Category: Uncategorized

An Open Letter…

Dear America’s Flooring Contractors,

I hate you.

Staples. Great big nails driven through overly sharp tack strips. Padding bits everywhere. You’re not very nice.

For instance, why didn’t your stomachs turn when you perverted this;

into this;

You monsters.

– bob

Surprise!

“So, what are you going to do with that hideous carpet running up the stairs in the cabin?”

I thought I’d just replace it having pulled up a corner only to see a ratty board. Naturally, I presumed that there was nothing underneath but cheap subfloor.

It turns out that the ratty board was just the edge of a carpet tack strip. The rest of the flooring is nearly pristine tongue-and-groove pine. I say nearly because there are now a lot of nail holes to patch that will be left from the tack strips.

Maybe I can win after all! Hooray for the anti-carpet brigade!

Your pal,

bob

Really?

No, not really. Just kidding, as they say.

It’d be pretty neat to hear about a couple things that are in the pipe at this moment, but no such luck. Think they’re afraid that they wouldn’t be taken seriously? That I won’t believe them today?

Bah! I can’t win (not yet anyway).

Tap, tap, tap…

– bob

UPDATE: Nope. No update. No word. Nothing. Zilch. Forget it. [sigh]

A Nice, Soft Landing

Friends, as most likely was the case with a majority of you, this weekend has involved way too much driving. Unlike some of you though, I didn’t mind one bit (okay, maybe one bit, perhaps two bits, but certainly not a full four bits). They were all destinations worth arriving at. At least one of my fellow travelers did not share that opinion.

I arrived at the cabin on Saturday to be greeted by the folks (of all things!). They heard that I had heavy furniture to unload from the poor little Dakota and diverted fifty miles out of the way to my Aunt’s Easter-Eve festivities to help. I told them that I was perfectly capable of unloading the donated sofa/sleeper myself, but there they were and the job came off without a hitch. While not a surprise visit, it struck me how lucky I am to have their help.

My Aunt’s place is another seventy-five miles or so away from The Lodge, so the folks set off with haste after the moving job was complete. I loitered a bit to, well, loiter, then pointed the pickup down the twisty Banning road towards Riverside.

In this space I may have mentioned something about the Dodge Dakota’s handling prowess. I may have also said that it doesn’t have any. Something must be done about it, but in the meanwhile, the Banning road is strictly third gear work even while clipping the apexes and working the sweet spot on the Poppet Flat Carousel (I made that up, but it sounds like a cool road racing track feature, doesn’t it? what in hell are you talking about? – ed The 300 degree turn just past Poppet Flat! Duh! – bob). The scary Dakota oversteer mixed with its tendency towards unpredictable, last-second understeer make for a drive that will keep narcoleptics alert on stretches like that. Maybe that’s why I hadn’t noticed the sport bike boys on my tail for Jah knows how long.

Two young guys on brand new plastic superbike things were following way too close and had itchy wrists. It’s important to note that there are no legal passing opportunities anywhere on that road for twenty-five miles. It’s all double-yellow and if somebody is going thirty-five miles an hour, you figure out how long it’ll take to drive that distance if they don’t use the turn-outs. These boys, however, were rebels. Their cause was to go as fast as possible and I, along with the pickup in front of me, were keeping them from realizing their goal.

It’s also worth noting that I understand their dilemma completely. How were they to know that I was frightening myself every time I carried more speed into a corner than the Dodge would allow? All they knew, and rightly so, was that I was going too damn slow and not letting them by. Their first mistake though, was to take matters into their own hands.

They passed both of our pickups on a tight and blind left-hander, crossing into the opposing lane in the process. Completely into the opposing lane. No backing out, no kidding into the other lane. It scared the crap out of me and the guy in front nearly hit the guard rail getting out of their way. Two seconds later they were gone. Good for them, I thought. They survived a fantastically stupid maneuver and won’t learn a single thing from the experience except that it might be okay to try it again.

Or not.

Five minutes of plucking my way down the rest of the mountain—and retrieving a pounding pulmonary muscle from my esophagus—I, and my ill-handling compatriot, was greeted at another blind left sweeper by a man furiously waving flares urging us to stop. Now.

Sport bike boy #2 decided to get off his bike just past where we sat. At speed. Had he tried his passing maneuver again? Did the bike just fall out from underneath him? Oil on the road? Gravel? I wouldn’t stay to ask. All I knew was what I saw. A scraped-up kid lifting his shattered bike out of the lane, kicking the plastic bits to the curb and shaking his head in disgust. He looked okay, maybe a little dazed, and there were now a dozen other people who had stopped to help.

The flare guy waved me past the wreckage and I went. As I crossed the double-yellow line into this blind left-hand turn, into the opposing lane, it occurred to me that flare guy hadn’t actually looked down the road to see if anybody was charging up the hill to meet me. I took it on faith that I should just go, that everything would be okay.

The difference, I suppose, is that I’m going to actually learn the lesson that the boys hadn’t. Or wouldn’t.

Happy Easter!

– bob

It’s Time To Spill…

I’d love to tell you all about the truly fascinating and gut-wrenching bits going on right now, but I can’t. As this installment’s title suggests, this would be a lovely time to spill the beans about all of it as I’m on an honesty kick nowadays, but too many people would be upset to read about what’s really going on. At the end of next week I should know more about some of it. In the meanwhile, you’ll have to be patient. I know I won’t.

Do as I say, not as I do, I suppose.

Once I find out about one thing, and can tell you about that, I think I can tell you about another thing as well as the other thing. Vague enough? I hope so!

All of this stuff and bother has got me smoking again, which is not so good. I’d love to quit but I can’t seem to relax for a moment without it. It seems we’re all in a fix. You’re wondering what the hell I’m talking about and I’m itching to fill in all the details. What to do? How about some more pictures? (the pictures you promised a week and a half ago? – ed I thought we had agreed that you would keep your commentary to yourself. – bob you agreed. i didn’t. – ed Okay, I agreed that you would zip it. – bob that’s insubordination. you’re fired. – ed)

This is one of the desks. You’ll be forgiven to think that there’s no way any actual work could take place there. I think it’ll be more of a kiosk for visitors to the fine Lodge.

…and this is a brief glimpse of the cabin below The Lodge that is now on the market for an obscene sum…

Little blooms on the neighbor’s tree (or is it my tree? the property line is in question at the moment. more on that later.)

Dunno. My tiny woods, I suppose. It keeps the view from the deck fairly lovely though, don’t you think?

More trees, more landscape, and a view that you might take a look at and make suggestions on how I can improve it.

…and use this view to formulate your improvement suggestions too! I’d appreciate any thoughts you might offer. Remember, nothing within the bounds of quaint cottage design is out of bounds. Confusing enough?

May you all rise on the third day to lay a chocolate, pastel-colored egg,

bob

Site Survey

Let’s review events of the past week featuring expert analysis from hissownself, the editor of this space, -ed. First, the roof patch experiment at the cabin. As you know, I spent last weekend patching the roof to eliminate the leaks that must clearly be damaging the add-ons and surrounding structures. For an objective assessment of my success, let’s turn to my editor. Take it away…

you suck. the work you did last weekend was a total abject failure. not only did the patches not work, but considering how light the rain is this weekend, it seems that the leaks are actually worse. i’d suggest that you consider a position in a field that won’t threaten our livelihood, like horticulture, but i fear for the poor plants that you would surely kill in the process. my cosmic karma account can’t take the hit that you would inflict on this planet so maybe you should think about shooting yourself into space. then again, we can’t risk war with the alien cultures you’re likely to alienate, so just dig a hole and bury yourself alive. – ed

There you go folks! Unbiased, objective commentary from the Editor of A Jaunty Little Blog. I think I won’t solicit any further opinions (oh, that’s cute. – ed) on any further subjects whatsoever (good luck with that. -ed).

Tomorrow, pictures aplenty! Later today, more things!

Your (chastened) pal,

bob

My Sinuses Hate You

I hate to hear it as much as you do, but them’s the facts ma’am. I just can’t shake this thing. Between the allergy meds and the allergies themselves I’m still a wreck. It won’t deter me from heading to higher elevations this weekend, but it will certainly keep me from venturing in to work tomorrow. This is not so good.

I thought that I might venture to the evil electronics den called Fry’s with the father of my nephew for some retail therapy this morning, but that didn’t really help either. I did pick up a refurbished router for thirty five dollars (American) though which should help with my Lodge Data Infrastructure Project. When those certain folks set out in 1946 to build a tiny cabin in the woods do you suppose they might have imagined ubiquitous high speed data transfer throughout their little creation? I suspect not.

They might have speculated about that new thing called television, but please, transmissions all the way up to The Hill? Heresy! I’m sure that instant retrieval of the combined knowledge of the the world’s great thinkers (and hacks) only a button-press away would have thrown them for a loop. Commuter planes to the hotels on the Moon? Why not? They read about that in Popular Science every month, but might they have contemplated our data driven economy? I wouldn’t think so.

The computers in the cabin (yep, there are a few) are set up for dial-up now, but should a certain thing work out, I’ll promptly order DSL and connect them all together to allow folks staying there access from anywhere in the joint. Including me.

“A certain thing?” I hear you ask. Not yet. Wait for it.

Your best pal,

bob

How Did You Do That?

Dear Sir or Madam,

It appears that the world is desk-rich. How do I know? I have four—donated by various people—in various stages of arriving at the cabin. One’s downstairs, and the one I brought up the Hill on Friday had to go upstairs. You’ll be happy to hear that I managed to bring it up two flights of stairs by myself. You might also wonder how. Well, how did the ancient Egyptians build the pyramids?

I called the space aliens to help, just like they did, silly.

I also got the chance to meet my next door neighbors who own the tiny cabin just below The Lodge. They’re a nice, older couple and we seemed to get along pretty well. Then they let me know that they’re selling the place. Of all the luck. Maybe I’m simply driving away the friendly people. That’s probably it.

When you post a blog entry like this one, Blogger gives you the option to postdate so that the time stamp shows up later than is actually the case. I consider that cheating though, so I’ll fess up and tell you that I’m laying this down in the middle of the day on Thursday. I emailed-in sick to let the allergy medicine do its thing from the comfort of my sister’s home rather than fall asleep at a desk in the Medical Clinic at work. I certainly hate having to use medications of any kind, but it turns out that I’m much more in favor of breathing. I know! Weird!

Now the part I’ve been dreading (as long as I’m being honest). My backsliding on the smoking cessation program has been progressing with all the terrible haste one might fear when embarking on such a project. It all (re-)started on The Hill during a particularly boring, raining, and cold evening and hasn’t abated. I need to quit again, certainly, but now I find myself getting defensive about the whole thing. (“none of your business!”) I just hope that with this post I’m making it your business and you might wish to gently give me (grief) encouragement about it.

Time for another nap, brought to you by the good folks at Benadryl…

More later.

– bob

Separating The Chaff From The Stuff You Throw Away…

Friends,

It’s been an interesting week. Good mostly, bad sometimes, with a strong chance of ugliness in the forecast. Allow me to explain to the best of my ability (and as confidentiality agreements allow).

The Damp Dog Lodge *

You didn’t see a blog update this weekend mostly because I was playing host to my Dad at the cabin. Sure, he drove up the Hill to help with projects and we kept busy doing them, but I spent a certain precious amount of time trying to find things to do that didn’t involve going outside. When it’s thirty-eight degrees and raining, that seems the prudent course especially considering Dad is a desert rat who can’t abide by the cold—and is sick and tired of the wet.

My Dad has a tremendous capacity to “find a way” to get seemingly impossible jobs done, leaving me no option but to tackle them. It’s a trait I admire, but it severely cuts in to my lounging time (as well as my blogging time).

The weather cleared up on Sunday, so the roof got patched, more pine needles were collected, and in our spare time we added more items to The List. Like I needed more things to do up there.

Underpowered Truck

I know you’ve been worried sick about the status of the Mighty Dodge Dakota. Me too! It’s running, and hauling, and doing all the things pickups are supposed to do save one—get out of its own way. I can’t help but think something’s amiss because it’s so loud and so underpowered. Could it be the exhaust leak I thought I fixed? Stuck lifter? Something else? (could it be that the engine is a tired little lump that can hardly move a chassis designed for a V8? – ed Ouch, that really hurts. – bob)

Service Interruptions

Between the Airport wireless connection being down, giant attachments choking my inbox, and the aforementioned, I can hardly get a word in this thing. One of the first rules of developing and maintaining a content-driven site like this is to, erm, provide content. No new pictures of the cabin are available because I’ve forgotten the camera for two weeks running. No interesting words other than “shit, shit, shit” about work. Essentially, I haven’t had too much to work with. (some would say you still don’t. – ed Oh, now that’s unfair. – bob)

The next interruption? My kind and generous hosting provider is changing servers so I’m changing servers too. bobtherieau.com might have some hiccups over the next couple weeks as a result. Nobody goes there anyway, so it’s not a huge deal but I thought I’d get it off my chest.

Some Other Stuff

I can’t really write about some of these other things right now, but maybe there’s a new job around the corner, and some other things that are new are happening as well. I’ll just go ahead and post this, then come back to them when I think I can relay the gist without actually spilling the beans. It’s fun (mostly) and exciting and dammit, I can hardly contain myself (gee, you’re quite the martyr for your craft, aren’t you? – ed Okay, that’s about enough. – bob)

Your best pal,

bob

ASTERISK: Your prize is coming any day now. I just have to make the sign and stand in front of it and shoot a picture (if I remember to bring the camera. sheesh).

Oh Sure, But What If I Might Save The World At The Same Time?

I’ve been having big problems keeping the little iBook connected to the wireless. Of course, so have hundreds of other owners of two or three year-old iBooks. What’s the connection? Batteries. They’re dying.

Batteries can’t hold a charge, can’t power the wireless card, can’t stay connected. In fact, the charge indicator shows 80% left right now, but this computer has quit with 75% (and two hours) showing, so who can really say?

My old battery is kaput, so why wouldn’t it fail to power the Airport card?

And why wouldn’t the boys and girls in the Apple support discussions think of that?

Why should I possibly think that I’m smarter than them? I don’t, so what’s the connection? Why did everybody’s Airport card fail all at once?

Your pal,

bob

UPDATE: I bought a battery today (originally wrote this last night, but the damn thing went down) and it doesn’t seem to have helped all that much. It’s up and down at random intervals. So much for being smart, eh?

A Thought…

Dearest Friends,

I had a thought and it’s this; what if I were to revive my writing career from my lovely little cabin in an unincorporated village in southwestern Riverside County? What would happen if this place inspired me to write great things? Can you even imagine?

I think I can.

This is pretty good.

Your pal,

bob

To The Dump, Gently

Hey there trash-pickers!

Is it sad for me to get excited about spending five bills on a new clutch for the poor Dodge Dakota (more on that in a bit) so that I could drive it to the mountains and finally take out the trash? Four weeks of trash? Is it that pathetic? I mean, the thing does get fairly good gas mileage and can even haul things that aren’t trash. Why get excited about something as pedestrian as going to the dump?

Because I finally can.

It’s a psychological victory in the battle to get things done at the cabin after all and I’ll take whatever victories I can get—even if they are startlingly expensive. The last time I replaced a clutch it was on a ’79 Datsun 210 and the parts cost something on the order of a hundred bucks. It took an afternoon and we were done. Sure, we had our own operating theatre as well as time and the strong urgings from the cheapskate gene, but jumpin’ Jeebus! Two-fifty for parts? Outrageous! The rest was labor, of course, but it’s not like the shop I went to had a lot of overhead (hardly any overhead at all what with all the rainwater INSIDE that office of theirs. – ed Overhead… leaky roof… Oh! I get it! You’re a really funny guy, chief! Keep it up! – Bob).

If I had the time and shop space I would have done the job myself, which points to something insidious. I don’t have enough time because I’m working long hours to make the money to pay for services that I could’ve done myself if I’d had the time. I’m sure each and every one of you faces that same dilemma. Surgery and drywall are best not left to do-it-yourselfers if you want them done right, but I figure that everything else is fair game. If I only had the time.

Speaking of time, I spent a certain amount of it having a lovely one at a coworker’s home on Friday attending a dinner party with clinic staff people. The dinner was fabulous, the company was delightful, and I received a “wizard wand” for my work on the peecees there. That and some mention of how I don’t make people feel stupid.

If you’ve camped out here long enough, you already know how much I despise I.T. people who treat the people who use the machinery in their charge as, well, “users.” Who treat their coworkers (and often the people who pay their salaries) as ignorant sheep who simply aren’t to be trusted with the gift of technology graciously bestowed upon them by a benevolent master race of intellectually superior uber-geeks. It’s nonsense and I can’t wait for the day when people finally realize that using a computer isn’t that hard after all. That they don’t need to be intimidated, and that there really isn’t a secret formula.

Okay, there is a secret. The tech guys are winging it just like you. They don’t know anything more about that specialized custom bit of software than you do. Don’t believe me? The next time you have a problem and call them over, watch what they do. Watch as they click on every menu to see if something looks familiar. Marvel at how they engage you in small talk while they wade through endless options, just like you did before you called them. Thrill to the sounds of “hmmm” and “well, well…”

Just you watch. You’ll see.

More in a bit…

– bob

It’s Like Television, Without The Pictures. Get It?

We pirates, we have it tough. Sometimes you get free cable, other times the man from Adelphia cuts you off. Cold turkey. Normally at this point in the evening I’d have settled down in front of the 15″ (measured diagonally) cathode ray tube for a period of mindless drivel. For instance, tonight Fox was supposed to air the controversial lesbian episode of the Simpsons. How do I know it’s controversial? Because I heard about it on the radio. From NPR, nonetheless.

Instead, I decided it would be neat to put more music on the little iPod. Sure, that’s fun but what else can the thing do? I can put my contacts on the thing too! Why not, I thought. Apple’s iSync thingy talks to the Address Book but as I ran it, warning messages flew by. Unable to synchronize with device: Motorola t720c. Reset all devices and try again.

You’d think I would have thought about that for a second. Reset devices? What does that mean exactly?

But what could it hurt? I clicked the button, connected the cellphone and promptly wiped out every phone number I’d put in the thing since March 2004. Oh, THAT reset.

I know I haven’t called in a while, but if I continue not to call (especially if you’ve moved and changed your number) you now know why. Bah! Holy crap! Crumbs!

It’s interesting to me though as I’ve scrounged around in the Jeep for CDs to rip and download to the iPod that the indestructible music delivery medium is anything but. They’re scratched to hell. Some have spots where the chewy aluminum center platter is gone and you can see through to the other side. (How can that happen?) Some are rip-able, some not. Some were salvageable, Some, sadly, were not—but still play in the car—go figure.

How much of this can I do before the poor little iBook’s hard drive is full? Not much more without a major housecleaning. It’s three-quarters full now!

And I’m 99/100ths done for now.

Your pal,

bob

All Hail!

The surrounding mountains received a credible bit of snow last night, but not us at a mere 5,500 feet. No siree! When the temperatures got to low for the rain to bear, it brought on the hail. Not very big, but again, enough to deter the dogs from going outside in it.

“C’mon guys! It’s just frozen rain! What’s the problem?”

I’m happy to report that I’ve done virtually nothing this weekend besides sleep, eat, and coax the dogs outside. Chores? The checkboxes remain empty. Maybe next weekend.

More wood to cut and split. More painting left to do. More leaks to repair. More more more more.

But at least I was able to take the dogs out for a long walk into the village. Their first and my first time from the cabin as well. I hadn’t realized exactly how close the cabin is to the heart of town (and how good some of the other houses around here make mine look). I was even asked by the toothless smoking man outside the liquor store which one of the dogs went to Westminster. I replied “neither, they’re both too good to show” which was greeted with a wheezy, hollow laugh.

So kids, stop smoking! And stop pulling your teeth out! And stop watching dog shows!

That’s our lesson for today. Don’t you feel better now?

Your best pal in the whole wide world,

bob

…And The Heat Is Rising—Slowly

It’s Friday night. That says a lot of different things to different people. Some, like my roommate, have decided to go out to a dance club (to, what? dance? – ed What are you, some kind of genius? – bob). Some, like my sister, had to be pushed. Some people, like my nephew and his Dad decided to call it an early night and turn in.

Me? I find contentment generating content! Here’s a week-end summary of events especially cooked up for this mess. I’m sure that some of it will find its way into a report for the boss on Tuesday, but not too much.

First, the Airport Extreme base station here is giving me fits. As I write this, the connection is down so it’ll require a restart before I can post this little bit of goodness. Maybe His Steveness should’ve rethought the whole Intel Inside The Airport Basestation Is Okay idea. Personally, I’ve had much better luck with Power PC machines not crashing than I have Intel-based machines. But as we all know, Steve knows best, right?

Right?

The thing’s been crashing, so I’ve been spending my time getting it back on line rather than posting to this thing. It’s a very sad state of affairs indeed.

Also, if you look back in the archives (yes, it’s been that long), I said something about the poor little Dodge Dakota needing a clutch. I still haven’t taken care of it. Poor little thing.

On another subject entirely, we rolled out new software at work and I was assigned a building to support during the launch. It wasn’t necessarily a stretch considering that I camp in that building anyway (or have for a month or so because that’s where the medical clinic is located). What intrigues me about the whole thing though is how much I’ve come to adopt the frontline staff as my own. Tech Support 101 teaches you to remain detached from the “users,” but I missed that class. I missed all the classes, actually.

I’ve been trying this analogy out over the last two days. What do you think? “They make shit up, hoist it up the flagpole, then write a policy that compels people to salute…” And that pretty much sums up how my week went.

Oh wait! Not really! Email has been my friend and my bitter enemy all week too. You, my beautiful and shiny friends have sent me some lovely things, including quite a few mentions of that bitch Carlee. You know, because of the GSP connection. How about this? Remember how I used to work on catalogs (along with my long-suffering, lovely, and under-appreciated writing partner) for Hewlett-Packard? Well… Then you must’ve heard that the HP board fired Carly Fiorina this week as well. Dogs, bitches, Carlee, Carly, HP, Uncle Bob… Friends, it’s weird! Spooky, even!

I’ve enjoyed all the rest of the emails too. When I’ve been able to connect the Little iBook to the Innernut that is, and once I’ve killed all the bad spam badness….

The bad email problems I’ve encountered this week have been largely of my doing. At work, I’m sure that most problems could be solved by a phone call, but that’s mostly due to my hatred of the phone and my willingness to concede a great deal of ground in a conversation. Much less so in written correspondence. “Gee, he’s so accommodating in person,” they must say. In an email? Forget it. If you screwed up, I will not hesitate to let you know. If you start a thread that impugns my credibility and punk out in the middle of the the electronic back and forth, I’m happy to let you know about it. Hell, I’ll even let your boss know about it as well as the directors of two or three other departments!

Politically savvy? Not bloody likely.

Fun? Only a little.

More later…

Your pal,

bob

UPDATE: I’m posting this from the little cabin (it’s hard to screw up a direct connection to the phone line—”wired” doesn’t really appeal to me as the antonym of “wireless,” how about “wirefull?”). The pups are here napping in front of the fire and it’s been raining pretty hard. It looks like we’re in for the afternoon. Maybe they’ll help me finish the 10,000-piece jigsaw puzzle.

ANOTHER UPDATE: I edited this post to make it a little less sad. – bob