Not that anybody is hanging on my every word, and not that I receive concerned emails when I haven't posted for 10 days, but I have been absent for a bit. Sorry about that.
I feel the weather window closing (quickly), and I'm working like a one-winged goose. Predictably, the porch is not moving as fast as I'd like and predictably the weather doesn't help. We're already getting frosts at night. My nicely applied finish went all crappy when the dew condensed on it before it had dried, so I was reduced to staying up until all hours heating the underside of the porch with a propane heater just to get it to dry. Thankfully, I did not set the house on fire (very embarassing) and the finish did dry.
In other, much more important, news - my parents are here from England ! Mum and Dad haven't been over in almost 18 months, so it's very good to see them. Our kids have grown so much since their last visit (number one son wasn't even walking when they left and now he's talking in sentences). Lovely to have them here, and be surrounded by English voices, foibles and endless cups of tea.
Today I went to have my fingerprints taken for my citizenship application. The FBI already has a set on file, so I'm not sure why they need more. I obliged anyway. Contrast today's visit with my original immigration process 12+ years ago in New York City. Back then, I was one of at least 500 people queueing by 6:30am. Today I was the ONLY person at the INS (now DHS) facility in St. Albans, Vermont - a mere stone's throw from the Canadian border. A much more pleasant experience.
I pity the poor security guard, though. He must get a rush of people from time to time, since the waiting room has a couple of dozen chairs. At this time on a rainy Monday, I was the only Alien in residence. You'd think, though, that this small corner of Vermont must be at great risk. After being requested to remove my keychain penknife from the building, presenting photo ID and an appointment letter and going through a metal detector I was able to take a seat. The guard continued to watch me warily, just in case I was planning some kind of high-jinks with my belt buckle.
After a lengthy 30 second wait, I was fingerprinted (digitally now - none of that messy ink) by a very cheery young lady, asked to fill out a 'customer satisfaction survey' and was on my way in a jiffy. Amazing.
Monday, September 26, 2005
Thursday, September 15, 2005
Must be getting old
Boy - time flies when you're having fun. I can't believe my last post was a week ago.
Still, I have been VERY busy with my ongoing porch project. The new tongue and groove Douglas Fir floor is now mostly installed, and will look very spiffy when it's all finished with a clear coat.
After finishing up yesterday, I heeded the advice of the weathermen and covered the whole floor with plastic. Good thing too, because for once they were actually right !
Waking at 1:30am to the sound of a monsoon cascading from the rooves of houses next door (people in Vermont don't have gutters because they'd get ripped off by the snow), I lay awake in bed running through the mental list of 'things that might be getting ruined by the water'.
It must be blissful to either be a homeowner that never has such worries, or a cosy apartment dweller who knows that it's someone else's problem. For me though, with a house somewhat of a work in progress, it's a nightmare. No being lulled back to sleep by the patter of raindrops drumming on the roof for me. After an hour of trying to get back to sleep, I cave in and get out of bed. I must be getting old since I never had any problem nodding off.
Now I'll be one of those elderly thirty somethings who drifts off in front of the TV at 8:30 and wakes up at 4:30.
Still, I have been VERY busy with my ongoing porch project. The new tongue and groove Douglas Fir floor is now mostly installed, and will look very spiffy when it's all finished with a clear coat.
After finishing up yesterday, I heeded the advice of the weathermen and covered the whole floor with plastic. Good thing too, because for once they were actually right !
Waking at 1:30am to the sound of a monsoon cascading from the rooves of houses next door (people in Vermont don't have gutters because they'd get ripped off by the snow), I lay awake in bed running through the mental list of 'things that might be getting ruined by the water'.
It must be blissful to either be a homeowner that never has such worries, or a cosy apartment dweller who knows that it's someone else's problem. For me though, with a house somewhat of a work in progress, it's a nightmare. No being lulled back to sleep by the patter of raindrops drumming on the roof for me. After an hour of trying to get back to sleep, I cave in and get out of bed. I must be getting old since I never had any problem nodding off.
Now I'll be one of those elderly thirty somethings who drifts off in front of the TV at 8:30 and wakes up at 4:30.
Thursday, September 08, 2005
Flies
I hate flies.
I'm sure that they have some valid role to play in the ecosystem, but quite frankly they are not welcome in my house.
Not that I'm infested with them at this point (although, we did have Cluster Flies in the attic a few years ago), just that even a single fly can really PISS ME OFF.
I'll confess I'm no entomologist, but I swear that they have an innate intelligence and the ability to determine what would annoy humans the most. Sitting on the couch, a fly can combine the annoying 'round the head' flight path with periods of 'sitting on the TV screen' (are they watching it ?). To demonstrate their complete mastery of the 'head game', the minute you reach boiling point and jump up, magazine in hand - they disappear. Seated once again, they're at it in no time.
My kids (really my wife, but they presented it to me with great fanfare) recently bought me an old fashioned fly swatter. You'd think that given today's modern technologies and sprays these things would be obsolete, but let me tell you this - it ROCKS ! Think of it as the stealth weapon in your fly killing arsenal. Whereas flies can sense the approach of a folded magazine, cupped hand or other swatter - they're oblivious to this thing. THWACK ! Dead Fly. THWACK ! 2-0. THWACK ! Die, damn fly.
It's a satisfying thing, killing such a tiny but annoying bug. I feel all manly, like I'm safeguarding my family from peril. Probably what a caveman felt like after taking down a rabid mastodon.
I'm sure that they have some valid role to play in the ecosystem, but quite frankly they are not welcome in my house.
Not that I'm infested with them at this point (although, we did have Cluster Flies in the attic a few years ago), just that even a single fly can really PISS ME OFF.
I'll confess I'm no entomologist, but I swear that they have an innate intelligence and the ability to determine what would annoy humans the most. Sitting on the couch, a fly can combine the annoying 'round the head' flight path with periods of 'sitting on the TV screen' (are they watching it ?). To demonstrate their complete mastery of the 'head game', the minute you reach boiling point and jump up, magazine in hand - they disappear. Seated once again, they're at it in no time.
My kids (really my wife, but they presented it to me with great fanfare) recently bought me an old fashioned fly swatter. You'd think that given today's modern technologies and sprays these things would be obsolete, but let me tell you this - it ROCKS ! Think of it as the stealth weapon in your fly killing arsenal. Whereas flies can sense the approach of a folded magazine, cupped hand or other swatter - they're oblivious to this thing. THWACK ! Dead Fly. THWACK ! 2-0. THWACK ! Die, damn fly.
It's a satisfying thing, killing such a tiny but annoying bug. I feel all manly, like I'm safeguarding my family from peril. Probably what a caveman felt like after taking down a rabid mastodon.
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
Thoughts on stripping
Oddly enough, one of my more favorite pastimes is stripping paint.
After many years of experience with this, and having tried every method known to man, I still prefer the 'old fashioned' way. I like to use a heat gun and an array of scrapers, peeling the paint off layer by layer.
Despite the toxic fumes, lead dust and red hot paint chips falling down my socks, I find this somehow mind numbingly cathartic. With the hair dryer like noise of the heat gun and the focus paid to making sure you don't gouge the wood, it's sort of like being in a sensory deprivation chamber. There's also the satisfaction of being able to see just what you have accomplished at the end of the day (although in the case of my front door, it doesn't seem to be much).
As I scrape, peeling away the gooey layers, I like to consider the person that put the paint ON in the first place. In the case of my house, the layers of paint go back over a century, possibly longer. I learned recently that during World War II the house was white with red trim and blue shutters - very patriotic. I'm now scraping off the red layer, buried under successive coats of white, and it's not the earliest. It's a connection with the history of the house, and to the people that built this town. Let's hope that the paint I put back in its place will last as long.
After many years of experience with this, and having tried every method known to man, I still prefer the 'old fashioned' way. I like to use a heat gun and an array of scrapers, peeling the paint off layer by layer.
Despite the toxic fumes, lead dust and red hot paint chips falling down my socks, I find this somehow mind numbingly cathartic. With the hair dryer like noise of the heat gun and the focus paid to making sure you don't gouge the wood, it's sort of like being in a sensory deprivation chamber. There's also the satisfaction of being able to see just what you have accomplished at the end of the day (although in the case of my front door, it doesn't seem to be much).
As I scrape, peeling away the gooey layers, I like to consider the person that put the paint ON in the first place. In the case of my house, the layers of paint go back over a century, possibly longer. I learned recently that during World War II the house was white with red trim and blue shutters - very patriotic. I'm now scraping off the red layer, buried under successive coats of white, and it's not the earliest. It's a connection with the history of the house, and to the people that built this town. Let's hope that the paint I put back in its place will last as long.
Friday, September 02, 2005
Beside myself
I'm becoming angrier and increasingly sickened by the pathetic response to the disaster in the Gulf states. It just boggles my mind that we live in a civilized, developed country and our leaders will sit by and allow this kind of misery.
I just don't understand it. We can mobilize hundreds of thousands of troops in the gulf and unleash all kinds of 'shock and awe' to kill people, but when it comes to rescuing our own in a major American city, the wheels fall off the bus.
Every fiber of my body wants to go there and help. Being a first responder and seeing people without help in that situation makes my blood boil.
Let's pray that things change soon.
I just don't understand it. We can mobilize hundreds of thousands of troops in the gulf and unleash all kinds of 'shock and awe' to kill people, but when it comes to rescuing our own in a major American city, the wheels fall off the bus.
Every fiber of my body wants to go there and help. Being a first responder and seeing people without help in that situation makes my blood boil.
Let's pray that things change soon.
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
You know you live in a small town when..
The front page of the sports section is taken up with a one third page spread of very grey haired people playing croquet. (Headline - 'The Croquet Crew').
I should clip the main picture - a couple of elderly gentlemen, giving each other the high five over what must have been an exceptional play. I find such showboating in sports just deplorable. What's next ? Tossing their mallets in the air ?
It frequently amazes me that there are enough people to buy a copy to make a paper worthwhile, but they do. How else would you know when to attend the next Baked Bean Supper, or Senior's Bingo Night ?
I should clip the main picture - a couple of elderly gentlemen, giving each other the high five over what must have been an exceptional play. I find such showboating in sports just deplorable. What's next ? Tossing their mallets in the air ?
It frequently amazes me that there are enough people to buy a copy to make a paper worthwhile, but they do. How else would you know when to attend the next Baked Bean Supper, or Senior's Bingo Night ?
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Paint a mile
You never really consider how big something is until you have to paint it.
After spending much time and effort trying to save my porch, I came to the realization that it was just a pile of sawdust and rot held together by caulk and paint. Within a day, it was relocated into the dumpster (a Skip for those English readers).
Now I'm faced with the depressing task of rebuilding the thing, and all before the winter - which in these parts is only a short 2 months from now.
First on the agenda is a new floor. Being someone who likes to do things right the first time, I'm going with the same material that was used originally. A bit pricey, true, but worth it. It's recommended that you put two coats of base and one finish coat on all sides of the boards, and I have 1300 feet of them. So, by my shaky math that is 7200 feet of painting, or 1.36 miles.
This could take a while.
After spending much time and effort trying to save my porch, I came to the realization that it was just a pile of sawdust and rot held together by caulk and paint. Within a day, it was relocated into the dumpster (a Skip for those English readers).
Now I'm faced with the depressing task of rebuilding the thing, and all before the winter - which in these parts is only a short 2 months from now.
First on the agenda is a new floor. Being someone who likes to do things right the first time, I'm going with the same material that was used originally. A bit pricey, true, but worth it. It's recommended that you put two coats of base and one finish coat on all sides of the boards, and I have 1300 feet of them. So, by my shaky math that is 7200 feet of painting, or 1.36 miles.
This could take a while.
Monday, August 29, 2005
Lady Katrina
When I lived in England, I never really appreciated the scale of weather. This probably had something to do with the fact that it’s an island, and it rains all the time so you get used to the same sort of stuff (it really doesn’t, by the way, but all Americans think it does - just like London is still foggy).
Here in the US, since weather systems can simultaneously affect both ends of the country, you really have to marvel at the power of it all.
I feel badly for the folks down in the Gulf states, since they’re on the real ‘sharp’ end of bad weather. It’s also raining here, thousands of miles away and all from the SAME storm (I live in the small red circle in the top right). Incredible.
Thursday, August 25, 2005
You can call him Al
I have an elderly neighbor - I think he's somewhere in his 80's, though exactly where in the decade I couldn't say. He is something of a spectator.
For the purposes of this post, we'll call him 'Al' *.
Al's wife, whom we shall call 'Dorothy' most definitely wears the trousers in their relationship. The most common phrase to pass Al's lips would be 'Yes, Dear' - usually in response to some command issued with megaphone like volume from their back door. Al is usually hiding in his barn pretending to 'work' on something or other.
The first year of renovations, most of the work was done on the back of the house. Al and Dorothy's elevated deck is at a convenient height and doubles as an observation platform for our entire back garden. I'd be out there banging and sweating away, and Al would pull up a deck chair, orient it for the best possible view and sit happily as if watching his favorite TV show.
Things have come a long way since then, and work has moved to a less convenient location (for Al anyway). I've also come to the conclusion that just about any distraction for Al will be better than being driven to it by his wife, and I'm happy to provide one.
I'll often be beavering away when, out of the corner of my eye, I'll detect a slight movement and Al will have silently arrived to check out my progress. It can be a bit disconcerting when you're up a ladder, or turn around without expecting it.
By general agreement, though, Al has gone from spectator to 'Consulting Engineer'. He keeps up morale with light hearted chit chat, dispenses the latest village gossip and provides historical facts about the residents of my house during the civil war (OK, maybe that's a tiny exaggeration). In any case, he's a part of the team.
Eventually, Dorothy will realize that Al's 'missing' and will come to track him down ('I hope he's not being a bother') and Al will trudge obediently back to his house ('Coming Dear'), until the next time he manages to slip away.
* This is in fact his real name, and his wife really is called Dorothy. Don't tell them I told you...
For the purposes of this post, we'll call him 'Al' *.
Al's wife, whom we shall call 'Dorothy' most definitely wears the trousers in their relationship. The most common phrase to pass Al's lips would be 'Yes, Dear' - usually in response to some command issued with megaphone like volume from their back door. Al is usually hiding in his barn pretending to 'work' on something or other.
The first year of renovations, most of the work was done on the back of the house. Al and Dorothy's elevated deck is at a convenient height and doubles as an observation platform for our entire back garden. I'd be out there banging and sweating away, and Al would pull up a deck chair, orient it for the best possible view and sit happily as if watching his favorite TV show.
Things have come a long way since then, and work has moved to a less convenient location (for Al anyway). I've also come to the conclusion that just about any distraction for Al will be better than being driven to it by his wife, and I'm happy to provide one.
I'll often be beavering away when, out of the corner of my eye, I'll detect a slight movement and Al will have silently arrived to check out my progress. It can be a bit disconcerting when you're up a ladder, or turn around without expecting it.
By general agreement, though, Al has gone from spectator to 'Consulting Engineer'. He keeps up morale with light hearted chit chat, dispenses the latest village gossip and provides historical facts about the residents of my house during the civil war (OK, maybe that's a tiny exaggeration). In any case, he's a part of the team.
Eventually, Dorothy will realize that Al's 'missing' and will come to track him down ('I hope he's not being a bother') and Al will trudge obediently back to his house ('Coming Dear'), until the next time he manages to slip away.
* This is in fact his real name, and his wife really is called Dorothy. Don't tell them I told you...
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
Sunflower
It still amazes me how something this large and beautiful grows from something so small. My daughter and I planted these back in the spring, and now they're taller than me.
If you've ever taken the time to really look at a sunflower - the inside part - it's just such a work of art.
Amazing.
I don't know why they stare....
They say a picture's worth a thousand words .I've been a little occupied lately on a small home improvement project. It's one of those things where you start off thinking it'll just be a few bits of trim here and there, and end up ripping off half the porch.
The sidewalk runs right in front of this picture, and every passer by has some cheery 'Oooh, looks like you've got your hands full' type comment. You think ? I was just going to slap some paint on it and call it a day.
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
T-I-R-E-D
I keep wondering when, exactly, I'll feel like people do in TV commercials. You know - boundless energy and 'joie de vivre' exhibited by people in car ads and the like.
I know I'm not getting any younger, but given enough sleep, diet and regular exercise I keep hoping to wake up one morning and spring out of bed, full of beans for the day ahead. Currently, it seems that I'm only marginally less tired when leaving my slumber than I was when I conked out on the sofa at the end of the previous day's toil.
Is there a vitamin supplement that I'm missing ? Not enough fiber in the diet ? Some magic mattress ? Any suggestions considered (even yoga).
One day - when the kids have flown the nest and the endless list of jobs around the house is reduced from 'Dead Sea Scrolls' length to something that'll fit on a single sheet of paper - I'll be relaxed, rested and full of energy.
For the next 16 years, I'll just have to be knackered.
I know I'm not getting any younger, but given enough sleep, diet and regular exercise I keep hoping to wake up one morning and spring out of bed, full of beans for the day ahead. Currently, it seems that I'm only marginally less tired when leaving my slumber than I was when I conked out on the sofa at the end of the previous day's toil.
Is there a vitamin supplement that I'm missing ? Not enough fiber in the diet ? Some magic mattress ? Any suggestions considered (even yoga).
One day - when the kids have flown the nest and the endless list of jobs around the house is reduced from 'Dead Sea Scrolls' length to something that'll fit on a single sheet of paper - I'll be relaxed, rested and full of energy.
For the next 16 years, I'll just have to be knackered.
Thursday, August 04, 2005
It's too bad I'm not Irish
Other than the ability to consume large amounts of Guinness with little ill effect, the quality I most wish I possessed from Irish ancestry would be that of digging.
I'm not being racist or anything, far from it, in fact. Much of America (and England for that matter) was built on the backs of hard working Irish laborers who could have probably dug the Chunnel if someone had put them up to it.
I have moved on to the next rung of the interminable project list, to 'The Porch'. It has been on the list for several seasons. I mean *list* as in Tower of Pisa list. The winters in Vermont can be hard on old buildings, and the last few have all but squashed one side of our aging porch. It has sagged badly. It's been one of those things that I have really wanted to get on with, but I've never quite had the time. Now it's getting urgent. Winter will be here in a jiffy , and it won't be able to take the snow.
So, out with the 5 ton jacks, the bracing and the demolition tools and forward I go into unexplored territory under the porch. I'm not easily scared by a little bit of rot or a complete lack of foundations. Anything can be fixed with enough tools.
Surprisingly expediently, I now have 5 new foundation piers sunk 4 feet into the ground, and the whole porch above is floating, seemingly unsupported, on a collection of jacks and beams.
No small bit of digging, that. Hence I wish I had a little more Irish in me, so my back wouldn't ache quite so much today. Still, each pint of Guinness makes me a little more Irish, right ?
I'm not being racist or anything, far from it, in fact. Much of America (and England for that matter) was built on the backs of hard working Irish laborers who could have probably dug the Chunnel if someone had put them up to it.
I have moved on to the next rung of the interminable project list, to 'The Porch'. It has been on the list for several seasons. I mean *list* as in Tower of Pisa list. The winters in Vermont can be hard on old buildings, and the last few have all but squashed one side of our aging porch. It has sagged badly. It's been one of those things that I have really wanted to get on with, but I've never quite had the time. Now it's getting urgent. Winter will be here in a jiffy , and it won't be able to take the snow.
So, out with the 5 ton jacks, the bracing and the demolition tools and forward I go into unexplored territory under the porch. I'm not easily scared by a little bit of rot or a complete lack of foundations. Anything can be fixed with enough tools.
Surprisingly expediently, I now have 5 new foundation piers sunk 4 feet into the ground, and the whole porch above is floating, seemingly unsupported, on a collection of jacks and beams.
No small bit of digging, that. Hence I wish I had a little more Irish in me, so my back wouldn't ache quite so much today. Still, each pint of Guinness makes me a little more Irish, right ?
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
Thunder, lightning.
Once a month the Smalltown Fire Department meets and carries out some kind of training drill, so that our skills are kept fresh and honed like a razor.
So it is that I find myself sitting on top of a fire truck, on top of a hill, packing wet hose, in a thunderstorm. I'm not generally one of those people who runs for cover and hides in the basement when faced with millions of volts of electricity and loud noises - but I'll admit that it was a tad disconcerting.
Nonetheless, I made it safe and well to the bar and polished off a couple of Guinnesses in celebration.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
In other news, number one daughter has made the transition to a diaperless night. This, as any parent knows is a period fraught with worry over midnight bed wettings, but more than this it marks a happy move forward to a time when diapers are a thing of the past. Oh, happy day !
So it is that I find myself sitting on top of a fire truck, on top of a hill, packing wet hose, in a thunderstorm. I'm not generally one of those people who runs for cover and hides in the basement when faced with millions of volts of electricity and loud noises - but I'll admit that it was a tad disconcerting.
Nonetheless, I made it safe and well to the bar and polished off a couple of Guinnesses in celebration.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
In other news, number one daughter has made the transition to a diaperless night. This, as any parent knows is a period fraught with worry over midnight bed wettings, but more than this it marks a happy move forward to a time when diapers are a thing of the past. Oh, happy day !
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
Just call me dusty
I saw. I cut. I sand. I nail. I screw. I saw some more. Repeat. You get the idea.
I live in a whirlwind of sawdust, toolbelt bulging and power tools whining. I AM Home Improvement Man. Grrrr.
Oddly, it seems that although I am busy as a beaver and more handy than Andy from dusk 'til dawn, I still feel unproductive. Either I'm a perfectionist (quite possible), really shit at this stuff (don't think so, but then I'm bragging) or everything just takes a really long time. Five days of working, working, working.
I thought I'd have tons of time. I made long lists of things, just like Greavsie, and was prepared for a reveal to rival Changing Rooms or Extreme Makeover Home Edition when the missus returns.
It'll be more likely that she'll smile sweetly and mumble something along the lines of 'that's really nice dear', while thinking 'that's ALL you did in 5 days ?'.
Better get back to work. I hope my neighbors don't mind the nailgun at this time of night.
I live in a whirlwind of sawdust, toolbelt bulging and power tools whining. I AM Home Improvement Man. Grrrr.
Oddly, it seems that although I am busy as a beaver and more handy than Andy from dusk 'til dawn, I still feel unproductive. Either I'm a perfectionist (quite possible), really shit at this stuff (don't think so, but then I'm bragging) or everything just takes a really long time. Five days of working, working, working.
I thought I'd have tons of time. I made long lists of things, just like Greavsie, and was prepared for a reveal to rival Changing Rooms or Extreme Makeover Home Edition when the missus returns.
It'll be more likely that she'll smile sweetly and mumble something along the lines of 'that's really nice dear', while thinking 'that's ALL you did in 5 days ?'.
Better get back to work. I hope my neighbors don't mind the nailgun at this time of night.
Monday, July 25, 2005
Ah, the sweet smell of Freedom
I am alone.
Not completely alone in the cosmic sense, but enough for some good long silence.
The wife and kids have gone South to her Dad's for a week ! I get to stay in the house by myself ! Don't get me wrong - I love her and the little buggers, but as all parents will attest, a week at home by yourself is better than a week in the Caribbean with a horny supermodel (OK, maybe not but it's close).
The DOWNSIDE is that I have a list as long as your arm of 'projects' that should show some progress by weeks end. Still, I can't complain. This is my chance to rebel ! I can leave my dirty laundry on the floor, not pick up my wet towels, leave the toilet seat up (though it may have to go down for #2's), have TWO beers with dinner (which, of course ,will be microwaved and unhealthy), stay up late, get up late, blog all night (ok, not that one) and watch anything I want on TV.
I'll be working my butt off and will be worn out every evening which cuts down on the carousing somewhat, but I'll do my best. Wish me luck !
Not completely alone in the cosmic sense, but enough for some good long silence.
The wife and kids have gone South to her Dad's for a week ! I get to stay in the house by myself ! Don't get me wrong - I love her and the little buggers, but as all parents will attest, a week at home by yourself is better than a week in the Caribbean with a horny supermodel (OK, maybe not but it's close).
The DOWNSIDE is that I have a list as long as your arm of 'projects' that should show some progress by weeks end. Still, I can't complain. This is my chance to rebel ! I can leave my dirty laundry on the floor, not pick up my wet towels, leave the toilet seat up (though it may have to go down for #2's), have TWO beers with dinner (which, of course ,will be microwaved and unhealthy), stay up late, get up late, blog all night (ok, not that one) and watch anything I want on TV.
I'll be working my butt off and will be worn out every evening which cuts down on the carousing somewhat, but I'll do my best. Wish me luck !
Thursday, July 21, 2005
Flagging
One of the things you'll notice about living in the US, is that people are much more attached to their flags. I can't remember anyone I knew growing up in England that flew the Union Jack. You'd see it on bunting, and boxer shorts and even carried by some streaker at a Test Match, but not often on an actual pole.
I personally think this is an oversight, and I can think of no better time to show your colors than right NOW. With no disrespect to my 'host' nation, I removed the 'Stars and Stripes', folded them neatly and raised the good old Union Jack on my modest little porch flagpole.
After 9/11, stores sold out of American flags, and flying ours seemed like such a statement. When you think about it, many have died defending our right to raise our colors and declare our freedom each and every day. Shouldn't we use it ?
I'd like to start a movement to Fly The Flag. Maybe JonnyB can write a song for this cause, too. While we're at it, let's sing the National Anthem, too.
I personally think this is an oversight, and I can think of no better time to show your colors than right NOW. With no disrespect to my 'host' nation, I removed the 'Stars and Stripes', folded them neatly and raised the good old Union Jack on my modest little porch flagpole.
After 9/11, stores sold out of American flags, and flying ours seemed like such a statement. When you think about it, many have died defending our right to raise our colors and declare our freedom each and every day. Shouldn't we use it ?
I'd like to start a movement to Fly The Flag. Maybe JonnyB can write a song for this cause, too. While we're at it, let's sing the National Anthem, too.
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
Wet T-Shirt (followup post)
See ? You mock the weather forecast, and it comes true. Maybe that's what Native Americans did with Rain Dancing. It was all a big mocking thing. Then, just to show you who's boss, it rains.
Now I have a wet T-Shirt. There was a 60% chance of that.
Now I have a wet T-Shirt. There was a 60% chance of that.
The Whether here is just awful
What IS it with the weather ? More particularly, weather forecasters.
I choose to read my weather from the U.S Government's own web site which is, I like to tell myself, the thinking man's weather site. No ads for allergy medication, timeshares or mortgage refinancing. No pop ups for Pest Control, or Dell Computer. Not too much in the way of reliable weather forecasting, either.
For the last 5 days or so, we've had a 60% chance of 'severe thunderstorms' featuring 'heavy rain, hail and damaging winds'. It has rained barely more than a drop. I'd like to know the psuedo scientific means behind the '60%'. Do they think it's slightly better than 50/50, so 60 is about right. Are there dice involved ? A magic 8 ball ?
I think it's worse when it's shitty hot with no end in sight. At this point, you want the weather people to just MAKE it get cooler. Don't they have some giant satellite thingy that can do that ? What do we spend all of our tax dollars on, anyway ?
But still, you'd think with their orbiting weather platforms, doppler radar, computer simulations, global weather models etc. etc. that they could predict, with somewhat more than 60% certainty that it will rain TODAY. Not tomorrow, or next week, just today. That's all I ask. Don't give me false hope.
Meanwhile, we suffer in misery and I await the approach of a particularly hazardous storm from the east. I'm riding the odds, though.
I left my car windows open.
I choose to read my weather from the U.S Government's own web site which is, I like to tell myself, the thinking man's weather site. No ads for allergy medication, timeshares or mortgage refinancing. No pop ups for Pest Control, or Dell Computer. Not too much in the way of reliable weather forecasting, either.
For the last 5 days or so, we've had a 60% chance of 'severe thunderstorms' featuring 'heavy rain, hail and damaging winds'. It has rained barely more than a drop. I'd like to know the psuedo scientific means behind the '60%'. Do they think it's slightly better than 50/50, so 60 is about right. Are there dice involved ? A magic 8 ball ?
I think it's worse when it's shitty hot with no end in sight. At this point, you want the weather people to just MAKE it get cooler. Don't they have some giant satellite thingy that can do that ? What do we spend all of our tax dollars on, anyway ?
But still, you'd think with their orbiting weather platforms, doppler radar, computer simulations, global weather models etc. etc. that they could predict, with somewhat more than 60% certainty that it will rain TODAY. Not tomorrow, or next week, just today. That's all I ask. Don't give me false hope.
Meanwhile, we suffer in misery and I await the approach of a particularly hazardous storm from the east. I'm riding the odds, though.
I left my car windows open.
Saturday, July 16, 2005
Feeling Exposed
It's not normally what you expect in the locker room at the sports center.
The back pack was ticking.
I don't mean a tiny, barely audible little tick, I mean a big loud 'LISTEN TO ME' tick.
It certainly got my attention.
Now, I don't live in a Town that you'd consider a target for anything, except maybe the occasional random nutter amped up on Budweiser, so rationally I told myself that it couldn't be a danger.
But still, we live in a different world now. We have a new 'normal'. I asked the front desk person to check it out. He listened, too, and agreed that it was a bit suspicious but thought that he knew whose backpack it was. We pondered what could possibly be the source of such a noise, and gave the bag a good hard stare. Neither one of us wanted to open it.
He went off to find the possible culprit, leaving me alone with the ticking bag.
Somehow, standing NAKED next to a potential explosive device is even worse than being fully clothed. More exposed, so to speak. Quite irrational, really. What's a pair of trousers and a t-shirt going to do anyway ? Deflect the blast ?
Eventually, the sheepish owner returned, and retrieved his WALKMAN (remember tape players anyone ?) that was clicking (or ticking) because it got stuck or had two buttons pressed down in his bag or something. Idiot. BUY AN IPOD !
So, that was my little bit of excitement yesterday. We live in a world where just about anywhere is an imaginable target, and it doesn't seem to matter anymore that you live far from the madding crowd.
The back pack was ticking.
I don't mean a tiny, barely audible little tick, I mean a big loud 'LISTEN TO ME' tick.
It certainly got my attention.
Now, I don't live in a Town that you'd consider a target for anything, except maybe the occasional random nutter amped up on Budweiser, so rationally I told myself that it couldn't be a danger.
But still, we live in a different world now. We have a new 'normal'. I asked the front desk person to check it out. He listened, too, and agreed that it was a bit suspicious but thought that he knew whose backpack it was. We pondered what could possibly be the source of such a noise, and gave the bag a good hard stare. Neither one of us wanted to open it.
He went off to find the possible culprit, leaving me alone with the ticking bag.
Somehow, standing NAKED next to a potential explosive device is even worse than being fully clothed. More exposed, so to speak. Quite irrational, really. What's a pair of trousers and a t-shirt going to do anyway ? Deflect the blast ?
Eventually, the sheepish owner returned, and retrieved his WALKMAN (remember tape players anyone ?) that was clicking (or ticking) because it got stuck or had two buttons pressed down in his bag or something. Idiot. BUY AN IPOD !
So, that was my little bit of excitement yesterday. We live in a world where just about anywhere is an imaginable target, and it doesn't seem to matter anymore that you live far from the madding crowd.
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