Category: general

You guys came back!  Cool.

Thursday night in our living room right now, and I cut the air Sharaun’s been running all day.  And now, I’m too proud to admit that it’s hot in here and I’d actually be more comfortable with the air on, because of the big stink I made about it “being nice outside” and “not wasting money.”  So, we swelter.

Today was a good day.  We had an “offsite” at work, where the troops all get together at the lake and barbecue chicken and hot dogs and hamburgers and whatnot.  I was in charge of chicken, and it came out well.  Then, around 10pm Jeff texted me to share that the Senate had passed the Cash for Clunkers legislation I’ve been waiting on (read more here and here).

In an attempt to figure out which version of the bill actually passed, I contacted a “connected” friend via some late-night IMing, and she was able to help me find the final approved language on Thomas here. Luckily for me, the House version I blogged about before is the language that passed the Senate  – and that means we’re eligible for $4,500 for the busted Ford, as long as our new vehicle averages 19MPG or better (and yes, I already have an Excel spreadsheet).

Additionally, one of my favorite bits in the text reads, “Combination with other incentives permitted.”  Hear that?  “Permitted!”  That means in addition to the $4,500 credit I might be able to double up with some other “hookup” deal (either through work or well-connected friends).

Now it’s off to Obama’s desk and then into the implementation phase, which the bill specifies should take thirty days (meaning dealers should be ready administer the program in that amount of time post-Obama).  Thirty days then; thirty days for Sharaun and I to figure out what vehicle we want and how to outfit it.  Thirty days and Obama gets us a new car.

And, despite some shame, I’m ready for the handout.  Goodnight.

Internet!!  Man, long time no talk!  What’s been going on with you?

Tuesday night and I’m tuckered from some surprise post-work wakeboarding.  Now, it’s probably been four years since I last got up on a wakeboard, and back then it took me pretty much a whole season before I was able to do it consistently… so I was a little worried I’d not remember the mechanics of it all.

I did have some issues standing up on my first set of pulls, but did OK the second time around.  I’m still nothing much to watch on the water, but I sure had a great time – and it satisfies the “work out tonight” requirement nicely.

Sorry I didn’t write last night, didn’t get to it until too late and didn’t have much to say.  Tonight tho, let’s talk about stuff.

Sharaun, who doesn’t read much (not that I’m much better with my fickle on-and-off appetite for books), has apparently tuned into the latest female-groupthink brainwaves and has been addicted to reading those Twilight books.  I know, making fun of some subconscious ladies-only mental connection isn’t really fair; the books surely must be entertaining for so many to enjoy them, it’s just fun to point out that they are totally chick books.

Anyway, her newfound interest in vampires and teenage lust works well for me as she graciously allows me to listen to music (at a reasonable volume) as she reads.  Nice to get some non-TV tunes during the normal TV’s-always-on evening hours.  TV is way overrated, and I’ll take some tunes anytime over even my favorite shows.  Tonight I got to listen to the whole (A+B-side) of Jethro Tull’s long-winded but excellent prog masterpeice, Thick As A Brick.  Not often you can sit through that.  Go vampires.

Oh man I’m falling asleep sitting up.  Goodnight friends.

Hey guys. Sorry the week ended empty around here last week; we made it home safe from Oregon (but not without a little drama) and the evenings robbed me of writing time.

The return trip from Oregon almost wasn’t.

When I bought the tickets for our trip, I recall debating between coming home Wednesday evening or Thursday morning. And as our week up north progressed, I had all the while been remembering the Thursday morning flight. Come to find out, as serendipitously checked our itinerary Wednesday morning around 8am, that I was wrong and I’d booked the flight that evening. Crap.

Text messages and e-mails flew from the iPhone in a fury: Sharaun; we leave today, not tomorrow. Things were arranged; rides from the airport, packing, rides to the airport, rides from work to my folks’ place. Everything was planned and trimmed and faded just right. Then my dad had to go to the hospital unexpectedly (everything’s fine, just unplanned), and our shiny new plans began to unravel. The carseat was in his car; he was our ride to the airport; the car was what Sharaun was going to use to pick me up from work.

In the end, a buddy ducked out of our meeting early to give me a ride to the house; we had to abandon all hope of getting the carseat if we wanted to make our flight; and we had to make a hail Mary run for the airport train to beat the check-in and boarding deadline.

Thankfuly we were able to arrange a last minute pickup at the airport (from a picker-upper who was able to score a loaner carseat so we could be a road-legal family), and my folks are graciously shipping our seat back to us.

Harrowing, to be sure. But; we got home.

And, at home…

Thursday as I rounded the last corner on the way home from work, the steering wheel on the Ford locked up tight; turning became a test of all my arm strength. Somehow, I’d lost all power steering, and it was like trying to turn the wheels in wet cement. Fearing that Rusbuqeutte, the patron saint of junkyard cars, had abaondoned me, I muscled the aging beast through the last couple turns and into our garage. Lately, one of my biggest fears is that the Ford will give up the ghost just prior to me being able to take advantage of the new legislation I’ve been waiting on (need context?).

I shuttered as I shut off the car; could this be a game-ender for my intended endgame? Would I make out with the handout or wind up empty-handed? (Anyone see the effort here?)

Anyway, I topped off the power steering fluid on Friday (after a Keystone Cops style morning trying to get to work on time) and the beast sprang back to full loosey-goosey steerability. So, all is not lost. And, with each new failing I can’t help but think I should take my buddy Jeff’s advice and retire the thing now – only to drive it one last time: Up to the dealership to collect my cash-for-clunkers dosh and my new wheels.

We’ll see, I s’psose.

And, this weekend we’re running away to Yosemite and staying in the valley. I love going to Yosemite; it’s one of my all-time favorite destinations. We have three days this time (give or take accounting for travel), with one of them deducted to the “extremely strenuous” Half Dome day-summit – hence today’s accompanying picture.

I’ve done it before, but never in the marathon up-and-back, seventeen mile, leave in the dark return in the dark format. Here’s hoping for a not-too-crowded ascent of the cables, and a safe summit and return.

Wish me luck; goodnight.

Good evening internet denizens.  Fancy reading a blog?  Gonna be all over the place, I fear.

Outside, the light is failing.  I can see the soft gray of the sky through the two massive trellis-climbing plants I bought a month or so ago.  I had the new landscape guy actually put them in the ground for me, the sixty gallon pots and prospect of digging in this rocky soil just put me off.  I think he charged me $30 for the labor.  $30… and I swallowed easy.

With regard to spending money for things I could do myself, I still trend miserly… but ever more I catch myself mentally “billing out” my time.  Like when I considered planting those big trellis plants through which I’m now watching the sky darken in the half-light of dusk: I could have easily planted them.  Could’ve dug the two massive holes, churning through rocks upon rocks.  Maybe it would’ve taken me an hour, maybe an hour and a half.  In my head though, I still calculating what I think that hour and a half is worth to me… how many hard-earned dollars I’d consider a “good trade” for spending it playing with Keaton or reading a book.  And, in the end, the “pay the man” attitude won out this time.

Strange, but for some reason this makes me feel old.

We’ve got the windows open tonight; the 100°+ temperatures of the weekend have given way to milder days and even milder overnights. And, since Sharaun’s in the process of putting Keaton down, I managed to switch of the TV and put on some music instead.  Some long drawn-out County Joe & the Fish jam is playing, and it actually sounds really good.  Y’know, there can be good long jams, the kind that keep you excited and pace well, and there can be bad long jams.  Even the best jam bands are guilty of the occasional stinker of a twenty minute “Dancing In the Street,” after all.

Gosh guys, I have nothing.  It’s like 11 o’clock and I have nothing.  Goodnight.

Monday and the day whizzed by with a Dopplery hum, the last droning whir still tailing off in my skull as the sun goes down and I begin to settle into the evening routine.

They dilated my eyes at the optometrist today, and I still ain’t right, so writing isn’t coming an easier tonight for the blurriness and irritation.  Still, though, I’ma power through and try to get some content up in here.

I lost the third of four doors on the Ford the other day; the vehicle now has just one functional door – the rear door on the passenger side.  The driver’s door is broken, but I can work it from the inside about 100% of the time now that I’ve removed the panel and can manipulate the mechanism manually with force.  The rear door on the driver’s side won’t open at all, from inside or out.  And finally the front passenger side gave out this weekend, and is now only openable from the inside, the external handle now non-functional.

Getting in, when the driver’s door won’t open from the outside (about 50% of the time as it now stands), involves using the fob remote to electronically pop the locks (which only manages to work for the rear passenger and back cargo doors).  You then have to walk around to the rear passenger side door and reach into the front seat to use the interior handle and stretch to open the front passenger door.  Once that door is open, you have to crawl halfway into the cab, reach across the center console, and force the driver’s door open with your hand in the guts of innerworkings.

To boot, the oil gauge oddness (random pegging from zero to middle) I mentioned as a “new” oddity just a while back has now become a regular occurrence, the needle clicking audibly up and down all the time, lighting up the “check gauge” light each time it sits at the bottom of its arc.  Not to mention that, the other day, I saw some transmission fluid leaking while the beast was park on an incline for a while.

C’mon Ford, we’re just waiting on Congress; how long could that take?

OK guys, I’m outta here.  Goodnight.

Happy Monday folks.  I had ample time to write most nights last week when I didn’t, but nothing came out off the keyboard when I sat down to do it.  Sorry.

Lately, I’ve really been enjoying riding my bike.  I mean, really enjoying it… like to the point where I find myself wanting to go ride and explore new terrain.  In fact, I’ve got recent designs on plopping down some cash to improve my experience – and when it comes to impulsively  spending money you know I’m “into” something.  I’ve been planning to upgrade my knobby tires to some hybrid ones for better on-road traction, and I’ve considered some type of bag-toting rack for the back for the ride to work.

Yeah, I’ve really found myself enjoying getting around to places cars can’t go, and getting some exercise while doing so. And today, despite the 100° plus temperatures blast-furnacing Northern California, I decided to take an extended bike ride.  Planned at around ~17mi round-trip, I set out after church around noon in anticipation of meeting up with a group of friends up by the lake for some swimming and grilled hot dogs.

The ride out was uneventful, and challenging at times, but ultimately fun and worth the sweat and strain.  Sharaun drove the Ford up with Keaton and met us all there, and we grilled, played in the water to escape the oppressive heat, and had a grand old time.  Around 4pm we decided it was time to head home, and judging by my ride there I expected about a 40min trip back to the house.

I was making excellent time, and decided to take the tiniest of shortcuts – just to maintain my clip.  At a spot where the paved trail bends and does a hairpin turn to avoid going up and over a small hill, folks have blazed a trail that cuts out the trail’s time-wasting zig-zag.  It’s just a dirt trail up a steepish “peak,” about 15ft high and then right over the top for a steep run down the other side.  I’d taken it on the way to the lake to carry my momentum rather than wasting it on braking around a tight turn, so why not again?

As I crested the hill and looked down, I realized that, traveling in this direction, I was a little unsure if I was suppose to go left or right on the trail below (the trail comes to a three-way junction at this point).  Moving too fast to to ponder it for very long, I initially decided I wanted to go left, and then about two-thirds of the way down changed my mind to right.  Bad idea.

Trying to adjust at the last minute, at speed, caused my afterthought of a right turn to go wide and I skirted dangerously towards the far left edge of the paved trail.  Off the pavement and about an inch below grade lay a pile of boulders.  And, eventually, all  my leaning right couldn’t keep my wheel on the trail, and it dropped off into the boulders.

Of course, my forward motion was immediately over.

My bike wrenched against the now immobile tire, jackknifing and sending me sprawling.  My right wrist hit first and then I heard my back slap against the pavement.  I’d gone full end-over the tire and landed on the pavement.  When I got up and inspected myself, my shoe was alongisde the bike a couple feet behind me, and I seemed no worse for wear.  I mean, a couple scrapes, and my wrist is actually pretty sore, but the bike and I came out fine.

Anyway, being nerdy, I found this neat online site that will take in your GPS output file and generate a really cool report showing speed, elevation, map of your route, etc.  After returning safely home, I wanted to see the crash in graph-form.  Here’s the point where I hit the pavement (and my iPhone case has the scuffs to prove it, even being in my pocket):

The gradual valley around the 2.5mi mark is just a steep hill, but the asymptotic one just before for the 5mi mark is just too abrupt to be anything but my spill.  Sure enough, I can mark the spot on the map by looking for the little “wiggle” where I went right (when I really should’ve gone left).

Well then, a whole entry about a bike crash.  Better than not writing at all, I suppose.

Goodnight.

Happy hump-day readers.

Every evening of late, during my “internet time” (which is really a seamless amount of time sandwiched sometime between the dead-time after I get home from work and eventually turn the laptop back on again after Keaton goes down and when I go to bed, during which I have the thing close at-hand and surf around in between watching a little TV with Sharaun or reading or whatever), I point Firefox at Google and do a news search for the phrase “cash for clunkers.”  Why?

See, “cash for clunkers” is the colloquial term by which some proposed legislation has become known.  This proposed legislation would grant folks cash incentive to trade in their old, presumably fuel-inefficient, vehicles for more modern, presumably more fuel-efficient, ones.  The goal being twofold in that you’d stimulate the auto industry while at the same time swapping some bad-for-the-environment vehicles for less-bad-for-the-environment ones (part of the language says the traded-in cars would be scrapped, not re-sold to continue polluting and being inefficient).

And, while the thing is still before Congress, recent news says it’s likely to be passed (in some form) in the near future – before the month’s out perhaps.  The details are still in flux, but the bottom line is that, if passed, people like me (who are driving busted-broke old beaters) stand to collect a little extra cash towards the purchase of a newer, better vehicle.  If you’re a details person – in the leading incarnation of the bill I’d need to shoot for a new vehicle rated 18MPG or better to get the whole $4,500 incentive, being that the rated mileage for my 1997 V8/5.0L Explorer is a pitiful 13MPG city.  In honesty, setting the “bar” at 18MPG or better seems pretty whack from an “environmental relief” standpoint… but I’ll tip my hat to the Detroit lobby and keep my mouth shut on this one.

So, If you know anything about my current vehicle situation, you know why I’m searching for updates on the legislation each evening.  What?  You don’t know anything about my current vehicle situation.

Oh, well, normally here I’d point you to the blog entry I wrote about it here on sounds familiar just a few weeks ago.  But today, I can do a little more – because, see, a couple weeks ago I lent my good buddy Ben my truck – and it made such an impression on him that he himself blogged about.  Taken together with my own words, I think Ben’s thoughts round out the story… and you’ll have  good feel for why I’m so keen on Obama supplementing my new purchase.

Mmm… for my die-hard Republican friends: I know.  Socialism is here; Obama is buying me a car.  Yes, the future of our country is at stake and handouts like these are pushing us all closer to a government-sponsored society.  Whatever though… I’m getting a new car soon.  Thanks taxpayers, I’ll think of you every time I don’t have to take off the door panel to get out of my new ride.

Dude, look at all the losers in this New Kids on the Block video.

Goodnight.