Popped!

Posted Fri Nov 4, 2011 in

Radar!One afternoon last week I headed back to the office after sharing lunch with Wife and Girl. I pulled up to the intersection of Jacks Valley Road and Silverado, looked right, looked left and noticed a couple of motorcycles a couple of hundred yards out, looked right again and entered the road.

Because of the approaching motorcycles, I punched the car a bit. “POP!!!!” the radar detector screamed. I glanced down at the speedometer and was going about 37 mph indicated. Then I glanced in the mirror and the two motorcycles were riding abreast.

“Sneaky bastiges,” I thought. One of them decided to check my speed. I was legal so they left me alone.

Yes, it was two Nevada state troopers on motor units. I hate speed enforcement. In general, it’s not really about safety; it’s about easy income.

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A Dog

Posted Sun May 1, 2011 in

I didn’t get a picture of Diego. That was a mistake.

I’ve been missing Dakota a lot the last few months. Things happen that remind me of her and the way she was with me. (There are stories — search the archives. :) One of my office-mates, Keith, sometimes brings Bear to the office. He (Bear) is a big happy lug of a dog. His interaction and play remind me of Dakota.

I’ve been thinking about adopting a dog, but was holding off because I really believed Jack would have gone totally insane if a dog came into the house. I stumbled on a Pembroke Corgi a month or so ago and nearly fostered him. But Jack’s phobia about change held me back. I backed out of the foster.

With Jack’s untimely demise, I could adopt a dog. In fact, I asked for permission (unlikely for me as that might seem) to keep a dog here at the rental. There is no good reason why the property owners should deny my request, but you never know. I don’t know the timing is best, given Wife’s illness, but I could use a partner to encourage my daily walks and to force me outside part of the day to throw the ball and play tug-of-war.

This is pet-adoption weekend here in western Nevada. I’ve been reading about breeds and breed-temperments for a couple of weeks. My list of requirements is not too long, but some elements are critical. They are:

Ever since Older Son and DiL brought Tisha the Pit into the house, the Pit breed fascinated me. AKC doesn’t recognize the Pit Bull as a breed, but the American Staffordshire Terrier is as close as they come. Related breeds are the Bull Terrier (whom Wife thinks is “odd” looking) and the Staffordshire Terrier. All were used as fighting dogs at one time. All are now considered companion pets.

I’ve been watching the rescues here locally. Hell, I’d drive a couple hundred miles to retrieve a good animal. I want to adopt a rescue or take a re-home into my home. I don’t need a perfect animal, but one that will work with me to provide the things I’m looking for and to have here as an alarm when I have to be away.

Yesterday ASPCA was at the local PetSmart for adoption weekend. I decided to drive over to see what they had. Wife felt good enough to accompany, so we did a round of errands (Saturday is errand day) and then walked into the store. Of the four dogs there, one was a bit too old (although I would have taken her on as a second, just so she had a home to live in the rest of her life), two were not cat-compatible, and the fourth was an interesting mixed breed.

When Diego was a puppy he fell out of the back of a pick-up truck and broke his left-rear leg. His owners didn’t want to pay for the repairs. I’m not sure how his story played out, but he found himself in a shelter. His leg mended, but one leg is shorter than the other and he sits with his legs stretched behind him. It’s odd-looking, but it works for him. He’s now about 1-1/2 years old and has been at the shelter for about a year.

I played with him in his cage for a bit. He’s reddish-brown and looks like he has some terrier in him. His weight is about 50-pounds or so, I would guess. He has a broad head and medium snout with bright, curious brown eyes. The volunteer asked if I’d like to walk him and so I did.

What a pully-dog! He needs a lot of leash training. We walked (stopping a lot) to the grassy area near the highway. There were way too many distractions for Diego to focus on me. He’d need work with his “watch-me’s,” “sit-stay’s,” and “heels.” It would be interesting to release him from the leash to see how he’d “come.”

So, we start-stopped all the way to the grass, puttered around there for a bit, then start-stopped all the way back. When we passed the shelter van, he was ready to get in and go! He sat at the door, patiently waiting for me to open it. I laughed and patted his broad, muscular chest. We worked our way back into the store and I returned Diego to his handler.

I knew I’d be sore today. He’s a stout boy and will make somebody a good pet. He will need some consistent, patient training. He might be the one. I have contact information and we’ll see what happens. I’m tempted to drive up to Reno to the big event and walk the line. I’d like to see what else is out there before I make up my mind.

Yes, I’m sore today. My lats got a real working and so did my rear deltoids. However, it’s the good kind of sore and totally worth it. Diego would be a good workout for me and I think a good buddy to boot.

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Backyard Dogs

Posted Sat Apr 30, 2011 in

PlayBrooke’s comment reminded me of another Jack story. One very windy Lubbock Saturday morning we were preparing to go out for errands and a bite. As we headed for the car, a couple of stray dogs wandered into the driveway, wagging and looking friendly. Young Son hopped to and they were collared and looked well cared for. They obviously belonged to someone, so we put them in the backyard for safety, called the number on one of the tags, left a message, and thought for a minute.

While we were deciding whether to go on, leave Young Son, or wait Jack wandered into the kitchen in his usual fashion. One of the dogs, a big chocolate Lab, ran up to the slider, looking for someone to pay attention to him. Jack looked, did a double take, and went into a full-blown, Halloween-cat, arched back, tail-puffed, panic. His face and body language screamed “Oh My God!! What The Hell Is That Doing At The Door!!! MAKE IT GO AWAY NOW!!!!!!”

I laid on the floor and laughed so hard I hurt. He didn’t seem too offended by my laughter and settled down once he figured out the dog was outside and he was inside. This incident still makes me laugh when I think about it.

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Refrigerator Repairs

Posted Tue Sep 14, 2010 in

After a frustrating weekend and a disappointing Monday morning (no technician available), we finally got a technician to the house to check the refrigerator.

Wife and I discarded a lot of the food in the refrigerator. That’s a mixed blessing because some of what was in there should be discarded (old, out of date, no longer interesting) and some was wasted (food that we would use but no longer trusted). I suppose I should schedule a refrigerator review every quarter so we can take everything out of the refrigerator and freezer, look at it, and decide whether we’ll use it or discard it.

The technician arrived about 0930 and started his checklist. After about a half-hour, he informed us that the thermostat failed. “They sometimes get water in them. When they freeze, they are destroyed.”

That’s what an engineer would call a “design failure.” The part was not designed for long-term survival in its normal operating environment.

Fortunately, he had a replacement part. He also cleaned the condenser and evaporator(s). I do what I can, but I don’t have access to the portions of the assemblies that are not easily accessible from the exterior of the machine.

We stowed the freezer materials in the freezer portion and decided to watch the unit for 24 hours. We purchased a refrigerator thermometer to track the internal temperature. I actually thought about finding a recording thermometer so I could track the time series of temperature inside the unit.

In the process, I learned that optimum refrigerator temperature is between 35–38 F and for a freezer is about 0 F.

We’re back in operation. I’m thankful for that.

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Coffee Drinking

Posted Sun Aug 15, 2010 in

Roasted Coffee BeansI don’t think I ever told the story of my coffee drinking. Jim has an essay about coffee and he reminded me about my favorite hot beverage.

I grew up with coffee. My parents were both coffee-drinkers. About the time I was 12- or 13-years old, I started helping in the kitchen in the morning and would make coffee for my parents. But, I didn’t drink it.

The household coffeemaker was a double drip pot. The lower pot was used to boil water and the upper pot contained a grid to retain the grounds with a press-fit perforated cover to allow the boiling water to pass through the grounds to brew. I learned to charge the upper pot, boil water, and pour through over the sink, replacing the upper pot over the lower to allow the coffee to brew.

I was 15-years old, in high school, and I ran three newspaper routes. One morning I was making coffee for my folks when the perforated cover popped out, spewing some of the hot water onto my hands (over the sink). By reflex (bad thing), I dropped the pot and splashed myself with scalding-hot water. I got second-degree burns on my chest and arm. I was laid up for a week and it hurt like hell.

I was a lot more careful with the lid after recovering. I mean a lot more careful.

Shortly after that we moved from California to Missouri. I was busy with school and chores, and eventually a part-time job working for my dad and granddad. I didn’t make coffee as often as before. My parents also bought a Mr. Coffee sometime during that period of time.

When I was 19 I went to work at a general civil engineering firm. I was a technician and did a lot of field and office work — collecting field data, reducing it, and creating base drawings for the engineers to use. I spent a lot of days in the field during the cold part of the year. Coffee was hot and plentiful at the small diners and restaurants in the locations we worked, so I learned to drink it. Hot chocolate was expensive and too much sugar.

Eventually coffee became an element of my morning routine. Dad always put a little whole milk in his and I did that for awhile. But, eventually I found I preferred either black or with a little half & half in it. I still drink it that way. No sugar, a dose of half & half.

If I’m carrying my old Stanley Thermos bottle, it’s black. I put nothing but coffee in the thermos.

In fact, I think I’ll finish my coffee now. :)

Oh yeah… I don’t drink decaf or anything resembling it (knowingly)…

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A Mouse?

Posted Tue Dec 15, 2009 in

I was just reminded of one of Dad’s aphorisms. When I (or just about anyone else) would say “We need to…” he had a canned response.

“What do you mean ‘we?’ Have you got a mouse in your pocket?”

I find myself saying that every now and again. When I do, I think of Dad.

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Tod von Oben

Posted Sat Dec 12, 2009 in

Tod von ObenWe ran errands this morning. Well, that’s not exactly right. I woke early (as I usually do), made coffee, worked through the backlog of email and other traffic (Twitter, Facebook, etc.), then went outside to shovel the driveway. More snow was forecast and I wanted to get ahead of it.

Wife woke, we ate breakfast, and went to run errands. We had a couple more things to pick up for Christmas gifts, needed to run past the post office, and a couple more things. We finally got home sometime after lunch and the snow started again. It was about 1400 or so.

Sometime after that, Wife called “Dave, there a dead bird out here by the feeder!”

“What?!?”

“There’s a dead bird out here. I think it’s a pigeon. Do you think a cat got it?”

“I dunno.” I put my boots back on and grabbed my jacket, pausing to look out the window. “Looks like a raptor-kill to me.” I went out the front door and retrieved the square-point shovel from the truck. Then I went into the back yard. It was a pigeon and was clearly a raptor kill. There were feathers everywhere and a small amount of blood.

I cleaned up the carcass, which was picked pretty clean, and bagged it. I tossed most of the feathers off to the side so the birds would come back to the feeder. I normally don’t put dead animals in the trash, but the pigeon is so small it won’t hurt anything. I retrieved the feeder and refilled it while I was out back.

Yep, it was a raptor kill — “Tod von Oben” — Death from Above.

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