Now it’s not unusual to hear one of our cats growling, but it is weird when it persists for very long. I was sitting here playing my little game and Norman, the Siamese child was growling and being angry. I ignored it for a few minutes, but when it didn’t go away I went into the kitchen to see who was pestering who. I should have known something was up because there were two puffy cat-children looking out the back window and not at each other. But I was thinking about how close I was to getting Elath to 39 and just thinking they REALLY wanted out. As I reached for the handle I saw a gray shape outside the window and thinking it was Stan I almost let it in. Lucky for me I got a second glance before opening the door, because the nose was a little long and pointy for Stan, and I don’t remember him having a black mask, or him being a big raccoon. I swear for an instant the bandit smiled at me, and then him and his friend slunk off around the side of the house.
I was a bit worried about Stan being out there, because he thinks he’s a mighty hunter. I don’t think he could have taken these guys, though. But he eventually made it in and is happy on my lap, trying to keep me from telling this story so I’ll scratch his head some more.
In the Absence of Logic
So we got a refrigerator last year and one of our requirements for replacing it was we wanted to make sure it had a filtered water dispenser. I replaced the filter last time by going in to the dealership where we bought it and the salesman just grabbed one for me. This time I decided it would be different. I googled the model of the fridge wanting to find the type of filter I needed and see if I could find it somewhere cheaper. After pouring through whirlpool’s site I couldn’t find anything describing the make of filter I needed. I did find where you could order one by saying, “That’s my fridge, send me a filter”, but it was even more expensive. So I gave in and figured if I went to the dealership one more time I’d save the box and go from there in another six months. So, again, I wrote down the model number and went in to the dealership, but this time the salesman wasn’t sure what type of filter it took. He asked me if it was a “push in” or a “turn” and I really couldn’t remember. A couple times I offered him the card with the number on it, but he said that wouldn’t help. Finally he gave up on my memory and googled the model number I had with me, but to my surprise he didn’t look at any of the fridge info, he opened the picture of the fridge and squinted at the bottom of the photo where the filter goes. He then dragged me to a floor model and asked if the “…cover plate lookes like this”, pointing at the corner of the fridge. I said that I thought so, and he grabbed me a filter, which of course, worked. But wouldn’t it be simpler to just say, this fridge needs a type ‘X’ filter, right on the fridge?
Ballad of the Lonely Argonauts
How does it feel
to roam this land like Hart and Twain did?
How, how, how does it feel?
A thousand miles closer to hell
–Beulah
Here I sit in Boulder contemplating my meager bag of dried fruit and nuts, wondering if I can ration it out till Saturday along with the 12 pack of cokes I got at the arco station a mile up the road…
“Is there some reason you would need a car?” The words seemed so innocuous. I decided not to push it. After all, Boulder is only a $46 shuttle ride from the Denver Airport, what could go wrong? We still got to the hotel by 8:30, and decided to head out and look for food. There’s nothing but trees around here, and I don’t see any buildings, so we head towards traffic lights. “We’re going to starve to death”, Robert said at one point. I agreed. I caught a tiny frog and had a Bear Grylls moment, only I couldn’t hold on to the little thing and it liberated itself among the roadside weeds. “I think it peed on me”, I said, Robert’s words echoing in my head. “We’re gong to starve to death.”
We return to the hotel and catch the young receptionists as they were hastily closing up for the night. We’re hungry and have not eaten since lunch. “Can we help you?” But their eyes dart towards the door and the cool, cool evening, with the promise of Absinthe and young men’s gazes. “Is there any food?” The brunette’s face blanched, “Not within walking distance!”, but her blonde companion pulled at a sliver of memory. “Maybe the deli?” “Yes!” the brunette blushed, “But it is almost nine.” The blonde tugged at her nose wistfully, “Maybe they’re open til half past?” she suggested imaginatively. “No never, half past”, said her friend. “But maybe there’s something 5 blocks further? A taco bell?”
They burst into a flurry of closing activity, the conversation come to an end, and I look at Robert. “We must find sustenance, but I fear the worst.” “Yes, the worst”, answered Robert, “Still…” and we headed out into the night…
Ship of Fools
Pi Rho, Lake Powell trip sometime in the early 90’s.
Stranded Stan
I got up on the roof to examine the cooler, and had a little helper that couldn’t figure out how to get down the ladder he came up.
Stormclouds
Last night I almost thought this was going to be a tornado.
iphone’s slow shutter
This is the face that wakes me up most mornings, usually not with this expression, thankfully.
Sunrise
We’ve been walking.
My wife and I have tried a few times to up our activity level by walking around the park in the evenings, but with schedules the way they are something always gets in the way and it sort of gets pushed into the background of the things we need to do. On this iteration I made an offering. I’m a night person, and I married a morning person. Logically, this seems optimal for covering a broader operational spectra because there should almost always be someone on deck and ready for action. Realistically, it doesn’t quite work that way. Usually it means one of us is causing the other to lose sleep, which may be pulling down the readiness curve. Anyway, I sucked it in and said, “Hey, why don’t we try getting up early and walking before work?” Debbie looked at me with what could be understated as disbelief. She knows I mumble answers to her as she gets ready for work and then collapse back into the coma that carries me through the early hours. Anyway, I knew that was going to be the only long-term solution to the walking issue. But some mornings she still issues me a morning reprieve.
Today was not one of those days.*
I do enjoy the time to think.** Today as I was mulling the myriad of things I’ve got to do.*** I caught my long, faint shadow out of the corner of my eye. I looked to see if the sun was above the horizon, as it’s the second day of summer, and I fear the fast approaching winter. The sun wasn’t up, but there was a bright reflection off the sky just above the mountains with some of the canyons showing direct sunlight. As I looked off to the west and saw the belt of Venus, it made me glad and suddenly I was back to the mornings in first or second grade.
I had to walk to school and cross the great playground at about this time of the morning. I remember the distant, muted white noise of traffic and the sun glinting off the Bingham copper mine in the distance. From the playground I could see the tower at the Murray smelter and knew that my Grandma worked right by there. It seemed so far away, yet I could see the benevolent face of Colonel Sanders gazing protectively over the valley. There was the fall smell to the air, back then, that always takes me back to this place too. It’s one of those memories that’s starting to have the corners worn off it, so I’m usually loathe to bring it out, because it’s one of the good ones.
I remember the playground being so big that on adventurous days I’d try to get expeditions together to make it to the fence at the far side of the playground. Often we would get turned back as we crossed the boundary to the grass. “It’s too far”, “We’ll never get back in time”, “Beyond here, there be monsters!”**** Downhearted, as Hillary must have been at times, we would turn back with a final glimpse over my shoulder of my elusive goal, swearing to try again.
I feel there’s something about that sort of adventure that’s lacking in me now. I’m not quite sure what happened to it. Maybe it’s still down there and it occasionally boils up, like when I got my kayak, but there’s some adultedness that seems to have smothered the fire of pushing the boundaries, like when I don’t take the kayak out of the basement. I love to see what’s over the next hill, but somehow I need to mow the lawn, or clean the dust out from the pile of cables under my desk before I can do that. But some morning when I’m stumbling along bleary-eyed, maybe I’ll see if I can’t make it to that fence before the adult wakes up and catches me.
* although she does always ask if we’re walking when the alarm goes off.
** It’s another story about what I think about thinking.
*** finishing my dad’s birthday gift, putting more soil in the compost for re-planting my puny garden, clean the dust out from the pile of cables under my desk, finding some way to bolt my rolling mill to something stable, getting work on etsy, etc…
**** Ok, so nobody ever said that, I don’t think. But I told you the corners were getting worn off this memory.
Animals at Lagoon
The dragonfly held really still, and when disturbed didn’t fly far and would come back to perch on the same post really quick. Now that I look at this up close it looks like he had an accident and dented his head. (notice the nice reflection of my shiny orange shirt on the post)
And as an added bonus… Ducks on Vacation.
Manufacturing Blues
So I’m working on this project and I decide that I need an antique looking plate showing north and I throw together a ‘N’ with an arrow through it and decide to carve it roughly into a block of wood and see if I can’t sand cast it. But because I’m mostly in a prototyping phase (for several things, evidently) I decide to see if I can’t cast just the face of it in a sand mold and not bother with the whole cope and drag. But because I’m forever making stamps or sprig molds for clay, I naturally decide that it needs to be backwards. It wasn’t til I was pressing it into the sand that I realized I was making a positive casting so the original had to be forward. (I flipped the pic just so it would look right… full disclosure, you know). Anyway I decided to go ahead since I had it and it was getting late, and then if it worked, maybe I would cast the cast and have a relief ‘N’ instead of a raised one, as long as it looked old.
But I ran into a few problems. I don’t have a furnace, and my acetylene torch doesn’t have a big enough tip to keep that much metal molten very easily. The casting poured short, probably because I couldn’t keep it hot enough, and I think it’s too much copper. I need to find a source of tin to formulate a good bronze alloy with all the spare copper I’ve got laying around. I melted down some old bronze I had, but I knew it wasn’t enough, so I just made up the difference with copper.
Maybe I should have done aluminum, but aluminum wouldn’t weather the way I want it to. So in the end it may be a good thing that I did make the original wood cut backwards, because I’m probably going to end up using it as a stamp.