the manifest

I'm just going to start a new flickr account, since they've been so unhelpful (read unresponsive) in merging the old one for me. But for now, a list of the items i was given.

a "pub clock", the name is what style, not where it was. The clock says "RAF" under the XII, it belonged to the Royal Air Force and probably went in a mess hall or something similar. It's in perfect condition, as anything belonging to my dad is, except the things my brother was allowed to touch. It must weigh 40 pounds.

A pipe cabinet. About 2 feet high, very delicate legs. The top warped at some point and is no longer attached, but still fits. It's oak.

14 x 14 framed print of the insignia of the Glomar Explorer. Also included with this treasure is a belt buckle that came with the print, that has the Explorer on it, and my dad's name under it (google Project Jennifer for more info on this project).

A framed and signed drawing by Paul Conrad, an editorial cartoonist from the LA Times. From 1971. It was signed again and given to my dad, "To (my dad's name)" in 1976. An original ink drawing, not a print.

A humongous oak-framed mirror. Not sure what style it is.

2 oddball pieces in cast aluminum and glass. My dad made them. One has a light inside, and the other is a place to put your pocket finds.

A spun copper bowl, made by my dad in college.

My dad's carpentry gig bag, from college.

Some of my grandfather's tools, and his toolbox. All are made in USA. Included are lineman's pliers, original channel locks, tin snippers, 80 million types of feeler gages, spark plug gappers, etc.

Our old camping equipment. Coleman single burner and two-burner stove, lantern, fuel to run them. The old aluminum pole tent, and an older backpacking tent. Scored his axe, the one we always took with us, with it's leather head cover.

Many old pictures, which my aunt has, and she is going to scan and print them.

A trashcan that looks like a Campbell's Tomato soup can.

Another clock, that we couldn't fit, that he is going to ship up.

A giant oak roll top desk, which my aunt will keep for us until we get a place it will fit... because we couldn't even get it in the door, probably. This alone weighs probably 500 pounds, in three pieces. To get it out of his house, we hauled it down three flights of stairs (and between the three of us, we had maybe three properly functioning knees, so that was fun)

My schooldesk. It's mine because I had it all growing up, and when I moved out, my mom gave it back to him for the kids to use. Surprisingly, it's not trashed. When I say "schooldesk", you think of the ones the kids on Little House on the Prairie used. Inkwell hole, cast iron feet that bolted to the floor, seat in the front for the next kid.

The "Come right now or get your butt spanked bell". Brought out from Kansas by my grandparents, a real cowbell. Bronze. They rang it when it was time for my dad, aunt and uncle to come in for dinner.

2 pieces of cast iron cookware. A "cauldron", just a pot. Also a long cauldron, about two feet long and 18 inches deep. These belonged to my great-grandparents, the Jennings (grandma's side)

a four-legged stool my dad picked up somewhere. He couldn't understand why i wanted it. It was mine to sit on when we were working in the garage together. I absorbed a lot of mechanical information, metallurgical information, and things you just generally tell your son about when you're in the garage together, while sitting on that stool.

A long tapestry thing with dragons embroidered on it, that some Minister of Something in China gave my dad on one of his trips over there that had to do with his business.

His old down sleeping bag. Also, his down coat. This coat is a monster. I can't wait until it's cold enough to wear it, although we'll probably have it set aside for guests from more temperate climes to use in the wintertime.

Dad's skis and poles. Head Standards. They're aluminum downhillers. Probably from the late 60s. I forget what the bindings are. I will risk more knee injuries learning to use them, i'm sure.

My brother's acoustic guitar. A Yamaha. It was probably played twice. Looking at the book in the case, I'm not surprised he didn't continue learning. There was an electric geet, but dad said bro came over and got it one day and it never came back. Probably got sold for bail money, drugs, or to pay off a ticket. I snicker. I would have probably done the same, but the acoustic is a better guitar than the electric was.

A digital clock that's neato- has a big face, big numbers, shows the time, date, day, inside temp, outside temp, relative humidity and a general direction of which way the weather is headed. It currently isn't showing the outside temp, even though the sensor is outside. I'll have to fiddle with it some.

Some painting stuff. Including a nice dropcloth (finally!), scrapers, decent brushes. Good stuff to have.

Some other miscellaneous things. I went and took pictures of all this stuff and will put them on the new flickr acccount when i set it up.

the visitor

i found her owners the day after she wandered into our yard. I called around to the local vets to see if someone had reported her missing. OUR vet said, "She sounds familiar" but she hadnt been reported. I took her down there. They recognized her from when she was a puppy. Someone had found her wandering along one of the main drags here, with a messed up eye, so they brought her to the vet and got her all fixed up, had a chip put in, and looked for a new home for her to go to. She got one, with a family, a big yard, etc. But she had gotten out the gate while playing with the kids a couple of weeks ago and then appeared in our yard.

So, yeah she went home and she was ecstatic to see the vet. weirdo dog.

In other news, I just returned from a whirlwind trip to LA and back, on Monday. Loaded down with family treasures. More on that later.

4-legged visitor

Because we live at the intersection of the freeway and a busy street, when a dog or cat wanders into our yard, i'll close the gate and look for the owner. Yesterday, I locked myself out of the house and this beautiful little pit bull wandered over. Super friendly. Starved half to death. So I put her in the yard, closed the gate, and walked up to the K Hole to buy a bag of hound chow. Came back, fed her. She has a collar and no tag. She's brindle with white toes, white chest, white mask. And one eye. Housebroken, rides in a car without much problem. I took her out for a walk around the 'hood to see if anyone recognized her. No luck. So, today while working, I will drop her at a groomer for a bath (she smells like stinkydog) and in between stores, call the humane society and as many vets as I can to see if one of their patients is missing. She has little snaggleteeth, too. I don't want to take her to the pound, so I've got the word out that I've got a sweet little pitty that needs a really good home. She is a spoiled dog, has attachment issues it seems. She's an inside dog. She looks purebred, but small. She has a collar, but no tags.

The cats aren't real sure what to think. Tam has come out to visit with her dog before and they did ok, just hung out in the bedroom while the dog was around. Except queen Spot, who kept her place on the couch and ignored Tuffy.

So, if anyone in Klamath stumbles across this, who knows who might belong to this sweet, one-eyed girldog, leave a comment. I've been calling her Jack.

What was the A-side for "The Great Pretender"?

Well, you may not get the joke of the title, because the its the flip of a caption I remember reading in Creem Magazine a million years ago.

The answer though, is "Smoke Gets In Your Eyes". Which is what work was like yesterday in Siskiyou. A fire, apparently pretty large, is burning near Susanville.

In the morning, it was so heavy it was hard to see Mt Shasta, even standing at it's feet in South Weed. Into McCloud, the smell was nearly overpowering.

two things

I recently bought Wilco's "Sky Blue Sky". Because of the song "You Are My Face". I'm still kind of trying to decide if i like the whole thing or not. All in all, it's good. I love the lyrics. Not necessarily the content, but the flow. Some of the music really stands out and makes me go "ooh! ok rewind to that spot again... oooh!" and some of it is boooooring. I have nothing to attach the album to.

ALso finally got around to reading "Wicked". But here's what happens when I read a book, anymore. I don't retain it for more than a couple of days. I liked the book. I don't really know why. I like that the Witch was an idealistic youngster, I like the discussions about the nature of evil. I liked the book right after I read it, but a week later, couldn't tell you a damn thing about what was in it. So, go read it yourself.

countdown!

November 1 is when the ice skating rink opens. I'm all over that. I'll be there standing with my skates hollering at them to finish up with the freakin Zamboni, already, for pete's sake!

Winter Sneaks around Fall

The mornings have been cool, nights windy. The days are still hot, but there's the underlying bite that says "Not much more of this". Soon it'll be snow tire day, after Halloween, and dig out the warm clothes day.

i love this bar

after we jammed last night, and before i paid my tab, i wandered in to the ladies facilities to avail myself of the fixtures. I noticed there were huge pieces of broken glass all over the floor. I was only moderately alarmed. Headed over to the bar to pay up, and told the beloved tarbender, "Hey, T, there's broken glass all over the floor in the women's pot". He says, "Yeah, I know. Some chick just got a bottle busted over her head in there."

I love this bar.

tip-toein

We've had some cloudbursts roll through today. I missed the ones early in the day, since I was in McCloud. Coming back north on the 97, once I came up over Stagecoach Pass, there was a lovely, humongous thunderstorm cloud over Klam. Lightning here and there. I could smell the rain, but had just missed it. More has come through, but back to when I came back into town. I turned off onto the City Center exit and made my way down to Klamath to get to 5th St. There was a lot of water on the street. A lady who probably worked at the title building or the courthouse was trying to find a place to cross onto the sidewalk (which was mostly underwater) from the road. She was dressed very nicely. As I passed her, I watched her hike off her shoes and go wading through. She smiled. Not a pained "Crap, I'm ruining my $120 pair of pants" smile, but a "ooo the water is cool" kind of smile. It's been hot and muggy despite the rain today. It's felt super nice to stand outside and let the clouds dump on me. There's minor street flooding- it seems there's no where for the water to go in some parts of town. Spring Street at S. 6th is under quite a bit of water. Perfect for a plastic boat regatta.

Shastika was wearing one of her hats today. The one they say that the Lemurians use when they send another space ship off.

Off topic, but not totally, Shastika is a fascinating mountain. Five glaciers, which I understand are growing, rather than retreating, sit in various areas. Mostly on the north side, I think. She makes her own weather. I've been coming south into Weed in the early morning and seen a cloud forming on her west flank, about halfway down. I've seen steam pouring off the profile on hot mornings, I guess the result of snowmelt. She's 7 volcanoes, and you can see, especially this time of year on the south side, the results of past eruptions. I love looking at Black Butte just south of Weed when I pass by it, too.

Disappointing and sad, though, is the sick trees all along the 97. Every tree has brown needles, some more than others. Some are just dead altogether.

struck me as weird

That next month I'm taking a 800+ mile long (one way) road trip with a relative I haven't had any contact with in 20 years.

The cell phone company that sucks

That would be sprint. There are places in town that we're roaming. I'm roaming when I'm 5 minutes outside of town. Right now, I'm roaming in my house, which is a new development. I can't even call Sprint to bitch at them. I get a US Cellular tower error message. What bullshit.

What's your job, you there with the sticks?

There was a small group of local musicians at the picnic today. Everyone got to get up and jam their stuff and it was cool seeing different people play.

One band, I felt so very sorry for. They had this drummer who seemed to just know how to play fills. And he just played them ...wherever... in their songs. It was bad enough that it was everything I could do not to just take his sticks away from him and beat him to death with them.

You're a drummer. You're job is to keep the beat. If you can't do that, you aren't doing your job, and you should take lessons or play lead guitar.

I don't know how these guys played with this drummer. Later, one of the KBS people was talking to their guitar player...

"Dudes, your drummer is really bad"
"We know" (looking embarassed)
"How do you jam with that?!"
"We've learned to ignore it"

Now, really, that's pretty damn impressive, to ignore your awful drummer.

out of the blue

Wow. Today, as I was heading out to play at a local corporate picnic with the Blues Society, my phone rang, and it was my aunt. My dad's sister.

I can't even remember the last time I talked to her. When I was a teenager?! Probably. I think the last time I saw my cousin, I was 15 or 16.

When Smart Half and I had been in Coos Bay for about 8 years, I got a note from my cousin that they had moved to a town near Grants Pass. Then I lost the note, with their address and phone number on it. Of course. But we've lived in like 5 places since then, so there's my excuse. Many things have been accidently chucked or stashed away in the garage or whatever.

But she wants to head down to SoCal with me when I go get the stuff from my dad. She would like to see him before he bails to Thailand. I'm going to call her tomorrow and we are going to work out the details and maybe catch up.

oh the bugs

A friend had said, a couple of weeks ago, that "hey, the bugs haven't been too bad this year". The mosquito and midge population had not reached an epic number, and that was nice.

Man, did she ever speak too soon. About a week ago, the midges EXPLODED. Our porches are disgusting. You can't even sit outside with a snack and enjoy the evening. It isn't much better during the afternoon. Usually, they aren't really bad except in the morning and evening, but, euw, it is SO nasty now.

a race track

You have maybe heard of the Race Track in Death Valley. Where, when the playa gets muddy and slick, and the wind blows, the rocks scoot across the ground, leaving tracks.

There's one nearby, too. I went and tried to get a picture of it today. I haven't unloaded the camera yet, but I don't think it turned out well. It'll be overexposed and the edges will be blurry. *sigh*

Anyway, it's near Tulelake

Project Jennifer

Mike, this is the story I was trying to tell you! My brain almost works.. Here's another good story about it. I'm trying to find a picture of the badge to share. It's an eagle with scuba flippers, scuba mask and..

G'Nite, Tubbycat

I had to put my old Tubby to sleep today. Her real name was Chevette, because she was just a little lighter and quite a bit slower than her mother, Chevelle (whose full name was 396 Supersport Chevelle). Tubby had contracted mammary cancer, and it grew quickly. The vet agreed it was probably best to put her down. She was 13 or so. She'd had many kitty adventures, lived in two states, seen the beach, the desert, the city, chased a lot of birds and mice (never caught one, though, that I knew of). Tubby was a dusty Calico cat, pink and grey and white with golden eyes. She had a funny walk. She sort of threw her back legs out in a circle, so she wiggled her butt when she was on her way sit in a spot of sun on the porch. She was a lapcat, and if no lap was available, she was a shoulder, lower back, feet, or face cat. She got the second name of Tubby when I had a horrible snorfly cold, I think, and I called her Tebette. Tubby stuck. It was a good nickname for her. She didn't get the idea of up for about a year. We would play with her and yank the toy up, and she'd look around side to side for it. She liked cat food. Weird. She also liked a bite of cheese once in a while, or a bit of hot dog or bologna, but never gave a rat's ass about tuna fish or the mushy cat food. She escaped a friend's house when we first moved to Oregon. She was gone for three months, but I kept going back over and looking for her. I finally got her to come to me, and she was so thin. The vet told us to feed her kitten chow and gave us steroids for her. One night soon after we got her back, Dale and I were eating our dinner of rice and cheese (well, you know the things you eat when you have $30 to spend for a week for food), and she got up on the counter and finished the leftovers before we realized it. So, she had a really full belly. Like she'd swallowed a big rock. heh. She ate every grain of rice in the bowl. She wasn't fixed yet, and not long after the rice n cheese snack, she had a *huge* kitten. Just one. One big, googly-eyed orange tabby. The steroids... we got her fixed after she had the kitten.

Tubby was weird. I'll miss her. She wasn't the brightest cat, but that was part of her charm.

Not a good enough reason

I love the people I meet at my job.

I'm starting to hate the job. Oh, yeah, after six months, I'm ready to chuck it.

Pain has never really been a good enough reason to stop doing something. At least, that's how I was raised. I'm rethinking that little way of living. I'm just sore all the time. Oh, I have some new muscles and once again fantastic legs, but who cares if all I want to do when I get home is flop on the floor and die? At least it's not back pain. Gawd I feel for all the people who suffer that every waking moment. No, it's just getting-old pain. I joke that I need a cane in the morning. Not funny, because I can barely move sometimes, especially after the Siskiyou route.

I need a better excuse to unload the job. Perhaps I should do something horrendous and get myself fired. That would suck, though.

Loser

I have the cover version of this song, done by Cracker, on one of the CDs in the Fo right now. In fact, I don't think I've ever heard the Grateful Dead one. Weird. But I've loved the song for at least a decade. Today it rolled up in the player and I just had to crank up the volume. It's a perfect song. Especially in mid-morning, with the sky blue and the air cool, the sun just starting to warm everything. It's fun to play on the acoustic and the bass. I think I could nail it on the drums. I doubt I could learn the lead in anything less than a year. But that's because I'm not a lead player, and my brain doesn't work like the brain of someone who plays lead. It's most comfy playing rhythm parts.

Last fair deal in the country.

growl

All this bullshit with my dad has put me in a foul mood. I try to not take it out on other people. It happens anyway. And then, amazing of amazing, I feel bad about it.

I have some perspective. Sure, I have a dad to be angry at. A lot of people don't have a dad at all, to snarl about or say nice things about. I'm grateful I have a dad. There have been times that I have felt like I didn't have one, though. That I just had this guy my mom married. I've had the love/hate thing with him for a long time. I swing from one to the other fairly often. And sometimes I go from being irritated with him to flat-out hating his stinking guts in the space of an hour or two.

So, sure, I have perspective.
Still trying to let this go.
Still having a hard time with it.
Still wondering if he's a fool after all, despite how successful he's been. At least as far as work goes.
Wonder if he'll ever find what he's looking for.