J and I are always hacking on each other when we are fishing about who is catching more fish. There is ALWAYS a competition between us for bragging rights during a day in the boat. It does not matter if it is a tournament, or just a fun trip. Common phrases we've used for years:
Crushed you.
Dusted you.
Smoked you.
Put the hate on you.
Laid the smackdown on you
...you get the idea.
The other day, he got me good. I was truly getting smoked by him (he was ahead by at least 10 fish), and he turns to me and nonchalantly says:
"Did you shower this morning?"
"Yeah, why?" I said (social anxiety kicking in)
"You've kinda got a stench about you today"
"What the heck are you talking about" I say while sniffing my shirt. "Fresh as a spring shower" I added.
"No, it's something different" he says, "Something vaguely familiar though"
"Smells like....shellac"
In this part of the country, taking or giving a "shellacing" is equivalent to a severe beating.
It was so funny because I never saw it coming. Thanks for the laugh J!
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
True Love in depth
My old buddy "C" from the true love post, was the topic of conversation again this weekend. You see, C was the mutual friend and tournament partner of J, my current tournament partner. The three of us hung around each other for the better part of 15 years...Until both J and I had enough of C's bullshit, and mutually kicked him out of the circle. J and I fished a couple of times this weekend, and the topic of C came up repeatedly. There was a lot of laughs...and equal anger...in retelling our old stories about C.
C is the funniest guy I ever knew. He was a true original, and never followed any fads or trends...he set them. He could have been a legendary stand up comic; with his angst and antic ridden delivery, if he had only applied himself. His sense of humor was dry and sarcastic, but it permeated EVERYTHING he did...and it was funny. He often coined his own words that became part of the local lexicon. His comic was genius, and provided him a way to hide from the world; but one day the fun just ran out. C could not buy or joke his way past the fact that we all were growing up. His friends now had real jobs, real wives, and real problems that could not be solved by making a joke. He was still acting like he was 14, and it started to grate on everyone he associated with.
C was a man with problems obvious to everyone but himself. I would not call him an alcoholic, but he was the biggest party animal I ever saw. It was nothing for him to drink a case of Busch lite every night. He is a big teddy-bear of a guy, who would give you the shirt off his back if you're his friend...and kick your ass at the drop of a hat if you were not. He was a trust-fund kid, wealthy from the untimely demise of his father, and hell bent on spending every cent of the money in the stupidest ways possible. At the time, C had NO concept of responsibility whatsoever. That may have changed, I don't know, but it was chronic at the time. C and I would have plans to fish some tournament hundreds of miles away, and I would arrive at 3 AM to pick him up, only to find him just arriving home from the bar...totally wasted. Time after time this happened to both J and me, and we had finally had enough.
The straw that broke the friendship for me went like this.
C called me up one night and asked me to go to Canada fishing with some guys I did not know. I was a last minute substitution for someone who dropped out, but it was DEFINITELY going to happen. Things were all set to go, I was told, if I could be ready to go...it was on. To make matters worse, I was asked if I could drive (which should have tipped me off to one of C's schemes). It was agreed I could have until 6 PM the following night to get ready, so the next morning was spent arranging to miss all my college courses for a week, finding replacements for my shifts at work, and gathering up all the gear needed for a week of camping in another country. I drove 85 miles and spent $400 to outfit myself with things I would need, had the vehicle serviced, and bought some groceries. After a frantic 11 hours of preparation, I felt I had done everything I could, packed the car and left to pick up C.
He was not there. C's roommate said he didn't know anything about any fishing trip, but I could most likely find C at our bar of choice. I was ready to snap, but I left word that I would be at home, awaiting a call as to when the group would be ready. If I went to the bar, one of us would be leaving in an ambulance.
6 PM, 7PM, 8PM...Midnight, still no word from C. No word all night as a matter of fact, not until 3PM the next day did I hear from C.
His response? "We were just TALKING about going" he said. "We were just TRYING to pull it together". "So and So can't go now either, so I said forget it. I must have forgot to call you".
I have not spoken to C since that day. Turns out, C was trying to secure ME and my car before even bringing it up to the "others". He had spent a couple of half-hearted phone calls after hearing my commitment, trying to convince the others they could get ready on similar short notice. Being mere mortals (and much more savvy about C), they declined to even try. I found out about this years later.
So ended a friendship of 15 years.
C is the funniest guy I ever knew. He was a true original, and never followed any fads or trends...he set them. He could have been a legendary stand up comic; with his angst and antic ridden delivery, if he had only applied himself. His sense of humor was dry and sarcastic, but it permeated EVERYTHING he did...and it was funny. He often coined his own words that became part of the local lexicon. His comic was genius, and provided him a way to hide from the world; but one day the fun just ran out. C could not buy or joke his way past the fact that we all were growing up. His friends now had real jobs, real wives, and real problems that could not be solved by making a joke. He was still acting like he was 14, and it started to grate on everyone he associated with.
C was a man with problems obvious to everyone but himself. I would not call him an alcoholic, but he was the biggest party animal I ever saw. It was nothing for him to drink a case of Busch lite every night. He is a big teddy-bear of a guy, who would give you the shirt off his back if you're his friend...and kick your ass at the drop of a hat if you were not. He was a trust-fund kid, wealthy from the untimely demise of his father, and hell bent on spending every cent of the money in the stupidest ways possible. At the time, C had NO concept of responsibility whatsoever. That may have changed, I don't know, but it was chronic at the time. C and I would have plans to fish some tournament hundreds of miles away, and I would arrive at 3 AM to pick him up, only to find him just arriving home from the bar...totally wasted. Time after time this happened to both J and me, and we had finally had enough.
The straw that broke the friendship for me went like this.
C called me up one night and asked me to go to Canada fishing with some guys I did not know. I was a last minute substitution for someone who dropped out, but it was DEFINITELY going to happen. Things were all set to go, I was told, if I could be ready to go...it was on. To make matters worse, I was asked if I could drive (which should have tipped me off to one of C's schemes). It was agreed I could have until 6 PM the following night to get ready, so the next morning was spent arranging to miss all my college courses for a week, finding replacements for my shifts at work, and gathering up all the gear needed for a week of camping in another country. I drove 85 miles and spent $400 to outfit myself with things I would need, had the vehicle serviced, and bought some groceries. After a frantic 11 hours of preparation, I felt I had done everything I could, packed the car and left to pick up C.
He was not there. C's roommate said he didn't know anything about any fishing trip, but I could most likely find C at our bar of choice. I was ready to snap, but I left word that I would be at home, awaiting a call as to when the group would be ready. If I went to the bar, one of us would be leaving in an ambulance.
6 PM, 7PM, 8PM...Midnight, still no word from C. No word all night as a matter of fact, not until 3PM the next day did I hear from C.
His response? "We were just TALKING about going" he said. "We were just TRYING to pull it together". "So and So can't go now either, so I said forget it. I must have forgot to call you".
I have not spoken to C since that day. Turns out, C was trying to secure ME and my car before even bringing it up to the "others". He had spent a couple of half-hearted phone calls after hearing my commitment, trying to convince the others they could get ready on similar short notice. Being mere mortals (and much more savvy about C), they declined to even try. I found out about this years later.
So ended a friendship of 15 years.
Friday, May 26, 2006
True Love
Today I heard the name mentioned of an old friend I have not had contact with for about 10 years. One of our last conversations we had, the week of his wedding, went something like this:
Me: "Are you ready for married life, I never thought I would see you tie the knot"
Him: "I'm having second thoughts...freaking a little I guess...I think she's the one"
Me: "Whaddya mean you think she's the one?" "You're getting married next weekend dumbass, you better know. Do you love her?"
Him: "I think so. I mean, she's cool and all that, and man, she shaved for me. How many women would do that just for you? I think I have to hang on to this one."
They were divorced after 4 years and two kids, despite his deep affection for her. No one who knew him was surprised. True story.
We had a falling out about 6 months after this episode. Someday I will post the tale about this same guy a month after his wedding, that produced one of the funniest moments in my life. You kind of had to be there and know him for it to be side splitting, and I'm not sure I can translate it to paper, but I will try.
Me: "Are you ready for married life, I never thought I would see you tie the knot"
Him: "I'm having second thoughts...freaking a little I guess...I think she's the one"
Me: "Whaddya mean you think she's the one?" "You're getting married next weekend dumbass, you better know. Do you love her?"
Him: "I think so. I mean, she's cool and all that, and man, she shaved for me. How many women would do that just for you? I think I have to hang on to this one."
They were divorced after 4 years and two kids, despite his deep affection for her. No one who knew him was surprised. True story.
We had a falling out about 6 months after this episode. Someday I will post the tale about this same guy a month after his wedding, that produced one of the funniest moments in my life. You kind of had to be there and know him for it to be side splitting, and I'm not sure I can translate it to paper, but I will try.
My social anxiety
Last night I'm shooting two rounds of sporting clays for league score. After the first round, in the clubhouse, I notice my fellow shooters from the group that just finished TIPPING THE TRAPPER (trapper being the guy who operates the clay thrower)!
WTF is this? NOBODY ever told me this was customary. How many rounds have I shot where the poor trapper got nothing from me? Dozens. I ask my teammate about this and he says "don't you pay attention, everyone tips". "How do you think these guys make their money?"
Apparently I do not, but it does make sense they would earn money that way. I honestly never saw it happen until yesterday. I feel like such a heel. I wanted to run around and find all the trappers I had ever had, and offer them an explanation, but that would have looked soooo stupid.
Now I MUST be known around the club as the "dink who never tips". That will be changing immediately, along with explanations proffered every chance I get as to my previous ignorance.
WTF is this? NOBODY ever told me this was customary. How many rounds have I shot where the poor trapper got nothing from me? Dozens. I ask my teammate about this and he says "don't you pay attention, everyone tips". "How do you think these guys make their money?"
Apparently I do not, but it does make sense they would earn money that way. I honestly never saw it happen until yesterday. I feel like such a heel. I wanted to run around and find all the trappers I had ever had, and offer them an explanation, but that would have looked soooo stupid.
Now I MUST be known around the club as the "dink who never tips". That will be changing immediately, along with explanations proffered every chance I get as to my previous ignorance.
Happy F ' n long weekend
It's early in the work day on Friday, and I already have gotten my ass chewed by a customer. Chewed is not a strong enough word...mauled is more appropriate.
Happy friggin Memorial Day weekend.
And to the whining S.O.B. dickhead I just talked to...
go play in traffic you jerk.
Happy friggin Memorial Day weekend.
And to the whining S.O.B. dickhead I just talked to...
go play in traffic you jerk.
Thursday, May 25, 2006
The ghosts in my machine are dead
Jefe just returned from a long weekend in Vegas. He told me that some 20 year old girl won $600,000 on a progressive slot a couple machines down from him...5 feet away.
That would suck.
Life is all about picking the right machine. Luck is all about absolving you when you don't.
That would suck.
Life is all about picking the right machine. Luck is all about absolving you when you don't.
I'm a loser babe, so why don't ya kill me.
As I am signing payroll checks the other day, the realities of owning a business struck fast and hard.
85% of my employees make more money than I do!
Good for them, but isn't it supposed to be the other way around? I've got the risks. I've got the debt. I've all the problems associated with them making their money. WTF is up with this scenario?
85% of my employees make more money than I do!
Good for them, but isn't it supposed to be the other way around? I've got the risks. I've got the debt. I've all the problems associated with them making their money. WTF is up with this scenario?
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Taking stock
If you could start it all over, would you?
If you could take it all back, should you?
If great pain was involved, could you?
If you could take it all back, should you?
If great pain was involved, could you?
Why is my life like this?
So I'm going trout fishing last night, and I decide to resurrect an old hole located deep, deep in the outback of Wisconsin. It's a hole I frequented as a kid, that rumor has it is still there, and still loaded with BIG trout. It is also still as hard to get to as it always was...No roads within 1 1/2 miles. So it is going to be cross-country through the thickest, scratchiest, buggiest, gnarl of brush and tree limbs you can imagine...For over a mile...Up and down hills...In waders...And it was 81 degrees out.
Picking my way through the briars and stinging nettles, it occurred to me that even the Viet Cong would have found this section of stream bank uninhabitable. I pressed on. Somehow the underbrush had gotten thicker (or maybe I had gotten bigger) in the 15 years it had been since I braved the journey to the willow switch. That's what it is known as, to those dumb enough to have ever tried to get there. But oohh man, those fish. Those big, beautiful German browns and fat, dumb, brookies. "This generation of fish probably has never seen a lure", I'm telling myself as I bleed out. "Kids today don't have the nads for this kind of punishment."
Back to the story. So about and hour into the death by 1000 briars, I finally have the pool in sight. It had slightly changed in position, but it was as beautiful as ever...Deep runs of dark cold water; overhung by giant trees, barely letting any of the waning evening light through. I inch closer, planning my attack on the 50 foot long section of runs and pools. Sneaking low and quietly to the tail of the first pool, I am in perfect position, and reach to unhinge my spinner from the rod for the long awaited first cast...
only to find half of my fishing rod. Yep, that's right. Somewhere in the brush crashing and belly crawling I had completely broken my rod in two and lost one half. What was left was an unfishable stub. To make matters worse, I was so focused on the goal that I did not even notice it. All that work, all that sweat, all those cuts...For nothing more than a benign, nostalgic (and somewhat painful) look at an old friend. The pool mocked me, it beckoned me to at least wet a foot, so I did...
Only to find out I had severely torn my waders on the trip as well. Ice cold water rushed in, filling my right boot to the mid-calf hole. Chalk up another $90 for this stupid, very stupid, idea. Defeated and broke, I left for the car. I found my rod half on the way back...wedged under a log I had REALLY struggled to get over.
The trout of the willow switch are safe; I imagine they still have not seen a lure. It will be months...Years... Before I so foolishly venture to try once more. I know when I am beaten, but I will be back. Lately this seems to be how things are working out for me. Call it dumb luck, bad karma, or poor planning...I don't know. It just IS.
Picking my way through the briars and stinging nettles, it occurred to me that even the Viet Cong would have found this section of stream bank uninhabitable. I pressed on. Somehow the underbrush had gotten thicker (or maybe I had gotten bigger) in the 15 years it had been since I braved the journey to the willow switch. That's what it is known as, to those dumb enough to have ever tried to get there. But oohh man, those fish. Those big, beautiful German browns and fat, dumb, brookies. "This generation of fish probably has never seen a lure", I'm telling myself as I bleed out. "Kids today don't have the nads for this kind of punishment."
Back to the story. So about and hour into the death by 1000 briars, I finally have the pool in sight. It had slightly changed in position, but it was as beautiful as ever...Deep runs of dark cold water; overhung by giant trees, barely letting any of the waning evening light through. I inch closer, planning my attack on the 50 foot long section of runs and pools. Sneaking low and quietly to the tail of the first pool, I am in perfect position, and reach to unhinge my spinner from the rod for the long awaited first cast...
only to find half of my fishing rod. Yep, that's right. Somewhere in the brush crashing and belly crawling I had completely broken my rod in two and lost one half. What was left was an unfishable stub. To make matters worse, I was so focused on the goal that I did not even notice it. All that work, all that sweat, all those cuts...For nothing more than a benign, nostalgic (and somewhat painful) look at an old friend. The pool mocked me, it beckoned me to at least wet a foot, so I did...
Only to find out I had severely torn my waders on the trip as well. Ice cold water rushed in, filling my right boot to the mid-calf hole. Chalk up another $90 for this stupid, very stupid, idea. Defeated and broke, I left for the car. I found my rod half on the way back...wedged under a log I had REALLY struggled to get over.
The trout of the willow switch are safe; I imagine they still have not seen a lure. It will be months...Years... Before I so foolishly venture to try once more. I know when I am beaten, but I will be back. Lately this seems to be how things are working out for me. Call it dumb luck, bad karma, or poor planning...I don't know. It just IS.
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
I'm under a spell
Can somebody explain why I am so captivated lately by the movie The Lords of Dogtown? It is not even that good of a flick, but I have bought the DVD and watched it four times.
I think this movie is fantastic. I have not been so taken with a movie since Sling Blade. Here is what I think may be going on:
1. I was skateboarding my little ass off at about the same time. = Nostalgia
2. These guys had a much "cooler" childhood than I did. = Envy
3. I secretly want to go back in time and choose another career path. = Regret
4. I am secretly in love with Heath Ledger. = Latent Homoeroticism
5. I am a sucker for vintage rock soundtracks = combine #1 & #3
Well probably not #4, but he does give the best performance I have ever seen him give. What does everyone else think about this film? Why do I feel compelled to watch it again and again, even though I nearly have it memorized?
Freaky.
I think this movie is fantastic. I have not been so taken with a movie since Sling Blade. Here is what I think may be going on:
1. I was skateboarding my little ass off at about the same time. = Nostalgia
2. These guys had a much "cooler" childhood than I did. = Envy
3. I secretly want to go back in time and choose another career path. = Regret
4. I am secretly in love with Heath Ledger. = Latent Homoeroticism
5. I am a sucker for vintage rock soundtracks = combine #1 & #3
Well probably not #4, but he does give the best performance I have ever seen him give. What does everyone else think about this film? Why do I feel compelled to watch it again and again, even though I nearly have it memorized?
Freaky.
Don't Bother
Anyone who knows me knows that the Flaming Lips are one of my favorite bands. Their latest album "At War With the Mystics" is absolute junk. Wayne Coyne has finally flipped his lid, and the result of crossing over to the insane side is that their music has lost it's edge.
Most of what made their previous efforts so outstanding was him teetering on the brink. Now he is a full-blown nutjob. I began to wonder when I saw the live performance on Austin City Limits. Coyne draped himself in the American flag, poured blood on his head, and sang Black Sabbath's "War Pigs" to a stunned Texan audience. I immediately knew where the next album was both going to, and coming from...the toliet.
Like similar great musicians who now have shit-for-brains (Prince comes to mind), the music becomes a downward spiral into self involvement...Meaningless odes to their own flaccid minds and beliefs. Really sad. The lips were once rebels, thinkers, and mad scientists; the quintessential expanders of genres. The latest effort is a spew of drivel straight from Coyne's now deeply disturbed mind. Don't bother.
Most of what made their previous efforts so outstanding was him teetering on the brink. Now he is a full-blown nutjob. I began to wonder when I saw the live performance on Austin City Limits. Coyne draped himself in the American flag, poured blood on his head, and sang Black Sabbath's "War Pigs" to a stunned Texan audience. I immediately knew where the next album was both going to, and coming from...the toliet.
Like similar great musicians who now have shit-for-brains (Prince comes to mind), the music becomes a downward spiral into self involvement...Meaningless odes to their own flaccid minds and beliefs. Really sad. The lips were once rebels, thinkers, and mad scientists; the quintessential expanders of genres. The latest effort is a spew of drivel straight from Coyne's now deeply disturbed mind. Don't bother.
Monday, May 22, 2006
Wine, trout and fungus
John Kittle and I went trouting early yesterday morning for the planned Sunday night supper. We went to a new (to me) section of creek that was just gorgeous, and full of trout.
We had limits so early, that we decided to go picking some morels for a couple of hours. John took me to his secret picking grounds, where we walked the woods looking for the evasive morel. We saw deer, including some newly dropped fawns, and had a great time. We managed a gallon-sized ziplock full of the tasty fungi.
Sunday night, John brought out his three trout that had been marinated in some maple syrup & oil, then stuffed with diced red & green peppers, onion, sundried tomatoes & celery. These were placed in tin foil with a slice of Venison bacon and grilled about 15 minutes. I broiled 9 trout with the gorgonzola breading because they wanted to try that recipe, and John and I pan fried the morels breaded in flour and ate every one of them! Various wines flowed, and the conversation and food were excellent.
Now I have to start all over replenishing the trout supply for another night. Work, work, work...what drudgery to have such a job!
We had limits so early, that we decided to go picking some morels for a couple of hours. John took me to his secret picking grounds, where we walked the woods looking for the evasive morel. We saw deer, including some newly dropped fawns, and had a great time. We managed a gallon-sized ziplock full of the tasty fungi.
Sunday night, John brought out his three trout that had been marinated in some maple syrup & oil, then stuffed with diced red & green peppers, onion, sundried tomatoes & celery. These were placed in tin foil with a slice of Venison bacon and grilled about 15 minutes. I broiled 9 trout with the gorgonzola breading because they wanted to try that recipe, and John and I pan fried the morels breaded in flour and ate every one of them! Various wines flowed, and the conversation and food were excellent.
Now I have to start all over replenishing the trout supply for another night. Work, work, work...what drudgery to have such a job!
It went like this
Pretty well. Our team got 8th place out of 50 teams, and cashed a check for $500. 19.28# won the tournament and we had #15.77, but we only weighed in 7 fish. I will have nightmares about the eighth one all summer.
It's 2:37 PM and we are due back at 3pm for weigh in. We check one more spot, and I hook a fish on the first cast that is VERY heavy. It's taking line off my reel as my partner is grabbing the net, getting ready to scoop it up. Almost there...just a little more...there she is (holy shit Joddi this one's BIG)...easy...easy...POP!
The "pop" was the sound of my line breaking. It was the sound of crushing defeat. For 20 seconds we both knew we had the contest won; now we're wondering if we will even place. We simply packed up, fired up, and drove to weigh in. After all, we had spent the last 4 hours on a hunt for a larger "kicker" fish to finish our limit. We finally found her...and I lost her. Further effort was futile.
An eighth fish...any legal fish...would have advanced us at least two places.
This eighth fish was clearly over 5#...and would have won us the tournament. My inattentiveness to my frayed line cost us $4500. It's a rookie mistake.
I don't have any pictures because, once again, I forgot the digital camera.
It's 2:37 PM and we are due back at 3pm for weigh in. We check one more spot, and I hook a fish on the first cast that is VERY heavy. It's taking line off my reel as my partner is grabbing the net, getting ready to scoop it up. Almost there...just a little more...there she is (holy shit Joddi this one's BIG)...easy...easy...POP!
The "pop" was the sound of my line breaking. It was the sound of crushing defeat. For 20 seconds we both knew we had the contest won; now we're wondering if we will even place. We simply packed up, fired up, and drove to weigh in. After all, we had spent the last 4 hours on a hunt for a larger "kicker" fish to finish our limit. We finally found her...and I lost her. Further effort was futile.
An eighth fish...any legal fish...would have advanced us at least two places.
This eighth fish was clearly over 5#...and would have won us the tournament. My inattentiveness to my frayed line cost us $4500. It's a rookie mistake.
I don't have any pictures because, once again, I forgot the digital camera.
Friday, May 19, 2006
Dreaming
By this time tomorrow, I hope to have over 20# of bass in the livewell. For those not in the know, here is a little primer on competitive fishing:
Teams of 2 people compete to catch the largest limit of bass in an 8 hour period. Tomorrows limit of fish will be 8, and they must be at least 14" long to be legal. A "good" size fish for a tournament bag is 16+ inches, and will weigh around 2.5 pounds. Hence the 20# mark (a weight that would virtually guarantee a win tomorrow)
The fish are kept in the boats oxygenated livewell during the day, weighed, and then released at the end of the weigh in. I have not had a fish die in my livewell in over 5 years, which is pretty darn good. The overall mortality rate is very, very low at well run tournaments.
Tournaments generally pay down 8-10 places. This one starts at $5000 for 1st place and goes down from there. The last paying spot is usually a refund of the entry fees (in this case $250 / boat), and there is also cash prizes for largest fish.
Hopefully I have some pictures of the event to post here next week. That will give you a better feeling of what it looks like. With any luck, it will be one of me holding a rather large sum check!
Teams of 2 people compete to catch the largest limit of bass in an 8 hour period. Tomorrows limit of fish will be 8, and they must be at least 14" long to be legal. A "good" size fish for a tournament bag is 16+ inches, and will weigh around 2.5 pounds. Hence the 20# mark (a weight that would virtually guarantee a win tomorrow)
The fish are kept in the boats oxygenated livewell during the day, weighed, and then released at the end of the weigh in. I have not had a fish die in my livewell in over 5 years, which is pretty darn good. The overall mortality rate is very, very low at well run tournaments.
Tournaments generally pay down 8-10 places. This one starts at $5000 for 1st place and goes down from there. The last paying spot is usually a refund of the entry fees (in this case $250 / boat), and there is also cash prizes for largest fish.
Hopefully I have some pictures of the event to post here next week. That will give you a better feeling of what it looks like. With any luck, it will be one of me holding a rather large sum check!
Structure
Remember back long ago when I talked abut learning how to do things through the Internet? Well, chalk up one more proficiency; structured house wiring.
Yesterday I ran all the wiring for the addition in a marathon session lasting 13 hours. Jefe called to volunteer (thanks Jeff!), and I stupidly declined his help because I thought it would be a waste of his day off. It might still have been a waste, but about 3PM I was really wishing I had taken him up on it.
There was only one hideous outburst of woods language the whole day. On our very first hole drilled to the second floor, Andy put the drill bit squarely through the "expensive" 5 lead home run electrical supply line for the second floor. I can curse like a longshoreman, and even I learned some new words in two minutes that followed. So we were set back by having to run completely new wire for that circuit before I even started the other stuff.
Other than that, the research paid off. The structured wiring enclosures, phone and Cat5 modules, IR system and satellite all came together in a very tidy control location. Very nice system to work with. Miles and miles of cable seem controllable when you have a system. I even designed and wired for a 7.1 surround system that will probably never be properly utilized. Oh well, better safe than sorry.
Now the drywallers can come. Now Andy can relax. Now Jefe can help me with the final hookups when the drywall is done (catch that Jeff?). Then, hopefully, we apply power and telephone service and everything works. If it does not, there will be some more woods language education going on.
Yesterday I ran all the wiring for the addition in a marathon session lasting 13 hours. Jefe called to volunteer (thanks Jeff!), and I stupidly declined his help because I thought it would be a waste of his day off. It might still have been a waste, but about 3PM I was really wishing I had taken him up on it.
There was only one hideous outburst of woods language the whole day. On our very first hole drilled to the second floor, Andy put the drill bit squarely through the "expensive" 5 lead home run electrical supply line for the second floor. I can curse like a longshoreman, and even I learned some new words in two minutes that followed. So we were set back by having to run completely new wire for that circuit before I even started the other stuff.
Other than that, the research paid off. The structured wiring enclosures, phone and Cat5 modules, IR system and satellite all came together in a very tidy control location. Very nice system to work with. Miles and miles of cable seem controllable when you have a system. I even designed and wired for a 7.1 surround system that will probably never be properly utilized. Oh well, better safe than sorry.
Now the drywallers can come. Now Andy can relax. Now Jefe can help me with the final hookups when the drywall is done (catch that Jeff?). Then, hopefully, we apply power and telephone service and everything works. If it does not, there will be some more woods language education going on.
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
I'm freakin
Man this week is sucking butt; and sorry, but bluntness is all I have left. Don't know if I've posted this in the past, but my father-in-law Andy is singlehandedly building a 1800 sq. Ft. addition to his son's house. He is overwhelmed currently, as the project is much larger than he gave it credit for prior to starting.
Long story short; I have been tapped to "volunteer" my services designing, wiring and activating the addition's satellite, phone, infrared control and data systems. I've known of this task for quite some time, but no one took the time to tell me what they wanted until LAST WEEK! You can't plan something you don't know what needs planning for.
So now I have $700 worth of supplies being next-day-aired to me, and I am taking the day off Thursday to start the job...which impossibly needs to be completed by next week so the drywallers can start. The start of the drywallers signals a vacation for Andy; one for which he is both desperate to take and is sorely needed. So he is pushing, and I am more than just a little ticked...so pushing flips my switch. Shit like this just does not happen overnight and get done right. There must be planning, considerations, discussions, equipment evaluated and located, etc... none of which even began to be done until last Thursday (when, I might add, I took ANOTHER day off work to go up and demand some answers).
The last time Andy built a house, all you had to do was worry about some poorly hooked up POT telephone wire. Things have changed A LOT since the 60's. He can't begin to contemplate even the layout for the satellite system, let alone the infrared and Cat5e systems to control it. It's not his fault, he's a great guy...he just can't understand why this is so complex, and deserving of so much thought, that it might need more than one night to plan. It makes him angry that he does not understand it, and that makes me angry as well. It will either be done right...or I aint' doing it. That's how my free labor and engineering services work, and I am funny that way.
Period. End of story.
(Jefe, if you're reading this, I just realized that it makes a pretty good plea for some free help if you're looking for something to do!)
Long story short; I have been tapped to "volunteer" my services designing, wiring and activating the addition's satellite, phone, infrared control and data systems. I've known of this task for quite some time, but no one took the time to tell me what they wanted until LAST WEEK! You can't plan something you don't know what needs planning for.
So now I have $700 worth of supplies being next-day-aired to me, and I am taking the day off Thursday to start the job...which impossibly needs to be completed by next week so the drywallers can start. The start of the drywallers signals a vacation for Andy; one for which he is both desperate to take and is sorely needed. So he is pushing, and I am more than just a little ticked...so pushing flips my switch. Shit like this just does not happen overnight and get done right. There must be planning, considerations, discussions, equipment evaluated and located, etc... none of which even began to be done until last Thursday (when, I might add, I took ANOTHER day off work to go up and demand some answers).
The last time Andy built a house, all you had to do was worry about some poorly hooked up POT telephone wire. Things have changed A LOT since the 60's. He can't begin to contemplate even the layout for the satellite system, let alone the infrared and Cat5e systems to control it. It's not his fault, he's a great guy...he just can't understand why this is so complex, and deserving of so much thought, that it might need more than one night to plan. It makes him angry that he does not understand it, and that makes me angry as well. It will either be done right...or I aint' doing it. That's how my free labor and engineering services work, and I am funny that way.
Period. End of story.
(Jefe, if you're reading this, I just realized that it makes a pretty good plea for some free help if you're looking for something to do!)
Monday, May 15, 2006
Fungi Aplenty
My buddy John picked 15 pounds of morel mushrooms yesterday! He and his wife are coming over Sunday night for trout and wine and...you guessed it;
As many morels as I can eat in one night, and that is A LOT. It only happens for a couple weeks a year, and it's all coming to fruition this weekend.
I can't wait for them shrooms!
As many morels as I can eat in one night, and that is A LOT. It only happens for a couple weeks a year, and it's all coming to fruition this weekend.
I can't wait for them shrooms!
Cool.
Thrift sale mania is over. We netted over $600 in one day, but now I have to break it all down and return my garage to it's non-profit status. It was worth it though...at least I think it was.
Lots of strange people got a very good look at my house; that is a little disconcerting. I caught one guy peeing in my woods, and I thought about peeing in his car in return. There would have been one heck of an explanation owed to his wife when she sat down in their now soaking car seat. I would have laughed. HE would have been angry.
IT would have been bad for business.
Lots of strange people got a very good look at my house; that is a little disconcerting. I caught one guy peeing in my woods, and I thought about peeing in his car in return. There would have been one heck of an explanation owed to his wife when she sat down in their now soaking car seat. I would have laughed. HE would have been angry.
IT would have been bad for business.
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
Mmmm Good!
In between setting up for this weekends thrift sale and my myriad of other things I am doing, I managed to sneak away two afternoons for some trout fishing.
Wading the creeks really takes me back to my youth. It's so far removed from the sport of competitive bass fishing, that is almost like another world. I enjoy both tremendously, but for differing reasons. After last nights trip, I had 6 fat brook trout that were as fresh as you're ever going to get them. Now these are not your farm raised mush they sell in supermarkets, but firm and tasty native fish, that have been around the block a few times. There is little in the fish world that can compare.
I butterflied the trout, made a coating of panko bread crumbs, gorgonzola cheese, and rosemary; then broiled them until golden brown. HEAVEN! It was preceded by a garlic, artichoke, chevre, and tomato ramekin served with artisan bread; and accompanied by a very crisp chenin blanc and wonderful company...My wife.
Why would anyone want to go out when you can eat like this with a little effort? Beats me.
Wading the creeks really takes me back to my youth. It's so far removed from the sport of competitive bass fishing, that is almost like another world. I enjoy both tremendously, but for differing reasons. After last nights trip, I had 6 fat brook trout that were as fresh as you're ever going to get them. Now these are not your farm raised mush they sell in supermarkets, but firm and tasty native fish, that have been around the block a few times. There is little in the fish world that can compare.
I butterflied the trout, made a coating of panko bread crumbs, gorgonzola cheese, and rosemary; then broiled them until golden brown. HEAVEN! It was preceded by a garlic, artichoke, chevre, and tomato ramekin served with artisan bread; and accompanied by a very crisp chenin blanc and wonderful company...My wife.
Why would anyone want to go out when you can eat like this with a little effort? Beats me.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Fishing
The opener went pretty well. It was downright chilly Saturday AM, and the wind was really blowing, but we managed to locate some fish for the upcoming tournament. My partner Joddi caught this nice bass on Sunday while we were on a visit to the "proving grounds".
The U.S. Government has White Sands, Area 51 and Edwards AFB; we have Lake "X" that we call the proving grounds. It is a little lake that is loaded with bass, where we go to test out new equipment and techniques, along with potential lure and rod designs, prior to giving them a permanent place in the tournament boat. Plus it is a lot of fun to fish because the numbers and the quality of fish are so good.
So far it has remained our secret, hopefully it will remain that way.
Oh, by the way; for the record, I had the largest bass of the weekend on Saturday at just a little over 6 pounds. Dammned if I had the digital camera with that day though, so you will just have to take my word for it.
Friday, May 05, 2006
Ouch
My cheek is a little sore this morning, but thank goodness it is not black and blue. I shot a miserable 33 out of 50 for my first league score. I guess it's pretty good considering I had never shot the course. Anyway, I have 9 more rounds to keep from embarrassing my team mates...and a little more tweaking to do on the gun for proper fit.
Tomorrow is the fishing opener, and my first tournament is May 20th. Unfortunately, it is one of the biggest and most important of the Summer. It sets the tone for the entire season. Goose egg this one, and it seems to curse you for the rest of the tournaments. But we are ready to get underway, and all the weeks of preparation normally serves us well. $5000 for first place isn't too bad for a days work, and I sure could use the money. We shall see.
Tomorrow is the fishing opener, and my first tournament is May 20th. Unfortunately, it is one of the biggest and most important of the Summer. It sets the tone for the entire season. Goose egg this one, and it seems to curse you for the rest of the tournaments. But we are ready to get underway, and all the weeks of preparation normally serves us well. $5000 for first place isn't too bad for a days work, and I sure could use the money. We shall see.
Thursday, May 04, 2006
Anticipation
I have my first round of sporting clays league tonight. That means walking a course, much like golf, and shooting clays from different stands meant to simulate actual hunting conditions. It is a blast...like golf for "outdoorsmen", and I am shooting with a new team this year.
I bought a new (to me) Browning O/U to shoot the league with, but the first time I put it through the paces practicing, it was not set up properly. That, combined with my rusty shooting form, contributed to a very sorely bruised cheek for some time afterwards. I mean it was black and blue like I was hit with a ball bat. No fun.
HOPEFULLY I have the gun properly fitted now, so I won't be lowering my cheek to the comb of the stock so much. Tonight will tell. If I can't chew food tomorrow, I have more work to do.
I bought a new (to me) Browning O/U to shoot the league with, but the first time I put it through the paces practicing, it was not set up properly. That, combined with my rusty shooting form, contributed to a very sorely bruised cheek for some time afterwards. I mean it was black and blue like I was hit with a ball bat. No fun.
HOPEFULLY I have the gun properly fitted now, so I won't be lowering my cheek to the comb of the stock so much. Tonight will tell. If I can't chew food tomorrow, I have more work to do.
It's shaping up
I finally got Gomer to make his pyle. I even had it in an animated GIF file that was funny as hell, but I could NOT figure out how to make it run on the site. It is crude, but hey...I'm learning the GIMP as I go. Y'all have to remember that I know very little to NOTHING about HTML or CSS. I learn by experimenting and previewing my blog after every try. As far as Gomer's goes, the basic blogger template I started with is nearly kaput...changed beyond recognition. I find this to be the most enjoyable part of blogging.
Blogger seems a bit harder to work with because everthing is "off page" (in my terminology), locked in the template code dungeon of Blogger. Maybe I don't know what the hell I am talking about. Anyway, I'll keep working on sprucing up the site.
Even though it appears I have only 2 readers.
Blogger seems a bit harder to work with because everthing is "off page" (in my terminology), locked in the template code dungeon of Blogger. Maybe I don't know what the hell I am talking about. Anyway, I'll keep working on sprucing up the site.
Even though it appears I have only 2 readers.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
