Birthday Weekend

Took the day off from work – yay!!
4:17am: alarm goes off and my 40th birthday weekend begins.
I sing “Happy Birthday to Me!”
Sweet wife gives me a gift – mostly to shut me up
Breakfast out with wife and mother: yummy beignets, eggs, bacon, and sweet coffee
Mother has gift for me and hands it over right away
savage the gift wrapping like I am three years old
More Awesome presents from my wife
Facebook, phone and e-mail fill with birthday wishes
Take shower and get dressed in vest and tie
Off to Bellevue for a haircut and strait razor shave
Really enjoyed shave
Bought a bottle of lavender pre-shave oil
A new leather ISW holster somehow becomes mine – self-gifting is awesome
Stop for more coffee at C&P
Home to get ready for date with wife
Talked to some friends on the phone
Played in yard with puppy
Off to a dinner Theatre Circus show
Very Cool
Really happy
Home to snuggle
Asleep and dreaming by 12:30

Up early Saturday.
Chocolate croissants, eggs, and bacon for breakfast
Sweet wife sick
Fall arrived and the rain started
Ran some errands
Spent a little time in the shop working on some lathe projects
Napped a bit with wife and puppy
Went into basement to get a tool and water everywhere
Water heater blew its seam and was leaking
DAMMIT!!
Shut off water and cleared path from heater to basement drain
Assessed the damage and decided it had to be replaced
Went to Home Depot and dropped $400 on a new water heater
Grumble… Grumble… Grumble…
Went to sleep pissed off.
Slept late in the hope that the water-heater magically replaced itself
No luck
Put on work clothes and trudged downstairs into the depths of the basement to wage war
REALLY hate to plumb
Drained the rest of the tank, disconnected the plumbing and electrical
Said a number of curse words
Pulled old heater out, carried it up stairs to truck, and brought new one in
Tweaked back
Cleaned up mess on old tank platform and placed new one
Connected the pipes and filled the tank
FVCKING pipe above tank now leaking!!
I HATE TO PLUMB!!!!
Trip to hardware store
Installed new sections of pipe
Said prayer
turned on water and tank pressurized
No leaks
HALLELUJAH!
Wired new heater and set the duel thermostat
2 hours later, I took a very satisfying hot shower.
Wife swooned and told me how awesome I was.
Made the hassle and aggravation all worth while
Packed for 5 day trip to England
Went to sleep and snuggled wife and puppy

Up early and off to the airport.

Camping in the Plague-free 14th Century

Stamps-With-Foot and I spent part of the recent holiday weekend camping in a south-western Washington hay field pretending with a wink and a smile that it was 1340.

We have some friends that are big into the SCA and asked us to come along.  At the mention of playing dress up, my wife was all in.  I spent most of my time cooking and washing dishes and I made it over to Merchant’s Row for a few purchases.  I got way too involved in construction techniques of the different tents and campers (kind of want my own Gypsy Vardo) and camping accouterments and MAY have made a pest of myself at one booth deciphering the geometry of the tent fly.  There are times when I am too nerdy for my own good.

Anyway, we had a nice time away from a house full of boxes and projects.  It was great to see our friends and it made my wife happy to get to dress me up in pretend pleasant clothes.

Road Trip from SoCal to Vegas

Laurel and I took a trip this spring to Orange County, CA, visited some of our old haunts, ate our favorite California-only foods, hung out with some of the people we love there, and then drove across the desert to Las Vegas so I could attend a work related trade show – the following below are mostly her pictures.

Hanging out in our ‘hood this weekend

We had a quiet West Seattle weekend: Friends over on Friday and we all drank no small amount of great Italian wine and ate the last of our French Comte cheese. I worked around the house and in the shop (me and the lathe are friends) Saturday morning while Stamps-With-Foot nursed a touch of a hangover and snuggled with the Brodie – He didn’t complain. Sunday was lazy with Brunch at Meander’s in White Center (Go For the Chicken and Waffles!) and afternoon coffee at C&P. After coffee and reading, there was a trip to Trader Joe’s, home for left-overs, some quality hottub time, and then we finished the evening with glasses of port, sitting in front of a fire.

Cutting trees down and making stuff

Shortly after we moved into La Maison du Talley, we cut 21 trees out of the backyard. There was only one serious tree – a 40′ cedar – and the rest were smaller Bay Laurels and Vine Maples that were blocking any possibility of sunlight reaching the ground. I kept some of the larger, straighter sections of the small trees and put them in the loft of the garage to dry and season, hoping that I would eventually make stuff out of them. That was three and a half years ago and while spring cleaning in the garage/shop this weekend I decided to take a little break and mess stuff up again 🙂 I pulled a couple of sections down and cut them to manageable size with the chop saw. I knew exactly what to do with pieces.

We have a neighbor who is crazy helpful and has a passion for dahlias. He grows and shares them with the whole street and has helped Stamps-With-Foot litter the edges of the yard and flower beds with them. She loaned him the bulb planter early this spring and he loved it. He had somehow gone through life as a gardener and just never tried one. I decided to make him his own with graduated depth gauge marks and a matching mallet to drive it into the odd patch of hard ground. The planter is made from a section of the vine maple and the mallet is turned from a hickory Little League baseball bat that I bought for $2.00 at Goodwill. The maple was super-dense and I counted 21 very tight growth rings on it. It grew in the shade under larger trees for all that time and that made it an especially hard and nice piece of wood to turn with sharp chisels – the wood shavings and tailings came off in long, thin, lace-like strips. An absolute pleasure to work with.

Since I was making sawdust already, I decided to keep going: The wife and I are planning to make some/most of our Christmas gifts this year. I have already started and added a few mallets for the woodworkers in my life (I am not spoiling the surprise – none of them read this blog…). I also turned a garden mallet for Stamp-With-Foot from a section of Laurel tree (her name-sake). I added the burned striped bands at her request after she saw her’s beside the others and got mallet-envy.

Just before my wife stomped out to the shop and MADE me come in for the night, I took a hunk of red oak that I have had for 10+ years and turned a couple of fancy door-stops. Since we live in a house built in 1928, the doors have a mind of their own and a well placed wedge keeps a person from walking into the edge of a door in the middle of the night. I will add some tung oil and a few coats of satin poly this week to finish them up.

12th Night in Portland – 2013

A few weeks ago we drove down to Portland so that I could to do some off-site work for my J-O-B and took an extra day (on or dime) to both visit friends and attend an evening of the SCA’s 12th Night celebration – Being married to a trained costume designer means that one goes to these sorts of evenings.  Our friends have closets (yes, I meant to be plural – as in 4 closets) filled with period costumes and accessories.  My wife dressed me in a couple of different outfits until she was certain that I looked the part and then I went and waited downstairs for a couple of hours while the ladies prepped and primped like a good little puppy.

I agreed to this foray for three reasons:

  1. Happy wife, happy life…
  2. There was booze promised to me.
  3. There was to be a “huge” vendor area where all sorts of cool stuff like swords, and bows, and armor, and axes and like items would be sold and traded.

Now, the mention/rumor of armor and swords takes be back to being a 9-year old at my very first Renaissance Faire (the REAL Penn and Teller performed that year).  I wanted a “real” sword and a chain mail hood so bad that I would have licked the bottom of a Port-a-John seat for them at the time.  My son is now enamored with the same period of history, I live vicariously through him and thought that he would get a real kick out of the pictures of armor and swords

I was a little disappointed: no swords, one real armor dealer and sales area was lined with stalls that catered to the ladies fabric, buttons, capes, cloaks, furry hats, jewelry, etc…), but I did end up getting a few good pictures to send to The Ruminator and we ended up watching the fencing melee/tournament.  Helmets, steel swords, shields, daggers, very cool.  He would have been all in!

The rest of the event was good and the detail of some of the costumes was amazing.  Some of those folks put months and months of work hand sewing outfits just for that one night.  Our evening ended with a game of Cards Against Humanity – I won – and we stumbled home just after 1:00AM.

Cast Iron Camping Cookware Box

In my on-going project to build the finest glamping/campaign furniture kit in the Pacific Northwest, I have added a custom box for holding all of our cast iron and campfire cooking gear.  It all started out with a wooden box I picked up at a garage sale that was full of a cast iron camp set that had been used once.  We have added a square fry pan, pot lifters, trivets, stand-off, roasting sticks, a grill, bacon press, a 12″ lid, and corn-shaped bread pan.  I had thought about including all of it in my camp kitchen, but it would have made the unit so heavy that I would have needed a winch to get it off and on to my truck bed.

The box that it came with was just a roughly tacked together crate, but it had potential.  I spent a couple of hours adding trim, remaking the lid, adding reinforcement, and painting it a deep red.  To Finish it off I added brass pipe handles and brass closures.  It is still not light, but one person can carry and move it.  The “new” box holds all the aforementioned gear, looks snazzy, and doubles as a seat for around the campfire.

I do love me a Japanese 4X4

Some friends of ours are downsizing their lives and are planning to quit their jobs and take an extended around the world trip.  We were helping them move some of their stuff to a smaller place and I asked the Man-Friend in the relationship what he was going to do the what I assumed was a non-running older 4X4 truck in front of the house.  He said I could have it.  Ughhhh….  I tried to let him off the hook telling him to think about it and when he kept on saying I could “Have” it, I offered to pay him what he had in it or what he paid for it.  Nope.  He gave me the truck.  I couldn’t say no.  I just couldn’t.  I love the design and construction of Japanese 4-wheel drives.  They are super tough and if maintained, extra dependable.  There was no way I was going to just let a free one scoot past me.

Turns out that the truck both runs and has a clear title.  It is a blue 1989 Dodge Ram 50, single cab – that is what the title says anyways.  In reality it is a Mitsubishi MightyMax that Dodge imported, did not touch, and slapped their name on.  the ’89 model was the 1st year of the 2nd generation of the truck and had a 2.6 liter, I4 forklift engine in it.  If serviced, they will run for 400K+ miles.  Our new steed has 183K on it and needs a ring and valve job – smokes on start up and won’t pass smog.  It needs some tires, shocks, tranny service, hub locks, and some electrical work, but it was FREE!

I need another project in my life like I need a meteor hole in my roof, but I think after a little work it will make both a commuter for my mom and a dependable truck to troop over to the grocery store, Home Depot, drive into the mountains, or to haul the occasional thrift store treasure. 

I haven’t thought of a name just yet – we haven’t had enough time together:  No share hardships endured.  We haven’t moved together in the pouring rain. Zero late night beer runs through a dry-county.  No women have been wooed. No mountains climbed…. A name will come in time.

A summer glamping trip to Mt. Adams, WA

All the rain, cold, flu and grey skies have me reminiscing about warmer weather and adventures we had this summer:  Stamps-With-Foot and I were working and traveling like mad.  We were almost burnt out, needed a break and deciding the embracing arms of Mother Nature were in order.  A couple that we hang out with was also in a camping state of mind so we planned a little weekend trip to the big woods.  A lakeside campground on the slopes on Mt. Adams was chosen and my brother-in-law and his lady friend were invited as well.

This was not a hike ten miles with all our crap sort of outing.  We packed up the truck with all our Glamping goodies and bits and drove south one Friday afternoon after work.  5 hours later (traffic, road closures, notes tacked to trees, a campsite change, a lying GPS, etc…) we pulled into camp with good wine, cold beer, salmon fillets and steak waiting for us…  This is how all camping trips should start!

We slept in and when we finally did find the initiative to leave our queen sized blow-up bed, we were greeted with a crystal clear lake and a postcard view of the mountain from the door of our tent.

It was a weekend of no cell phones or e-mail, but lots of cast iron cookware, campfires, smores, beer, scotch, laughing, panoramic views and relaxation.  Just what the Dr. ordered after a really hectic week.

Rock Climbing with the Lads

This May saw the 2012 Orthopedic Big-Belly Hillbilly Climbing & Beer Drinking Association Cragfest. It was held at Smith Rock, OR and in Mt. Shasta City, CA. This was the 9th sort of-annual gathering in the last 13 years for our little band of over-educated, misshaped, crippled, wannabe climbers, profound thinkers and powerful drinkers. We spent a long week climbing, eating & drinking hopped beverages (I gained 6lbs!!), there were murderous 6-8 mile hikes up to crags, some nudity, 5 snake sightings (one reptile death), no broken bones, some quality routes climbed, limited blood loss, heavy rocks snuck into packs, laughter, video games, gas, Squid Billies, more laughter, and quality time spent catching up on each others’ lives…. A fine week off with buddies and away from the J-O-B.

This year’s cast of characters included:

Taint: A native son of Southern California. Strong climber, but easily confused by tri-cams and large hexes. A world traveler and new father who needs 11 hours of sleep a night to function and has absolutely no short term memory – none. An easy target for pranks and very poor at retaliation. Had to cancel his participation on an OBBHC&BDA trip two years ago because he had 2nd degree burns on the soles of his feet after helping with/leading a fire walking “class.”

Dr. Strippy-Socks: A writing, climbing, painting, fiddlin’, designing, and docterin’ polymath who was gracious enough to open his mountain home up to our little band of miscreants. A man who has an amazingly talented and giving spouse that allows him out of the house in polyester shirts, a visor, short-shorts, tall socks and sandals. This in an individual who in the course of a conversation will quote bolt torque specs, reference an obscure Ska band, outline the ideology of specific band of Orcs, and review the symptoms for early onset CHF in middle aged men.

The Bridesmaid Whisper: A bright, smart, medical resident with a dry sense of humor that borders the Sahara. The strongest climber of the trip, a man who developed the definitive definition of a #2 Pencil and made me tinkle myself a little while laughing hysterically in my sleeping bag. He is a man that can walk into a wedding reception and in short order has to wade through a throng of drunken bridesmaids who need his body like the Pope needs Jesus.

Smooth&Boney: Is a man who can sit on the couch for years, then walk outside and send a 5.12 sport route. Any mention of Jessica Alba will send him into smiling, wild-eyed fits of joy, followed by some alone time. Poor at hiking with a pack and once cried when his belayer tooted on him a little, has gear that predates Columbus, his favorite outdoor technical fabric is jean denim, and is the father to three adorable girls – the middle one loves me more than her uncle Rosy! When not climbing or wading through the estrogen that fills his life, he is a Designer/Engineer/Manager for the snazziest tool corporations in the world, but has yet to pass any cool shinny metal stuff on to his friends.

The Lawn Enforcement Officer: Father to two pale yet happy children and husband to a wife he doesn’t deserve: a mix of Betty Crocker/Belladonna/Ellen Page. I am the short, fat, balding, yard-obsessed, hairy, practical joking chronicler of this tale who now lives in Seattle in a 1928 house that is forever under reconstruction. The winner of The Deep Belly Button Award this year – A prize given to the fattest climber in the group for a given year.

Not-A-Biker: A great climber, brother to Smooth&Boney, and a generous friend who looks more like his father with the passing of each day. A man about to embark on an odyssey that will take him and his sweet southern, gvn-toting bride into the wilds of Philadelphia for a 3 to 29 year medical residency. He is someone who will freely give prostate exams to his friends (perfect strangers too…), has a questionable web search history, and who should never be allowed to even sit on a motorcycle. Was pantsed (sic) this year in full view of the entire group.

Missing this year was THE Mark Flood. Mark is the only man that Chuck Norris masturbates to. He is the strongest climber and hiker that any of us know, a gifted engineer, a good natured friend and drinking companion, and one of the toughest people you will ever meet. I have seen him drink from green stagnate pools one the sides of cliffs without any intestinal backlash and there have been things that have gone into his belly that would make a billie goat puke.

He has become a whispered legend in some circles after snatching falling climbers out of the air – mid fall – and saving them from a quick brutal death – truth. To punctuate the description/picture of Mr. Flood: He couldn’t join us this year because while hiking out of what was surely an epic day of climbing, he fell on the steep trail and a piece of iron rebar was shoved into his knee joint!! He tied a hankie around it and finished the walk out… His presence was duly missed this year and we all pray that he will be there for the next gathering to keep us all honest and safe.

Glamping

On a recent weekend, Stamps-With-foot and I met some friends at a campsite on the slopes of Mt. Rainer, situated next to a clear, cool, rushing river.  It was a welcome vacation from my iPhone, computer, the J-O-B, projects at home and was an adventure is truly luxurious camping: glamping.   We had soft warm double beds, million dollar views, canvas recliners, teak side tables, flowers in vases, steak for dinner, champagne both nights, a hardwood fueled fire, fresh pastries, good wine, table cloths, linen napkins, and a curtained canopied dining room. There were even antique Japanese pearls presented and worn (thanks for upping the b-day present giving bar Dave… you dick).  The only thing that separated it from a Victorian safari was the absence of white jacketed & gloved natives and the whole killing of endangered species thing.

All we brought to this gathering was a family sized tent, an air mattress, a set of cast iron Dutch ovens & griddle, some yummy food, good booze, and very sharp kitchen knives.  Our Portland friends added all the rest of the good stuff.  My normal camping experience often requires a nasty 10+ mile uphill hike (both ways), carrying all my junk (with most of the wife’s as well) & 25+ pounds of climbing gear.  Evenings and EARLY mornings are often spent hovering over a tiny stove to warm up some dehydrated crap-surprise, sleeping in a tiny tent, on a thin short blow-up pad, pumping my own water, and waking up to instant coffee. It might be age talking, but I think that I might prefer the linen napkin approach.   I am now plotting my own glamping plush set up.  Next time we all go camping together, it is going to look like a Moroccan Pasha has come over for a weekend – walled tents, plush pillows, curtains, chests, and feasting…

I feel the need to mention that the next time I see Dave I am going to hit him square in the taint for upping the ante with the amazing pearls…  Stamps-With-Foot is now expecting antique Japanese pearls, wrestled from the jaws of a giant clam by a tiny woman diver who held her breath for like 15 minutes and fought, almost to the death, for the prize… Yep, SMACK!! right in the baby-maker for this one David.   I hope your wife treated you well for the thought and originality of your beautiful gift, as you will soon look back on those halcyon nights of pleasure with non-functioning fondness.

Evil on the inside

My dear friend Rosy is currently feeling the sting of retribution.  It is his own fault and really more the result karma then anything I might have done.  I HATE snakes and he thought it would be giggly funny to send me an e-mail with an embedded surprise snake video – it may have made me fling my iPhone and pee myself…  Unhappy does not cover my reaction.  Even before his giggling subsided, I began “Project Retaliation.”

Rosy has a beautiful and loving wife, supportive parents, friendly neighbors, and ultra religious in-laws.  I decided to deliver payback through these good people.  The thing about my core group of friends – The Arthritic, Big Belly,  Hillbilly Climbing Assn., is that we are occasionally mean to each other…  There have been forced birthday paddlings, blow-up sheep in restaurants, public ridicule, chain-mails, doctored pictures, co-conspirators, and certain gross misdemeanors committed in the name of good fun, love, and friendly vengeance.  This is shaping up to be one of the latter occurrences.

First, I went online and signed him up on the  Liberation Party website as wanting information and I gave them $10 in his name.  I used his wife’s email address for further contact – she has strong Republican sympathies and the rest of her family are Super-Tea Partiers.  Apparently, Rosy also gave the Tea-Party $10 and clicked every “send me updates and info” button that he could while making that donation…  My friend is now an official Lady GaGa Fan Club member and his picture and details are on one of the Justin Bieber freak/fan sites – they will be sending him periodic (hopefully daily) updates for all things Bieber.  I requested some dirty, dirty, adult toy catalogs for him and sent them to his parent’s address.  Then, a 1-year subscription to OUT! magazines was sent to Rosy via Amazon, but I used his conservative next door neighbor’s address.  Rosy will get a Bear of the Month-mail from now until the end of time and there were also literature requests for everything from hair-loss treatment to laser back hair removal to penile enlargement device specifications.  It really is the small things in life that make us happy.

A couple weeks later I got the text message below from his mom:

One might be tempted to think that I over reacted.  One would be wrong.  Rosy once contemplated releasing a live adult bison into my apartment because I teased him about his mom being hot and me having prior physical relations with her (I didn’t) – he actually looked at the logistics of getting the thing trailered in, really.  Rosy doesn’t have a stop or pause button – you have to decimate him to make it stop.  He fired the first shot in this little war and I had to retaliate with immediate and decisive force or there would have been more snake videos and pictures.  He will attempt some sort of well thought out retribution and I will then have to use the nuclear option: his turbo-religious in-laws.  Stay tuned…

Biological Clocks and Mad Travel

In the last nine days, I have been in three States, have held three new babies, and have watched my wife’s baby-clock go from tick…tick….tick… to BOOM!BOOM!BOOM!  There were three pregnant bridesmaids at our wedding and one of the groomsmen had a very pregnant wife.  In Portland, we met Trystan: A handsome 3-week old little man that is the spitting image of his father.  In Orange County, CA I met Valiant:  a 5-week old heart breaker that looks like his Mommy.  In San Francisco I met Valentina for the first time – Stamps-With-Foot was there for the birth.  Valentina is 6 weeks old and also looks like her daddy.

All these little ones have, seemingly overnight, turned my sweet little “puppies-are-better-than-babies” wife into one of those crazy ladies who talks of nothing but nurseries, baby clothes, water births, talcum powder smells, and the merits of cloth vs. disposal…  All the diaper talk mania is taking its toll on me:  I had a dream a couple nights ago in which Stamp-With-Foot locked me in a room and made me perform till there were babies.  By the time I woke up (I should saw was jolted awake, sweating), there were like 20 of them at all different ages and sizes as well as 4 rabbits.  Some jars of my grandmother Talley’s plum jelly also made an appearance (WTF?!)…