I have discovered BBC America. And I love it. I started watching accidentally by stumbling on 'Top Gear', a show about cars. The show is sometimes hilarious, the episode where the three stars are given a set amount of money, in British pounds of course, to each buy a used Alpha Romeo. They are then given challenges, such as a timed race on a set course with points given for certain accomplishments. A certain amount of cheating takes place, mind you. Anyways it's worth a look if you have a chance.
Another show I've found is Gordon Ramsey's Kitchen Nightmares. Chef Gordon Ramsey attempts to help failing restaurant owners, both in Britain and here, to revive their dying business. Now personally I never liked Gordon Ramsey. I thought he was a pompous ass. Amazingly, by watching him berate slovenly kitchen staff and maitre'ds with more ego than charm I have gained respect for the man. I wondered "who does this guy think he is?" I found out he was a promising rugby player sidelined with a knee injury early in his career. After getting a job scrubbing pots in a kitchen he advanced himself to chef at 21 years old and has a string of successful restaurants in several countries.
By the end of the show the restaurants have turned the corner and everybody lives happily ever after. Or so one might think. Occasionally Ramsey returns to a spot to check up on them. Some thrive while some just sink back into ineptitude.
Another show is Gordon Ramsey's F Word. The show is part cooking and part variety show. The set is an actual restaurant seating 50 patrons. Groups of 4 guest cooks try to whip up a 'starter' or entree, a main course and a dessert. After each course the patrons decide if they feel the item was good enough to pay for...or not. In the end a tally is taken out of a possible score of 150 (50 starters, 59 mains and 50 desserts). Those guests who score highly earn a chance to return in a final. During the show Gordon follows the raising of his 4 lambs, one which meets a tragic end on the estate of David Beckham. They also follow the raising of some calves for veal. Along the way Gordon may explore why a certain food has fallen by the wayside, like tripe, or organ meats. Something I avoid, I can't stand the smell of liver cooking. C'est le guerre!
Towards the end of the F Word a guest diner, usually someone well known in Britain, but most are unknown to me, will challenge Gordon to a cook off. Be it curry chicken, chili or eggs and blood pudding the two dishes are offered for tasting to a table 5 and they decide the better dish. The winner is sometimes surprising.
One more tidbit of television programming is 'Survivors'. Not to be confused with the American show, this is about the lives of Britons who live through a world wide killer virus. Sounds predictable I know, but I like it for some reason. It could be because of Abby the central character who is looking for her son, Peter. The small group that is living in a country estate are lucky enough to have a wine cellar, grounds stocked with game and Range Rovers and BMW's. Not too shabby, eh mate?
Watching all the British shows has me thinking like a Limey.
"Now we're in the shit!"
"Bloody hell!"
"Hows yer mum?"
"Fancy a crisp?" Oh that's from the Geicio commercials, I think.
Anyhoo, if you're bored, give the BBC shows a try. You might find them brilliant.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Monday, March 8, 2010
Into The 21st Century
Well the earth and I have survived another another trip around the sun. My 49th birthday was last month and when it's that time of year it's time for me to shave and get a hair cut. Grace said I had the "Grizzly Adams look".
I'm fine with that. I like the self sustaining idea that Adams personified. http://www.grizzlyadams.net/
Of course Dan Haggerty is a little taller, a little stronger and just better looking than me. But animals seem to like me so maybe I could get along with a bear too.
That reminds me.
A bear and a rabbit are taking a shit in the woods. The bear turns to the rabbit and says,"Do you have a problem with shit sticking to your fur?"
The rabbit says "No."
So the bear picks up the rabbit and wipes his ass with the rabbit.
I have had continuous computer problems for about the past 2 years. My eMachine from 1999 was running Windows ME and most sites now just aren't compatible with ME. Sid and Stacey have helped me with (1) HP machine but it was inoperable. When the eMachine's power supply started being obstinate I perfromed a transplant and "It was alive!" Sid and Stacey then managed to get me a (2)used Compaq computer that was an ex UMass Dartmiouth machine. That worked flawlessly until I got an E-card virus, and it slowly sank into the dreaded "blue screen" condition. Sid and Stacey got me a another(3) ex UMass Compaq. It unfortunately suffered from sometime of hardware failure.
Shortly after Dee and Dave Cardin from Littleneck st offered me an (4)HP machine that had just been run through a reformatting. It refused to work for me, but suddenly cooperated. It runs Windows XP and everything seems fine with it, except it was lacking MS Works.
Well last week I saw an eMachine E725 laptop at Walmart for $300 and decided the cat can get neutered next month. I think he won't mind at all. Willy is fine now by the way. So I have finally moved in the 21st Century technology. I can't wait to lay in thhammock and read the Standard Times on my laptop. "Joe Cool." Beep when you drive by and see my butt hanging nearly to the ground while the hammock strains from my weight. The eMachine got some good reviews so I should be set for a few years, computer wise.
I now have no excuse as to why I haven't started writing about Max Fox and the run rubbers. Oops! I meant rum runners. It takes time to get used to the new keyboard.
Another joke. Last night at the Oscars Mickey Roarke said he once had sex with 14 women in one day. Tigers Woods commented, "Amature!"(I can't get a correct spell check on that word).
So if you were keeping track I now have 6 computers around the house. Time for Spring cleaning and a shave.
The town of Fairhaven is abuzz with the news that a movie titled "Fairhaven" will be shot here in the Fall. It really is exciting as they will be filming a scene....HERE...on WEST ISLAND!
How cool is that. Verrry cool indeed.
I'm fine with that. I like the self sustaining idea that Adams personified. http://www.grizzlyadams.net/
Of course Dan Haggerty is a little taller, a little stronger and just better looking than me. But animals seem to like me so maybe I could get along with a bear too.
That reminds me.
A bear and a rabbit are taking a shit in the woods. The bear turns to the rabbit and says,"Do you have a problem with shit sticking to your fur?"
The rabbit says "No."
So the bear picks up the rabbit and wipes his ass with the rabbit.
I have had continuous computer problems for about the past 2 years. My eMachine from 1999 was running Windows ME and most sites now just aren't compatible with ME. Sid and Stacey have helped me with (1) HP machine but it was inoperable. When the eMachine's power supply started being obstinate I perfromed a transplant and "It was alive!" Sid and Stacey then managed to get me a (2)used Compaq computer that was an ex UMass Dartmiouth machine. That worked flawlessly until I got an E-card virus, and it slowly sank into the dreaded "blue screen" condition. Sid and Stacey got me a another(3) ex UMass Compaq. It unfortunately suffered from sometime of hardware failure.
Shortly after Dee and Dave Cardin from Littleneck st offered me an (4)HP machine that had just been run through a reformatting. It refused to work for me, but suddenly cooperated. It runs Windows XP and everything seems fine with it, except it was lacking MS Works.
Well last week I saw an eMachine E725 laptop at Walmart for $300 and decided the cat can get neutered next month. I think he won't mind at all. Willy is fine now by the way. So I have finally moved in the 21st Century technology. I can't wait to lay in thhammock and read the Standard Times on my laptop. "Joe Cool." Beep when you drive by and see my butt hanging nearly to the ground while the hammock strains from my weight. The eMachine got some good reviews so I should be set for a few years, computer wise.
I now have no excuse as to why I haven't started writing about Max Fox and the run rubbers. Oops! I meant rum runners. It takes time to get used to the new keyboard.
Another joke. Last night at the Oscars Mickey Roarke said he once had sex with 14 women in one day. Tigers Woods commented, "Amature!"(I can't get a correct spell check on that word).
So if you were keeping track I now have 6 computers around the house. Time for Spring cleaning and a shave.
The town of Fairhaven is abuzz with the news that a movie titled "Fairhaven" will be shot here in the Fall. It really is exciting as they will be filming a scene....HERE...on WEST ISLAND!
How cool is that. Verrry cool indeed.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
The Bombs Bursting Innn Aaayyyerrrrr!
I'm talking about the National Anthem of course.
Watching the Budweiser Shootout last night a band I have never heard of, Zac Bown, and they were pretty good. It kinda' bristles my britches when I hear a singer or band giving 'their artistic rendition' of the NA. Man! Unless you're Jimmie Hendrix give the NA it's 'props, yo!"
More specifically I refer to the likes Roseanne Bar. She tore the song into shreds and I don't mean that in a flattering way.
I have passed this link around after receiving it from my most charming cousin Linette. Linette is planning a trip to this area in 2012. Before the big.... bad thing supposedly occurs. She really is a doll, caring and compassionate, a true Texas Rose.
Back to the link. They're called the Cactus Cuties and even though I'm tired of admitting this, they can choke you up and bring a tear to my eyes.
For some reason my cut and paste won't work so Google 'you tube Cactus Cuties'. And prepared to be awed!!
Watching the Budweiser Shootout last night a band I have never heard of, Zac Bown, and they were pretty good. It kinda' bristles my britches when I hear a singer or band giving 'their artistic rendition' of the NA. Man! Unless you're Jimmie Hendrix give the NA it's 'props, yo!"
More specifically I refer to the likes Roseanne Bar. She tore the song into shreds and I don't mean that in a flattering way.
I have passed this link around after receiving it from my most charming cousin Linette. Linette is planning a trip to this area in 2012. Before the big.... bad thing supposedly occurs. She really is a doll, caring and compassionate, a true Texas Rose.
Back to the link. They're called the Cactus Cuties and even though I'm tired of admitting this, they can choke you up and bring a tear to my eyes.
For some reason my cut and paste won't work so Google 'you tube Cactus Cuties'. And prepared to be awed!!
That is how the NA should be done!
Soooo... because only writing about the CC's will make to short of of a blog...I'm watching the Super Bowl and will be adding my critique of the commercials. But for now I'm out of blackberry branday. So I'm signing off.
Great Legs! Found these in the trash in New Bedford among oak scraps fo the wood stove.
Waddya' think. Coffee table. Shelf brackets?(turned upside down of course). Hey, I'm getting pretty good at one hand typing wih my rifht hand.)
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Why?!!!
Why.
I have often found myself being asked or asking myself, why do I do the things I do?
Not the silly little things I do, like having more than one slice of cheesecake. I know the answer to that. Because it's so damn good!
One of the first times I was asked "why" and I had to ponder the answer was when I researched Daniel Robinson. Daniel Robinson lived in New Bedford in 1893. Robinson was jailed for drunkenness and when his wife Mary refused to post his $10 bail he swore from his seat in the courtroom that he would kill her. When he was released 30 days later New Bedford's own "Gray Bar Hotel", the Bristol County House of Correction he fulfilled that promise. He was arrested, tried and convicted, amid much controversy, he was hanged at the Ash street jail. He remains the only man ever legally hanged in New Bedford and remembered as the last man hanged in Massachusetts. The gallows he was hanged from was and still may be in the attic of the jail. The same area Lizzie Borden had been jailed during her trial.
For some reason I found this story fascinating. During my research I found a letter to the editor dated days after the grisly murder of Mary Robinson that cited the Borden trial asking sarcastically whether or not Robinson would be treated as exclusively as Lizzie was. I mentioned on the Lizzie Borden forum about my find of the Lizzie related article. Immediately I was asked what made me interested in the Robertson murder.
I had assumed that it would be interesting to anybody and began to question my reasons. T hat was about 8 years ago.
Since then I stumbled onto rum runners in the area and became obsessed with researching the topic. That lead me to Max Fox, a local 'gangster' of the 1920's. That led me to other local crime figures of Jewish, Irish and Italian heritage.
Every once in a while I suddenly realize the amount of time and resources I have invested in local history. And I ask the one word question. "Why?" The word may be the only word in the English language that is a sentence. Short and to the point it demands an answer. An answer I can't provide.
When I ask myself this question I think. My next thought is usually "Nobody else gives a shit about this. Who cares what happened 90 or more years ago?"
Once there was a newspaper article regarding a lecture that the head archivist of the New Bedford public library was about to give at the 200 year anniversary of the New Bedford Superior Courthouse. The topic was Daniel Robertson. And I suddenly feel vindicated!
I was first on the topic of course! That bastard stole my idea!
Actually though I was first to research Robertson after I saw a query from one of descendants on a rootsweb.com forum, Paul Cyr had received the same request in an email to the library genealogy department. It took him longer to begin his research because of his workload there.
"I must have been on the right track."
When it came to rum runners I did hundred of hours of research, interviews over the telephone and in person. I traveled as Providence and West Greenwich Rhode Island. As I drove around I searched for places Max Fox, Charlie Travers and Herb Cavaca would have traveled to. I drifted onto the topic in almost every conversation.
I dreamed of what it must have been like to live in the '20's. Young girls became flappers, something as controversial then as some fashion trends are now. Gypsies were considered a problem. The common car was the Ford Model T. The ice and coal delivery trucks were as common as Comcast and Verizon trucks are today. Radio was becoming popular, both as an entertainment and broadcasting as a hobby. Vaudeville was still around but would soon all but disappear as movie theaters took over and 'talkies' would soon be all the rage.
"Why should I keep digging? WHO cares?"
Every now and then I drift into my rum runners spiel and find someone who seems interested in a romantic, adventurous and exciting time. It's those people that convince me that I am still on the right track. It's their encouragement that pushes me one step closer to writing about those daring men and women who stood up against a law the country didn't want and helped bring and end to Prohibition. And made a ton of cash, too!
So if I run into you and suddenly start telling you about the time Al Capone came to Fall River try to humor me and help to keep me from getting derailed.
Thanks.
I have often found myself being asked or asking myself, why do I do the things I do?
Not the silly little things I do, like having more than one slice of cheesecake. I know the answer to that. Because it's so damn good!
One of the first times I was asked "why" and I had to ponder the answer was when I researched Daniel Robinson. Daniel Robinson lived in New Bedford in 1893. Robinson was jailed for drunkenness and when his wife Mary refused to post his $10 bail he swore from his seat in the courtroom that he would kill her. When he was released 30 days later New Bedford's own "Gray Bar Hotel", the Bristol County House of Correction he fulfilled that promise. He was arrested, tried and convicted, amid much controversy, he was hanged at the Ash street jail. He remains the only man ever legally hanged in New Bedford and remembered as the last man hanged in Massachusetts. The gallows he was hanged from was and still may be in the attic of the jail. The same area Lizzie Borden had been jailed during her trial.
For some reason I found this story fascinating. During my research I found a letter to the editor dated days after the grisly murder of Mary Robinson that cited the Borden trial asking sarcastically whether or not Robinson would be treated as exclusively as Lizzie was. I mentioned on the Lizzie Borden forum about my find of the Lizzie related article. Immediately I was asked what made me interested in the Robertson murder.
I had assumed that it would be interesting to anybody and began to question my reasons. T hat was about 8 years ago.
Since then I stumbled onto rum runners in the area and became obsessed with researching the topic. That lead me to Max Fox, a local 'gangster' of the 1920's. That led me to other local crime figures of Jewish, Irish and Italian heritage.
Every once in a while I suddenly realize the amount of time and resources I have invested in local history. And I ask the one word question. "Why?" The word may be the only word in the English language that is a sentence. Short and to the point it demands an answer. An answer I can't provide.
When I ask myself this question I think. My next thought is usually "Nobody else gives a shit about this. Who cares what happened 90 or more years ago?"
Once there was a newspaper article regarding a lecture that the head archivist of the New Bedford public library was about to give at the 200 year anniversary of the New Bedford Superior Courthouse. The topic was Daniel Robertson. And I suddenly feel vindicated!
I was first on the topic of course! That bastard stole my idea!
Actually though I was first to research Robertson after I saw a query from one of descendants on a rootsweb.com forum, Paul Cyr had received the same request in an email to the library genealogy department. It took him longer to begin his research because of his workload there.
"I must have been on the right track."
When it came to rum runners I did hundred of hours of research, interviews over the telephone and in person. I traveled as Providence and West Greenwich Rhode Island. As I drove around I searched for places Max Fox, Charlie Travers and Herb Cavaca would have traveled to. I drifted onto the topic in almost every conversation.
I dreamed of what it must have been like to live in the '20's. Young girls became flappers, something as controversial then as some fashion trends are now. Gypsies were considered a problem. The common car was the Ford Model T. The ice and coal delivery trucks were as common as Comcast and Verizon trucks are today. Radio was becoming popular, both as an entertainment and broadcasting as a hobby. Vaudeville was still around but would soon all but disappear as movie theaters took over and 'talkies' would soon be all the rage.
"Why should I keep digging? WHO cares?"
Every now and then I drift into my rum runners spiel and find someone who seems interested in a romantic, adventurous and exciting time. It's those people that convince me that I am still on the right track. It's their encouragement that pushes me one step closer to writing about those daring men and women who stood up against a law the country didn't want and helped bring and end to Prohibition. And made a ton of cash, too!
So if I run into you and suddenly start telling you about the time Al Capone came to Fall River try to humor me and help to keep me from getting derailed.
Thanks.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Near Record Cold Temperatures
As I was checking the weather Channel for a break in the recent cold snap we are experiencing I noticed the projected high and low temperatures in the weather almanac. The record low was 7 degrees in 1977.
That is specifically January 30, 1977.
Now, if you know me you realize that the random mention of some seemingly innocuous place or date can provoke me to go into a long winded story. Seven degrees on January 30, is no exception of course.
As I recall that January was even colder than it is now.
I had to walk 5 miles back and forth to school, uphill both ways, in a blizzard pulling a sled full of dogs... Oh wait that's another story.
But it was coollldd! Being 15 years old, cold is only a limiting factor when asked to do something by your parents. "Kevin, get your feet off the coffee table!"
"But Ma, it's too cold!"
My friends and I had a routine on Friday and Saturday nights that involved going to Ray Carr's house on Fisherman's road and drink beer and smoke pot. (Hey it was the '70's!) One of the highlights of a Saturday night was watching the Muppet Show at 7:00. Try to imagine 6 stoned and drunk idiots watching Gonzo blow up other puppets.
I guess watching the Swedish Chef gave a bad case of the hungry horrors and we all piled in Ray's 1970 4 door Nova and headed out to Burger Chef. A trip to the 'Chef' was known as the 'Chef Charade'. A term coined by Karl Pederson. Burger Chef was located where Burger King now sits.
On the trip home someone commented on the fact the bays on both sides of the causeway were frozen as far as one could see. Because I rode my dirt bike mostly every day I added that the sand along Crescent Beach at the Town Beach was frozen solid and an iceberg had grounded at the far end of the beach. I had also seen seals basking near the iceberg. No one seemed to believe me. Taking a ride to the Town Beach seemed like a grand idea, to investigate my claim. When we got to the beach Ray drove down the access road that crosses the marsh near the tower. When we reached where the lane turns to beach we all got out and walked over the sand to the waters edge and sure enough, the sand was frozen to within 3 feet of the waters edge. Only a bit of a white blob was visible of the iceberg half a mile away. Everyone wanted to see it up close but didn't feel like walking out and back in the cold.
We all piled in the Nova and headed slowly out on the beach. I suggested that since I knew the beach intricately that I should sit in the shotgun seat. Ray agreed. I guided Ray just below the high water mark where seaweed accumulates and tends to be softer. If one tire rolled into a soft spot the car would be hopelessly stuck out in the middle of the beach.
As we neared the iceberg it became plainly visible and everybody was hootin' and hollerin'! Ray was astonished. None of us had ever seen or heard of an iceberg even near West Island's waters. When we reached a point where I knew the fine frozen sand turned into a loose gravel, I directed Ray to head to the crest of the dune and turn around to face the car back towards where we came. I knew this was the most likely spot that the car could get stuck so heading down the dune and a few yards back was the best choice at that time.
We got out of the car and raced to the ice flow. The spot where the ice had grounded was in the water at high tide but accessible by walking over the boulders at low tide and was about 100 feet out. Since I knew the rocks were capped with a layer of ice I stopped at the waterline. I had seen the spectacle in the daylight and watching the others amazement was enough for me. Peter Ostiguy made it all the way out to and on top of the iceberg and shouted back that it was bigger than Ray's house!. I think Scott West fell on the glazed rock and returned to the beach. Someone decided we should leave and it was fun to watch Peter trying to get back to the car before we left him there!
We made it back without incident and had an amazing story to tell about 'The Iceberg at the Town Beach'.
It's really amazing and a testament as to how cold it was that winter. When we got out of the car Ray left the motor running. It never occurred to me then but the heat from the engine, exhaust and even the temperature difference between the tires and sand could have caused one wheel to break through the ice crust. If that did happen it probably would have been nearly impossible to recover the Nova, or at a minimum, very expensive.
By definition the iceberg was a 'medium' sized one. Seals have been sighted around the Island since 1977 but never an iceberg as big as a house, nor has anyone else ever driven a 1970 Nova out to Monastary Rock!
That is specifically January 30, 1977.
Now, if you know me you realize that the random mention of some seemingly innocuous place or date can provoke me to go into a long winded story. Seven degrees on January 30, is no exception of course.
As I recall that January was even colder than it is now.
I had to walk 5 miles back and forth to school, uphill both ways, in a blizzard pulling a sled full of dogs... Oh wait that's another story.
But it was coollldd! Being 15 years old, cold is only a limiting factor when asked to do something by your parents. "Kevin, get your feet off the coffee table!"
"But Ma, it's too cold!"
My friends and I had a routine on Friday and Saturday nights that involved going to Ray Carr's house on Fisherman's road and drink beer and smoke pot. (Hey it was the '70's!) One of the highlights of a Saturday night was watching the Muppet Show at 7:00. Try to imagine 6 stoned and drunk idiots watching Gonzo blow up other puppets.
I guess watching the Swedish Chef gave a bad case of the hungry horrors and we all piled in Ray's 1970 4 door Nova and headed out to Burger Chef. A trip to the 'Chef' was known as the 'Chef Charade'. A term coined by Karl Pederson. Burger Chef was located where Burger King now sits.
On the trip home someone commented on the fact the bays on both sides of the causeway were frozen as far as one could see. Because I rode my dirt bike mostly every day I added that the sand along Crescent Beach at the Town Beach was frozen solid and an iceberg had grounded at the far end of the beach. I had also seen seals basking near the iceberg. No one seemed to believe me. Taking a ride to the Town Beach seemed like a grand idea, to investigate my claim. When we got to the beach Ray drove down the access road that crosses the marsh near the tower. When we reached where the lane turns to beach we all got out and walked over the sand to the waters edge and sure enough, the sand was frozen to within 3 feet of the waters edge. Only a bit of a white blob was visible of the iceberg half a mile away. Everyone wanted to see it up close but didn't feel like walking out and back in the cold.
We all piled in the Nova and headed slowly out on the beach. I suggested that since I knew the beach intricately that I should sit in the shotgun seat. Ray agreed. I guided Ray just below the high water mark where seaweed accumulates and tends to be softer. If one tire rolled into a soft spot the car would be hopelessly stuck out in the middle of the beach.
As we neared the iceberg it became plainly visible and everybody was hootin' and hollerin'! Ray was astonished. None of us had ever seen or heard of an iceberg even near West Island's waters. When we reached a point where I knew the fine frozen sand turned into a loose gravel, I directed Ray to head to the crest of the dune and turn around to face the car back towards where we came. I knew this was the most likely spot that the car could get stuck so heading down the dune and a few yards back was the best choice at that time.
We got out of the car and raced to the ice flow. The spot where the ice had grounded was in the water at high tide but accessible by walking over the boulders at low tide and was about 100 feet out. Since I knew the rocks were capped with a layer of ice I stopped at the waterline. I had seen the spectacle in the daylight and watching the others amazement was enough for me. Peter Ostiguy made it all the way out to and on top of the iceberg and shouted back that it was bigger than Ray's house!. I think Scott West fell on the glazed rock and returned to the beach. Someone decided we should leave and it was fun to watch Peter trying to get back to the car before we left him there!
We made it back without incident and had an amazing story to tell about 'The Iceberg at the Town Beach'.
It's really amazing and a testament as to how cold it was that winter. When we got out of the car Ray left the motor running. It never occurred to me then but the heat from the engine, exhaust and even the temperature difference between the tires and sand could have caused one wheel to break through the ice crust. If that did happen it probably would have been nearly impossible to recover the Nova, or at a minimum, very expensive.
By definition the iceberg was a 'medium' sized one. Seals have been sighted around the Island since 1977 but never an iceberg as big as a house, nor has anyone else ever driven a 1970 Nova out to Monastary Rock!
Monday, January 18, 2010
I am near tears
My shed caught fire. Thelma and Louise are presumed lost. An electrical transformer on a fluorescent light looks like the cause. After 4 months or so of work I had just today made a successful mold for my foundry. I had been trying for 4 days to get it right. On the way to St Anne's Pain Center this morning I felt this sudden surge that this would a GREAT year.
I can't judge something as important as a year on just one bad day out of 18 so far.
I am vacillating between anger and thanks. Anger being the hardest feeling to modulate.
Get this. I saved a humongous bottle (nearly empty) of Jack Daniels, a small bottle of Kahlua,(new), and 4 Moosehead beers. I had already removed a bottle of Mr Boston Blackberry Brandy earlier. I am not proud of this but Jack, Mr Boston and I will most likely be very close tonight.
My 'Library' of manuals and how to books has hopefully been removed by Louise (the smart Rat) to a safe place. Doubtful at best. I anticipate nightmares. Sometime during the conflagration which lasted 20 minutes or more from discovery to a black, smokey wet climax. Willy, my cat, under quarantine, escaped. Let's hope the rats and he have reached a peace accord.
I have just finished reading "A Wind To Shake The World:The 1938 Hurricane" for anybody who wants to borrow it, email me. A seemingly fitting way to end the day, learning of the hardship of others .
7:00 a.m. Tuesday
Willy had returned in 30 minutes last night. That was good. I did have a dream about the rats. They were all black and there were 3 of them. That meant there was Thelma and Louise and a wild rat. I couldn't determine which one was the 'bad' rat. That's all I remember of the dream.
I went out in my pajamas to survey the mess in daylight. I suppose it could have been worse. I am reminded of a conversation with someone long ago.
Me, "I had a motorcycle accident in which I broke my left clavicle, 2 ribs, bones in my neck, 2 places in my right hip, my pelvis, my left femoral neck, femur and tibula and fibula, my right ankle, my tailbone, I had a collapsed lung and pneumonia along with a head injury."
Person, "Wow. You're lucky!"
Of course he meant I was lucky to be alive, but you can see my irony in his reply.
So I will say, I'm lucky that the fire wasn't worse than it was. I thought I heard some scratching around. Maybe Thelma or Louise? The acrid smell of burnt electronics that I know relates to transformers hangs in the air. The reason I know what burnt transformers smell like is because I worked making them for 3 years.
My drill press, bench grinder and compressor are on the opposite side and below most of the damage. Wooden shelves across the underside of the roof helped the fire spread from the light.
Life lesson: Suspend lights as far from ceilings as possible and leave good air space around their sides.
I wanted to switch from 4 foot lights to those twisty little screw ins. I didn't. My mind is blank as to a sentence to follow that. Maybe "I've got more excuses than a pregnant nun," is fitting.
The aluminum roof melted and buckled in 2 spots. I know that aluminum melts at around 1400 degrees. That fact wasn't on my mind as I opened the shed doors last night and had to get down on my knees to crawl in with a garden house. If it had been freezing there would be nothing left waiting for the Fire Department. It takes 7-10 minutes for emergency vehicles to get down here from the Police and Fire station.
Amid the soot blackened items there is surprising beauty. A stereo speaker cover peeled away from the speaker box as it melted. The backside of it was made with some sort of large mesh material. The mesh is distorted and stretched in a mesmerising pattern as if it were a dancer leaning over backward. A bottle of Seagram's heated to the breaking point now resembles a crown. Supreme irony in that the now missing label had an image of a crown. An aquarium light that was in storage now looks like shiny, dripping molasses. The drips hang 2 feet from the shelf.
I want to get out there and throw out as much as I can, today is garbage day. I feel that I have to start cleaning and rebuilding right away or I may just give up on my shop.
So off I go.
11:30 All I can do is stare. More amazing items catch my eye. A round plastic battery powered wall clock still hanging over my workbench looks for all the world like a Salvador Dali painting. Drooping into an egg shape it's hands stopped at 4:55. A cheap yellow coil of air hose has melted into a flat intricate swirl that reminds me of a Spirograph drawing. A newly started collection of stacked up CD's featuring Stevie Ray Vaughn, Bob Seeger and others have become one blob of plastic. Fusion music.
A box of disposal blue nitrile gloves sits on the work bench. The fingers of the gloves reaching nearly their flash point has the fingers of the pointing up out of the box, curling as if their nearly escaped the box before being overcome.
Out of the black sooty silence I can hear a scratching. As I grab a jar of peanuts and shake it I see a little black face poke out from under the cabinet that held spray paint cans whose caps have melted but thankfully didn't explode. Louise scurries onto the workbench for her treats. Still too afraid to let me pick her up she grabs one nut and retreats behind the television that once was square and now is...sorta' roundish. Maybe Thelma will show too.
I think my major machines are OK. The drill press' caution stickers have melted and curled up on themselves as if they were hiding from the whole mess. My first successful sand mold that had me so happy at 4:00 yesterday is now a sloppy slab of clay in a box. I don't mind about that, it will give me a chance to make it better. Right now I need a sunny day for inspiration. Thanks to anybody who reads this.
I can't judge something as important as a year on just one bad day out of 18 so far.
I am vacillating between anger and thanks. Anger being the hardest feeling to modulate.
Get this. I saved a humongous bottle (nearly empty) of Jack Daniels, a small bottle of Kahlua,(new), and 4 Moosehead beers. I had already removed a bottle of Mr Boston Blackberry Brandy earlier. I am not proud of this but Jack, Mr Boston and I will most likely be very close tonight.
My 'Library' of manuals and how to books has hopefully been removed by Louise (the smart Rat) to a safe place. Doubtful at best. I anticipate nightmares. Sometime during the conflagration which lasted 20 minutes or more from discovery to a black, smokey wet climax. Willy, my cat, under quarantine, escaped. Let's hope the rats and he have reached a peace accord.
I have just finished reading "A Wind To Shake The World:The 1938 Hurricane" for anybody who wants to borrow it, email me. A seemingly fitting way to end the day, learning of the hardship of others .
7:00 a.m. Tuesday
Willy had returned in 30 minutes last night. That was good. I did have a dream about the rats. They were all black and there were 3 of them. That meant there was Thelma and Louise and a wild rat. I couldn't determine which one was the 'bad' rat. That's all I remember of the dream.
I went out in my pajamas to survey the mess in daylight. I suppose it could have been worse. I am reminded of a conversation with someone long ago.
Me, "I had a motorcycle accident in which I broke my left clavicle, 2 ribs, bones in my neck, 2 places in my right hip, my pelvis, my left femoral neck, femur and tibula and fibula, my right ankle, my tailbone, I had a collapsed lung and pneumonia along with a head injury."
Person, "Wow. You're lucky!"
Of course he meant I was lucky to be alive, but you can see my irony in his reply.
So I will say, I'm lucky that the fire wasn't worse than it was. I thought I heard some scratching around. Maybe Thelma or Louise? The acrid smell of burnt electronics that I know relates to transformers hangs in the air. The reason I know what burnt transformers smell like is because I worked making them for 3 years.
My drill press, bench grinder and compressor are on the opposite side and below most of the damage. Wooden shelves across the underside of the roof helped the fire spread from the light.
Life lesson: Suspend lights as far from ceilings as possible and leave good air space around their sides.
I wanted to switch from 4 foot lights to those twisty little screw ins. I didn't. My mind is blank as to a sentence to follow that. Maybe "I've got more excuses than a pregnant nun," is fitting.
The aluminum roof melted and buckled in 2 spots. I know that aluminum melts at around 1400 degrees. That fact wasn't on my mind as I opened the shed doors last night and had to get down on my knees to crawl in with a garden house. If it had been freezing there would be nothing left waiting for the Fire Department. It takes 7-10 minutes for emergency vehicles to get down here from the Police and Fire station.
Amid the soot blackened items there is surprising beauty. A stereo speaker cover peeled away from the speaker box as it melted. The backside of it was made with some sort of large mesh material. The mesh is distorted and stretched in a mesmerising pattern as if it were a dancer leaning over backward. A bottle of Seagram's heated to the breaking point now resembles a crown. Supreme irony in that the now missing label had an image of a crown. An aquarium light that was in storage now looks like shiny, dripping molasses. The drips hang 2 feet from the shelf.
I want to get out there and throw out as much as I can, today is garbage day. I feel that I have to start cleaning and rebuilding right away or I may just give up on my shop.
So off I go.
11:30 All I can do is stare. More amazing items catch my eye. A round plastic battery powered wall clock still hanging over my workbench looks for all the world like a Salvador Dali painting. Drooping into an egg shape it's hands stopped at 4:55. A cheap yellow coil of air hose has melted into a flat intricate swirl that reminds me of a Spirograph drawing. A newly started collection of stacked up CD's featuring Stevie Ray Vaughn, Bob Seeger and others have become one blob of plastic. Fusion music.
A box of disposal blue nitrile gloves sits on the work bench. The fingers of the gloves reaching nearly their flash point has the fingers of the pointing up out of the box, curling as if their nearly escaped the box before being overcome.
Out of the black sooty silence I can hear a scratching. As I grab a jar of peanuts and shake it I see a little black face poke out from under the cabinet that held spray paint cans whose caps have melted but thankfully didn't explode. Louise scurries onto the workbench for her treats. Still too afraid to let me pick her up she grabs one nut and retreats behind the television that once was square and now is...sorta' roundish. Maybe Thelma will show too.
I think my major machines are OK. The drill press' caution stickers have melted and curled up on themselves as if they were hiding from the whole mess. My first successful sand mold that had me so happy at 4:00 yesterday is now a sloppy slab of clay in a box. I don't mind about that, it will give me a chance to make it better. Right now I need a sunny day for inspiration. Thanks to anybody who reads this.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Parking Lot Ecosystems
I hate to seem like I'm obsessed with Walmart but I've actually noticed this some time ago.
On any given Saturday morning I often need some incidentals to keep me busy. Spray paint, hinges or charcoal are good examples. I loved it when while in the checkout line on a recent visit I had two bags of charcoal and a stove top grease splatter ring. The cashier inquisitively asked me what I will be cooking. With a wry smile I answer, "Aluminum !", and observe her confused look. I then explain it's for a home foundry and tell her it allows me to make all kinds of cool stuff. "I'll bet", she answers, closing the door on the conversation.
As I approach the plaza lot from Alden road I can see I'm on the fringe of the Parking Lot Ecosystem. I can compare Walmart to a water hole on the Serengeti.
The first species spotted is usually the Impala who cuts me off at the intersection while in flight from the parking lot. As I creep in moving as slowly and quietly as the sand beneath my tires will allow I spot another denizen of the Walmart parking lot, the Buzzard! The buzzard is identified by it's slow circling through the parking spaces looking for a freshly opened spot. It's not uncommon to spot a flock of buzzards, which is usually a good sign that it may be too risky to enter the store on this day. Too many buzzards is a sure sign that it's best to leave right away.
On this day I decide to risk it and enter the fray. Suddenly as I approach a parking spot I see him! Criminy it's a Hyena! Hyenas sweep in just as you are about to enter a parking spot and they steal the spot. Beware of the hyena's, it's best not to confront them and just move on.
I'm now headed towards the main entrance of the store and at the intersection out of nowhere comes a speeding Cheetah! Isn't he a beautiful beast with his shiny wheels! Possibly the fastest animal in this ecosystems, the cheetah loves to fly by at 30 miles per hour with no regard for other vehicles or pedestrians. The cheetah barely misses one of the slower species exiting the store, a Hippopotamus. Hippos can be identified by their slow leisurely meandering as they walk through the parking lot. Following behind hippos are usually the Jaybirds, who walk diagonally across lanes and continue through the middle of the travel ways. You may be tempted to bag a hippo or jaybird to hang it's head on the wall of your garage but be forewarned. The black and white Zebras can be lurking around the corner. Besides it's black and white colors the zebras sport a flashing blue crest. Beware the zebras.
One of the more irritating species are the Opossums, who appear to sleeping while not in an actual parking spot, but are actually waiting for somebody to back out. The opossums usually get in the way making backing out of a space very difficult while avoiding Hippos and Jays. Then there are Toads who sit anywhere they please, referring 'No Parking Zones', while they sun themselves.
The next time you happen to find yourself at Walmart, take a look around at the flourishing ecosystem you can see there. If you happen to find an unreported species please let me know.
On any given Saturday morning I often need some incidentals to keep me busy. Spray paint, hinges or charcoal are good examples. I loved it when while in the checkout line on a recent visit I had two bags of charcoal and a stove top grease splatter ring. The cashier inquisitively asked me what I will be cooking. With a wry smile I answer, "Aluminum !", and observe her confused look. I then explain it's for a home foundry and tell her it allows me to make all kinds of cool stuff. "I'll bet", she answers, closing the door on the conversation.
As I approach the plaza lot from Alden road I can see I'm on the fringe of the Parking Lot Ecosystem. I can compare Walmart to a water hole on the Serengeti.
The first species spotted is usually the Impala who cuts me off at the intersection while in flight from the parking lot. As I creep in moving as slowly and quietly as the sand beneath my tires will allow I spot another denizen of the Walmart parking lot, the Buzzard! The buzzard is identified by it's slow circling through the parking spaces looking for a freshly opened spot. It's not uncommon to spot a flock of buzzards, which is usually a good sign that it may be too risky to enter the store on this day. Too many buzzards is a sure sign that it's best to leave right away.
On this day I decide to risk it and enter the fray. Suddenly as I approach a parking spot I see him! Criminy it's a Hyena! Hyenas sweep in just as you are about to enter a parking spot and they steal the spot. Beware of the hyena's, it's best not to confront them and just move on.
I'm now headed towards the main entrance of the store and at the intersection out of nowhere comes a speeding Cheetah! Isn't he a beautiful beast with his shiny wheels! Possibly the fastest animal in this ecosystems, the cheetah loves to fly by at 30 miles per hour with no regard for other vehicles or pedestrians. The cheetah barely misses one of the slower species exiting the store, a Hippopotamus. Hippos can be identified by their slow leisurely meandering as they walk through the parking lot. Following behind hippos are usually the Jaybirds, who walk diagonally across lanes and continue through the middle of the travel ways. You may be tempted to bag a hippo or jaybird to hang it's head on the wall of your garage but be forewarned. The black and white Zebras can be lurking around the corner. Besides it's black and white colors the zebras sport a flashing blue crest. Beware the zebras.
One of the more irritating species are the Opossums, who appear to sleeping while not in an actual parking spot, but are actually waiting for somebody to back out. The opossums usually get in the way making backing out of a space very difficult while avoiding Hippos and Jays. Then there are Toads who sit anywhere they please, referring 'No Parking Zones', while they sun themselves.
The next time you happen to find yourself at Walmart, take a look around at the flourishing ecosystem you can see there. If you happen to find an unreported species please let me know.
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