Question for the ages

Is that Lonely Repairman lonely because he's TOO DAMNED EXPENSIVE? Just a thought that occured to me when our 20 year old dryer died one day before a week long visit to the Land o' Ports.
Actually, it didn't die a totally natural death. It started with what I interpreted as a death rattle. (Frayed belt OR bad bearing on an idler arm) These being things I used to be able to do, I attempted entry during halftime of a playoff game. Now it's dead. So the question becomes, repair or replace? The local appliance store is closed on Mondays. Our dolly is at my mom's house which is scheduled to be fumigated today. But I just CAN'T dump money into a 20 year old dryer. So it's out the door at 6:30 am, get dolly, then to Home Depot by 7:30. They carry two models of THE BRAND, but only one (maybe) instock. So off to Lowe's, they don't seem to carry electric dryers. And everything takes 7 days. What's up with THAT? Drive in commute traffic to SEARS? Why not? Get there at 8:56, wait, 9 am not open, no signs as to when they DO open, anywhere.
Back to Home Depot, they do indeed have my second choice in stock. Buy,load drive home, uninstall old dryer. Spend 30 minutes trying to get old cord off due to nuts being inaccessable. How did I get them on? New dryer uses screws, but only gives me two of needed three. Dig through jar of old screws. (Watch your filthy mind!) Go to attach vent, can't find clear instructions in manual, call Home Depot, third person I talk to says "I dunno" and gives me THE BRANDS hotline number. Wait on hold FOREVER, finally get a person who disconnects me. Go to THE BRAND.com find downloadable installation instructions which are not any clearer. Attempt half ass hookup, which fails.
FINALLY use a flashlight to peer into the innards and able to figure out how vent hooks up.
6 hours 20 minutes. I guess this is what it means to be a guy. Sometimes I'm a smart feller other times a fart smeller.
Now it's $30 to have the waste hauler haul it, or $10-20 to take it to the dump myself, well, I have a week to think about it.

Another subject, I think I'm OUT of poop stories. As to why I seemed to have so many, I think it's because of my agedness. So if you don't have any or many poop stories, they lie in your future, lucky you. I hope to not accumulate anymore.

Pains of parenting

It's a painful time when your little one starts testing her independence, taking chances, and making friends you don't approve of.

Soon they're looking anywhere for their next drink...

And they end up passed out in a gutter

Poop stories

One of my new favorite blogs made the point that basically poop stories are popular. Then at another new favorite site, "Norman" had a pretty good body fluid story. Both of which reminded me of a Fire department poop story.
Background- Most departments work a 24 hour shift, changing at about 8am. The oncoming shift, after coffee and conversations spends an hour or two cleaning the station. So you're cleaning someone else's mess. There is pressure to NOT leave too much of a mess, The alternative, always threatened, is to get up extra early and clean the station before you leave.
At some point, the waking shifts began finding the primary toilet unflushed every morning. Nobody seems to have said anything, but certainly there must have been suspects. (Since it wasn't being talked about, nobody realized it was happening on ALL three shifts. One morning, a shift awoke to find a runny pool of excrement IN FRONT of the toilet, with shitty footprints leading to a shower stall. So NOW they're ALL talking about it. WHO DID IT! And nobody was going to clean it up, because that would be confessing! 8am is approaching, the oncoming shift hears about it, "well somebody damn sure better clean it up, we're not going to do it!"
Finally, Ed, one of the best, most consciencious guys I ever worked with, who also had cooked a very spicy meal the evening before, cleaned it up using the bath towels provided by a towel service. The "used" towels were put in the hamper by the back door for pick up.
The story has two lines at this point.
First part, the oncoming shift had a "Good Ol' Boy" captain who liked to work on his car after hours. Typically, when called for dinner, he would walk in the back door, grab a used towel to wipe his face and then his hands so he didn't soil the bathroom sink too badly with grease etc.
Need I say more? I would would have been off on stress disability. As it was, I almost had to go home because my sides hurt so much from laughing.
Second Part, Now that we're all talking, it becomes apparent that "The Mad Shitter" is not from within. Suspicious looking feces have been found outside on nights when the front door was locked. (It was a simpler time) The captain, now highly motivated to capture the fiend, sets a trap. He goes to Radio Shack, and get a motion detector and rigs the alarm to a light by his bed. The front door is left unlocked, at about 5am, the motion detector is tripped. Forces are gathered, a little time passes. The assembled firefighters rush into the bathroom and find the paperboy, with his pants down, taking a dump. It seems the lad had issues. He was hauled away by the PD. We had a new paperdelivery person after that.

Traitors in our midst

Since I read THIS, it all becomes a lot clearer.

The following is unrelated feline cheesecake.

Lily meets Charlie

You'll have to trust me on this one. A better photographer would have gotten more of Charlie. I THINK I can see a leg.

Full Disclosure

In the interest of full disclosure, and because a reader of this blog, (33.3% of my readership) witnessed it. Charlie the Seagull, let me feed him a hot dog 1/1/07, in front of a bunch of people no less.

Jeep Jerky

My Esteemed Deceased Stepfather, a man of many talents, was a hunter. He took great pride in his marksmanship, his respect for, and safe handling of guns. For many years he was a member of a hunting group that had exclusive rights to hunt on a large private land holding in Northern California. He was basically unavailable on weekends and holidays during deer season. There was a cabin that was used as a base of operations where large quantities of food and alcohol were prepared and consumed. Pranks were played, and stories spun, boys being boys.
The hunting was done from jeeps in very steep terrain. One year, EDS, while in the back seat of the jeep, spotted a large buck down in a ravine. The brake was set, EDS stood in the back, braced himself on the roll bar, took careful aim through the powerful rifle scope, gently squeezed the trigger until the rifle fired. Still looking through the scope, he saw the buck look up, then prance away unharmed. His hunting buddies started laughing. The bullet had struck the front edge of the red jeep's hood.
EDS's stepson, moi, has been known to file away stories like this for future use. As Christmas approached, I had an idea. I went to a local body shop and obtained a crumbled piece of red sheet metal from a smooshed vehicle. I cut it into strips, wrapped them in tissue paper which I put in a nice box. I then created a label announcing EDS Jeep Jerky! 100% of your daily iron intake in one serving. You shoot it you eat it. And then there were various testimonials from celebrities talking about the wonderful qualities of the product. It was wrapped up real nice and given as a Christmas present. It was a conversation piece for some time to come.

Views from the edge

This was taken early this morning, peak gust was 50 mph at about 3:45a.m.

This was taken about 8 a.m. wind at 30mph. It was hard to stand.

This was the only damage I found. It was next to the house behind my mom's. Just missed a Propane tank. Couldn't tell if the other house was damaged.

Charlie the Seagull

This is Charlie, the Sea Gull. He has been a fixture (figuratively) at my late mother's house for almost 30 years. He's easily identifiable by a "scar" on his neck. First, my step dad was trained to feed him hot dogs by hand. After my step dad passed, Charlie went away for a couple of weeks, but then returned. After a breaking-in period, my mom & Charlie came to an agreement where she was allowed to hand feed him. After a couple of years, my wife and I became apprentices who Charlie would SOMETIMES allow to be fed by. During this time he seemed to have a girlfriend he brought along who was named Charlene. After my mom died, Charlie again went away for a couple of weeks before returning. This time he seemed to have become a vegetarian, rejecting hot dogs in favor of bread. This lasted for about 6 months. He's back on hot dogs, but does not wish to be fed by hand. I think he doesn't want to get attached.

What if I didn't say something?

It's getting so I'm feeling like an old know it all, giving advice where none was sought. (Refering to comments in other's blogs) I'm afraid I haven't found the "OFF" button in my brain after 30 years of analyzing the possibilities and probabilities for given input. But I'm haunted by the possibility of something really bad happening if I stay silent. Every year around this time it seems like there is a family wiped out by Carbon Monoxide poisoning. "If only" are words that haunt emergency responders. I guess it'll take awhile longer to get those old responses out of my system. Maybe I should get a part time job.

My Gluten Intolerance story, or a cure for insomnia

To start with, Gluten Intolerance is not an aversion to large butts.

Gluten Intolerance, or Celiac disease, can have many different manifestations and may show up at birth or anytime during one's life. It is thought that some people are genetically predisposed to having this. It is NOT an allergy, rather it is an auto immune response to a protein found in wheat, rye, barley and millet. They guesstimate that the incidence is about 1 in 133 people, although many people may not be symptomatic.

My particular "brand" is called Dermatitus Herpetiformis. My onset was about 8 years ago. I have read some papers that theorize that some onsets may be caused by stress and/or infections kicking the immune response into hyperdrive. I was both highly stressed and coming off an infection. The symptoms were very itchy, watery pustules on my knees, elbows, scalp and rear end. The literature describes the itchiness as "unbearable", but I found it to be only very uncomfortable.

After a LOT of testing, I was diagnosed. My initial reaction was that I could not give up pizza, sourdough bread and chocolate chip cookies. I was given a prescription for a drug called Dapsone which is also used to treat Leprosy. (That made me feel good!) The dosage was increased over time while my blood count and liver function were being monitored weekly. The side effect of Dapsone is that it "ages" your red cells prematurely. The goal was to give the highest dose possible without putting me into anemia. I have to say that the lab's blood count level for anemia and mine seemed to be different, and I felt very weak and tired even though I was above the threshold.

Another effect I felt was diminished mental function. I'm usually pretty good with logical thinking and retaining trivial facts. I felt like I was developing Alzheimer's, and I did not know that this was a side effect of the gluten intolerance.

I discontinued the Dapsone when I could no longer stand the anemia. I tried to become gluten free. The deal maker was reading that not being gluten free increased my chances for colon cancer by a significant amount. Going gluten free was harder in the days before labeling laws were strengthened. I was helped greatly by online lists of forbidden versus acceptable items.

For instance, who would immediately realize that licking of stamps and envelopes would now be verboten? Or the use of some kinds of medical tape? I never knew that Soy Sauce was made by fermenting in wheat. (There is one made with oats available in health food stores) Imitation crab meat-no go. Many ice creams (mono & Di glycerides- may be a wheat product) Label reading has become my life.

It's been a learning experience. Eating out is a challenge. I still have a better situation than many. On a scale of 1 to 10 for severity, I would say I'm about a 3. Some people are SO sensitive that eating a burger cooked on a grill where a bun has been warmed will give them severe reactions. I have accidentally eaten a bite of flour tortilla and all I got was an itchy rash on my stomach for 2 weeks.

Tests for gluten intolerance have gotten better and cheaper. I had to have 2 different pencil eraser sized hunks of meat taken out of my knee to be sent to UCSF for testing. I don't think they do that anymore. They used to do intestinal biopsies for other kinds of celiac testing, and I don't think that is necessary now.

I have read papers that theorize all kinds of things being tied to gluten intolerance, Crohn's disease, schizophrenia, arthritis, learning disabilities, autism and more. If you or a loved one has a problem that you can't get a finger on, or just want to try another way, I recommend a gluten free diet for a couple of months and see if there is a difference. What could it hurt?

Click on any of the Celiac sites on my sidebar to learn more.

Torturing people in menial jobs

It's not right, they are people too. I've responded a number of times to a telemarketing center for medical emergencies. It's not a place you'd want to be . It seemed very high pressure, lot's of junk food, out of shape people, heart attacks, hyperventilation, diabetes, seizures etc.

Having said that, this is pretty funny.


http://howtoprankatelemarketer.ytmnd.com/

Don't let the door hit you in the rear

Adios Olympic bid, so long "A"'s, Via Con Huevos Niners.

Not that I'm bitter, but I have thought for a long time that when a team leaves a city, they should leave the team name and records behind. John York is the Prince Phillip of the sports world.

A thought for Fremont and Santa Clara officials. What's going to happen when the owners decide that their stadium (10 to 20 years from now) is no longer adequate?

La Crosse anyone?

Old Post holiday story, Ornithophobiacs beware

Rather than write my own stuff, I will just type the newspaper article. ID changes will be in Bold. (other than the title)

Bird In The Hand Worth Owner's Caper In Tree

Bray, CA- This is a very tall, but true tale of how firefighters rescued an angry bird pursued by his angry owner up a 60 foot tall pine tree.

The rescue transpired Sunday morning in front of John Doe's home at 1111 Sweater St, in a pine tree towering beyond the reach of the Fire department's tallest ladders.

It all began when a Tales Ln resident decided to take his macaw parrot to the veterinarian to have its wings clipped. After all, the brilliant blue-green bird was an expensive creature and it wouldn't do to have it flying off into the wilds of Bray, the owner reasoned.

(A ------ bird dealer said the bird costs an average of $1000, but can cost anywhere from $800 to $5,000, depending on size and color)

But as the pair left the house, the macaw decided it didn't want to be clipped and escaped.

The bird flew to the top of a pine tree, waiting for its owner to climb up after it. Up the tree the man climbed, without the aid of gloves or ropes.

Just as he reached the top, the bird flew off again. Back down to the ground the owner climbed, only to see the bird return to the tree.

Up the tree went the angry owner again. This time he grabbed the bird before it could escape.

"The bird was mad about being captured. It chewed his (the owner's) hand up pretty good" Said one of the firefighters.

Still the owner, who fire officials identified only as a resident of Tales Ln, wouldn't let go. Firemen were called, but their 55 foot ladder wouldn't reach the struggling pair.

"We took a 10 foot pole with a hook on it and hooked a rope sack on the end and pushed it up to him. The owner put the bird in the bag and we brought the bag down, while the owner climbed down" recalled firefighters.

Down on the ground, the bird was not the least bit grateful about being rescued.

"It was so mad, none of us would reach in the bag to take it out" a firefighter said.

So the owner, muttering about how "I woulda wrung its neck but it was a Christmas present" took the bird and bag to the vet, returning the bag to the fire station after the bird was clipped.

I was the firefighter with the bag and pole. I was at the VERY end of the ladder, holding the VERY end of the pole, sticking it into the branches of the tree where I heard the "Ows" and curses coming from. I never saw the man or bird.

Ahh, Holiday memories

We live in an house built in 1883. Along with the charm comes problems, some unique. At the time our house was built, there were no sewers, just outhouses. (and that's another story) When sewers were put in, elevations apparently dictated that our sewer line should go out the back, through another property (whose sewer lines connect to ours [ANOTHER story]).

At the time the neighbors on the side planted their walnut tree, it was probably 3 feet from the terra cotta (clay) sewer line. By the time we bought our house, the trees roots had eaten our sewer line. In one spot it looked like the creature in "Alien". This caused occasional backups, and the banning of the flushing of anything beyond piss,poop, or paper (toilet). The symptom of a backup was usually a puddle of "water" just beyond our back deck.

Feeling that we could not afford professional sewer help, I learned the fine art of using a rented roto rooter. This is also known as fishing for brown trout and snagging white mice.

My better half's mother and step father used to visit from out of state and stay with us during "the holidays". The extra "load" usually caused problems with the sewer line. This particular year, her step father had a colostomy bag. There seems to have been a period of adjustment. In subsequent years the smell when he changed bags was nothing like that first year. So we had THAT going on. By the time the morning of their departure came, there was a small lake in the back. I felt it needed to be dealt with immediately, so I rented a roto rooter and I'm out back, ankle deep, working my ass off. Before I began, I requested that no one flush a toilet or run water in a sink.

I guess flushing is just an automatic response. I'm already up to my ankles, when suddenly the TIDE COMES IN! And the brown trout are nibbling at my ankles! I hear the front door and the sounds of my MIL leaving. Then better half comes out to check on me. I kind of lost it. I think I said her mom could have just as well hung her ass over the railing and shit on me.

There is a worse story, but it is still not humorous and nearly ended our marriage. Suffice to say, thereafter I PAID whatever it cost to clear the line, and not too long after had the line replaced with plastic (also further from the tree).

Funeral for a friend

At the request/suggestion of a commenter, whose opinion I greatly respect, and in the neverending search for awesomeness, I PRESENT

p.s. Vikings would have had ceramic boats if they had the technology

Must be gettin' old

The leaves are dropping like mad. The walnuts sound like gunshots when they hit the part of our roof that is corrogated steel. As executor, I'm dealing with the disposition of two estates. We got word yesterday that my 98 year old aunt (my mom's favorite sister) had died on the 7th. We stopped at a friend's house yesterday afternoon, and her elderly goose, Betsy, seems to be dying. The days are shorter and cooler, and Halloween is approaching.

The world situation is desperate, as usual.

This sounds like a job for Dia De Los Muertos . And so we have an alter.

You just Gotta!

After reading this, I HAD to get one (ok 2) of these.

Another Step dad story

At this point Step Dad had not yet married my mom, so he was probably highly motivated to do things for her. My mom had the idea to fly her oldest and favorite sister out from Pennsylvannia for a visit. She arranged many things to do that Liz had never done before. One of them was to go out on a charter fishing boat. Rather than take a chance on what kind of companions we might have, she rented the boat and invited many friends.

Someone decided that we should fish for rock cod. This was probably to insure that everyone got something. At the time the limit for rock cod was 22 per rod. Fishing consisted of baiting 3 hooks on each line, lowering the line to the bottom (about 200') then reeling it in to find out whether you had 2 or 3 fish on your line and whether there was a prized Ling Cod. Everyone who wasn't seasick got their limit. (I got 1 fish, and my wife had to reel it in, not my finest hour)

SD being the gallant gentleman and avid sportsman offered to clean the fish for the immediate family. His- 22 +Mom- 22 + sister-22 + My wife- 22 + me-1 = 89 fish. For those not into the particulars of various fish, rock cod are mostly carcass with only a little usable meat.

As fate would have it, the garbage pickup was the morning we went fishing. SD spent untold hours into the evening filleting, and dumping large amounts of fish waste into the garbage cans provided for the entire apartment complex. Being thoughtful, and not wanting to make each can too heavy for the garbagemen (Pre mechanical pickup) he only filled cans about halfway. Did I mention it was summer? After a couple of days of fermenting, the stench became unbearable and SD was advised by the apt manager that he needed to mitigate the problem. He had already tried stuffing other garbage on top to stifle the smell to no avail.

It was then illegal to take household garbage to the dump privately, so he felt he had to take the offending cans somewhere away from civilization to dump. He found that the cans were too heavy, so he would have to lighten them by taking out the top non fish layer. Most of this was in paper sacks which after soaking in the damp atmosphere of rotting fish broke open. At least one of these contained what he later described as "ladies calling cards" It seems that the coverup strategy was slightly successful, as the smell now became much more pronounced.

He now attempted to lash covers over the tops of the cans. The cans were loaded with care onto his ancient pick up. At this point he realized that he was nearly out of gas and would have to stop for fuel. Let's just say he got a lot of looks and grimaces. He drove into the hills and at a remote spot, dumped the remains down a hill on the side of a road. At a later time he found out that the land belonged to a famous S.F. Attorney who was known to occasionally be bellicose.

So now he still had smelly empty cans. He was a contractor and he was working on a house a few towns away. Union rules forbade him from being onsite during the weekends, (Don't want him to be doing work a union person should be doing) but what could happen? So he drove to the site to wash out the cans. Of course a union rep shows up. He could be facing fines etc, but he had a hell of a story and the evidence to back it up, so nothing happened.

It has been said that that which doesn't kill you only makes you stronger. They weren't specific as to what kind of strength it was that one might attain, physical, character, odor?

Relative values

Cost of old cardboard pet carrier sitting in garage- $0

Cost of feeding abandoned cat who sits outside my front door every morning hissing at me until he's fed. $5 a month

Cost of bandaids after trying to return him to his "Owner" $2

ER Visit, Tetanus shot, Antibiotics copay $55

Pain & Suffering Worthless!

Especially when he came back two days later!