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!

Hey! I think I heard the ocean!

Perils of grazing

By way of background, 90% of Fire dept calls are medical in nature. The reason the fire dept responds on medical incidents is that the response time is almost always much faster. Often the incident is not a true emergency, but the law is that we cannot leave a patient until we have turned them over to an equal or higher medical authority.

So the story I heard was an engine company late at night/early morning standing by with an elderly gentleman who needed to be transported, but the ambulance was substantially delayed. As they are waiting, the captain spots a bowl of peanuts on the nightstand. He's hungry, what would it hurt to have a couple of peanuts? He has a few, then a few more. Soon, they are all gone. Chagrinned he confesses to the old man. "I'm sorry, I've eaten all your peanuts. I just couldn't stop eating them"

The old man is not upset and tells the captain, "That's ok, I know what you mean, but I can't chew them anymore, I can only suck the chocolate off them"

Step dad stories- #1

My Late Step Dad and my late mom dated from when I was in my teens until my mid twenties. This must have happened in the early '70's. LSD had an apartment in a damp heavily wooded area. A common date for the two of them would be for my mom to drive to his "Batchelor pad" (complete with bear skin rug) for a steak and mushroom dinner in front of a roaring fire. There may have been intoxicating beverages served somewhere in there.

At the end of the evening my mom would drive home and call to assure LSD that she had made it home safely. In the interim, LSD would clean up. On this one particular evening apparently on the way from the dining area to the kitchen LSD spotted a stray mushoom sliver on the floor. Never one to waste good food, he bent over and popped it into his mouth and chomped down on it.

Now those who live in damp woodsy areas might be familiar with this denizen. In terms of taste, a mushroom it ain't! As added incentive to NOT chomp down on these there must be a gland that secretes the slime they lay down. Said slime apparently clings quite well to the insides of ones mouth. It sounds as if it resists brushing by toothbrush and must be scraped manually.

This children, is why we don't eat off the floor!






Although there are several more Late Step Dad stories, this one has reminded me of a Fire dept urban legend type story.

Where's Lily?

We didn't think you were going to be home so soon!

Ours is the love that has no name.

Traveling stories- warning! not for the squeemish!

A blog I read had a piece on "Potty Humor" recently. This triggered a 20 year old memory of a trip to China.

Tourism was still a new thing there when we went. The year before, our american guide had had to spend some nights with her group in army barracks because the hotels were not yet finished.

The hotels were finished, but you could not drink water from the tap when we went. You were given a thermos of hot boiled water you could cool and drink. Toilet facilities in the hotels were very nice, but you wanted to take care of THAT in the hotel, not anywhere else. Facilities elsewhere consisted of some form of slit trenches .

About 5 days into our 3 week trip, we were on a scenic boat tour of the Li river. This is famous for the views of the limestone Karsts (sp?). Very nice except for the temp and humidity (both hovering near 100). The trip included lunch which consisted of steamed fish caught fresh out of the river. The same river with the scenic water buffalo pooping and little naked kids wading.

All the meals we had on the trip were lavish, and there was always something on the table we had not had before. Apparently there was a little something extra this time.

Now is the time for the squeemish to bail.

O M G !

The funniest part of what followed was about 3 days later in Bejing. I was NOT feeling well, but here we were, probably never to return. We were scheduled for a visit to parliament, the Forbidden City and Mao's Tomb. As we approached Mao's Tomb, our jocular guides became VERY serious. There was to be NO joking, smiling or disrespect of ANY kind. This was the most reverred site in China. Indeed, the line of Chinese was 5 abreast and about 300 yards long. As guests we got in ahead of everyone. Just about the time I got to Mao's body, with armed, stern looking guards on each corner, bowel control became a major issue. I started sweating profusely, and had to resort to butt cheek muscles to avoid soiling myself. And I'm stuck in line.

When I finally get out of the building I scan the horizen for facilities. The nearest building is the Forbidden City about 500 yards away. With a very funny looking "walk" I scurry for the nearest door. I enter, looking for ANY kind of facility. I eventually find a nicely tiled room with a colorful tiled slit trench with running water, noisy running water. There were "stalls" of a sort, with typical metal dividers, except they were only about 18" high. These turned into my savior. I had recovered enough to realize there was no toilet paper. (But I had brought 2 packs of Kleenex) and more importantly, if I squatted in the usual position I would likely leave the room with pants of a different color than when I entered. (Perhaps a brown paisely)

So I devised a strategy of keeping my legs forward and leaning back by hanging onto the divider.
I'm sure it looked amusing, fortunately I was alone. (The sounds may have warned people against entering)

I ate nothing but rice for a week. The other thing I learned belatedly is that if you take A LOT of Pepto Bismol, it turns your tongue black. It took a day or two to realize the cause (read the box, duh) before I realized it wasn't just another punishment from a vengeful Gob.

I have found that the worst of times make for the best stories.

Hmm, that reminds me of a story about my late step father...

They always say to start with the airway first? (ABC's)

But I'm not sure this is what they had in mind.

Posterity

This is something I seem to have been learning about since my very first job in manufacturing where I redid a process to be more efficient, thinking "wow" I've done something that will last a long time. It lasted about 3 months after I left.

Years later, I was working at a fire dept with a wonderful old guy, John O'Rielly. He was nearing retirement, yet he was still ONLY a firefighter. There was a lot of turnover in that dept, so I was an Engineer in 2 years. John was happy as just a firefighter. He was happy to work in dispatch, which the young guys (I was one once) hated.

I like to think we were friends. Once, out of the blue, he gave me a paperback book called "Paso Por Aqui" It's a western themed book. John was an Old West buff, even though he had been raised in San Francisco.

I've read it a number of times over the years. It has to do with one's redemption and legacy.

I think the only meaningful legacy one is likely to leave are the relationships we have with people. John died within a year of retirement. I never saw him again after his last day at work, I was always going to drop in, but didn't.

Still, I tried to leave a mark. The picture is of a small "Zen" bridge I built for the backyard of my last station. It was right ourside my window. I'm sure it will only last until it is old, weathered, and no one remembers who made it, then it's the dumpster for sure. Being ok with that is another lesson.

The ceramic FF figure was done by my beautiful bride.