No-wax, easy maintenance, bacteriostatic, and anti-slip.
My neighbors invited some nice people to entertain their guests this evening. It’s a pleasant summer evening, so they decided to move their very raucous party out to the deck and I couldn’t be happier.
Let’s agree to please keep this up all summer.
Your pal,
– bob
P.S. I might be late for work tomorrow.
I’ve been threatening to get rid of the absurd fees charged by my satellite television programming provider for a very long time now. Some event, though, has cropped up to stand in the way. Think Beijing Olympics. Think Superbowl. Think college football.
Now, with not much going on, I’m back on the idea of getting rid of this dumb standard definition box, so I’m researching antenna options for over the air broadcasts for some sort of connectivity. At this point, you might think that I’m a fool for trying to pick up local broadcast television and you may be exactly right since local news is roundly the worst. For instance, we had three wildfires raging around my bucolic alpine haven yesterday, but the lead on all of the Los Angeles news stations was about a guy who drowned in his pool and reactions from the public and G-list celebrities to this fellow’s passing, but I digress.
When the Federal Communications Commission decided that analog broadcasts needed to die in favor of digital, they assured us that the broadcast signal strength and reach wouldn’t be affected. Click this link to go to their signal map site and put our Zip Code, 92549, into the search box. (SPOILER: zero results)
So no amount of antenna with no amount of amplification will receive absolutely no stations whatsoever, according to the new map. I used to get a half dozen analog stations.
Can I get season 5 of The Bachelorette online?
Asking for a friend.
– bob
By the time I made it back to the Idyllwild Playground this morning to continue work, I found that all but the finishing touches were complete. Local artists painted wildlife scenes on thick plastic panels that were mounted throughout the structure, but frames! The paintings need frames!
So my little group made picture frames out of 2-by-8 boards. The captain didn’t use the word, but his instructions were clear—whimsy, employ plenty of whimsy.
Can do! And did.
Your pal,
– bob
Well, it had to eventually happen. I finally got up off of my rear and pitched in to work on a community project. We’re building a huge and elaborate playground at the Idyllwild Community Center park. Through donated funds and materials, and volunteer labor, this is the first big step in constructing a massive public complex for the enjoyment of people here in my little town.
I wasn’t sure that my rickety construction skills would prove useful, but I had a nice time, met some great people and despite the howling complaint from my knees, I’m experiencing a nice sense of accomplishment. There’s more work to do tomorrow, so if I can get everything I need to get done at the Lodge finished in time, maybe I can lend a hand (or two) to put on the finishing touches.
Your pal,
– bob
There was a little commotion outside this morning and I sauntered out to see what all the fuss was about. Mme. Puppy Dog was having a fit as a local squirrel heisted her least-loved toy and scrambled up a tree to her nest. I would’ve sympathized, but I was too busy laughing.
– bob
Good news from CalFire and the Forest Service. I’ll let them tell you themselves in their typically triumphant tone…
Update 8:00 p.m. – Fire is 100% contained. Full control expected by 8:00 a.m. on 6/10/2012.
Settle down, fellas.
– bob
There’s a forest fire burning not too far away from our secret alpine laboratory right now. While some people during this election year will suggest that private enterprise is our salvation, I’m relying on government action to keep my house from burning to the ground. You can smell the smoke (like some delightful artisanal barbecue smoking something over mesquite and manzanita) and I think we’ve had a little ash fall this evening. I’m gathering up household things and will leave the mountain in a little while, but here are some fun links to keep you busy:
So, um, goodnight everybody!
– bob
The roads to my house are really highways. Not huge highways, but the speed limits are 55 MPH until you reach the center of my teensy and astoundingly quaint village.
But I’ve heard that because these highways have curves, drivers become “terrified.” Here in our Secret Alpine Laboratory, we have studied this phenomenon at great length and have discovered that each of our subjects, when they reach a condition we’re calling hodophobia gravitas, that they all slow down to precisely 42 MPH. Why?
Here’s one possible answer:
42 (forty-two) is the natural number immediately following 41 and directly preceding 43. The number has received considerable attention in popular culture as a result of its central appearance in The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy as the “Answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything”. The Question to the answer is: “How many roads must a man walk down.”
Or fall off of.
– bob
Last weekend was one of the warmest and sunniest I recall in February. The birds were angry with each other, competing for the last bits of food laying around, but the gladiolus have started to poke out of the ground. Early spring, right? By 2:00 on Sunday afternoon, the temperature dropped like a stone. Clouds rolled in. The yeti strolled by.
My gorgeous houseguest saw the meteorological writing on the wall just then and made her exit. She’d been worried about the weather predictions coming true right away and rendering her rear-wheel drive pony car little more than a spinning top, but she needn’t have really been concerned for another few hours.
Then, around 6:00 or so, the snow never started falling. It was cold for sure, but nothing—despite the warnings from Johnny Mountain—like the giant Pacific storm that was promised.
Fast forward to Monday afternoon and from noon until 5:00 or 6:00 the next morning, we got a foot of snow. I know what you’re thinking right now (he really does. it’s weird. – ed). Big deal, right? People all over the country deal with this stuff all the time. This is Southern California, so it’s different.
Over the years, I’ve driven through conditions like those of Monday afternoon over and over, but I had no idea that nobody else had. Driving styles ranged from 20 MPH white knuckle terror to bald tire bravado.
Tuesday morning at 5:30, the county Zamboni drivers had worked their magic and made the highway positively glassy. We could’ve contested the Stanley Cup on the perfect surfaces they’d created except for the new snow blowing across the roadway. And the stalled cars abandoned where they landed in the middle of the road.
It’s harrowing, exciting, dangerous and beautiful all at the same time and that’s perhaps the allure of living here. Actual pictures of this Winter paradise to come.
Your pal,
– bob
Friends,
The first snowfall of the season here in America’s Cleanest and Bestest Forest started yesterday and here I am stuck without a Jeep. Okay, to be fair, the Mighty Jeepster is up and running, but not the best mode of safe transportation with its sternum-stabbing steering column, metal dashboard and crusty lap belts. It’s great for around town chores, but I rely on the Grand Livingroom to get to and from work when the weather trends towards ice and slush. Call me old fashioned.
Because I live in a town that runs at a slower pace (which is, incidentally, why we have Daylight Saving Time—so that we can finally catch up) and I need a special tool to fix my all-wheel drive Barcalounger that will surely maybe arrive Monday or thereabouts, I have had the opportunity to look at some internets.
So let’s see what’s on Metafilter. A link to Craig Ferguson’s Halloween show? With Neil Gaiman? I’m in. Particularly since their interview touches on the Doctor’s Wife episode of Doctor Who. He was even in a musical number at the end of the show.
But who is Amanda Palmer? Well, she’s a singer, used to be is currently in the Dresden Dolls, married to Neil Gaiman (interesting couple), and is also a noted pescatarian.
Which reminds me, I should go to the market and get something for dinner.
– bob
Friends,
Well, where did we leave off? Oh yeah, I had half a job, my teensy racecar was overheating, and my family was itching to descend on the Damp Dog Lodge for the Fourth of July festivities here in America’s Cleanest Forest. How’d all that turn out? I might as well tell you about that stuff, but I’m saving the big announcement for tomorrow. It’s as close as you can get to exciting without crossing over that line. Think of it like having home made strawberry ice cream, only to find out that the chunks of fruit had frozen into blocks of ice. Let’s go!
The radiator problem in the tiny racecar was solved by installing a new one, but not just any one would do. Oh no. I had to get a shiny new extra capacity Koyo aluminum radiator from the good people at Good-Win Racing. While much more expensive than a stock replacement, it holds more coolant and is much shinier. It’s kinda neat to be able to run the air conditioning down in the desert without the thing boiling over. Trust me on this. It’s also shinier.
I was concerned, given the now proven to be wildly inaccurate weather predictions, that it’d be an unreasonably hot weekend for my guests so I bought an inflatable kiddie pool and water guns so that they could cool down a bit. I needn’t have worried since monsoonal cloud cover rolled in and made Sunday and Monday an absolute treat.
The only times tempers really flared was when somebody achieved more treats than somebody else. Minor slights, easily handled by bringing out more treats. The kitchen overflowed this weekend, presumably because my siblings thought that we all might go hungry and brought bags and boxes and coolers full of provisions.
Naturally, we all went to the Idyllwild Fourth of July Parade. It’s a tradition, an event and a spectacle all rolled up into one.
Some of us came for that spectacle. Some were excited about the entrants in the parade flinging candy at the crowd. Some just came to have a good time.
Some came to see men with dogs in their trousers riding motorcycles.
There are those of us who don’t think it’s a proper parade unless the UC Riverside Pipe and Drum Band passes by. They stopped in front of us to finish the song they’d started 100-feet away and it was a real treat. There’s video of some of their performance, but it’s on Facebook and I don’t know if you’ll be able to see it. Let me know and I’ll see if I can get it somewhere else.
Then there was a Jeepster, which are as rare as hen’s teeth. Then another.
At the very end of the parade, the party fire truck. These folks were tearing all over the hill with sirens blaring, bells clanging and what sounded like wasted co-eds whooping all weekend. My folks were annoyed. I was entertained. If you had an antique fire truck with seating for twenty, what you you do?
I thought so.
Big announcement tomorrow! I hope you can still get to sleep.
Your pal,
– bob
Friends,
I haven’t driven the teensy tiny racecar in a few days and it has sat outside waiting for another trip to the Festival of Dirt. Also during this lovely springtime period, the local forest has been blowing its bits all over the neighborhood to encourage the propagation of little forests. You can tell which cars carry locals, for instance, by the greenish-yellow pollen dusting their windows and wherever any amount of crud has accumulated. Crud is my middle name since I don’t wash the cars very regularly (there’s only a finite amount of water up here, you know) and the pollen adhesion has taken on patterns formed by weeks old grime that I found kinda interesting.
I liked this shot for the swoop under the mirror. It’s almost like nature is dusting for prints of when I was speeding. Not that I would ever do that of course, but the forest is perfectly within its rights to investigate a hunch.
Then there’s the hood. Either the aerodynamics over the hood are nuts or this is completely random and makes no sense whatsoever. I’ll take both.
Then I was attacked by a swarm of mosquitos that came from nowhere down in the driveway, which prompted my frenzied swatting. The front of the lens of my camera flew off, as did some of the little shutter vanes and when I turned the camera off, the lens jammed and now it won’t restart. This stinks. Especially considering that my favorite camera holiday on the Fourth of next month is rapidly approaching. Cross your fingers that Canon can finish the repair in a week, like they say they can.
Your pal,
– bob