Carlee, Carlee, Carlee…
Gee, she can stand still and stuff, but really. Who can’t?
Okay, I can’t.
Your pal,
bob
Happy Valentine’s Day!
I think you’re swell.
– bob
“Post More Pictures!” – Part II
Crap! So insistent! What can I do but comply?
First a little photo for my niece of a big freaking spider (along with a bonus, blurry millipede) shot in the bathroom sink immediately prior to its quick and painless demise. Trust me on this, I didn’t feel a thing.
Next, my small entry in the StormWatch 2005 Photo Sweepstakes. Wait for it, you’ll be amazed…
Good Lord! No!
It’s true, a tree fell across my driveway during the latest storm. High winds after the latest saturating rains caused the whole mess. Of course nobody was hurt here, the cabin was unaffected, the asphalt driveway didn’t even seem to mind.
I am, however, suffering from chainsaw envy.
I was able to cut up the smaller sections with my new 16-inch chainsaw, but the larger part eludes easy hacking.
That’s because it’s too freaking big. Yes friends, size seems to matter after all.
I’d hoped that wouldn’t be the case.
Rats!
– bob
“Post More Pictures!”
Jeebus! Keep your shirt on! Okay! Cripes!
I suppose I should mention my trip to Chicago first. After all, that’s where I left off, isn’t it? I arrived at my brother’s freshly vinyl sided abode on Saturday afternoon and all heck broke loose. There were nieces wielding ransom notes from their captors…
…and all manner of hijinks. I must say though that after my brother convinced his wife that I’ve had better Mexican food than they might ever muster in Chicago—and for much less green—she found a great Indian restaurant that served the best Indian food (no surprise there) that I’ve ever had. Period. The sick part was that the neighborhood this place was in had a diner, cafe, club, or take-out joint in every other space over ten blocks. I’d go back just to compare and contrast if nothing else.
I could say that Sunday was wasted on the Super Bowl, but that’s not necessarily true. The old friends in attendance were the draw, not the ridiculous spectacle that covers for a football championship.
On Monday we went shopping on Michigan Avenue.
After unloading, we went for a little walk to the Apple Store. Sure, it’s boxy and modern and whatnot. Sure I had to get an iPod while I was there (compulsion! damn you!). What I was struck by though, was the glass staircase that ascends from the center of the first floor. My guess was that it was twelve feet wide, but get this, the steps were purely of two-inch thick glass connected to the sides with little clips. You might think that the arrangement would be fairly sturdy or that the engineers knew what they were doing, but I think perhaps not.
Think flexing. Think earthquake-like motion, especially if you’re walking up the center of the staircase. Gooey, undulating, wave motions from the entire structure were sent up even by a guy who weighs as little as I do. (okay, maybe not that little, but still!)
Stereo, me bought, then walking more on it, Michigan Avenue.
…with my brother and the littlest niece. Who won? I did. Clearly.
Another post in minutes with more pictures (so keep your pants on too!).
Your pal,
bob
…From A Kitchen Table
Good morning sleepyheads (the little iBook is still on Pacific Time),
It’s the final day of my trip to Chicago. I haven’t really settled in yet as promised in the previous post but I thought I’d write something anyway. Something about how Mattel is trying to run a play from the Disney book in a quest to kill the parents of little girls everywhere perhaps? Yes, I shall.
This Princess and the Pauper thing is out of hand my friends. My tiny nieces are just silly for this thing. It’s not just dolls of course, it’s a musical, it’s a website, it’s a movie (straight to DVD), and a music CD (with Martin Short!) to play over and over and over again.
[pretend you’re two and say this with your tongue sticking out of your mouth] “Can I hear Princess and Pauper again!”[repeat one hundred times until the play button is pressed, again]
I will say that the production values are pretty high, just not high enough to bear a thousand repeated listenings (and I’ve only been here three days). Also it’s worth mentioning that there have been limits imposed on these things nowadays. No Barbie CDs during the Super Bowl, for instance. No unsupervised surfing to Barbie.com.
I’ve done okay in my role as Uncle Bob running around and trying to make fun out of nothing (which makes the toys kind of sad, but I just don’t relate to the mermaids and princess carriages, dig?). I’ve also done an okay job as Family Tech Support. My brother now has a little home network so that he can use his old laser printer with his new Mac. All the computers have been upgraded, optimized, sanitized, sanforized, and whatever else I could think to do with them during my short visit.
Did I mention beer? Why should I have to?
Did I worry about cold? I shouldn’t have worried that much after all. C’mon, thirty degrees? Feels like eighteen? Big whoop! I only say that though, because my smoking cessation program has allowed me to also resist the urge to go outside for any length of time. These are the perks ladies and gentlemen.
More perks? They’ll have to wait!
Your pal,
bob
From A Jet Plane…
Good morning sleepyheads (crap! is it still morning?),
I’ve assembled quite an impressive bit of kit for this plane ride to Chicago. New set of Altec Lansing headphones (not noise-cancelling, shoulda laid down the extra $200), a new charger for the little iBook to replace one I lost (but found yesterday), and two new albums from the iTunes Music Store (that I can’t really hear because the headphones don’t cancel the jet engine noise). Total cost for all this bright white goodness? Don’t ask. They were birthday gifts to myself, okay?
Despite the grousing, I’m kinda enjoying the trip so far. The radiation on my side of the aircraft is keeping it nice and toasty, the peanuts were delicious, the turbulence is helping me digest said peanuts, and I came to the realization that there’s a lot to be said for a Bloody Mary without the alcohol. After all, isn’t the big draw the spicy tomato juice anyway? I think so.
By the way, thanks to everyone who sent some sort of birthday greeting. I wasn’t particularly interested in turning 39 simply because it seemed deadly dull, but this Birthday Holiday Season has certainly held my attention—and it ain’t over yet!
Fantastic!
Okay, on the subject of dumb fun, I heard Finding Out That True Love Is Blind by Louis XIV on San Diego’s FM 94.9 the other day, so I had to buy the album. It’s an EP, actually (ten points to those under 30 if you know what EP stands for) so iTunes is selling it for under four bucks. Yes, it’s hokey (think T Rex, maybe Gary Glitter), but hey, four bucks! I don’t know why I gravitate towards bands that milk the joke (see Ween, Reverend Horton Heat, Secret Machines, etc.) but I certainly seem to. Is it so wrong?
So, anyway. The plane is clumsily bumping and grinding its way toward Chicago (if that reminds you of a story that you’d like to share, I think the rest of the class would like to hear it) and the Southwest Airlines signature peanuts have finally settled—sideways. Ooof.
Aircraft descending now (in a controlled manner, thankfully), so I’ll stop this one and start another once I get settled in a bit at Stinky’s pad.
Your pal,
bob
Happy Birthday Holiday Season!
Friends, it’s my birthday today. That you knew. What you may not have known was that my Birthday Holiday Season started a few days ago. I hope you’re enjoying the festivities as much as I am.
More later,
bob
No Pictures For You!
Woof! Those pictures were lousy, but they’re gone now so you won’t burn out your optic nerves gazing upon their crappiness. It doesn’t speak well of my photography skills either to know that I’m more than capable of such incompetence, but there you have it.
Maybe there will be something interesting to post from my trip to Chicago next week. Okay, it’s possible. Perhaps.
Your pal,
bob
Cripes!
I’m hosting my first real overnight guests at the cabin this evening (my Dad’s stay a month and a half ago doesn’t count—that was camping for the most part) and even though it’s my sister and brother-in-law, I’m a little nervous. Imagine! Will they enjoy themselves? Will they find everything they need? Will they get a good night’s sleep? (so many questions! isn’t this the same sister who ran away and when you found her, asked if you could have her new record player? – ed Yep. The same sister, but still… – bob)
Hopefully they’ll have a nice time. In fact, they might be here right now!
Your pal,
bob
Ooop!
Hey There Shiny Pals!
I forgot the AC adaptor for the Little iBook (much like how I forgot the cell phone chargers last weekend) so while I have some good pictures of the new snowfall here at the cabin, I can’t post them. The PowerBook G3 I’m using right now doesn’t have a USB port, so no digicamerapicturen for you. Not yet anyway.
The ancient PowerBook runs OS 9, has a high-density SCSI port (remember those?) and an Apple Desktop Bus port (geez, remember those?). I must say though, that the keyboard is a treat and the display is first-rate. Sure, the battery has gone to the toxic waste dump in the sky and a lot of the ports seem to be wasting space nowadays, but it was cutting-edge for the time. Hell, it’s even got a great big 2 gigabyte hard drive (and uses all of it!). Watch out!
Maybe I’ll figure out how to get the pictures out and headed your way this evening. Just you wait and see…
Your pal,
bob
Koff!
That’s German for “cough,” isn’t it?
No, I don’t “feel better” right now. I don’t anticipate that I will for weeks and weeks. I’ve officially stopped smoking for eight days now, so none of this really counts. None of the bitching, none of the complaining. I’m not allowed to crab just yet. Maybe later.
I’ve hated this week and my body has returned the favor. Sure, the coughing is okay when I’m alone, but in a conference call? With the bosses and the bigwigs? Not so good.
Not at all.
– bob
When A Bell Rings, An Angel Gets Her Wings
Right? They play the movie every year so it must be true.
Similarly, on the subject of my smoking cessation program, whenever I cough does a bartender somewhere declare “last call?” Does it force a South Carolina farmer to weep? [insert your joke here, or down there in the comments!]
…because, ladies and gentlemen, I’m here to tell you that this final chapter (we can hope!) in my smoking career has been less than fun. Normally, this would force me to suggest that if you’re still smoking, you should consider quitting. Normally I might say that, but I won’t. You’d need to be completely serious about quitting to go through this type of nonsense, so a monkey like me certainly isn’t going to convince you on the basis of a blog entry. Please.
Friends, it’s hard to get anything done at this point of the weekend except typing. For instance, I’d like to do a couple big projects today but you try moving furniture while you’re hacking up a lung. It’s nearly impossible!
The good doctor at work, hoping to make me feel better, let me know that this should only last for another six to eight weeks. That’s all? Whee.
Minimally, only five and half weeks left.
Your best pal,
bob
UPDATE: From my lovely sister; “When Uncle Bob hacks, there goes another pack…” Tee hee.
An Open Letter
Dear Respiratory System,
I’m really, really sorry for subjecting you to almost twenty years of smoking. No really. Now that I’m making a concerted effort to quit, do you have to continue to remind me in such an up-front and public way that you’ve been polluted? I understand that it hasn’t been easy, but really. The hacking and the coughing are really wearing thin.
That never happened when I was smoking.
No, that wasn’t a threat. I’m just saying…
Your pal,
bob
Painter’s Remorse
Dear -ed and all the ships at sea,
I’ve spent the last few weekends at the cabin doing chores, shoring up leaks, and painting. You may know my credo (which I learned from somebody at some point), when selecting colors, select anything but white. White is for rentals, not homes. I agree wholeheartedly so I decided to get a little nutty with the color choices.
You’ve seen the pictures so you know that the kitchen and the bedroom are green, which is fine. I certainly couldn’t do the living room in the same color—heaven forfend!—so I chose blue. The chip looked like a middle of the road greyish/greenish blue, so I had Rob Lowe’s (maybe that was his name, I dunno) mix up a batch.
Now that it’s on the walls, um, well, er, gee. It’s dramatic…or something. It sure doesn’t reflect light and that has made it particularly dark in here right now. I’ll post pictures after I take some more in the daylight, but despite my grousing it’s quite a change and I think I’ll grow to like it.
I took a chance (that seems to be your modus operandi at the moment, doesn’t it? – ed Why not? Time is short, isn’t it? – bob) and maybe this particular gamble won’t work out. I can think of a couple others that have quite nicely though.
So what’s a little paint?
Your pal,
bob
UPDATE: Here are the pictures I promised. Yeah, I know.
It’s really quite blue, isn’t it? Maybe it’s “cool and calming” after all, the jury’s still out on this one.
By the way, did I happen to mention a new geographical feature? Yep, I have my own stream fed by snow runoff in my own humble corner of the world. Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you A Jaunty Little Creek!
I can hardly contain myself either.
The Gods Are Angry
You may have heard that it never rains in California. In fact, we live in a desert as far as the propeller-heads are concerned. Because it never rains, we don’t know how to handle it when it does actually rain (never is an awfully long time Uncle Bob. didn’t you mean “seldom?” – ed Semantics! – bob).
I knew that the roof leaked at the 1912 House, now I find that the roof leaks at the cabin as well. I can’t get away from this stuff. I’ve also discovered that I don’t own any rain gear after I was walking around outside this weekend and got soaking wet. Who knew!
I also found out this weekend that the Chargers stink (what a revelation! – ed). I’m anxious to see them move to another town—just not my new town, but they wouldn’t have the Chargers in Idyllwild anyway—and I firmly believe that the heartbreaking loss last night has cost them a new stadium. Ha! Get out icky Republican Spanos people! Yeah!
My little nephew is unwell again and I’m concerned. He was getting much better from the last bout of feeling crappy, now this. It kinda looks like the flu, but who can say for sure. You can tell that he’s feeling poorly right now. He expended a lot of energy playing Hot Wheels demolition derby with me in the kitchen this afternoon because he knew I wanted to. That’s a giving little kid, don’t you think?
BTW, can you point me to a good (and cheap) transmission guy here in San Diego? The little Dakota needs a clutch and I’m hoping that you can point me to somebody you trust.
Much more later,
bob
P.S. You’re going to love the next bit.