rather later than I wanted to) to pick up the house, vacuum the house, take the ash from the stove, and light a ripping good fire. Now that the house is quite a bit warmer than I am used to (it is now 60 degrees in here) no one is here. But! I did get two books I had ordered from ebay. One is a volume I once borrowed, but had to give back before I had gotten to the end. It is an analysis of ancient engineering techniques grouped by culture. The other is a look at the development and impact of science on society in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. It sounded interesting.

Future update

2006-11-08T23:48:00.000-08:00

Or rather, an update concerning current facts. I still maintain that the future doesn't exist and none of us will ever get there. Prove me wrong. Anyway...some of you may be aware that I have been attempting for a while now to enrole in the Revere Academy without much success. The first time I attempted it, the class I had to take was full. The second time I sent in my regestration information, I received no reply. Considering that the last time I gave out credit information online without getting a response someone cleaned out my bank account, I was a bit nervous. I called the Academy and inquired as to the state of my registration. They said they would get back to me. Five days later, I had still to hear from them. So I called again. This time they said the registrar was sick. Again I left my contact information. This time they did call me back. They claimed that after updating their spam-blockers they received no online applications. It seems they were viewed as spam. At that particular moment in time I was in my car driving and could not safely access my wallet and the credit card therein. I had to call them back. Once I had reached work and a telephone that didn't involve motive power, I returned the call. Saints be praised. They still had an opening (I would have enjoyed the call more if they had not [I like a good fight]) and I filled it. All is well. We now return to our previously scheduled program.

Windshield!

2006-11-05T21:38:00.000-08:00

It has been found! I will be able not only see it, but also take it home next Saturday. This, for those of you who are not aware, is the last part needed to actually drive the metropolitan around legally. I still need to purchase the rubber glass channel to hold it in, but that is a small thing. Sometime in the next few days I will take care of that. Also, I just bought two bumper brackets to attach my front bumper and remove it from the garage floor where it is collecting dust.

Universal balance maintained

2006-10-27T22:51:00.000-07:00

Manny has noticed many times over the last few years that I have incredible luck. He has also noted that I tend to balance it with amazing turns of fortune. Which is to say: what goes up, must come down. I seem to be on the reverse at the moment. The last few days have been very good. So. What comes next? I'll tell you. My Oracle gets left behind at work. For those of you who are not aware, work is the better part of 40 miles from home. This means that I have an almost 80 mile round trip to go get it. There are places (NCRy) to be rather early in the morning. Sleep is in short supply anyway without the needful drive. We may further complicate matters by realizing that I only have one of the two keys necessary to actually get into the shop once I arrive there. Crap. The shop does not open until 10 tomorrow morning. I am to be at Brightside Yard at 8. Crap. All is not lost however. Remembering that I live in a place with no garbage service, I go rooting through the trash that does not burn or recycle. I found three old bottles of the long acting insulin I need to take. The good, full, clean bottle was the last in the box, very carefully stored in my Oracle case at work. I managed to salvage 2/3 of a dose out of the old bottles. Then of course, I had to inject this concoction. Those of you whom know me well know that I have an inexplicable fear of needles. I use a fantastic little device to aid me with my injections. That too, was left at work. I had to do it by hand. It is a repellant thing, feeling a foreign object sliding into your flesh, slowly parting the human fibers to leave some strange unwelcome substance behind. It makes me turn green just thinking about it. Done is done, however. If nothing else is gained from this, at least I know that I am actually capable of taking a needle in hand and plunging it into myself. After dealing with this, I checked my email to find that PG&E had sent me my bill. This is not good. See for yourself:

PG&E energy statement (e-Bills) information

Amount Due: $-24.72
Due Date: October 26, 2006

It is not possible that they owe me money. This means that any moment now a falling meteorite is going to come careening out of the heavens and crack my bean wide open. I am reasonably sure this is one of the signs of the apocalypse. Sometime tomorrow PG&E is going to discover their mistake and move the decimal two places to the right and reverse the - to +.

Warmth

2006-10-27T00:07:00.000-07:00

As odd as it is having people in the house with me, I do like having the landlords here. I got home tonight and instead of the usual cold, the house was pleasantly warm and smelling of sweet oak. A fire had been lit in the kitchen stove and the house was deliciously warm, rather than the usual cold and dark. Also, I can see my way to the light switch now. After breaking my nose on the living room wall, I put some thought into how to prevent future nose adjustments. At some time in the distant past, I took one of my grandfather's old caboose lamps (my father has the other) and rigged it up with an electric light. All the old parts are there and intact, I simply added a few easily removable parts. It always required me to plug it in though, and I've never really done that. A quick trip to the hardware store bought me a small timer to plug my lamp into. Now when I come home at night my living room is lit up by the red and blue lenses of my grandfather's lantern.

Unexplainable generosity

2006-10-26T23:40:00.000-07:00

Ricardo the Magnificent has done it again. I had been planning to drive to Washington State for to visit my family and Charlie. His folks (my landlords) have very kindly invited me to Thanksgiving dinner with them for the third year running. With the holiday getting steadily closer I had begun to think of those many things that would be needful to get me there. My car is old and always needs some form of attention to keep her running smoothly. Gas is also expensive and must be budgeted. There is food to be purchased along the way. Also I get sleepy behind the wheel on long trips, so I was trying to figure out where the best spots would be for a series of short naps. Bat-Ricardo (out of the blue) offered to give me a certificate of sorts good for airfare to and from our green northern neighbor (the state of Washington, not Charlie). Beyond that stupendous bit of beneficence, he took pity on my lack of worldly knowledge and found me a rental car as well. I will pay for that, of course, but the fact that he did the work of actually finding it and reserving it astounds me. It also begs the question: "why do I deserve this?" What have I ever done to deserve such kindness from so many wonderful people? It is well beyond my means to ever repay anyone for the magnificently friendly gestures they offer me. I do try, but my attempts seem pitiful and somehow insignificant when compared to the generosity given me. I cannot thank these people enough for anything they have ever done for me, but I surely intend to try.

The next attempt

2006-10-24T22:48:00.000-07:00

I've just registered (for the second time) for the first class in the jewelry arts. This class is the prerequisite for the jewelry technician intensive program that I intend to take if this first class is anything like I expect it to be. There is a serious amount of money involved in these classes, which has me a bit concerned. It is a gamble. I spend money to possibly make money later. The last time I tried to take this class, it was already full. If I get in this time and enjoy it, I'll have to start looking for a good loan to pay for the classes and keep me alive in the meanwhile.

Energy

2006-10-19T11:40:00.000-07:00

You might be surprised at how much energy there is stored in a greasy old pizza box. I was a bit cold this morning, so I lit up the stove. I didn't use any wood, rather I just lit the mass of junk mail packed into the stove. Junk mail does burn very hot, but I was astounded to see the stove pipe glowing red all the way up to where it joins the wall from the heat put out by one pizza box. I dread to think what the actual pizza might have done. Or what it likely did to my innards.

They don't pay me enough for this

2006-10-18T23:21:00.000-07:00

I like to think that I am a decent person. I do the right thing whenever I can, but some days it isn't very fun. In fact, some days it is down right nasty. Like yesterday, for example. (If you do not like nasty things, I advise you not to continue reading.) Through an unforseen series of events, namely customers and work, I was not able to use the facilities down the hall right at the most opportune moment. I had to wait longer to relieve myself than was strictly comfortable. When finaly the moment had come to shuffle down the hall, I attempted to do so without looking too much like my innards were cramping or my bladder about to burst. After finally making it the heavenly lavatory down the hall I found that someone had already beaten me there. Or rather, almost. It (I refuse to acknowledge this persons humanity) had found the bathroom, rightly enough, yet had not quite completely found the commode before venting its bowels all over the floor. Worse yet, was the fact that in leaving the john, this sorry person stepped in their own foulness and trod human filth into the tiles over a far larger area than one might expect to cover when leaving a room. Fortunately they had left the seat up (I really needed to go) so I stepped over the mess quite carefully and discovered that I could not properly utilise the facilities due to the fact that my revolting friend had clogged the toilet with whatever ended up in the bowl. Judjing by what was on the floor, it couldn't have been much. Nothing more would fit without overflow. In despiration, I grabbed the plunger and righted one aspect of this sickening scenario. After finding relief I went to find the mop. I found the mop handle. The mop end was gone. There was no way I could leave this behind and still respect myself, though the urge to simply walk away was certainly there. I found a large bottle of Lysol and grabbed a very (very) large handfull of paper towels and went to work. Due to the fact that the towels were now covered in what had to have been the crowning defecation of this things (persons?) life, I thought the pot would be the best place to dispose of them. Ignoring the sign that advises against putting paper towels in the john, I flushed them away, immediately clogging it again. Again with the handy Tralfamadorian. Eventually I was satisfied with the cleanliness of the floor and moved on to the splashes on the porcelain. Being a considerate gentleman, I lowered the seat only to find that the person (creature of darknesse) had left their mark all over that too. So I cleaned that also. Remembering that I could not flush the paper towels, it went into the can. The can of course, could not remain, so I emptied it into the dumpster. When I (finally) returned to my workshop I smelled smoke. Not just smoke, but wicked, nasty, toxic, electrical, scorched metal smoke. One of the florescent light ballasts up in the loft had just rather spectacularly failed, throwing smoking oily crud out, where it proceeded to short out the electrical system it was tied to. My shop (and water closet) still stink.

Found on an Irish language site

2006-10-13T11:29:00.000-07:00

a curse:
Go n-ithe an cat thú is go n-ithe an diabhal an cat.
May the cat eat you, and may the cat be eaten by the devil.

I can't pronounce it though. Irish sounds nothing like it is spelled.

I like this

2006-10-10T23:48:00.000-07:00

From the Saturday Track Report for October 7

"This test required a person to lay supine on the top of the
engine compartment housing (on the Fairmont Tamper), reach down to the engine, and manually articulate
the governor linkage to measure the effect on engine speed and track speed...
The course of this test covered about 1/2 mile of railroad, much of which
was visible from the highway. We caught occasional quizzical glimpses of
motorists looking at the body laying across the engine compartment of the Tamper.
If the tester had been one with a lean cross-country runner-like build such
as Bob Zacher, the vision might have been one of the winged Mercury hood
ornament on a '30s era Pierce Arrow or Packard. But the test technician was
stocky yours truly, so the vision was probably more like that of the classic limp
trophy deer strapped to the muddy fender of an old Willys Jeep."

I dub thee "Loose Cannon"

2006-10-09T17:45:00.000-07:00

This weekend has been more labor intensive than the work-week I was trying to recreate away from. Isn't volunteer work grand? The day begain in Brightside yard as it always does. I arrived to find that the ballast car (see the entry from sept. 28) was still buried at the end of north lead no. 4. This lead is not yet fully built. It is being constructed by GGRM to store their stuff now that they are being moved from their current premises. With no ballast car, we couldn't do any tie replacement (badly needed in prep for the train of lights). Instead we got to take the Fairmont Tamper out. It's a big machine with a giant robotic hand on one end. You position the fingers over a railroad tie and push a button. They fingers begin to vibrate very fast and are rammed into the ballast the tie sits on. As the fingers shake, the ballast compacts around them. Contents may settle in shipping. This thing is really cool. The amount of human labor it saves is immense. We managed to tamp over a third of lead no. 4 in just a few hours. Brett had been doing it by hand with a steel bar. We switched all of the junk out of the way in order to free our ballast car and decided to give him a mechanical hand (can you say "liquifaction" boys and girls?). There was still a lot of shoveling though. The next day put me to work with the Niles Planning Committee in clearing a bit of county land of fencing and tumbleweed. During lunch I was inducted into the ranks of the "Loose Cannons." These are the members of the PLA that think that progress is a good thing. They are working on getting me to grade the upper yard. We don't have an upper yard yet. We have a hill. I have access to tractors. Crap. What have I gotten myself into?

A monsterous light snake

2006-10-08T19:51:00.000-07:00

I've just procured ten tickets for the Niles Canyon Railway Train of Lights. I am bringing as many people as I am allowed to bring. not everyone knows each other, but it ought to be good none the less. Both my parents are coming. I don't have both of them in the same place at the same time very often. My youngest sister Julie and my stepmother Nancy are also coming. Rich, Jeremy (who is bringing someone with him), Michelle and her mother too will be there. I suppose I am coming too. I don't know that anyone else on the list has met Michelle yet. We'll fix that soon enough. I am just glad there were tickets left. There almost weren't.

Magnificent

2006-10-05T20:16:00.000-07:00

A month ago yesterday I won an auction on ebay for a Tannahill Weavers CD. It just showed up today. It seems that "something" went wrong and it was not shipped. The seller somehow managed to "forget" that he had sold it to me and sent it off to the flea market. I contacted him once I was sure the disk was not coming. He did some checking and "found" my CD. It seems it was not what he thought. He said he would not be able to get to the disk until Saturday (a week later). Once he had it in his possession, he wrote me and said the disk was autographed. I assumed he meant the last owner had written his name on it somewhere. I was wrong. The CD is indeed autographed. By the entire band. All of them. This is cool. I just picked up a good album for less than five bucks, and it is signed by the band. I could have done much worse.

I am not a cat person, damnit

2006-10-02T21:26:00.000-07:00

You will note that I happen to live on the same property as a cat. I am obliged to feed the cat and not to kill same. He does his thing, and I do mine. He ate my butter without my approval. Further note that I have never offered him any kindness beyond what is needful by my agreement with the landlord. I happen to like dogs. I also like squirrels. And turkey. Neither dogs, nor squirrels, nor even turkeys get along with cats. Thus, I am not a cat person. End transmission.

Oh, sure. Just come into my house and eat my butter

2006-10-01T18:00:00.000-07:00

I got back from Niles Canyon today and spent a bit of time in the shop looking for Charlie's fence staple puller. It will come in very handy next Sunday when the Niles Planning Committee work party goes to the future site of the Niles Interpretive Center and Musuem. There are several parcels of land there available for our use. Several of them are surrounded by post and wire fences. Since I have the tool, I likely will end up dismantling the fence. Since I also provided the idea of how to remove the fence posts, likely I will be doing that as well. Don't you just love volunteer work? When I got home and started looking for the tool, the cat followed me around being very friendly. So friendly, in fact, that he followed me into the house again, despite my attempts to keep me out. I figured I could just herd him out when he discovered there was nothing inside for him. I was wrong. He ran into the kitchen, jumped up onto the counter and started licking my butter. He was purring very loudly as I carried him out the door. He did it twice. Lather, rinse, repeat. Always repeat.

Burro

2006-09-28T11:50:00.000-07:00

The yellow thing to the right is the ballast car. For a bit of reference, it is the better part of seven feet tall.

Pumpkin

2006-09-28T00:55:00.000-07:00

What have I done?

2006-09-25T22:18:00.000-07:00

Through various family and friends and the generosity thereof, I have come by a new couch. That is to say, I have come by a couch that is new to me. In reality it is about six years old or so. Big, black, leather, and comfy. I was told it was a leather sectional. It has two recliners built into it, and a hide-a-bed. I can deal with that, thought I. Is it comfortable, I asked? My mother has sat on it any number of times and she thought it was. Good enough for me. After a few phone calls I discovered that all the help I thought I would find were otherwise occupied. Luckily for me, help that I thought would be busy was not. And he had a truck. I should have been well warned by the fact that it took two trucks to get the pieces home. Once I finally got the thing put together, I discovered that this couch is absolutely gigantic. It takes up more than half of my rather large living room. I turned Charlie's couch around to sit back to back with the far side of my sectional. The long side of my couch faces the incredibly large television on loan from my sister. The shorter side faces the stove. Charlie's couch now backs to that side and faces the fish tank and the wall that will eventually hold my piano. I used to think that my eventual move out of here would be easy. I didn't used to possess anything terribly large. Now I can't say that.

To my dearest friend Kris

2006-09-21T00:45:00.000-07:00

You suck and I hope you know it. I refuse to accept the fact that any place whose state animal/flower/motto/mascot/slogan/bird/hero, or any such thing as a "hoosier" might have anything resembling dole's pineapple goodness. Your lies are more disgusting than the decapitated squirrel I found in my car yesterday.

House = well appointed barn

2006-09-14T22:08:00.000-07:00

Chance wants to be a house cat. He's nice enough as cats go, but he wants to be where I am. He's made it a habit of sneaking into the house when I am carrying groceries or jugs of water into the house. I don't mind it as long as he remembers that his home is the barn. He is welcome to visit, but he is supposed to leave when I ask. Now, he's pushing his welcome. Last night he tried to crawl in through my open bedroom window at about three in the morning. Then this morning I got up off the couch to make my lunch before leaving for work and the cat jumped through the living room window, ran down the couch and started exploring the house.

She still is not always to be trusted however

2006-09-13T23:40:00.000-07:00

It never matters how things happen, but when all is said and done, you still have to pay the piper. There was one small matter that I didn't take into account. Small bottles of sunscreen left on the seat you mean to place 160 pounds of water jugs on makes for quite the mess. You never truly realize the mess potential of sunscreen until it is too late. Those little tubes just seem so cute and innocent as they sit there, plotting against you.

Providence...I love that chick, and the goodies she brings

2006-09-13T23:23:00.000-07:00

My house is just at the foot of the hills were the quicksilver mines used to be. As such, the water in my well is poison. That being the case, I have to schlepp large jugs of purified water to my place from a store a good number of miles from my door. It costs money and its heavy. Add to that the fact that I am lazy. From time to time (read "always") I get a little behind in changing the water in my fish tank. Changing it as often as my little aquatic friends deserve keeps me driving back and forth to el casa de agua. Ha! No longer! My brother in law is stuck in a contract with arrowhead water for four five gallon jugs a month for two years. He doesn't go through nearly that much. His kitchen looks like it's been annexed by the water company for storage purposes. Or porpoises. He has enough water to store them too. He, out of kindness rather than despiration, no doubt, has graciously given me twenty gallons of water with the promise of more, if I but bring him back the empties. My fishes will thank me as soon as they realize that their new fresh water is better than the cloudy algae choked mess where they currently abide.

Just a thought...

2006-09-13T23:20:00.000-07:00

but not necessarily a good one. The old saying states that eating an apple a day keeps the doctors away. I don't eat an apple a day. I eat half an apple a day. So. This begs the question, does eating half an apple a day keep half the doctors away all of the time, or all of the doctors away half of the time? These are the questions that keep me awake at night.

Genius

2006-09-03T22:43:00.000-07:00

Porch friends

2006-09-02T23:17:00.000-07:00

A few mornings back I found the cat on the front porch, a flock of thirty wild turkeys just on the other side of the kitchen window, and three deer next to the barn. That night I fell asleep listening to the yipping and howling of coyotes. The next morning was filled with the sound of lowing cattle. I love the country.

Good times

2006-09-02T22:53:00.000-07:00

I just got back from an afternoon and evening with a group of friends I haven't seen in one place at one time since 1993. Some of them followed me into Highschool, but most fell out of contact. We were to meet at Kevin's house first, then move on to other things. I was the first to arrive. Kevin's front door was open, but no one answered the bell. Sam and Chris arrived a few minutes later. They had no greater luck getting an answer at the door than I had. We called Kevin's cell phone and discovered that he and Abhay were some ten to fifteen minutes away still. So the door was open and absolutely nobody was home. It was uncomfortable waiting in an empty house, so we waited on the porch. After an hour or two of talking about old times and our current occupations, we went for a short hike at the quicksilver mines. Kevin did not spend quite as much time in the hills with us, and hadn't heard all the old stories yet. It was good to hear them being told by someone else for a change. They seem more real that way. From there we went to dinner at California Pizza Kitchen. More stories were told during dinner. After dinner we ended up back at Kevin's place for yet more old stories. I hadn't realized how much I miss those guys. I met Sam twenty-two years ago. It doesn't seem like that long. The number seems absurd, but I checked my arithmatic. Chris and I met perhaps twenty or twenty-one years ago. I was in fifth grade when I met Abhay, and Kevin and I met in Jr. High. Chris, Kevin, and I all live in the same city still, and are planning to meet up more often now, perhaps for a good weekend hike in Quicksilver. I'd like to re-establish our old friendship. We all fell back into it quickly enough today. I haven't felt this relaxed at the end of the day in years. Old friends are comfortable friends.

Only one?

2006-08-26T21:15:00.000-07:00

This day has seen the annual gathering of my clan. It makes a good party. I always forget how very many cousins I have. This year was perhaps a touch smaller than usual, with two entire branches of the family not represented. This means, of course, that perhaps only thirty adults showed up, not counting the uncountable hoard of children my generation has managed to produce. My sister had (as I expected her to do) managed not to come, but we still brought her two eldest children with us. There were several predictable drunkenings, several very awkward conversations, and an incredible amount of meat eaten. There was an excellent tri-tip, wonderful ribs, succulent turkey, perfection in the form of chicken, a delightful shrimp concoction, and my cousin Tommy's usual magnificent potato concoction. There was more in the form of various salads. I don't eat that stuff, so you'll have to supply your own adjectives. All in all it was a very good party even though it was as calm (relatively, only one cop showed up this time) as it was.

Future thoughts

2006-08-25T23:42:00.000-07:00

Some short time past, Cindy found herself a job working for a jeweler. I knew she had found a new job, but we hadn't had the occasion to talk about it. Manny and I were eating a late lunch/early dinner/dunch/linner/lupper when we ran into Cindy who was doing much the same with a common friend of ours. She mentioned that many of the bench jewelers she works with remind her of me. It seems there is a commonality of interests and personalities. It got her thinking, which got Manny thinking, which in turn got me thinking, that maybe I ought to look into silver and goldsmithing. The idea has been working away at me since then. Once upon a time I thought it might be an interesting career, but I didn't know where to start. Cindy did a bit of asking for me and found a good starting point. There is a very good school in San Francisco that teaches the jewelry arts. It is a touch expensive though. Manny thinks it isn't as bad as I think. We started running the numbers and I might very well be able to do this thing. There is an intensive program that seems the best way to learn the art. It takes eight weeks to complete, requiring me to be in SF from 9 to 6 every weekday. Getting there might not be very fun, but it is only two months, and it might very well lead to a decent career. The prerequisite is Fabrication 1 which will cost me the better part of $600 and three days. It is a large chunk of money, but this might just be one of those times when it is best to gamble. I certainly won't come out worse than I went in. If I decide not to take it any further, at least I will come out knowing more than I did going in.

Enthusiasm misplaced

2006-08-20T21:50:00.000-07:00

This last Saturday found me cutting brush along the right of way down in Niles Canyon. It was my first brush cutting day. I really don't mind the hard work, but I dislike starting a day with a crew of people who only have the slightest idea of what is going on and how to do it. I prefer more cut and dry work, like when a man I respect says, take this tool and cut that with it. The morning began down at the Sunol Gardens helping the Sunolians trim brush while I waited for the rest of my crew to show up. When they did I was glad to leave the chaotic Gardens for the relative peace of the rails. Again though, it was a situation I had never seen before and I was not entirely sure where to start. When I received my orders I gladly dove right in. Unfortunately what I dove into was a patch of poison oak. If I had curbed my enthusiasm and opened my eyes, I would have realized what I was doing before I started doing it. When I did, I had a brief thought before the cussing began. I like to think I am not a complete idiot. I don't recall ever having done anything terribly idiotic while asleep, for example.

For how long, I wonder...

2006-08-16T00:23:00.000-07:00

I found a bit of an email in my box that I was not expecting. Hoping for, most definately, but not expecting. An old friend has resurfaced when I thought all hope had gone, and it makes me happy. I'd like to think of myself now as a mostly open person (in direct opposition of who I once was), but it is very nice to again be in contact with someone who can catch the entirety of me without heavy editing. It is a fine sense of freedom, but it requires the dumping of some old truths that make for some fairly creepy reading, I should think. If this friend can deal with those, then maybe I'll be able to find a bit more comfort in my own skin again. We'll see how much it takes before they run. Not that I want that to happen, mind you, but I am not always an easy person to know.

Heat

2006-07-23T15:41:00.000-07:00

Weather.com says it is 108 outside right now. I'd believe it. Last week I had planned to take a bit of a hike with Manny. We decided to cancel in order to stay alive. Instead of hiking, I meant to take the day and play a few video games. Then the power went out. The heat made it hard to think of an alternative. But wait! There is cold water in the shower! So I took one. A long cold shower. I really didn't want to get out, so I took the time to clean the shower under a nice stream of cold water. Maybe I will repeat the process later. One's bathroom can never be too clean.

This is dumb, but I laugh

2006-07-09T00:29:00.000-07:00

The Pirate Test

Morality

2006-07-09T00:07:00.000-07:00

It's a small stupid thing, but it is perhaps an indication of human nature on a base level. jFrog and I took a bit of a bike ride today down the trail to get a bit of food at In-N-Out Burger. It was a fine reason to take a ride, though it likely canceled out any possible gain from the ride itself. jFrog had handed me a bottle of gatorade for the ride, but I had left it on the bike when we stepped inside to eat. When we were on the way out I realized that the bottle was gone. This isn't too surprising, really, but it is interesting. That burger joint is located in one of the most affluent and expensive areas of San Jose. No one at that burger stand is in such dire need of cash that a 60 cent bottle should be a temptation. Likely it was just a crime of opportunity, but it makes me wonder how many people in this world would sucumb to such moral depravity? Certainly it is not a large crime, but where is the line drawn to differentiate large from small? Is it permissible to steal just one bottle if you really needed it? And if that is the case, what if greater need made it necessary to steal a truckload of them? Is that now forgivable? I don't know. It is a silly thing to wonder about, but it does keep me occupied. I'd rather ponder respective morality over some other things happening around me.

Ebay

2006-07-08T23:47:00.000-07:00

Ebay can be both a wonderful device for the procurement of ones goals, or as an irritating foil to ones advancement. The mail yielded a set of wheel hub roundel stickers for my '80 BMW 320is today. The old ones were chipped and faded, not to mention 26 years old. In addition to those magnificent little stickers, ebay stuck me with a stupid audio book on cassette tape that I did not realize was not the actual soft-cover. I was surprised at how cheap the title was selling for when I bought it. Then came the dawning realization that I am an idiot. It really pays to read all the small print on an auction. Granted, I am only out six buck with shipping, but that six bucks might have been an actual readable book instead of unwanted crap. Sometime tomorrow another auction is coming due. My hip sockets have worked as a fairly accurate barometer for as long as I can recall due to my once having dislocated them. Changes in barometric pressure equal pain. Curiosity has lead me into thinking about finding an actual barometer to compare with my internal findings. Throw into the mix the fact that I do not like new fangled modern equipment when a more elegant old-fashioned device will serve as well. I am bidding on an antique weather glass barometer. I expect to get it for cheap due to the fact that it has been grouped with a hideous ceramic bird figurine. The last time I looked I still had the winning bid at fifty cents.

Irritation

2006-07-06T23:21:00.000-07:00

Any number of things have begun lately that would have made decent posts, but my mind has been too far away to write them. It's certainly still true now, but guilt at leaving this page blank for so many days has been bothering me. A pensive mood has overtaken me these last few weeks. There is a feel of waiting in the air. By now, the cause has been found and mostly investigated, but the feeling will likely continue until I either find the natural conclusion, or until I find something else to obsess over. I also very much want to get into contact with several elusive people, but they are compellingly absent just now. I grow tired of impossible temptation.

Sunday

2006-06-19T12:07:00.000-07:00

Today has seen the first fire of the year. It was, of course, just over the hill in much the same place as last years fire. The tanker planes and helicopters kept flying over my place, likely on their way to calero. I tried to start the 21 car model-T while I watched them fly over. I needed to move the 21 car to the back shop. It was a nice day and it seemed reasonable to actually move the car under its own power. Charlie used to need me to start the T, due to the fact that it does not crank start easily. One person cranks, while the other holds a battery and a switch to change to magneto power once the car is running. I figured I would try to crank it myself. It didn't work. I certainly had a bit of exercise trying though. In the end, I pushed it back to the shop and stored it there. After the fun of moving the 21 car I got the new television going and connected. It is huge, and on loan from my sister. The television is the better part of thirty inches larger than my last. I find it is nice, but more of a luxury than I would permit myself if I were to buy one myself. It is too much. Also, my arms are sore after moving my sister. I am not even close to weak, but ones muscles don't generally have to move an entire house on a daily basis.

Soapbox

2006-06-13T11:03:00.000-07:00

When I first started the zLog, I intended it to be a virtual soapbox that I could explore the world around me in an interactive battle with it. Instead I find that my life at this point has little conflict to get my mind working. I move from day to day with little drama and very little to wonder about. From time to time I read other blogs and am a bit envious. I used to love to write, but then I had something to write about. Lately I find that my postings here are no more than day to day details about a rather mundane life. There is little magic in it. My brain has begun to atrophy without proper stimulation. Without conflict there can be no expansion. I need something to jump start my brain.

Sally smells sheep smells down by the sheep store...

2006-06-11T10:22:00.000-07:00

Some time back I went to pick n pull for a few needful things. I found them, but I also found some other optional items for cheap. Considering the fact that they will neither make my car go nor make it go faster, I had not bothered installing them. Now I have. The BMW now has a better looking center console that has all the screws actually doing the job they are supposed to be doing. Misfortunately, at least one of them has a very particular odor. In fact it stinks very much bad. I am hoping the smell will dissipate, but I think that I may be stuck with it. After all, those parts have been just sitting around dissipating in my yard for several months. Perhaps on Monday I will go to the shop and apply some of the fancy anti-stink spray I use on cases.

Speaking of shops. My landlord came this week past and removed any number of things, including the forges and anvils, and most if not all the blacksmithing tools. This is bad timing. I met a friendly blacksmith not long ago and now I've got it on the brain. Of course I have not been able to find a supply of coal to fire the forge, so I couldn't do much anyway, but never mind that. Now I am thinking of gathering my own supplys and tools. I think ebay will yet again become my friend. If I am careful, I might be able to do this thing if I go for a propane forge like the blacksmith advised. Coal is more nostalgic and likely would please me more, but propane is cleaner, faster, and perhaps a bit less work. And as long as we have this obsession with the barbeque, there will be fuel for it. I hope the blacksmith writes back. Now I've got technical questions for her.

Yes?

2006-06-09T23:02:00.000-07:00

I've been a bit distracted lately. A few things have happened that seem appropriate to write about, but I haven't been able to either remember what they are or to actually bring myself to write about them. My nose is healing nicely, if not precisely in the same shape as it once was. I spent a day in very high, very cold water panning for gold during the memorial day weekend. I managed to find quite a bit more than I did the last time, but still far from enough to retire on. There is a book in my possession now that I had been meaning to read for a while. It was/is worth the wait. A letter I have been attempting to write has been mailed. I am not sure how it will be received. It was written to a person I really don't know that well. The first letter is always the most difficult and delicate. It is hard to know what is enough and what is too much. For me, a serious letter is a creation of fire. I do not like to write lightly and that causes problems. Especially if you are writing to a girl who may not be entirely sure of you. As it is, the letter was short and rather bland, but perhaps it will be taken well. I worried about it for far too long. I think the stress was starting to pickle my brain. I kept trying to re-write the letter. I mailed the last imperfect attempt just to settle my wits. All in all, I think it was fairly harmless, though I do think I made one major mistake. In the worst case all that will happen is that I receive no reply. It helps if I keep reminding myself of that. Also, a peacock has moved into the neighborhood and his calls are rather calming. If he lived any closer, they might not be.

Luck

2006-06-04T23:11:00.000-07:00

Those people whom know me fairly well know that I am rather lucky person. Unfortunately I am lucky in waves. All will go well for some months, then the fabric of the world will unravel around me for a while. After that, the patern repeats itself. Having just broken my nose, I wonder what will come next. I don't remember doing anything that would justify such an action. Now that I've paid the piper, what did I buy?

What just happened?

2006-06-01T23:16:00.000-07:00

My computer, may he rest in peace, is no more. I write this from a very grateful spot on the couch, using a computer kindly lent by jFrog. My poor talking oracle box is at Casa de Bat-Manuel being hopefully remade into a working computer. Manny himself is now happily married and hopefully has finished moving his second sofa chunk. My nose, may he heal quickly, has been reset into something more closely resembling its natural shape. The process was less painful than the actual breaking, but not much more pleasant. It involved someone I'd never met before shoving a tool that looked much like a small burnisher with the tip rounded off up my nose and using it to yank my nose back into the center of my face. I'd sleep better at night if I knew I would never have to have that done again. Misfortunately, I've broken it before and I don't doubt I'll break it again.

An misfortunate change in perspective

2006-05-08T22:44:00.000-07:00

I like to think of myself as being above the more base of human reactions. In the past I was wont to sit back and bite my thumb at the greedy of the world. Today it occured to me that my perspective has shifted slightly now that I am on commission at work. The first school of the year showed up today and I realized that the vast majority of the work will likely be done by yours truly. Before now, that just meant that there was a pile on the floor to step over and attempt to avoid. Now, it means money. My money. I like the thought of money, but I think I liked myself better when I could still dislocate my shoulder patting myself on the back.

I'm not laughing at you, but I am laughing in your general direction

2006-05-05T00:26:00.000-07:00

After doing a good bit of research into the didgeridoo, I've come to the conclusion that I got exactly what I paid for when I bought mine in Sydney. The sound quality is equal to the money I paid for it, even discounting the paint. Paint decreases sound quality as it increases the cost. That isn't to say that the sound is affected by paint, but only that with the paint comes an increase in price. The sound of my didge is a least as good as an unpainted didge of the same price. I am having trouble with the tenth commandment right now. I am also laughing at the number of people who will pick up a bible (or consider doing so) to figure out what I am talking about.

Haiku V

2006-05-04T13:25:00.000-07:00

I like to think of myself as a bit of a poet, if only occasionally. However, I forget now and then that I am not nearly so unique as I would like to be. From time to time it would be well to climb down from my high horse and realize without outside influence (or kick in the head) that there are many out in the wide world much better than I. This weekend I was most pleasantly reminded that one of my greatest fans, is in fact (and always has been) a much better poet than I. Her style is less awkward, less forced and flows without the blatant contrivance of my own work. She also digs Haiku. I present here three. All have been highly influenced by or have been written outright by her, though perhaps the subject matter may involve me on occasion. She has no difficulty matching my style, though she would likely do better using her gift without my limitations.

Sugar white frosting
Glucose stabs my pancreas
Raspberry layers

Insistant female
Oozing red inflammation
Pushy claws on rash

Struggling spindles
Imprisoned butterfly wings
Beautiful release

That last is a much more pure form and better written than any Haiku I have come up with that I can recall. It captures the moment with perfect clarity and seizes the moment in time with none of the guileless manipulation of my own writing. I freely acknowledge that she is a better writer than I, and I love her the more for it.

A warning for whomever might need it

2006-05-02T00:03:00.000-07:00

There are nasty chemicals in the best of products. Some of them make very quick work of difficult problems with little or no consequence. Others give you nasty oozing rashes that make your arms swell to twice their normal size and cause doctors to make comments about raw meat. Try to choose the former rather than the latter. I didn't.

A case of 72 hour Leprosy

2006-05-01T23:51:00.000-07:00

I've discovered all that is needful to learn the proper technique for didgeridoo playing is a computer for research, one didge, and several days home from work suffering from something that most closely resembles leprosy. Now that the sores have begun fading from my arms and face, and the children no longer run in fear, I still have my didge playing skills to terrorize them.

Surprised

2006-04-16T16:51:00.000-07:00

My good friend Izzy came to the shop the other day. After we got back from lunch I did a little work to his trombone while we listened to the latest bit of odd music he brought in. He stayed the rest of the work day with me, practicing on his trombone as I worked. He spent a bit of time meditating on a blue theme that sounded rather familiar. I thought it was pretty good. I couldn't quite place it though. I thought it was an adaptation of a tuba line we both played a number of years back. After I mentioned something about it he looked rather confused. As it turns out, it was one of the Glagalash themes. Not only was it one of the Glagalash themes, it was one I wrote. To say I was surprised is an understatement. It isn't as if I have written so much music that I could forget some of it. Huh. I need to revisit Glagalash and see what more can be done to it. I know Izzy has improved a lot of it, but that shouldn't be hard to do. He is a much better musician than I shall ever be.

I hate that

2006-04-14T23:01:00.000-07:00

I bought my Metropolitan on ebay some time back. It was missing any number of trim parts and anything else not strictly needed for mechanical operation. With the car came a parts car that I was unable to take. I should have done it. By this time I have found most of the parts I need to get it on the road again, though I am still buying some of the smaller missing parts. I just won a small trim piece on another auction. The seller was none other than the man I bought the car from. It seems I just bought a part the man tried to give me.

Dinner, of a sort

2006-04-10T23:11:00.000-07:00

Living alone keeps opening up new strange doors. My eating habits have changed. Dinner tonight included two slices of toasted french bread, a large slice of cheese, half an apple, a chunk of cold turkey and a root beer float. I love all these things separately, but never considered combining them. Its glad that I am that I did.