About me

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Coffee cups

Yes, coffee cups.

There are three. At one time, they were all in the camping gear. Now, two are at home. One stays in the office. People fuss that I use plastic too much, but those cups have been around a long while, and I'm sure they've already leached what they're going to leach into my coffee.

Besides, they are precious to me. Very.

We went to the NC State Zoo back in 1997. Danger's godparents went with us. It was one hot day, and we stopped for lunch, or at least a wet snack. These cups were part of some special thing they had going on that involved reusable cups.

I wonder, now, how many of those cups remain, here almost 15 years later. Perhaps a few, but at least three, and they'll be here a while longer.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Bed covers

I moved in here with stuff from the camping mess, and you can guess what that means.

In time, communication and cash flow improved, and it's no accident those two go together with the conjunction. When the money's coming, kind words follow. I would point out that the reverse is also true. When the money stops, the words, at least the kind ones, stop. And you cannot have the one without the other.

So one year, I agreed to participate in the Christmas shenanigans. As you likely know, I don't much like Christmas, and that's for a lot of reasons we won't go into here. I just leave this holiday for the others to enjoy, especially those people who equate spending money with spiritual advance. I'm fine with being out of country from middle November through Boxing Day.

Here's what the ex-spousal unit arranged for the children to give me that next to last Christmas with the family.

Rainbow sheets and cover. Well, as close to rainbow as they could get.

I really do like this set, and I've used it exclusively since. At some point and for some reason, I'll have to use something else. They'll wear out. I'll move and have a different size bed. Gay space aliens will steal them. Who knows?

It'll be a sad day, that's for sure.

Can koozie

Yes, I have a can holder, one of those things that keeps a chilled can cool a little longer. Well, I have two or three. One even has the reputation of being prison issue, but it was not issued by a prison, though I could see it in a prison gift shop. I won't show it here, however, because of other considerations.

Instead, here's my favorite.

It's a little longer than the average koozie, and it fits the larger, 24-ounce cans much better. There's another here that's identical, and it sees use holding my little camera. If you ever visit, we'll set the camera aside so you can have a red koozie too.

Not pictured here is one that is similar but much larger. It is handy with a 40.

Sunday, June 12, 2011

The old TV

When I moved to Raleigh years ago, I did so without a TV, and I didn't think that much of it. First, my little efficiency was so small, I'm not sure where I would have put one, and second, broadcast TV was not all that great. Besides, my budget was running greatly negative then, and buying a TV was not so high on the list. I found myself working mostly, and later spending some time on the net.

At some point, an e-bud in Winston-Salem learned of my TV-less self, and expressed alarm. I don't know why, other than she's giving that way. A few months later, a friend of hers died, and she brought me the porch TV. That might have been seven or eight years ago.

Over the years, the picture degraded, depending on the channel. Of course, I never noticed all that much, but my guests did. Finally this week, it died.

At about that time, Amazon sent me an email for a flat screen on a serious sale and free shipping. I almost bit, but I knew the shipping would be a week to ten days, and while I could certainly live with that, there were naughty and well-built teens running about in their skivvies on SyFy with monsters chasing them, eating many.

So it was off to Kmart, the one nearby that sells lots of the cheaper stuff. Maybe there was a sale in progress. A few minutes in the store, and I found the equivalent of my Amazon TV waiting for someone to adopt it.

Bear in mind that it's been years since I moved a TV. The old one needs a crane, or at least a better back than mine. I don't know how it's getting down stairs to the trash. However, the new one weighed about like my backpack. I carried it as a briefcase, much to my surprise. The setup was trivial. Plug in the power and the cable. Wait for it to scan the available channels. Veg out as hot chicks feed gnarly monsters.

The surprise is that the programming is no better, not even with the better picture. Go figure.

Friday, June 10, 2011

A table with Danger

And it's a dirty table these days. The AC unit in the background like to blow chunks, literally, chunks of dust and such. Yes, I clean the filter, but something else needs some attention besides the filter. I don't know what.

Nonetheless, we're here today about the table.

He was hardly a cub scout at the time, and the women of the house were on a roadtrip to somewhere we didn't care much about. A daddy and a boy were home alone and without the counsel of women. There were bean burritos to eat, fires to build, and things to build. We also watched Tremors. Again.

We went to Home Depot in search of ideas. I was thinking a small living room table, something for the front of the couch, something to hold the endless stream of TV dinners, but I knew we lacked both the tools and the time to make something like a miniature butcher's block.

Remember: I am a poor carpenter.

After some exploration at Home Depot, and before the deadly ache of feets on concrete ruined the weekend, we settled on a preformed top and four little legs that would screw into the metal attachments you can't see in this picture.

We came hone, assembled the creation, and celebrated with another episode of Tremors. We were loving us some giant worms. And Ass Blasters, which might have been the best.

Upon the return of the maternal unit, he ran outside to show off the table, and I carried it in the house for proper placement by the couch. It later received a cloth cover.

Later, the fateful season arrived, and the table was cast out, sent to Raleigh to be with me, and there is where it remains. One leg is a bit gimpy, but it serves its purpose well holding journals, papers, and errant dust balls.

I doubt it ever sits under a spotlight in the Museum of 20th Century Art, and at some point, it'll feed termites somewhere, but for now, it fuels the occasional return of a memory and a weekend well spent.

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

My limit

Yes, I have limits, or at least the one. Here is is. You can splash around it. You can roll about it's edge. You may do as you please before and right up to it, but you may not go past it, not with a terrible penalty. A huge, horrible, so very not good penalty. Expensive and painful. No, no, you do not want to tread past that limit. Just turn around and walk away like the good fellow you are. That's right.

I really need a beer over here.

My sign of the end of summer

Yes, the crape myrtle. The Town of Angier used to have, and might still have, an early fall festival to celebrate the crape myrtles that lined its streets. They were beautiful, and we would take several of the ten-mile trips just to admire the trees.

However, something has been happening. The trees bloom earlier each year. It might be global warming, but I more suspect someone is refining the cultivars and selecting for earlier blooming.

Regardless, they are putzing with my seasonal clock, and seeing these white blooms yesterday left me with that residual sadness that comes with progressively shorter and cooler days. I'll need some lake time to burn this funk out.

Please note: It is not even summer yet. We have two more weeks of spring left.

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Monday, June 6, 2011

My Coleman insulated bag

Here it is all unwrapped.

And here is is lurking in the shade of my t-shirt. It's a little sensitive about being in the sun.

OK, it's not mine. It's on long term loan from a good friend who occasionally visits the lake with me. In the time it's been with me, it's seen a fair amount of use, mainly because it's far more handy than anything I might have.

However, it's about used up. The inside shell is ripped. It needs a wrap like my t-shirt if the Diet Cokes inside are to stay chilled.

Yes, Diet Cokes. Now, just hush.

The thing is that with it about worn out, should I give it back or should I replace it? Oh, the burden of social consequences.

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My recent view

Erosion and ants motivated me to move my blanket at the lake by about six feet, at least at My Private Beach.

The move left this odd plant off to one side. Odd buds. Odd blooms. Odd bugs sniffing.

Nothing special. Much like the rest of us. Just trying to get by. Grow. Live. Spend a few days in the sun. Pass on peacefully. Leave a little bit of itself for another day.

It, like the rest of us, will success in some manner.

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My beach blankie

My beach blanket, at least for my solo trips. And by beach, I mean the afternoon trips to the lake. This stuff has been to the shore exactly once.

At the bottom, we have a moving quilt that I found at the lake a few years ago. After no one claimed it for about a month, I adopted it.

Never put such a thing in a washer or a dryer. Trust me. It'll make you sad.

The pink thing is from the back seat of an old car. I bought it at Goodwill for a buck instead of seat covers. It has two holes from the seat belts. There's a bigger blanket that I take when I have company. That blanket is also from Goodwill, and it also cost a buck. However, it is a pale pink on one side and a dull purple on the other.

The old towel rolled for a pillow, I found on a bush in Guilford some ten years ago.

Don't tell me I can't live on the wild side.

Epilog: I mentioned the sadness that comes with washing the moving quilt. That is true. It might never dry in a regular dryer. However, rain water will evaporate out of it in a matter of minutes if you spread it in the sun. Go figure.

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Wednesday, June 1, 2011

My little computer

As you might expect, I live and breathe by a computer. Work provides one. I have two cheap ones for different purposes. One littler, and on biggler.

However, the little one is the important one. Less than three pounds. Compatible with everything. It's cranked hundreds of pages of text. Six hours on a charge.

I need to marry this machine. In this picture, I'm waiting in a restaurant, outside, working on a manuscript, swilling local beer, and gazing over downtown.

That's a very good moment.

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