Spending The Kid's Inheritance

Our old trailer is well over twenty years old and has pretty much seen its last days. So, Wifey and I went to the big RV show and bought a new one. Though it is smaller than the old one, it has a slide out, so it is much bigger on the inside. We did have to give up some storage space. The only outside storage is the compartment under the bedroom. It has no basement like the old one. We streamlined our gear and found that we carried way too much useless and redundant stuff. So, after packing everything in, we headed up to Monterey for Thanksgiving weekend. We stay at Laguna Seca raceway. It is a beautiful spot and you can watch the racers practice during the day. The weather was perfect. 70s during the day and a bit cool at night, but that's what campfires and central heating is for. One additional bit of gear that we bought was a pair of Lodge cast iron Dutch ovens. For Thanksgiving, we did a whole chicken, since it was just the three of us. Our grand daughter tagged along. I marinated it in olive oil, lemon juice, rosemary, salt and pepper. In the pot went onions, carrots, garlic, mushrooms, more lemon and a bit of dark beer. Plopped in Mr. Chicken with a sprig of rosemary under each wing. About 10 charcoal briquettes on the bottom and 15 on the lid. After an hour, or so, it was a done deal. I used the broth to make gravy for the potatoes which I did in the smaller oven,which was just set on the lid of the big one with about 10 briquettes on top. Stack cooking. Meanwhile, yams, salad and sushi (sushi?????) was being prepared in the trailer. It was quite a feast. The next morning, it was cowboy breakfast in the Dutch oven. Throw some hashbrowns, some cooked bacon, sausage, Spam, ham or whatever you have, some eggs and top with cheese. Charcoal on the top and bottom and wait about 25 minutes. Very good and filling. You could add anything else that suits your fancy, salsa, peppers, onions, whatever. That night, it was chili. I just used ground beef, three different kinds of beans, garlic, onions, canned tomatoes and Carroll Shelby's chili mix. After about an hour, I mixed up two packages of Jiffy corn muffin mix and spooned it right into the pot, covering the top of the chili. Lid back on and cook for another 15 or 20 minutes. It turned out really good. The corn bread cooked up real nice and was not soggy, on the bottom, as I feared it might be. On Saturday we ate out at Cannery Row. When we got back, I made a dump cake. Two cans of apricots in the Dutch oven, sprinkle in a yellow cake mix and a half can of Seven-Up. Same routine as before with the coals. It was good, though I think I should have let it cook for a bit longer. In all, I'm sold on Dutch oven cooking. Next time out, we'll try some other recipes.

I Know You Are, But What Am I?

In every battle, of any magnitude, there are collateral casualties. The same is true of internet arguments. One of the the people who decided to stick his nose into the episode, that lead to my previous post, is a particularly odious nitwit who uses the screen name, "car wash king". Though he seems to be a man of means, since he rides a one hundred thousand dollar motorcycle, he is a moron of Biblical proportions. I do not make this statement lightly. In a series of personal messages, words were exchanged. Cruel and ugly words, from both of us. In his final little love note, he made the following observations about The Boy Genius™. To whit, I am a dumbass, I am a loser and I am a derelict. I will address these individually and in order. Dumbass; The title of this blog says it all. I am a Boy Genius™. This is an irrefutable fact. Now, I will bow down to people like Stephen Hawking or the, seemingly endless, stream of Asian kids, graduating Magna Cum Laude from Harvard, Princeton and the like, but I do hold my own in the brainpower category. Loser; Where do I begin? OK, I have been with the same woman since high school. Fifty years. We are very happy. The Fongderosa, which was worth one million dollars, prior to the crash, is fully paid for, as are our vehicles. We have four beautiful granddaughters. The 22 year old is gainfully employed as a teacher. The 13 year old is in an advanced studies program at the charter school that she attends. She actually is a genius and is taking college classes while attending middle school. The 7 year old is also in a special program for advanced students at her school. The 2 year old is as cute as a bug, but kind of a stinker. Terrible twos, I guess. We have a circle of friends and have no discord amongst our family members. I've never been arrested, I don't do drugs or smoke and I drink very, very moderately. We are retired and our income is adequate for our needs. Please do not see all of this as puffery or bragging, just a rebuttal to being tagged as a loser. Derelict; Sorry cwk, but this one escapes me. I have never drank Night Train, Thunderbird or slept in a pool of my own vomit, or anyone else's vomit, for that matter. I have never eaten at the mission, except when we volunteer (BTW, we really do). I have never begged in front of a 7-11. I do not, nor have I ever, owned a shopping cart. I probably could fashion a shelter from cardboard and urine soaked blankets, but have never had the need or the desire. I've never had lice, scabies or any other, filth borne, diseases. My clothing is not second hand and finds it's way to the washing machine as needed. Now, much the same as "Other Guy", car wash king will probably never have his mother read this to him. I don't care. It is just my way of telling anyone, who reads this drivel, that the Boy Genius™ will not be mocked. It is futile for everyone, except for a small percentage of fortunate individuals who reside at the right side of the IQ/wit bell curve.

A Slab, A Third Wheel And A Fifth Wheel

After the realization that the latest pour was a total loss, I formed up and poured another one. I used the palm sander to vibrate it, but also used the air hammer as I had done before. After a trip to Nevada to visit little brother and his family (and cute little brand new grand daughter) I came home yesterday and pulled the slab out of the forms and flipped it over. It came out very nice, no voids and just a few bug holes. I'll try to grind and polish it tomorrow, if I have time. Our grand daughter is moving in because she got a job in our area. It is her first, real, job. In today's economy and high unemployment, she is fortunate to find full time work. She is working at a day care center. She has been taking child development classes at her local community college, so it has paid off for her. The only downside is that, at 22 years old, she has no license or car, so guess who is going to chauffeur her about? We will be pushing her towards a bit more independence and big girl behavior by finding her a car so we can enjoy the new RV that we bought last week

Success 2 - Failure 2

I spent this morning moving the slab to a pair of saw horses so I could begin the wet polishing process. The attempted repairs that I made, yesterday, with the Fixall/sand/pigment concoction failed almost instantly. Fixall, as I should have realized, is a plaster based material and the water and grinding action caused it to wash away like coffee grounds going down the drain. I had already decided that there was a, near 100 percent, chance that I would have to redo it. So be it. It is our home and we have to live with it. For me, at least, I plan to die in this house so, if I have to look at it every day, it needs to be right. A certain amount of, "That's good enough", does work for me, but there isn't room for very much. Back to Home Depot for another sheet of melamine board and rebar. I'll re make the form, bend up and tie the rebar tomorrow and re pour Thursday, as long as I don't have any other calamities. I am, by nature or nurture, a very impatient person as well as being a hot head. I surprised myself by not throwing one of my usual temper tantrums. Perhaps because it is a bit difficult to give a 300 pound slab of concrete a flying lesson

Into The Void

I'm supposed to be getting better at this sort of thing. I poured the third piece of the counter last week. Yesterday, I pulled it from the forms. There were a number of, very large, voids, especially at the edges. When I made the pour, I tried vibrating the mix with a palm sander, that I wrapped in plastic. It seemed to work well. The mud moved and flattened out as I pushed the sander in. Maybe I didn't hit the edges well enough to allow the mud to settle into the edges of the form. There is a possibility that I will discard the slab and do it over. In the meantime, I'm going to try to save it. I mixed a slurry of Fixall, sand and pigment and troweled it into the defects. I'm going to grind it today with the wet polisher and see how it looks. The problem, that I think will arise, is the lack of aggregate in the slurry. There might be a noticeable difference in the surface appearance since the patched areas are just sand and pigment. We'll see. I am disappointed, but remain stoic and optimistic. I will finish this job and It will look nice. I know that to be a fact because that's what Wifey told me and she is never wrong.

The Wall

Yesterday, the traveling Vietnam wall came to our town. It is an 80% replica of the actual memorial in Washington DC. I, of course, decided to go and see it. I thought it would be cool and fun, since I may never see the real one. I got out my dog tags and my old "go to hell hat" and drove over, with Wifey, to have a look see. I had no way of knowing that seeing it and reading the name of guys, that I saw die, would bring such a flood of emotion. I, like so many other vets, fell apart, recalling the horrors of war, the sights, sounds and, even, smells that haven't gone away in 45 years. Recalling the young boys, almost men but not quite, and then looking at my own face, growing old and gray while they lay, forever 19 or 20 years old in their graves. Why did I return, unscratched? By the grace of God, I suppose. I felt that I had to do something, however insignificant, to honor a few of them, so I returned home and made up a little three page memorial for 11 guys that we lost on one, particularly, bad operation. We went back and I laid it in front of the panel with their names on it. A lot of people stopped to look at it and read what I had written and to look at the faces of the boys who gave all, especially the one who willingly gave his life to save his fellow Marines by throwing himself on a hand grenade. It allowed me to speak to a number of people, who took a genuine interest in what happened in those few days when all hell erupted. Rest in peace, Bazulto, Bell, Bice, Blessing, Brothers, Cahill, Castillo, De Abre, Lee, Perkins, Walton. Also Reinke, Cooper, Novembre, Dennis, Corns, Kemmelmacher, Angerstein, Woodard, Pinnsonault, Kluge, Kemski, Tapio, Ostroff, and, God forgive me, the others, who's names time has erased from my memory

Mixalot Or Fixalot

Well, failure has, once again, stymied my efforts to get the counters done and installed. Yesterday, I got up, ate my Count Chocula and Strawberry Quik and headed for the shop, to pour the third piece of the puzzle. I had already built the form and bent up and tied the rebar, so everything was a go. I mixed up two bags of concrete with the correct amount of pigment and flipped the mixer over to pour the mud into a bucket. The yoke, that I had broken and brazed together, wasn't up to the task and another load ended up in the dirt. This was distressing, to say the least. I went upstairs and got on Craigslist, and punched in "Cement Mixer". I got about six or seven good hits. What is it about the people that use Craigslist? Several of the ads had phone numbers and the rest were reply by email. So I dutifully emailed each one and called the rest. Two calls went to voice mail where the voice mail had not been set up. I don't text, so no sale. By this morning, none of the emails had been answered. I was able to contact and speak, finally, with two people. Both had mixers that would work for me. I chose the one that was the farthest away and cost the most, since it was only a fifty dollar difference and the better one was twice the machine. So, two hundred bucks and a 130 mile round trip later, I have a real, honest to goodness, heavy duty towable mixer that Godzilla couldn't bust. I had to order more of the special counter top mix, since I don't have enough to finish the job, due to the two mishaps with the mixer and the one piece that was twisted. Even with all of the drama, the counters will still end up costing about four hundred bucks, exclusive of the mixer and the polisher. Not so bad and I am learning through my screwups. I've always tried to observe others and learn from their failures, but self education is capricious and even cruel at times. So, I fully expect to keep smacking my thumb with the metaphorical hammer until I decide that it smarts a little