Oh, What a Tangled Web Tent Worms Weave

I just got back from a ride with good ole EH from work. We rode up into our usual Balance Rock State Park area and did some good ole riding. It was pretty much business as usual as we rode up the road towards the trails. I felt kind of bad running over all of the caterpillars who were making their way across the road, but there wasn't anything I could do. Plus, they were going in every direction, so it was obvious they had no idea what they hell they were doing.

No sooner did we turn onto the trail than EH came to a screeching halt accompanied by a "BLACH! YUCK! AWWW, GROSS!" As I followed him onto the trail, I too was ensnared by an invisible web of some sort. This was no spider web, it was far too sticky and far too strong. My first thought was that it was the work of the Spider King, who you may recall has had it in for me all year. After that, I thought of the tent worms.

Tent worms aren't worms at all - rather they are caterpillars - but they do live in tents. They build these tents in trees, bushes and so on and just wait for Memorial Day Weekend when they rappel down and get all over everything. What's worse, is that they don't just drop to the ground. No, they dangle just waiting for you to ride by on your bike so you can get nasty ass caterpillars all over your body. And their rappelling strings - like those of spiders - are wicked sticky and wicked strong. You touch one of these and forget about it, you're wearing it home.

Anyway, we rode for about 45 minutes up the mountain in the heat and humidity until we hit a good stopping point. I dismounted to use nature's plumbing. As I stood there, I could hear the onslaught of a serious thunderstorm making its way towards us. A tent worm rappelled into my face. I hopped back on my bike and told EH that we were in for a nasty one. He took that as an opportunity to pee. While he peed, I admired the beautiful vista which, despite the high tension power lines, was absolutely gorgeous. Through the trees you could see for miles and there were just layers upon layers of mountains. With the muggy evening haze, it looked like something out of an old movie.

He finished peeing.

We rode down a "bony" trail for a while until we finally hit a turnoff. Heh heh, "bony" is cool trail-rider speak for "rocky as hell and mad dangerous". As soon as we turned off onto more reasonable trails the clouds opened up and just dumped rain on us. We rode the rest of the mountain in an allout downpour. It was really quite fun, plus the tent worms seemed to have been washed out of the air. The downfall was that the rocks and exposed roots were wicked slippery, and we both almost spilled a few times.

Once, my foot came out of the toe clip and I caught the business end of the pedal to the back of my leg (see picture). I thought it hurt because it hit a mosquito bite, but it really hurt because it cut the hell out of me. The picture doesn't do it justice because I had already showered up for the night and the bleeding had stopped. But rest assured, I didn't stop for no wuss ass scratch. No siree, I put my foot back in the toe clip and headed downhill, across a few streams, back uphill, then downhill again, then across the road to the car.

Also, if you think I shave my ankles because there is no hair on them you are wrong. It's a common thing with dudes, and especially common with me. It's due to my socks. It's a perfect line right where the sock hits. I think my pillow is doing the same thing to the top of my head. Damn that pillow! Why must your down stuffing be so comfy? Why?

So there you have it folks. And because of the storm I wasn't able to work on the rock hole. Damn you storm!

Over and out,
Old Coot

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I've Hit Rock Bottom

What's up players? For those of you who live in the American section of Readerland, I'd like to welcome you all back to the work week. Here in New England, we had an absolutely gorgeous Memorial Day weekend. For those of me who took Friday off, the weekend was just a little bit better (approximately 33% better).

You might be asking yourself how I could have had such a nice weekend and claim to have hit rock bottom. I mean that literally, not figuratively. You see, I set out to dig the holes for the footings for my new porch this weekend. I had my posthole digger, a big steel pipe for prying and knocking stones loose, some shovels, and myriad other gardening tools. I got about a foot and a half down when I hit a rock. A little work and I got that bastard out. Another two inches and I hit a bigger rock. That one took some persuading, but it eventually lifted out of the hole. "I must be home free now" I thought to myself.

I thought wrong.

I hit a bigger rock, about 30" down into the hole. I pried and I pried and I dug and I scraped to no avail. Finally I called it quits for the day, and had to break down and buy a pinch bar (a big ass hardened steel bar with a chisel on one end and a point on another).

Monday morning I set out with my newly-enhanced arsenal of tools and - try as I might - could not get that freaking rock out. I spent about 2-2.5 hours digging and prying until my back was sore from lifting and from the burgundy sunburn I earned from hunching over a hole all day. And my chest was sore from laying in the debris of my jack-hammering escapade a few years back. You see, around the hole I was digging lay all the little chunks of concrete I didn't bother cleaning up. This weekend those chunks found their way in between my ribs, on my ribs, and all about my collarbone. Yup, my chest hurts.

Before you ask, no I haven't looked into what it would cost to have someone dig the holes for me. I'm a do-it-yourselfer and this qualifies as something I can do myself. Besides, if someone had the proper equipment, he would be driving it up onto my beautiful lawn and I'll take a sunburn and sore chest over that. It's looking like I just have to make the hole bigger to buy me some extra real estate around that rock, then I should be good to go.

In other news, I was over at the 'COW ranch last night for dinner. Afterwards, I had to "use the facilities" AKA the bushes out back. The mosquitos were starting to awaken and no sooner was I down to business when one landed - you guessed it - right where no mosquito should ever land. Per the directions in the wildly popular song (There's a skeeter on your peeter, whack it off...) I threw caution to the wind and started swinging. My defensive strike was right on target and I was neither bitten nor peed on! Score one for the Cootster.

Well folks, time to get to it. I have a bike ride tonight and hopefully a rock digging afterwards. Good times, good times.

Over and out,
Old Coot

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What Day is it Today?

Wow, have I gone all the way to Saturday evening without a post? Sorry playas, it's been a busy one I guess. What with all the sunnin' and funnin' I've been doing. Plus I cleaned a gutter/downspout.

Let's see, yesterday I took the day off of work for myriad reasons. One, I didn't want to go to work, two I felt like taking the day off, three it made it a four-day weekend, five most people take that day off, six I didn't feel like going to work, and so on... I had great plans to do all sorts of stuff, but once I settled into the lazy pace of the day, I realized that I could do with the day whatever my little heart desired. If I wanted to read a book in the front yard, I was funna. If I wanted to drink coffee all day and bake some blondies (they're like brownies only butterscotch instead of chocolate), I was funna. End result - I maxed and I relaxed.

Today started with an AWESOME run with the Thursday night crew. Yes, I know today is Saturday but they invited me along and I couldn't resist. We did this fantastic route in Richmond, MA (about 5 minutes from my house) that took us through the neatest area. We were on dirt roads most of the time, but the views were fantastic and we couldn't help but to comment on them over and over again.

Plus there's a hottie who I think is only around in the summer who runs with those guys. She's from Poland with a cute Polish accent, but most importantly she is a far better athlete than I am (and she used to work at a coffee shop, where we all dined on coffee and pastries after our run today). Moral of the story, there's a consolation prize for not being able to keep up.

After that, I went home, read a book, mowed the lawn, chilled in the yard, cleaned a gutter and ate some turkey. Oh, and finished watching Dogma for about the third time in a month. RC, if you still read this blog, I'm sending it back soon I swear. Sorry JO, I'm just too nice to keep someone else's stuff even if you think it's somewhat justified. Hmm, what's that saying about nice guys?

Anyway, what I'm really here to do is show y'all the progession of paperwork that is leading up to my porch. I've edited out any information about where I live and what my real name is because we live in the age of identity theft and I wouldn't wish my identity on anyone. Commenters, please don't blow my cover or I'll delete your comment.

My first picture is the letter the inspector sent to me a while back. I think it's the third in the series, but I didn't want to bore you all with the others. I'd like to mention that this is by far the ghettoest picture ever taken of my house, even dating back to when I first bought it. Surrisly ladies, it's not as bad as this picture implies. Enjoy...



This one here is the summons I got from the court. I felt like a real live criminal when I got this. I guess real live criminals don't get summonses, they get arrested, but still I felt like a scofflaw.

This is the agreement I had to sign stating that I would in fact build the damned porch in a timely manner. It even how timely of a manner that would be. But now I have to get that sumbitch built or else I'll find myself back in court with the rest of those hoodlums (hoodla?, hoodlae?).

Last but not least is the permit I was "awarded" which allows me to start digging holes. If you look closely, you'll notice that I have to have inspections after every phase of the project. I think that's just to make sure it takes as long as possible to finish the job. No matter, I'm gonna play by the rules and get this monkey off my back as soon as I can.

Correction: No matter how closely you look you won't see that I have to have three inspections, that must be on the back of the page. Oh well, you'll have to take my word for it.

Okay gentle souls, I am far too tired to carry on any more. I'll bid you adieu and I'll holler at you later.

Over and out,
Old Coot

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Wednesday is the Benz Day

Walking one life, I came upon this deep, deep river. And saw me by it float and I wondered "How long could it be?". And maybe that was when I opened up and realized, 'The most I can do while I'm here now, is not a thing; leave it as I found'.

That's a little quote from a DMB song on my car's soundtrack. For those of you who don't know, I can't change the CD in my car, so when I forget my iPod I listen to the same 8 tracks of a live DMB concert - my car's soundtrack. Fortunately, Track 8 is a 22 minute version (or is it 13?) of Two Step, everyone's favorite Dave song.

I said Everyone!

That was the last song I heard on my way into work. Actually, it was the only song I heard since the drive is all of about 7 minutes. Today was probably more like 5 because I got in early and hit every light green. WHAT WHAT! And it was sunny, and my Cheerios were especially cheery, and I got in early so I can get out early to appreciate the nice day. To the cloudy days of the last fortnight, I say "PlacaTAN, bitches!"

If you can't tell, I seem to be in a good mood today. I went to bed around 10:14 last night, read some of my ChiRunning book (which I will share with others once I'm done) and was fast asleep by 10:46. I woke up at one point fearing it was almost time to get up, and was relieved to see it was only 3:30. Geah! A few more zany dreams and I was good to go.

Editorial note: For all of you dream nerds out there, I know 'zany' is an ignorant description of a dream - they all mean something - but I used it here for brevity's sake. I'm gonna analyze them once I've had the chance to recollect all the details, chill.

I hopped out of bed into my neat, clean, back-in-place bedroom, went downstairs to my recently-"cleaned" living areas, hooked the cats up with some breakfast, had some breakfast of my own (please recall the cheery Cheerios), gave the cats some first-thing-in-the-morning attention, left Nan-whores in charge and backed the Mom-mobile out of the Batcave.

Last night I tried out a new running route in the hopes of finding some new scenery. I figured that since there weren't girls playing beach volleyball on my street, they must be on one of the adjacent streets. They weren't. My new route was a little hairy as it involved East Street over by the "Auto Mile". People don't expect to see runners in them there parts so I startled a few. My trick is to run right in traffic to make myself as visible as possible. I make eye contact with every driver, and if I can't I move out the way. I had a good run; I was wicked tired when I started but still managed to make it about an hour. According to my Batman decoder ring, that's roughly 8 miles. Not bad for an easy-run day!

Afterwards, I chowed down some leftovers which were still as delicious as they were for Monday's dinner and Tuesday's lunch. A quick shower and I was ready to veg in front of the TV. "But wait, it's only 8:46, I can still squeeze in some of that cleaning I've been putting off." So I ran the vacuum over the downstairs only to realize how scummy I am. There were cobwebs everywhere, the baseboards were filty (who vacuums those anyway?) and I had to stop and change the bag at one point. No wonder the freaking thing felt so heavy, it had 9 cats worth of fur and dander inside it, plus a sliver from a used bar of soap (where the hell did that come from?). Shit! Then I settled down only to realize there was nothing on TV except a Frontline exposee on the international sex trade business. Man, that shit is effed up!

On that pleasant note, I went to bed, read and got myself some beauty rest.

Pop Quiz: What producer-turned-rapper spit the lyrics "Killin' y'all [black people] on that lyrical shit. Mayonnaise colored Benz, I push miracle whips." You like my appropriate use of the phrase "spit the lyrics"?

Over and out,
Old Coot

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Outraged over Outlets

Name that tune:

"Rarr rarr, like a dungeon dragon. Change your shitty drawers cuz your pants are saggin'."

I'll give you a hint on that song: it's from the mid 90's. And Abbey, if you don't know it you need to get back to yo roots.

Okay, yesterday I was bound and determined to get some things done around the house. As you probably noticed, I didn't actually do most of the things I was supposed to do over the weekend. As I walked around the house, anything that has been annoying me got my very divided attention. But, I got a few key areas taken care of and tonight I'd like to hit a few more. Most importantly, I finished up that freaking outlet situation in the upstairs bedrooms. Details to follow.

Details:

A few months ago I used an outlet tester to check all of the outlets in the house to make sure they were wired correctly. It tells you if you have wires backwards, if you're missing wires, and so on - it's very handy. As it turned out, most of the outlets were backwards. I went around and fixed all of the backwards (hot/neutral reversed) outlets and rechecked them. Somehow, the outlets in my bedroom and the "office" upstairs were still reversed. I switched them again, rechecked them and the tested said they were missing the ground. I killed the power again, took them back out, checked for a ground (which I couldn't see either way), replaced the outlets, checked them again (thinking the ground was really there but it had a bad connection) and it told me they were reversed. DAMN! At that point, I stopped so that my frustration wouldn't make me do something stupid and get me killed.

Yesterday, I decided to finish that project so I could put the furniture back where it belongs in my bedroom. I won't go into the finer details because I'm sure most of you don't care. But I rewired those outlets and somehow they were STILL reversed. So I did them one at a time, requiring that I follow the steps below:

• Down to the garage, turn off the power.
  
• Back upstairs, rewire the first outlet.
  
• Down to the garage, turn on the power.
  
• Back upstairs, check the outlet. Oops, didn't put the outlet in the box. The ground wouldn't be there, gotta shut off the power again.
  
• Down to the garage, turn off the power.
  
• Back upstairs, screw outlet into the box.
  
• Down to the garage, turn on the power.
  
• Back upstairs, check the outlet. It's as good as it's gonna get.
  
• Down to the garage, turn off the power.
  
• Back upstairs, rewire the second outlet.
  
• Down to the garage, turn on the power.
  
• Back upstairs, check the outlet.
  
• Down to the garage, turn off the power.
  
• Back upstairs, rewire the third outlet.
  
• Down to the garage, turn on the power.
  
• Back upstairs, check the outlet.
  
• Screw the outlets in all the way, install the outlet covers.

So, that's like a million trips up and down the stairs turning the power on and off. Also, the outlets were behind furniture, so I had to climb over shit every time. Plus, it was starting to get dark so I was in a rush to beat the clock. Alas, I did finish it to my own satisfaction.

Once that was done, I put the furniture back, picked up all the crap that had accumulated on the floor in the bedroom (papers, books, unread National Geographics, CDs, movies (I don't even have a TV in there, why do I have movies on the floor?), newspapers, etc). I ran the vacuum and the place looks a lot better.

THEN, my microwave is super finnicky and if you unplug it (or turn off the power) all of the buttons don't necessarily work when you plug it back in (or turn the power back on). Right now, I'm operating without a clock, Stop/Clear button or number buttons 4-9. After a few weeks, they should start working again. Keep your fingers crossed for me.

- End of Outlet Story -

I have a project in mind that I'd like to build. Currently, my bedroom has a huge pile of running gear right next to the door. It's a mess and I can never find anything. I wanted to buy something to put all of it in, but I don't want some plastic tub in my bedroom. What better time for a woodworking project than now? I'm gonna build a chest to store all of my gear. I have a few things that I'll have to accumulate/build before I can get started, and I'm working on that now. I'll try to keep you posted. This is going to be my rainy day/weekday evening project, so it's likely that it'll take me all summer but it's a worthwhile project and it'll give me the creative outlet that I need in my life.

Well, time for breakfast #2.

Over and out,
Old Coot

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