PhotoFriday challenge: 'Space'
The Greek theatre in Siracusa, Sicily.
Friday, May 13, 2005
Monday, May 09, 2005
He looks so young.
I mentioned this picture in a comment a while back ...
HS Graduation Picture c1942
He looks so young. Ready to take on the world.
High school graduation photo, 1942. He wouldn't turn eighteen until December 1942, and (the way I heard it) his mom wouldn't let him or his twin brother enlist while they were underaged and needed her signoff.
He went off to MIT for the fall/winter term and enlisted after the end of that term, after he'd turned eighteen.
Turned out to be a good thing that he'd spent that time on campus. After the war, when GI Bill students flooded the colleges, MIT would only take on GI Bill students who were returning students, which he, with that winter term completed, was. He re-enrolled and finally finished with his PhD with four children (later to become six) in tow.
Love the "colorizing" that was the rage then.
I told my mom how handsome I thought he looked in the picture and she said, "Handsome?"
'Yes, "handsome," Mom.'
HS Graduation Picture c1942
He looks so young. Ready to take on the world.
High school graduation photo, 1942. He wouldn't turn eighteen until December 1942, and (the way I heard it) his mom wouldn't let him or his twin brother enlist while they were underaged and needed her signoff.
He went off to MIT for the fall/winter term and enlisted after the end of that term, after he'd turned eighteen.
Turned out to be a good thing that he'd spent that time on campus. After the war, when GI Bill students flooded the colleges, MIT would only take on GI Bill students who were returning students, which he, with that winter term completed, was. He re-enrolled and finally finished with his PhD with four children (later to become six) in tow.
Love the "colorizing" that was the rage then.
I told my mom how handsome I thought he looked in the picture and she said, "Handsome?"
'Yes, "handsome," Mom.'
Friday, May 06, 2005
Step by step. Inch by inch.
Yesterday the same mover guys who moved six hundred boxes of books last month showed up again, at 8A.
We were mostly ready for them.
Of the three guys (and a big truck) from last month, only one of the guys was the same. This guy had impressed me last month because he is hugely strong. How strong?
We're moving most everything out of here because come Monday morning 8A, the painter and his crew arrive to paint the entire inside -- and some places inside that had never been painted before -- Frost white. (Frost? I'd said when the stagers said that would be the color to use. Frost was the new Navajo White way back fifteen years ago when we were landlords. Isn't there a new Frost yet? Seems nope.)
The plan was this: (1) Move all items tagged with blue painter tape to the loft. (2) Move all items tagged with purple masking tape up here to my office, where we'll be camping out to keep an eye on painters and carpet layers, &c. Purple tagged items are items the stagers plan to use for staging and will need to be moved up to Hill or the loft once the house sells. (3) Move any large items that aren't tagged either blue or purple to the garage where we will (a) give the items to the Cleaner Guy's church group or Goodwill or StVincentdePaul or Salvation Army and (b) give any items the nonprofits can't use to any CraigsLister or Freecycler who's wants 'em. Free! Recycle. Recycle.
Toss any items left over after the non-profits and the Freecyclers and the CraigsListers have taken their picks into a 40 yd drop box. Boy, do I hate throwing anything into a drop box.
His nibs walked the guys around. The hugely strong guy was the foreman this time, and the only crew member who had much English at all. My Chinese is nil except for xie xie and ni hao ma, if that, so the directions and conversation were um. interesting.
The eight-panel coromandel screen gave them pause. We showed them how it came apart at the hinges, but no, they didn't want to take it apart. Easier to move if they take it all at once -- with padding. But ... There was much discussion and they counted the panels again and decide to break it into two sets of four panels for moving.
"It's heavy," I said. "Yes, heavy," the foreman answered.
They at first decided they'd have to make two trips with the truck, but finally decided they could tamp it all in. What with needing to shift the staging items up to my office and to shift the giveaway items to the garage, they wouldn't have time if they made two trips to San Francisco.
Luckily for us, the painter called to delay his arrival until Monday, instead of today. The main house is still not ready for him. EVERYTHING needs to be out of there before he can get started. I have most of today -- except for the chimneys inspector at noon and the guy who's going to try to get the jammed poolcover open, also at noon. We have most of tomorrow and perhaps a bit of Sunday.
The truck was loaded and the furniture shifted around by 1:30P or so. We stopped to grab a Togo's sandwich to take up for lunch, circled back to get my cell phone, and made it up to the loft about fifteen minutes before the truck arrived. His nibs stationed himself at the front door, to protect against robbers and vagrants and bears, oh my! as required by the homeowners' association. I was up in the loft to point out where various items went.
His nibs would call on my cell phone and say, "The two bookcases from the front room are on their way up." "The magicians are on their way up." "You need to figure out where the trunks will go." "The waterbed" "Another bureau" "The coromandel screen is on the way up." "MORE BOXES!"
The trunks, filled with cloth and tablecloths and other fairly light items just kept coming: ten trunks in all. I'd been planning to line them up against the walls, but ran out of room and wound up stacking some on top of others. Most of the trunks were trunks Great great aunt Burta had used while she was nosing about Japan and India, Afghanistan and Egypt, back in the late 1800s -- sturdy stuff with beaten up old labels for different hotels in Rome, Zurich, elsewhere. The leather straps have all broken, but the metal latches still latch. A few trunks had belonged to his nibs' dad, used while Pop was in the Army AirForce in WWII.
We brought both sofas, although we'd been thinking of leaving the Kroehler sofa behind and just taking the matching chair. I had such mixed feelings. The Kroehler sofa is busted, but comfortable. The crimson fuzz is worn in spots, but we cover it with Indian bedspreads.
The folks who sold my parents' our house in 1960 left the Kroehler sofa and chair behind in the garage, probably because, even then, you could flip the sofa over and see where one of the wood supports was busted. Yesterday, the movers said, "Mister. Mister." and pointed out the broken support to his nibs. Yes, his nibs said, we know it's broken and won't blame you for busting it.
How cool is the sofa? I finally found a picture of a similar sofa in an ad for sale on eBay. c1935. The lower sofa. Picture burgundy /crimson fuzzy upholstery. No wonder the sellers left the pair behind. Not only was the sofa a bit busted, but it was twenty-five years old in 1960. Eeeeew.
Of course, now it's seventy ...
The foreman told me, in broken English, 'round about 4:30P, after he'd move up three bureaus and five bookcases and boxes and two sofas and a chair and a suite from the turn of last century, if not before, "I liked the last move better. All boxes. Mix of things is much harder."
And hard it was. These guys worked hard from eight o'clock until six o'clock -- ten hours, with their only rest, the trip up to the loft from Dale, if you don't count the extra hour we were charged for their trip down from San Francisco.
We made sure they each earned a sizeable tip above and beyond the contracted expense.
So how strong was the foreman? He and another guy were moving in the pinball machine we moved this time -- the stagers want to use the other pinball machine for the staging and we gave away our third pinball machine [a 1941 "Majors of 41" by Chicago Coin Machine -- "needs work"] to a pinball freak couple we know.
I wanted the pinball machine we were moving into the southeast corner -- situated away from most neighbors who might complain about the noise. The movers rolled the machine over on wheelies front and back. The foreman had the other guy hold the wheelies on the front end while he took off the back end set of wheelies and lifted the pinball machine as close as he could to the wall.
We wanted it close enough that he couldn't just stand behind the pinball machine and move it in. What to do? He and the other guy talked about it and he finally just got under the pinball machine and arched his back and carried the load to the proper position near the wall, with the front end wheelies still in place.
Still holding the pinball machine on his back, he signalled to the other guy to kick the wheelies out from the front end of the pinball machine and he lowered the machine down to the floor, ON HIS ARCHED BACK.
Man.
What with taking the boxes they were dropping off in the middle of the floor and moving them here and there, sorting them out by the labelling on the sides, I wore myself ragged. This morning I ache. Majorly.
Wonder how the foreman and his crew feel.
Yikes! The pool cover guy is here, two hours early!
We were mostly ready for them.
Of the three guys (and a big truck) from last month, only one of the guys was the same. This guy had impressed me last month because he is hugely strong. How strong?
We're moving most everything out of here because come Monday morning 8A, the painter and his crew arrive to paint the entire inside -- and some places inside that had never been painted before -- Frost white. (Frost? I'd said when the stagers said that would be the color to use. Frost was the new Navajo White way back fifteen years ago when we were landlords. Isn't there a new Frost yet? Seems nope.)
The plan was this: (1) Move all items tagged with blue painter tape to the loft. (2) Move all items tagged with purple masking tape up here to my office, where we'll be camping out to keep an eye on painters and carpet layers, &c. Purple tagged items are items the stagers plan to use for staging and will need to be moved up to Hill or the loft once the house sells. (3) Move any large items that aren't tagged either blue or purple to the garage where we will (a) give the items to the Cleaner Guy's church group or Goodwill or StVincentdePaul or Salvation Army and (b) give any items the nonprofits can't use to any CraigsLister or Freecycler who's wants 'em. Free! Recycle. Recycle.
Toss any items left over after the non-profits and the Freecyclers and the CraigsListers have taken their picks into a 40 yd drop box. Boy, do I hate throwing anything into a drop box.
His nibs walked the guys around. The hugely strong guy was the foreman this time, and the only crew member who had much English at all. My Chinese is nil except for xie xie and ni hao ma, if that, so the directions and conversation were um. interesting.
The eight-panel coromandel screen gave them pause. We showed them how it came apart at the hinges, but no, they didn't want to take it apart. Easier to move if they take it all at once -- with padding. But ... There was much discussion and they counted the panels again and decide to break it into two sets of four panels for moving.
"It's heavy," I said. "Yes, heavy," the foreman answered.
They at first decided they'd have to make two trips with the truck, but finally decided they could tamp it all in. What with needing to shift the staging items up to my office and to shift the giveaway items to the garage, they wouldn't have time if they made two trips to San Francisco.
Luckily for us, the painter called to delay his arrival until Monday, instead of today. The main house is still not ready for him. EVERYTHING needs to be out of there before he can get started. I have most of today -- except for the chimneys inspector at noon and the guy who's going to try to get the jammed poolcover open, also at noon. We have most of tomorrow and perhaps a bit of Sunday.
The truck was loaded and the furniture shifted around by 1:30P or so. We stopped to grab a Togo's sandwich to take up for lunch, circled back to get my cell phone, and made it up to the loft about fifteen minutes before the truck arrived. His nibs stationed himself at the front door, to protect against robbers and vagrants and bears, oh my! as required by the homeowners' association. I was up in the loft to point out where various items went.
His nibs would call on my cell phone and say, "The two bookcases from the front room are on their way up." "The magicians are on their way up." "You need to figure out where the trunks will go." "The waterbed" "Another bureau" "The coromandel screen is on the way up." "MORE BOXES!"
The trunks, filled with cloth and tablecloths and other fairly light items just kept coming: ten trunks in all. I'd been planning to line them up against the walls, but ran out of room and wound up stacking some on top of others. Most of the trunks were trunks Great great aunt Burta had used while she was nosing about Japan and India, Afghanistan and Egypt, back in the late 1800s -- sturdy stuff with beaten up old labels for different hotels in Rome, Zurich, elsewhere. The leather straps have all broken, but the metal latches still latch. A few trunks had belonged to his nibs' dad, used while Pop was in the Army AirForce in WWII.
We brought both sofas, although we'd been thinking of leaving the Kroehler sofa behind and just taking the matching chair. I had such mixed feelings. The Kroehler sofa is busted, but comfortable. The crimson fuzz is worn in spots, but we cover it with Indian bedspreads.
The folks who sold my parents' our house in 1960 left the Kroehler sofa and chair behind in the garage, probably because, even then, you could flip the sofa over and see where one of the wood supports was busted. Yesterday, the movers said, "Mister. Mister." and pointed out the broken support to his nibs. Yes, his nibs said, we know it's broken and won't blame you for busting it.
How cool is the sofa? I finally found a picture of a similar sofa in an ad for sale on eBay. c1935. The lower sofa. Picture burgundy /crimson fuzzy upholstery. No wonder the sellers left the pair behind. Not only was the sofa a bit busted, but it was twenty-five years old in 1960. Eeeeew.
Of course, now it's seventy ...
The foreman told me, in broken English, 'round about 4:30P, after he'd move up three bureaus and five bookcases and boxes and two sofas and a chair and a suite from the turn of last century, if not before, "I liked the last move better. All boxes. Mix of things is much harder."
And hard it was. These guys worked hard from eight o'clock until six o'clock -- ten hours, with their only rest, the trip up to the loft from Dale, if you don't count the extra hour we were charged for their trip down from San Francisco.
We made sure they each earned a sizeable tip above and beyond the contracted expense.
So how strong was the foreman? He and another guy were moving in the pinball machine we moved this time -- the stagers want to use the other pinball machine for the staging and we gave away our third pinball machine [a 1941 "Majors of 41" by Chicago Coin Machine -- "needs work"] to a pinball freak couple we know.
I wanted the pinball machine we were moving into the southeast corner -- situated away from most neighbors who might complain about the noise. The movers rolled the machine over on wheelies front and back. The foreman had the other guy hold the wheelies on the front end while he took off the back end set of wheelies and lifted the pinball machine as close as he could to the wall.
We wanted it close enough that he couldn't just stand behind the pinball machine and move it in. What to do? He and the other guy talked about it and he finally just got under the pinball machine and arched his back and carried the load to the proper position near the wall, with the front end wheelies still in place.
Still holding the pinball machine on his back, he signalled to the other guy to kick the wheelies out from the front end of the pinball machine and he lowered the machine down to the floor, ON HIS ARCHED BACK.
Man.
What with taking the boxes they were dropping off in the middle of the floor and moving them here and there, sorting them out by the labelling on the sides, I wore myself ragged. This morning I ache. Majorly.
Wonder how the foreman and his crew feel.
Yikes! The pool cover guy is here, two hours early!
Saturday, April 30, 2005
And light?!?!! Boy, howdy!
Last Saturday in the driz, we took two carloads of monitors and towers and keyboards and what-not down to Apple Computer for their Earth Day recycling project.
A couple days' later his nibs was in my office and noticed we'd missed a big honkin' HEAVY monitor that I'd stashed on my comfortable old fuzzy crimson Kroehler chair and then piled stuff 'round while I was working on packing up the office.
Ooops!
That's okay. Because of California's new law, there are other places we can take that monitor to. It was just that it will be a pain to track down another recycler and make another trip and it was so darn easy to take a whole bunch of stuff to Apple last Saturday. It's a shame we didn't get all of the stuff taken care of that we needed to.
That said, all'swell. The big honkin' HEAVY 19" Gateway monitor I've been using is now history too.
When his nibs was up here and discovered the monitor tucked away on the chair, he also took a look at the Gateway monitor I've been using and thought about carrying it down the Filbert Steps to our little sidewalk and then carrying it up the steps to our front door, then up the stairs to the office.
Yesterday, he went out on his lunch hour and picked up a no-name (Emprex) 17" flat screen skinny-mini monitor.
Works great, plus it's all of 3" deep instead of the 18"-plus deep that the Gateway is.
And light?!?!! Boy, howdy!
Now we have two stinkin' heavy monitors to take to a recycle place, and his nibs and I won't strain our backs moving the Gateway boat anchor to San Francisco.
... readying the house for sale continues ...
A couple days' later his nibs was in my office and noticed we'd missed a big honkin' HEAVY monitor that I'd stashed on my comfortable old fuzzy crimson Kroehler chair and then piled stuff 'round while I was working on packing up the office.
Ooops!
That's okay. Because of California's new law, there are other places we can take that monitor to. It was just that it will be a pain to track down another recycler and make another trip and it was so darn easy to take a whole bunch of stuff to Apple last Saturday. It's a shame we didn't get all of the stuff taken care of that we needed to.
That said, all'swell. The big honkin' HEAVY 19" Gateway monitor I've been using is now history too.
When his nibs was up here and discovered the monitor tucked away on the chair, he also took a look at the Gateway monitor I've been using and thought about carrying it down the Filbert Steps to our little sidewalk and then carrying it up the steps to our front door, then up the stairs to the office.
Yesterday, he went out on his lunch hour and picked up a no-name (Emprex) 17" flat screen skinny-mini monitor.
Works great, plus it's all of 3" deep instead of the 18"-plus deep that the Gateway is.
And light?!?!! Boy, howdy!
Now we have two stinkin' heavy monitors to take to a recycle place, and his nibs and I won't strain our backs moving the Gateway boat anchor to San Francisco.
... readying the house for sale continues ...
Friday, April 29, 2005
Ayelet Waldman on Living out loud -- online
I wandered from Sarah Weinman's Confessions of an Idiosyncratic Mind to Laurie King's Mutterings, which took me to this King blog post on blogging, which took me to Ayelet Waldman's now defunct Bad Mother Blog, which led (eventually!) to Waldman's new Salon gig (and one of the main reason her blog is now defunct).
At Salon I found Living out loud -- online wherein Ayelet Waldman writes about her husband, the writer Michael Chabon, being off on tour and reading her Bad Mother blog and realizing she was contemplating suicide. He did what he could from 2000 miles away, her girlfriends gathered 'round, the suicide threat was thwarted, Waldman's meds were adjusted and things settled back as much as they can to normal, but the whole very public blog episode unsettled her. She writes about using her life and those of her family as fodder for her blog.
Frankly, at this stage they are far more interested in Gaia online and Muffin Films Web sites, but there will surely come a day when they will Google themselves, find my blog and both be furious with me for having stolen their lives and humiliated at the extent to which I have laid open my own. I told the New York Times reporter that blogging was "payback for driving back and forth to gymnastics all week long," but I don't really believe that. As much as I despise carpool, I wasn't trying to exact some kind of complicated revenge for having been forced to spend too many hours in a minivan.
How much should you use of your real life, and the lives of those nearest and dearest, in your blog is a question most bloggers tussle with.
Some don't use their real lives and don't tussle.
Some have no qualms about exposing their personal lives and those of their nearest and dearest and don't tussle either.
Waldman also writes about the effect her blogging was having on her writing:
At the same time, I was becoming convinced that all this blogging was having a deleterious effect on my writing. It was more than the hours I was spending posting to my blog, reading my comments page, reading other blogs, and checking my site meter. As a novelist, I mined my history, my family and my memory, but in a very specific way. Writing fiction, I never made use of experiences immediately as they happened. I needed to let things fester in my memory, mature and transmogrify into something meaningful. The fictionalized scene I ended up with was often unrecognizable from the actual event that had been its progenitor.
But in the months I had the blog, I was spewing as fast as my family was experiencing. My initial idea, that the blog would act as a kind of digital notebook, was not panning out. Once the experience was turned into words, I found that it was frozen. The fertile composting that I count on to generate my fiction was no longer happening.
Read the article.
I sat through a brief Salon ad to get my fix. The brief ad was time well spent in trade for the opportunity to read Waldman's thought-provoking story and musings.
At Salon I found Living out loud -- online wherein Ayelet Waldman writes about her husband, the writer Michael Chabon, being off on tour and reading her Bad Mother blog and realizing she was contemplating suicide. He did what he could from 2000 miles away, her girlfriends gathered 'round, the suicide threat was thwarted, Waldman's meds were adjusted and things settled back as much as they can to normal, but the whole very public blog episode unsettled her. She writes about using her life and those of her family as fodder for her blog.
Frankly, at this stage they are far more interested in Gaia online and Muffin Films Web sites, but there will surely come a day when they will Google themselves, find my blog and both be furious with me for having stolen their lives and humiliated at the extent to which I have laid open my own. I told the New York Times reporter that blogging was "payback for driving back and forth to gymnastics all week long," but I don't really believe that. As much as I despise carpool, I wasn't trying to exact some kind of complicated revenge for having been forced to spend too many hours in a minivan.
How much should you use of your real life, and the lives of those nearest and dearest, in your blog is a question most bloggers tussle with.
Some don't use their real lives and don't tussle.
Some have no qualms about exposing their personal lives and those of their nearest and dearest and don't tussle either.
Waldman also writes about the effect her blogging was having on her writing:
At the same time, I was becoming convinced that all this blogging was having a deleterious effect on my writing. It was more than the hours I was spending posting to my blog, reading my comments page, reading other blogs, and checking my site meter. As a novelist, I mined my history, my family and my memory, but in a very specific way. Writing fiction, I never made use of experiences immediately as they happened. I needed to let things fester in my memory, mature and transmogrify into something meaningful. The fictionalized scene I ended up with was often unrecognizable from the actual event that had been its progenitor.
But in the months I had the blog, I was spewing as fast as my family was experiencing. My initial idea, that the blog would act as a kind of digital notebook, was not panning out. Once the experience was turned into words, I found that it was frozen. The fertile composting that I count on to generate my fiction was no longer happening.
Read the article.
I sat through a brief Salon ad to get my fix. The brief ad was time well spent in trade for the opportunity to read Waldman's thought-provoking story and musings.
Monday, April 25, 2005
Home equity
Perhaps it's the Puritan ethic that courses through the all-American bloodstream.
Perhaps it's memories of a long-ago marriage and a receipt found over the weekend for a stereo system we couldn't afford even with two salaries but which F. really really really had to have back then. The stereo we had just wasn't up to snuff, wasn't what he deserved. We put a hundred or so dollars down and promised to pay something like $23/mo for two years and walked out of the store with a system that was up to his high standards.
The clock radio turns on at 6:30A, tuned to KCBS News Radio with Stan Bunger and Susan Leigh Taylor for a mix of news, sports, weather and traffic.
Lately around 7A, KCBS plays a Bank of America home equity loan ad. The ad tells you that a home equity loan has the advantage of a stable interest rate and a stable monthly payment. That's good, right?
What grits my teeth is the come-on for the loan which goes something like, "Sometimes your kitchen needs remodeling. Sometimes a family of three becomes a family of four. Sometimes it's taking longer than expected to pay off last year's vacation." PITCH: get a home equity loan.
Sure, using home equity (a second mortgage on your already mortgaged house) to remodel a kitchen sometimes makes sense. Often, though, your kitchen doesn't need remodeling. You want to have a spiffy new kitchen, you deserve a spiffy new kitchen, even though the remodel will set you back $30K and you have a mortgage and credit card debts and no savings to speak of. No problem! BofA will give you a home equity loan!
Home equity loans to pay for another child? Sounds odd to me.
The oddest, though, is the pitch for a home equity loan because it's taking longer than expected to pay off last year's vacation. Unfortunately, from the sample of home equity loan users I've known, that home equity loan will be used to pay off last year's vacation, and remodel the kitchen, and buy a boat, and buy a new pickup to haul the boat, and maybe pay for a patio and a new barbecue as well. At the end of the day, the money's gone, the house is mortgaged to the hilt and can't be tapped for future emergencies, and those monthly payments are an expensive reminder of the perils of using the easy money of a home equity loan for depreciable fun and frolic.
Shouldn't we be living within our means? Shouldn't we not be booking vacations that we'll be paying off for months and months after? Maybe we should go on daytrips or camping or just veg instead of booking a resort on Maui?
Maybe?
Perhaps it's memories of a long-ago marriage and a receipt found over the weekend for a stereo system we couldn't afford even with two salaries but which F. really really really had to have back then. The stereo we had just wasn't up to snuff, wasn't what he deserved. We put a hundred or so dollars down and promised to pay something like $23/mo for two years and walked out of the store with a system that was up to his high standards.
The clock radio turns on at 6:30A, tuned to KCBS News Radio with Stan Bunger and Susan Leigh Taylor for a mix of news, sports, weather and traffic.
Lately around 7A, KCBS plays a Bank of America home equity loan ad. The ad tells you that a home equity loan has the advantage of a stable interest rate and a stable monthly payment. That's good, right?
What grits my teeth is the come-on for the loan which goes something like, "Sometimes your kitchen needs remodeling. Sometimes a family of three becomes a family of four. Sometimes it's taking longer than expected to pay off last year's vacation." PITCH: get a home equity loan.
Sure, using home equity (a second mortgage on your already mortgaged house) to remodel a kitchen sometimes makes sense. Often, though, your kitchen doesn't need remodeling. You want to have a spiffy new kitchen, you deserve a spiffy new kitchen, even though the remodel will set you back $30K and you have a mortgage and credit card debts and no savings to speak of. No problem! BofA will give you a home equity loan!
Home equity loans to pay for another child? Sounds odd to me.
The oddest, though, is the pitch for a home equity loan because it's taking longer than expected to pay off last year's vacation. Unfortunately, from the sample of home equity loan users I've known, that home equity loan will be used to pay off last year's vacation, and remodel the kitchen, and buy a boat, and buy a new pickup to haul the boat, and maybe pay for a patio and a new barbecue as well. At the end of the day, the money's gone, the house is mortgaged to the hilt and can't be tapped for future emergencies, and those monthly payments are an expensive reminder of the perils of using the easy money of a home equity loan for depreciable fun and frolic.
Shouldn't we be living within our means? Shouldn't we not be booking vacations that we'll be paying off for months and months after? Maybe we should go on daytrips or camping or just veg instead of booking a resort on Maui?
Maybe?
Manresa update
Followup note from Greg Silva giving a link to a followup article in the Guardian on the top 50 restaurants in the world as chosen by London-based Restaurant magazine and Penfolds wine and announced last week. Good company, Manresa keeps.
Friday, April 22, 2005
Earth Day
In celebration of Earth Day, Apple is allowing folks to stop on by tomorrow and drop off electronics that are just a pain in the canoe to dispose of legally: computers, TVs, monitors, printers, stereos and other home electronics systems.
FREE RECYCLING! Can't beat that!
Small print says five monitors/TVs and five other devices per car.
I spent the day trying to get the last of my wanted files off the Pavilion from Hell. Got everything off except for two files that write onto the CD but have an MS-DOS error when I try to copy them back off.
Now to move files to the recycle bin, empty the recycle bin, squish and reformat and Bob's your uncle.
Next up! final check for files off the Gateway from the startup, followed by final check of the computer that preceded the Pavilion.
***
The wind has been kicking up a fuss, blowing branches and leaves and cones off the trees. The yard will need another clearing before the house goes on the market.
The wind is energizing as long as I block out the times a tree or a large piece of a tree has fallen on the house or this office. I walk to and fro the house and office and stand for a few minutes in the middle of it, letting the wind blow me around.
Nice weather to have on a day spent shovelling through the snows of yesteryear.
Who has seen the wind? Neither you nor I.
But when the trees bow down their heads, the wind is passing by.
(Christina Rossetti)
FREE RECYCLING! Can't beat that!
Small print says five monitors/TVs and five other devices per car.
I spent the day trying to get the last of my wanted files off the Pavilion from Hell. Got everything off except for two files that write onto the CD but have an MS-DOS error when I try to copy them back off.
Now to move files to the recycle bin, empty the recycle bin, squish and reformat and Bob's your uncle.
Next up! final check for files off the Gateway from the startup, followed by final check of the computer that preceded the Pavilion.
The wind has been kicking up a fuss, blowing branches and leaves and cones off the trees. The yard will need another clearing before the house goes on the market.
The wind is energizing as long as I block out the times a tree or a large piece of a tree has fallen on the house or this office. I walk to and fro the house and office and stand for a few minutes in the middle of it, letting the wind blow me around.
Nice weather to have on a day spent shovelling through the snows of yesteryear.
Who has seen the wind? Neither you nor I.
But when the trees bow down their heads, the wind is passing by.
(Christina Rossetti)
Thursday, April 21, 2005
RIP: Computer Bits
Back in 1998, I wrote an article for Computer Bits, a monthly out of Portland, OR, (well, Forest Grove, but who has ever heard of Forest Grove?) about using search engines.
Spring 1999, I took over as the Surfing the Web columnist and continued on my merry way for another almost six years, writing a monthly column about all things wonderful on the Web.
Alas, last month, word came from on high, from our intrepid editor and publisher Paul Harwood, that Computer Bits was closing up shop.
Today I noticed that the domain name was no longer valid, so I took some time away from my energetic house clearing here at Dale, to fidget with my towse.com site. I've pointed all links to Computer Bits to a placeholder page and I've removed the Computer Bits link on the blogroll over >>>> there.
As soon as we're completely done and outta the house I'm clearing, I'll take the time to put all my wonderful words here instead of referencing them there.
It was a good gig. Thanks for the good times, Harwood, and the lucre.
Spring 1999, I took over as the Surfing the Web columnist and continued on my merry way for another almost six years, writing a monthly column about all things wonderful on the Web.
Alas, last month, word came from on high, from our intrepid editor and publisher Paul Harwood, that Computer Bits was closing up shop.
Today I noticed that the domain name was no longer valid, so I took some time away from my energetic house clearing here at Dale, to fidget with my towse.com site. I've pointed all links to Computer Bits to a placeholder page and I've removed the Computer Bits link on the blogroll over >>>> there.
As soon as we're completely done and outta the house I'm clearing, I'll take the time to put all my wonderful words here instead of referencing them there.
It was a good gig. Thanks for the good times, Harwood, and the lucre.
Friday, April 08, 2005
New views from Google Maps
I've been playing with Google Maps today. Google Maps has added a satellite view.
Check this one out. Weird angle to see Coit Tower. Pioneer Park is more or less centered in the photo. You can see most of the circular parking lot just north of Coit -- completely filled, as usual, with cars.
Montgomery Street is the wide street to the east of Coit Tower. You can see the tree where Montgomery splits in two, just north of the intersection with Union. Walking north on Montgomery, past where it splits, you can see the green swath, where the Filbert Steps head down to Sansome at the bottom of Telegraph hill. Which of those places is ours? We can't tell. You'd have to pull the view even closer. North of the Filbert Steps, the Greenwich Steps make a swath of green just south of a bunch of condo complexes.
Heading down the Filbert Steps you can see Levi's HQ and Levi Plaza. Pretty space, isn't it? You can see the bar at Pier 23 (oddly enough named "Pier 23") just across the Embarcadero from the Plaza. A ship is tied up to Pier 25. See those circus tents to the east of the ship? That's Teatro Zinzanni. We've never been. We're not much into audience participation dinner shows, but should Joan Baez come back again to reprise her role as Madame Zinzanni, I just might be tempted.
Here's another Google map satellite photo. I've put the Transamerica Pyramid front and center. Note the shadow? Coolio, eh? Obvious why folks downtown bitch about the shadows thrown by the 'scrapers, isn't it?
Check this one out. Weird angle to see Coit Tower. Pioneer Park is more or less centered in the photo. You can see most of the circular parking lot just north of Coit -- completely filled, as usual, with cars.
Montgomery Street is the wide street to the east of Coit Tower. You can see the tree where Montgomery splits in two, just north of the intersection with Union. Walking north on Montgomery, past where it splits, you can see the green swath, where the Filbert Steps head down to Sansome at the bottom of Telegraph hill. Which of those places is ours? We can't tell. You'd have to pull the view even closer. North of the Filbert Steps, the Greenwich Steps make a swath of green just south of a bunch of condo complexes.
Heading down the Filbert Steps you can see Levi's HQ and Levi Plaza. Pretty space, isn't it? You can see the bar at Pier 23 (oddly enough named "Pier 23") just across the Embarcadero from the Plaza. A ship is tied up to Pier 25. See those circus tents to the east of the ship? That's Teatro Zinzanni. We've never been. We're not much into audience participation dinner shows, but should Joan Baez come back again to reprise her role as Madame Zinzanni, I just might be tempted.
Here's another Google map satellite photo. I've put the Transamerica Pyramid front and center. Note the shadow? Coolio, eh? Obvious why folks downtown bitch about the shadows thrown by the 'scrapers, isn't it?
Thursday, March 31, 2005
Kinch Confidential: Another "nice" writeup for Manresa and a mention of the Novakovich peaches and apricots
Greg Silva sent me a link this morning to this article in yesterday's Metro Silicon Valley newspaper about David Kinch and Manresa.
According to Greg, the headline (which doesn't show up in the online version) reads, "Kinch Confidential: Is Manresa's David Kinch the world's next celebrity chef?"
Amazing article, but small nit among a couple nits. The folks that David gets his peaches and apricots from are the Novakovichs (not the Novacovichs). Father Luke wouldn't've made that mistake.
According to Greg, the headline (which doesn't show up in the online version) reads, "Kinch Confidential: Is Manresa's David Kinch the world's next celebrity chef?"
Amazing article, but small nit among a couple nits. The folks that David gets his peaches and apricots from are the Novakovichs (not the Novacovichs). Father Luke wouldn't've made that mistake.
Manresa one of world's top 50 restaurants
Greg Silva, whom I met when I sat next to him at Alder's wine dinner at Manresa in February, dropped me a copy of the latest Manresa press release a week ago:
Manresa Selected for "World's 50 Best Restaurants" Award
Manresa Restaurant in Los Gatos has been selected for inclusion in Restaurant magazine's annual "World's 50 Best Restaurants" awards. The London-based industry bible polled more than 300 international restaurateurs, chefs, critics, and journalists to rank the best restaurants worldwide.
The complete list of award winners will be revealed on April 18, 2005, at an exclusive awards ceremony to be held in association with Penfolds Wines. David Kinch, chef and proprietor of Manresa and his partner, General Manager Michael Kean, will attend the event in London, where the world's finest chefs and restaurateurs will converge. This is the first year that Manresa has been chosen for the international award in the restaurant's three-year history.
"This is a great honor for the entire team at Manresa Restaurant," said Chef David Kinch. "To be included in such elite company is very gratifying and, for Michael and myself, also increases our awareness that we are only as good as our staff is, and that we and the staff share a common goal. This recognition is all about them and for them."
American, European, Asian, Australian, African and Middle Eastern restaurants comprise the list of 50 best restaurants. American restaurants selected for last year's "World's 50 Best Restaurants" included The French Laundry, Gramercy Tavern, and Daniel. In 2003 and 2004, The French Laundry was awarded top position on the list and named Penfolds' Best Restaurant in the World. Top awards have also gone to European restaurants The Fat Duck, El Bulli, and L'Atelier de Joel Robuchon.
The award categories include 'Best American Restaurant', 'Best Newcomer', 'Most Improved', 'Outstanding Value' and 'Chef's Choice'. Paul Bocuse will receive The American Express Lifetime Achievement Award, an award presented for the first time this year to someone who has made an outstanding contribution to the world restaurant trade.
# # #
About Manresa:
Manresa is the showcase for David Kinch's contemporary American innovations in French and modern Catalan Spanish cuisine. Since opening in 2002, Manresa has garnered critical acclaim from Gourmet magazine, The London Observer, and The San Francisco Chronicle. Manresa is the culmination of David Kinch's culinary journey including Quilted Giraffe in New York, Schweizer Stuben in Wertheim, Germany; L'Esperance in St. Pere-sous-Vezelay, France, Akelare in San Sebastián, Spain, Ernie's in San Francisco, and his own restaurant, Sent Sovi in Saratoga.
Manresa is located at 320 Village Lane in Los Gatos, California, 50 miles south of San Francisco and only minutes away, but worlds apart, from Silicon Valley.
Manresa
David Kinch, Chef & Proprietor
320 Village Lane, Los Gatos, California 95030
408-354-4330
http://www.manresarestaurant.com
Contact: Greg Silva
Phone: 408-250-7315
gogreg@comcast.net
Yay! Hooray!!!
Manresa Selected for "World's 50 Best Restaurants" Award
Manresa Restaurant in Los Gatos has been selected for inclusion in Restaurant magazine's annual "World's 50 Best Restaurants" awards. The London-based industry bible polled more than 300 international restaurateurs, chefs, critics, and journalists to rank the best restaurants worldwide.
The complete list of award winners will be revealed on April 18, 2005, at an exclusive awards ceremony to be held in association with Penfolds Wines. David Kinch, chef and proprietor of Manresa and his partner, General Manager Michael Kean, will attend the event in London, where the world's finest chefs and restaurateurs will converge. This is the first year that Manresa has been chosen for the international award in the restaurant's three-year history.
"This is a great honor for the entire team at Manresa Restaurant," said Chef David Kinch. "To be included in such elite company is very gratifying and, for Michael and myself, also increases our awareness that we are only as good as our staff is, and that we and the staff share a common goal. This recognition is all about them and for them."
American, European, Asian, Australian, African and Middle Eastern restaurants comprise the list of 50 best restaurants. American restaurants selected for last year's "World's 50 Best Restaurants" included The French Laundry, Gramercy Tavern, and Daniel. In 2003 and 2004, The French Laundry was awarded top position on the list and named Penfolds' Best Restaurant in the World. Top awards have also gone to European restaurants The Fat Duck, El Bulli, and L'Atelier de Joel Robuchon.
The award categories include 'Best American Restaurant', 'Best Newcomer', 'Most Improved', 'Outstanding Value' and 'Chef's Choice'. Paul Bocuse will receive The American Express Lifetime Achievement Award, an award presented for the first time this year to someone who has made an outstanding contribution to the world restaurant trade.
# # #
About Manresa:
Manresa is the showcase for David Kinch's contemporary American innovations in French and modern Catalan Spanish cuisine. Since opening in 2002, Manresa has garnered critical acclaim from Gourmet magazine, The London Observer, and The San Francisco Chronicle. Manresa is the culmination of David Kinch's culinary journey including Quilted Giraffe in New York, Schweizer Stuben in Wertheim, Germany; L'Esperance in St. Pere-sous-Vezelay, France, Akelare in San Sebastián, Spain, Ernie's in San Francisco, and his own restaurant, Sent Sovi in Saratoga.
Manresa is located at 320 Village Lane in Los Gatos, California, 50 miles south of San Francisco and only minutes away, but worlds apart, from Silicon Valley.
Manresa
David Kinch, Chef & Proprietor
320 Village Lane, Los Gatos, California 95030
408-354-4330
http://www.manresarestaurant.com
Contact: Greg Silva
Phone: 408-250-7315
gogreg@comcast.net
Yay! Hooray!!!
Wednesday, March 30, 2005
The Towse Three c1927?
The Towse Three. c1927?
Here's an early photograph of the three oldest (of eventually six) sons of Evangeline Reba Lynch Towse.
L->R
My dad's fraternal (duh!) twin, their little brother, my dad.
Cute, aren't they?
Eva French Lynch
Eva French Lynch
Picture is a pair with photograph of Evangeline Reba Lynch.
Photograph is of Eva French Lynch?
c1910?
Two more blasts from the past
The Towse Five a few years later. 1958. By September 1958 Skip was going on thirteen and away from home, boarding and attending Berwick Academy in Maine, being as there were no English-language high schools in Belém.
(Got my Jiminy Cricket pin on my butterfly collar!)
Studio Oliveira, Rua Santo Antonio, 132. Belém do Pará, Brasil
Evangeline Reba Lynch Towse (age ~ 44. 1947)
ERLT was the first grandmother to graduate from Boston University. Skip (age one and a half) is the reason she made the record books. I think I have Boston newspapers of the day with this photograph (or one similar) and an accompanying article.
(Got my Jiminy Cricket pin on my butterfly collar!)
Studio Oliveira, Rua Santo Antonio, 132. Belém do Pará, Brasil
Evangeline Reba Lynch Towse (age ~ 44. 1947)
ERLT was the first grandmother to graduate from Boston University. Skip (age one and a half) is the reason she made the record books. I think I have Boston newspapers of the day with this photograph (or one similar) and an accompanying article.
The rocking chair
My younger sister and I have a story which I've batted her with for years. A few years back, she apologized for what was never her fault. It wasn't my parents' fault either, but it's interesting to me, some fifty years later, how small, unintentional things can loom big in a young child's mind.
See this picture? My dad took it. He was/is an excellent photographer. He wanted to capture what was then the five (later six) Towse children. No biggie, you say. He seems to have set things up so that the tableau is balanced. The almost-ten-year-old eldest is sitting next to the youngest. The rest of us are gathered around. That's me on the far right, if you hadn't guessed. Off to the side as always. sniff
The Towse Five c1955
What is wrong with this picture?
I'll tell you from my three-year-old or thereabouts perspective.
See that wooden rocking chair that my little sister is sitting in?
THAT'S MY ROCKING CHAIR!
This is one of my earliest memories (along with other major events such as climbing into the Jeep and stepping on the rrrr-rrrr-rrrr starting button and almost getting it going, climbing out of my crib and meeting the milkman as he delivered milk, getting a copy of THE LITTLE RED CABOOSE CHUG-CHUG-CHUG and playing it over-and-over-and-over again, my older sister breaking her collarbone, &c., &c., &c.)
Why did this memory click at this early age?
I thought it was so totally unfair that if one of us got to sit in the rocking chair for the family photo that it got to be my bratty little sister when it was MY MY MY ROCKING CHAIR.
Why should she get to be center of the photograph and center of attention IN MY ROCKING CHAIR?
And, no, my tongue isn't sticking out for that particular reason. I tended as a child to always be the one (if there was one) to have a tongue sticking out or eyes crossed or to be holding a very large lizard in the Easter photo.
When you're a middle child you have to get attention some way.
Finding old photos like this when I'm supposed to be clearing out the back room is one of the graces of moving out of the family homestead.
Back to clearing ...
See this picture? My dad took it. He was/is an excellent photographer. He wanted to capture what was then the five (later six) Towse children. No biggie, you say. He seems to have set things up so that the tableau is balanced. The almost-ten-year-old eldest is sitting next to the youngest. The rest of us are gathered around. That's me on the far right, if you hadn't guessed. Off to the side as always. sniff
The Towse Five c1955
What is wrong with this picture?
I'll tell you from my three-year-old or thereabouts perspective.
See that wooden rocking chair that my little sister is sitting in?
THAT'S MY ROCKING CHAIR!
This is one of my earliest memories (along with other major events such as climbing into the Jeep and stepping on the rrrr-rrrr-rrrr starting button and almost getting it going, climbing out of my crib and meeting the milkman as he delivered milk, getting a copy of THE LITTLE RED CABOOSE CHUG-CHUG-CHUG and playing it over-and-over-and-over again, my older sister breaking her collarbone, &c., &c., &c.)
Why did this memory click at this early age?
I thought it was so totally unfair that if one of us got to sit in the rocking chair for the family photo that it got to be my bratty little sister when it was MY MY MY ROCKING CHAIR.
Why should she get to be center of the photograph and center of attention IN MY ROCKING CHAIR?
And, no, my tongue isn't sticking out for that particular reason. I tended as a child to always be the one (if there was one) to have a tongue sticking out or eyes crossed or to be holding a very large lizard in the Easter photo.
When you're a middle child you have to get attention some way.
Finding old photos like this when I'm supposed to be clearing out the back room is one of the graces of moving out of the family homestead.
Back to clearing ...
Bacall and then some
I came back from NC two weeks ago Monday knowing I'd picked up a bug but not feeling too funky yet. I had a luncheon date with Susan, our SF real estate agent, on Tuesday to meet up at the Pan Pacific Hotel for a fundraiser for the National Kidney Foundation of Northern California, sponsored by one of my favorite independents, Book Passage of Corte Madera and the Ferry Building in San Francisco.
I walked down from Telegraph Hill, a twenty-five minute walk or so, but had the good sense to ask Susan for a ride back up the hill afterwards. I was clobbered by the bug that evening but figure I would've even been worse off if I'd walked back up.
Book Passage brings authors to the luncheons. Eat! Listen to the author talk about their latest book! Give money to a good cause!
In this case, both Susan and I were there because Bacall was talking about her latest iteration of her autobiography: BY MYSELF AND THEN SOME. We asked for a table near the speaker because Susan has hearing issues and wound up at a table just to the right of the podium, maybe ten feet from Bacall.
She was amazing. Eighty years old. (Please don't mention it when you're talking to her.) Looks fantastic for someone who hasn't had facelifts that make it so she can't smile or move her face (her description of an actress whose name you'd recognize). She'd strained a muscle reaching to work a blind and was in sensible shoes and not walking as perky as she might, but she was grand: funny, self-deprecating, gracious, ascerbic.
She told the story of writing her autobiography the first time, twenty-five years ago. The publisher asked her to write it. She knew the editor. She said, sure, although why anyone would want to read my autobiography is beyond me. She said she sat down with a tape recorder: I was born, I went to high school, I went to Hollywood, I married Bogey, ... In ten minutes, she said, she'd told her life story. What now?
What now? was that she switched to longhand. That slowed the story down and she was getting somewhere until she started staring out the window and wondering whether the frig needed cleaning. Her output ground to a halt. Her editor was patient and patient and patient and finally laid down the law. He told her to report to the publisher's building where they would give her an office with no distractions to work in.
... and work she did. She wrote a rough cut of what she needed to cover and found out that the more she wrote, the more she remembered, the more she wrote, the more she ...
She finished the book and was pleased when it sold briskly. Recently the publisher came back to her and told her that the book was still selling but the publisher would like her to write a follow-on, an update to cover the past twenty-five years.
She did. Now, she's touring around the country flogging her book ... at age eighty. She said she wished she could stay longer in San Francisco but her publisher had her scheduled elsewhere and she had to move on.
Crossed fingers I'm in the same sort of shape twenty-seven years from now.
She mentioned that she knows -- and she's told her Bogart children -- that no matter where or when they'll never escape Bogey's shadow. She'll always be the Bacall of Bogey and Bacall. They'll always be Bogart's children.
Bogart died in 1957 when Bacall was thirty-three years old. Forty-eight years have gone by. She's made a success on Broadway and elsewhere. She married and divorced Jason Robards. She begat Sam Robards. Still and all, she says, she knows when she dies her obit will mention Bogey and Bacall. Not that there's anything wrong with that, she hastens to add. She was nineteen when she met Bogart. She married him. He introduced her to acting, to Hollywood. She knows she wouldn't be where she is today without him and yet ... she is so much more than the Bacall of Bogey and Bacall.
Lauren Bacall 15 Mar 2005
The luncheon comes with a book by the author. I stood in line (where I took this picture) to have her sign my copy. I bought a second copy and had her sign it too: that copy is for an eighty-year-old woman of my acquaintance. Shhhh. It's a surprise for Mother's Day.
I walked down from Telegraph Hill, a twenty-five minute walk or so, but had the good sense to ask Susan for a ride back up the hill afterwards. I was clobbered by the bug that evening but figure I would've even been worse off if I'd walked back up.
Book Passage brings authors to the luncheons. Eat! Listen to the author talk about their latest book! Give money to a good cause!
In this case, both Susan and I were there because Bacall was talking about her latest iteration of her autobiography: BY MYSELF AND THEN SOME. We asked for a table near the speaker because Susan has hearing issues and wound up at a table just to the right of the podium, maybe ten feet from Bacall.
She was amazing. Eighty years old. (Please don't mention it when you're talking to her.) Looks fantastic for someone who hasn't had facelifts that make it so she can't smile or move her face (her description of an actress whose name you'd recognize). She'd strained a muscle reaching to work a blind and was in sensible shoes and not walking as perky as she might, but she was grand: funny, self-deprecating, gracious, ascerbic.
She told the story of writing her autobiography the first time, twenty-five years ago. The publisher asked her to write it. She knew the editor. She said, sure, although why anyone would want to read my autobiography is beyond me. She said she sat down with a tape recorder: I was born, I went to high school, I went to Hollywood, I married Bogey, ... In ten minutes, she said, she'd told her life story. What now?
What now? was that she switched to longhand. That slowed the story down and she was getting somewhere until she started staring out the window and wondering whether the frig needed cleaning. Her output ground to a halt. Her editor was patient and patient and patient and finally laid down the law. He told her to report to the publisher's building where they would give her an office with no distractions to work in.
... and work she did. She wrote a rough cut of what she needed to cover and found out that the more she wrote, the more she remembered, the more she wrote, the more she ...
She finished the book and was pleased when it sold briskly. Recently the publisher came back to her and told her that the book was still selling but the publisher would like her to write a follow-on, an update to cover the past twenty-five years.
She did. Now, she's touring around the country flogging her book ... at age eighty. She said she wished she could stay longer in San Francisco but her publisher had her scheduled elsewhere and she had to move on.
Crossed fingers I'm in the same sort of shape twenty-seven years from now.
She mentioned that she knows -- and she's told her Bogart children -- that no matter where or when they'll never escape Bogey's shadow. She'll always be the Bacall of Bogey and Bacall. They'll always be Bogart's children.
Bogart died in 1957 when Bacall was thirty-three years old. Forty-eight years have gone by. She's made a success on Broadway and elsewhere. She married and divorced Jason Robards. She begat Sam Robards. Still and all, she says, she knows when she dies her obit will mention Bogey and Bacall. Not that there's anything wrong with that, she hastens to add. She was nineteen when she met Bogart. She married him. He introduced her to acting, to Hollywood. She knows she wouldn't be where she is today without him and yet ... she is so much more than the Bacall of Bogey and Bacall.
Lauren Bacall 15 Mar 2005
The luncheon comes with a book by the author. I stood in line (where I took this picture) to have her sign my copy. I bought a second copy and had her sign it too: that copy is for an eighty-year-old woman of my acquaintance. Shhhh. It's a surprise for Mother's Day.
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
Blogger and blogger status and how I spent my day ...
I mean, I have things to do but I sat wasting time this morning just trying to get my blog template updated to include Jen's Nobody's Here.
I tried to add a link to Jen earlier this month, once she'd ditched Bloggy Goodness and resurrected as Nobody's Here, but my patience wore out. This time I was determined, no matter how many times Blogger spun its wheels and refused to allow me access to my Blogger archive, no matter how many times Blogger barfed and cut-out while it was updating my template with Jen's new blog link on it, no matter how many times ...
But there I sat wasting time ...
I had a 40 cu yd drop box (note: not a Dumpster®) dropped off this morning. Paid for it yesterday. Drove down to the Green Valley Disposal offices and put over $700 delivery and rental fee on my Visa and signed off on the rules and asked for delivery today, this morning preferably.
Rules include "no dirt, rocks, concrete, bricks" and if you load them in anyway, you may get hit with an almost $50 per ton overage charge. One cubic yard of dirt, rocks, concrete, and/or bricks weighs approximately a ton, I was told. (Who knew?) 40 cu yds of yard waste and dead lawn chairs, on the other hand, supposedly weigh about 5.5 tons. Overage charges apply if the weight goes over 5.5 tons. If the drop box weighs over 10 tons all bets are off.
According to my lease agreement, I get the drop box for seven days. If I want to keep it longer, GVD will charge me a bit over $100/day. Yikes.
His nibs called the guy whose crew will be clearing out the yard and moving the dead water heater and toilet and basketball hoop and what-not out of the horse corral, and getting rid of the pile of crap outside the door here, and getting rid of the pile of crap down by the main house and clearing out the yard and clearing out the yard and clearing out the yard.
They'd be here first thing today, he promised, if it wasn't pouring rain. Well, it wasn't pouring rain. It was drizzling off and on. I was out moving stuff into distinct "take this away" "do not touch this" piles. Lunch time came and went and they still had not arrived. Afternoon. Dusk. Evening and they're still not here. I have seven days ... and one day has been completely wasted.
Forty cubic yards is a lot! BIG BOX!
I was promised delivery today and the staff at the office noted that I wanted it first thing, if possible. Note made, I was told, but no promises. Last night I put out the garbage. His nibs had already put out the yard cleanup recycle from some gross raking I'd done during the week and the recycle box of metal scraps|plastic|styrofoam from the partial garage cleanup this weekend. I took out the garbage can of garbage and about thirty paper grocery bags full of paper recycle last night. Moved the pickup into the dirt access driveway on the west side. Tucked the Mini off to the side to make room for the whenever-it-will-happen delivery of the drop box.
This morning at 6:22A, I heard a loud thunk in the driveway. I peeked out to make sure they were dropping the box where I'd planned. They did. I fixed my usual mug of espresso then moved the pickup back into the driveway and tucked the Mini up next to it.
Allz I could think as I looked at the drop box was, "Forty cubic yards is a lot!"
The guy doing the yardwork had looked at our (relatively small) piles of crap and figured in his head what he was going to rip out of the yard and told me to get a 40 cu yd drop box. I trust he'll fill it. If not, I'll ask the neighbors if they have anything they'd like to toss in.
Next up! call the stagers and choose a stager to use. Call the painters and choose a painter to use. Call the pressure washers and choose a pressure washer to use. When everything's set, we'll need a final go-through house cleaner too.
Had I mentioned? Chuck was over last Friday and current plan is to have the house ready to sell by May first. Four weeks. Aieeeee!
I spent most of yesterday at the book warehouse space, boxing up books. The books are almost all boxed. After the push yesterday, just a few (maybe eight or ten) boxes worth are still left to box up and label -- labels go around kitty corner corners with contents on each side of the corner ... so however the box is placed, the contents show. Does that make sense? Am I too compul^H^H^H^Hnscientious?
I also need to box up the few books remaining in this place here and there -- a box or two in the front office, a box or two in the living room, a box or two in the bedroom. Box. Label. Move them over to the leased warehouse. Need to move the last of the bookcases too, including the one in this office that's tamped full with genealogy "work" and stamp collection paraphernalia and albums and stamps.
Once the bookcases and book boxes are gathered in one place, we'll call Two Women and a Truck or their equivalent to move the boxes of books out of the warehouse space and up to the loft space. That will free up the warehouse space for all the stuff we have to move out of this place before the place can be staged and go on the market.
Aieeeee!
It's all logistics, all dominoes. PERT chart where art thou?
The warehouse has four rooms. The room I was working in yesterday has 170 boxes of books and thirty bookcases. The room next to it, where I was also working yesterday, has 130 boxes of books. I shifted bookcases from that room to the other room yesterday so they'd all be in one place. The books in the back two rooms are mostly boxed, with a few piles of books here and there. The far back room also has a farm-type dining table that was Case's and the four chairs that go with it, rugs, miscellaneous other stuff. Two Women and a Truck will move the books out. We'll fill the place up with the rest of our barnacles and get the house painted, staged and on the market.
May 1 is the target date.
Susan, our San Francisco real estate agent, said Now!Now!Now! If you have to rent a barn to clear out your house, rent a barn!
We don't need a barn, we have 1000 sq ft of warehouse space and we have until mid-August, when the lease is up, to sort through and move, giveaway whatever we've stash in the warehouse.
A friend made a comment in e-mail last week,
*sigh* Our ancestors lived with what they could carry.
Yes, I answered. "And in the old days you couldn't buy a gig of memory for $69."
I have a couple quotations that come up each time I log on:
He who would travel happily must travel light.
-- Antoine de Saint-Exupery
Simplicity is making the journey of this life with just baggage enough.
- Charles Dudley Warner
Above and beyond those, I have a note written in 36pt Comic Sans:
CLEAR OUT THE PLACE ... NOW!!!
I've been here going on twenty-eight years. His nibs has been here going on thirty, when he took over from his father, who left some of his barnacles behind. His father built the house in 1948-1949. The barnacles have barnacles have barnacles.
We needed Chuck's push, Chuck's, "Time is of the essence!"
The prep work is coming along. Soon the yard work will begin. The piles of junk will be dumped in the drop box.
The place is emptying. The books are boxing. Slowly. Slowly.
Needs to be done in four weeks. Completely done and ready for some lucky soul to take over. I spent today partially clearing the space back over there that's tamped full of boxes and what-not. Aieeeee!
So what was up with Blogger anyway ... Blogger, which was driving me nuts this morning?
I discovered today (after bashing my head against the wall for a couple hours) that Blogger was having issues. I've added Blogger Status to my Bloglines feed list.
Current entry:
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
We're currently in the process of rolling back a bad kernel upgrade that has significantly impacted the service. Restored app servers are coming back online and all should be repaired by the end of today.
Update: The rollback has been completed and performance is starting to stabilize across the appservers.
And, indeed, I can now log on to my Blogger account and after updating this bit will try again to get my template updated with Jen's Nobody's Here added to my m.w: baked fresh list.
Day's over. May tomorrow be more productive!
I tried to add a link to Jen earlier this month, once she'd ditched Bloggy Goodness and resurrected as Nobody's Here, but my patience wore out. This time I was determined, no matter how many times Blogger spun its wheels and refused to allow me access to my Blogger archive, no matter how many times Blogger barfed and cut-out while it was updating my template with Jen's new blog link on it, no matter how many times ...
But there I sat wasting time ...
I had a 40 cu yd drop box (note: not a Dumpster®) dropped off this morning. Paid for it yesterday. Drove down to the Green Valley Disposal offices and put over $700 delivery and rental fee on my Visa and signed off on the rules and asked for delivery today, this morning preferably.
Rules include "no dirt, rocks, concrete, bricks" and if you load them in anyway, you may get hit with an almost $50 per ton overage charge. One cubic yard of dirt, rocks, concrete, and/or bricks weighs approximately a ton, I was told. (Who knew?) 40 cu yds of yard waste and dead lawn chairs, on the other hand, supposedly weigh about 5.5 tons. Overage charges apply if the weight goes over 5.5 tons. If the drop box weighs over 10 tons all bets are off.
According to my lease agreement, I get the drop box for seven days. If I want to keep it longer, GVD will charge me a bit over $100/day. Yikes.
His nibs called the guy whose crew will be clearing out the yard and moving the dead water heater and toilet and basketball hoop and what-not out of the horse corral, and getting rid of the pile of crap outside the door here, and getting rid of the pile of crap down by the main house and clearing out the yard and clearing out the yard and clearing out the yard.
They'd be here first thing today, he promised, if it wasn't pouring rain. Well, it wasn't pouring rain. It was drizzling off and on. I was out moving stuff into distinct "take this away" "do not touch this" piles. Lunch time came and went and they still had not arrived. Afternoon. Dusk. Evening and they're still not here. I have seven days ... and one day has been completely wasted.
Forty cubic yards is a lot! BIG BOX!
I was promised delivery today and the staff at the office noted that I wanted it first thing, if possible. Note made, I was told, but no promises. Last night I put out the garbage. His nibs had already put out the yard cleanup recycle from some gross raking I'd done during the week and the recycle box of metal scraps|plastic|styrofoam from the partial garage cleanup this weekend. I took out the garbage can of garbage and about thirty paper grocery bags full of paper recycle last night. Moved the pickup into the dirt access driveway on the west side. Tucked the Mini off to the side to make room for the whenever-it-will-happen delivery of the drop box.
This morning at 6:22A, I heard a loud thunk in the driveway. I peeked out to make sure they were dropping the box where I'd planned. They did. I fixed my usual mug of espresso then moved the pickup back into the driveway and tucked the Mini up next to it.
Allz I could think as I looked at the drop box was, "Forty cubic yards is a lot!"
The guy doing the yardwork had looked at our (relatively small) piles of crap and figured in his head what he was going to rip out of the yard and told me to get a 40 cu yd drop box. I trust he'll fill it. If not, I'll ask the neighbors if they have anything they'd like to toss in.
Next up! call the stagers and choose a stager to use. Call the painters and choose a painter to use. Call the pressure washers and choose a pressure washer to use. When everything's set, we'll need a final go-through house cleaner too.
Had I mentioned? Chuck was over last Friday and current plan is to have the house ready to sell by May first. Four weeks. Aieeeee!
I spent most of yesterday at the book warehouse space, boxing up books. The books are almost all boxed. After the push yesterday, just a few (maybe eight or ten) boxes worth are still left to box up and label -- labels go around kitty corner corners with contents on each side of the corner ... so however the box is placed, the contents show. Does that make sense? Am I too compul^H^H^H^Hnscientious?
I also need to box up the few books remaining in this place here and there -- a box or two in the front office, a box or two in the living room, a box or two in the bedroom. Box. Label. Move them over to the leased warehouse. Need to move the last of the bookcases too, including the one in this office that's tamped full with genealogy "work" and stamp collection paraphernalia and albums and stamps.
Once the bookcases and book boxes are gathered in one place, we'll call Two Women and a Truck or their equivalent to move the boxes of books out of the warehouse space and up to the loft space. That will free up the warehouse space for all the stuff we have to move out of this place before the place can be staged and go on the market.
Aieeeee!
It's all logistics, all dominoes. PERT chart where art thou?
The warehouse has four rooms. The room I was working in yesterday has 170 boxes of books and thirty bookcases. The room next to it, where I was also working yesterday, has 130 boxes of books. I shifted bookcases from that room to the other room yesterday so they'd all be in one place. The books in the back two rooms are mostly boxed, with a few piles of books here and there. The far back room also has a farm-type dining table that was Case's and the four chairs that go with it, rugs, miscellaneous other stuff. Two Women and a Truck will move the books out. We'll fill the place up with the rest of our barnacles and get the house painted, staged and on the market.
May 1 is the target date.
Susan, our San Francisco real estate agent, said Now!Now!Now! If you have to rent a barn to clear out your house, rent a barn!
We don't need a barn, we have 1000 sq ft of warehouse space and we have until mid-August, when the lease is up, to sort through and move, giveaway whatever we've stash in the warehouse.
A friend made a comment in e-mail last week,
*sigh* Our ancestors lived with what they could carry.
Yes, I answered. "And in the old days you couldn't buy a gig of memory for $69."
I have a couple quotations that come up each time I log on:
He who would travel happily must travel light.
-- Antoine de Saint-Exupery
Simplicity is making the journey of this life with just baggage enough.
- Charles Dudley Warner
Above and beyond those, I have a note written in 36pt Comic Sans:
CLEAR OUT THE PLACE ... NOW!!!
I've been here going on twenty-eight years. His nibs has been here going on thirty, when he took over from his father, who left some of his barnacles behind. His father built the house in 1948-1949. The barnacles have barnacles have barnacles.
We needed Chuck's push, Chuck's, "Time is of the essence!"
The prep work is coming along. Soon the yard work will begin. The piles of junk will be dumped in the drop box.
The place is emptying. The books are boxing. Slowly. Slowly.
Needs to be done in four weeks. Completely done and ready for some lucky soul to take over. I spent today partially clearing the space back over there that's tamped full of boxes and what-not. Aieeeee!
So what was up with Blogger anyway ... Blogger, which was driving me nuts this morning?
I discovered today (after bashing my head against the wall for a couple hours) that Blogger was having issues. I've added Blogger Status to my Bloglines feed list.
Current entry:
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
We're currently in the process of rolling back a bad kernel upgrade that has significantly impacted the service. Restored app servers are coming back online and all should be repaired by the end of today.
Update: The rollback has been completed and performance is starting to stabilize across the appservers.
And, indeed, I can now log on to my Blogger account and after updating this bit will try again to get my template updated with Jen's Nobody's Here added to my m.w: baked fresh list.
Day's over. May tomorrow be more productive!
Thursday, March 24, 2005
Ou sont les Towses d'USA?
Ed Hamrick's Hamrick software, maker of VueScan, offers a non-connected treat on its site: Names.
Names is a piece of software that lets you check out the distribution of a given last name in the fifty USA states based on census data from the 1850, 1880, and 1920 Censuses and from phone books from the 1990's. You can either check one of the breakdowns or you can check "all," in which case the software displays the maps in rotation making it easy to see how the names dispersed or contracted across the years.
Try, f'rex, a good Irish name like Riley or Kennedy. Watch the family spread out across the United States with deep pockets in some areas and then, eventually, as of the 1990's become just another 1 in 1000 in almost every state.
A name like TANIGUCHI only provides one map -- the 1990's -- because the name was not common during the earlier dates.
This is all very cool, but when I popped my name in, I got, "Unable to find TOWSE in Database.
Our database contains the 50,000 most commonly occurring names in the United States. Unfortunately, the name you selected isn't contained in this database. Try using a slightly different spelling of this name."
Seems to me if you are one of the 50,000 most commonly occurring names in the United States, the folks showing up in Whitefish, MT, are probably not really from your cohort.
GARCIA gives a more interesting map than BAKSHI, but surprise! surprise! BAKSHI =is= one of the 50,000 most commonly occurring names in the United States.
LYNCH is interesting. Look at the subtle shading telling you that MA is a hotbed of Lynches as compared to the rest of the states.
RILEYs seem to avoid North Dakota.
Fun stuff. Good way to spend time with pretty maps.
Names is a piece of software that lets you check out the distribution of a given last name in the fifty USA states based on census data from the 1850, 1880, and 1920 Censuses and from phone books from the 1990's. You can either check one of the breakdowns or you can check "all," in which case the software displays the maps in rotation making it easy to see how the names dispersed or contracted across the years.
Try, f'rex, a good Irish name like Riley or Kennedy. Watch the family spread out across the United States with deep pockets in some areas and then, eventually, as of the 1990's become just another 1 in 1000 in almost every state.
A name like TANIGUCHI only provides one map -- the 1990's -- because the name was not common during the earlier dates.
This is all very cool, but when I popped my name in, I got, "Unable to find TOWSE in Database.
Our database contains the 50,000 most commonly occurring names in the United States. Unfortunately, the name you selected isn't contained in this database. Try using a slightly different spelling of this name."
Seems to me if you are one of the 50,000 most commonly occurring names in the United States, the folks showing up in Whitefish, MT, are probably not really from your cohort.
GARCIA gives a more interesting map than BAKSHI, but surprise! surprise! BAKSHI =is= one of the 50,000 most commonly occurring names in the United States.
LYNCH is interesting. Look at the subtle shading telling you that MA is a hotbed of Lynches as compared to the rest of the states.
RILEYs seem to avoid North Dakota.
Fun stuff. Good way to spend time with pretty maps.
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