Sunday on the Mountain

I may have been the last person in the US to hear about "geocaching" (or second to last if one of you just read the word for the first time). Anyway, in case that second to last person tunes in here, Geocaching is a high-tech treasure hunting game played throughout the world by adventure seekers equipped with GPS devices. The basic idea is to locate hidden containers, called geocaches, outdoors and then share your experiences online. Geocaching is enjoyed by people from all age groups, with a strong sense of community and support for the environment. As per the official website. Hmmm. I am not sure I am properly supporting the environment by leaving a coffee can in a moldering log in wild Vermont... Oh well. I go there a lot so I'll make sure it doesn't become a nuisance.

Me and the kids hid our first cache ever today, up on Jay Peak. If you get up this way and fancy a short hike, you The coordinates should beon the Geocache website. A clue is hidden in the picture above (well, it's a picture of the coffee can that now holds our cache in situ, so it's a pretty good clue).

That's kind of it for the weekend. Work has hotted up in an unwelcome fashion and we are short-handed. The weekend was a kind of respite from a bad Friday to be followed by a Bad Monday. Ycch. I have decided that if I were to design a personal Coat of Arms my motto would be "I Don't Want Any Trouble." I wonder how you say that in Latin? I'll bet it sounds classy,

Report Writing for Accountants (BTW - as per a couple of posts back) has not been requested by anyone, mirabile dictu. I'll hang onto it for now - maybe til the next time I have to move. The offer to ship it away to anyone who wants it stands for now.

Best wishes for a happy Mondays to any stoppers-in.

So, Galadriel Dropped by the Other Day...

And while she was catching some rays out on the lawn, the Understudy snapped the above shot of her. (Doesn't it look like she's on something?)

(This won't make any sense when I change the banner picture, which I often do because I get bored quickly). My brother gave this Tolkien-inspired Barbie to the Understudy for Christmas a few years ago, not having got the memo, apparently, that we don't really do Barbie. The Understudy grabbed her off the shelf in my office the other day, where she had been keeping company with a barefoot GI Joe from the same source, and decided to do a photo shoot. So, that's all there is to say about that.

Report Writing for Accountants Can Be Yours!

In other news, I wanted to let you know that I went back to the book sale (see the last post) and snagged Report Writing for Accountants.

Can you believe that even though the price had been dropped to zero there were no takers (other than me)? I had a quick look inside and can report that there are no chapters on "creative accounting" or anything that threatens to be interesting. Also, I see on the fly leaf that it once lived in the inventory of used book seller where the proprietor was trying to get $7.50 for it. That's seven dollars and fifty cents! You don't have to be an accountant...

All the unwanted book-sale books were headed for the pulp mill the day after I plucked Report Writing from among the doomed. So I feel very slightly virtuous for having saved this one, at least this one, from the macerator. But like so many rescue stories, this one may end badly unless I can find someone who wants it now. If anybody knows an accountant, or someone, anyone, who wants it (a $7.50 value, after all), email me your contact info, and I will send it to you for free! Media mail is on me, so long as you're in the U.S.

It's clearly time for me to go read some other blogs. Bye for now.

Mystery of the Library Book Sale

Now why hasn't this one flown out of the Stowe Free Library Book Sale?

Probably people are waiting for the movie. I know I am.

Some Friendly Advice

I've been away for a bit - not really away, away, just not writing here. A few ideas have dropped onto the stony ground of my imagination over the last week or so, but none seems to have taken hold. I thought the I had a BIG IDEA for a post about the metamorphosis that earnestness has taken over the last 150 years or so while I was reading Lytton Strachey's biography of Queen Victoria last night.

Turns out that when Prince Albert, future consort of Queen Victoria, and his brother Ernest were examined for their confirmation by the German Bishops of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, crowds gathered to watch. Strachey reports that every one was riveted. The princes did well and this was considered a good show. Hmm. I thought. Times have changed, haven't they? Earnestness remains, but no one seems to be looking for it in the correct religious sensibilities of future princes. What's the equivalent these days? Maybe some students presenting an alternative energy project at contest sponsored by Bill and Melinda Gates?

That's kind of as far as I got. I kept reading. It's really a great book.

So, just so you few who continue to stumble in here don't go away empty handed, I thought I'd dispense some advice. I know how we all enjoy getting advice. I especially enjoy the nuggets dispensed for me by Whusband. I enjoy it so much that I have decided to fine him for any sentence that begins with, "What you should do is..."

But that's us. I am sure you'd be happy to take advice from me! And who knows, someday when I am gone my kids might read this blog looking for maternal wisdom. (The picture above of the Understudy was snapped this week by one of her friends. "How soon hath time...")

So for you and them, my best piece of advice is "Drive slow in parking lots."

I know I have already shared this but I am offering it again because it is really excellent advice. If that's not enough, or you find it a bit shop-worn, I'll also add, "Don't smoke."

And, if you must smoke, don't smoke on the street or at least never walk with a lit cigarette. It looks really cheap.

I hope inspiration is being kinder to you all. Bon weekend.

Patient to Doctor (incredulous, amazed): You Use Restasis?

I always have been and ever shall be a TV person. Deplorable in many quarters, I know, but there it is. And, I'll say it, there's actually a lot of good stuff on TV. Lately I like American Pickers. Of course there's also a lot to be depressed about. The saddest, next to infomercials, is the network news- no, strike that, the commercials during the evening news.

"I got my Hover-Round delivered straight to my home and it didn't cost me a dime."

People born before 1940 are apparently prone to a certain kind of credulousness. Put someone in a lab coat and give her a stethoscope and they're sold. I also love how the perscription drug ads attempt to paper over the ominous side effects the government has forced them to reveal: "May cause internal bleeding, dry throat, blindness and death. Tell your doctor if you're taking any medications, including antacids, as this may cause a certain form of paralysis." These warnings are always accompanied by images of barefoot middle-aged people flying kites on a beach at sunset. I amuse myself by thinking of the gap between the reality of the people who are meant to go to their doctors and request whatever drug and the actors who fly the kites on the beaches.

Best of all (for purposes of the credibility gap) are the ads for exterminators and home alarm systems. In case you missed it, the super competent young-ish people of America have decided to forego careers at NASA or in Special Forces so that they can monitor alarm systems and keep bugs out of people's homes. E.g.:

Dear Dr. Granger,

After long, hard consideration, I am afraid that I am going to have to decline JPL's offer of a post-doctoral fellowship in Remote Sensing of Atmospheric Composition Ground-Based Spectroscopy. I know it represents a very fine opportunity, but I have been offered a position as a security alarm monitor by a national home security provider. So, despite my abiding interest in the measurement of atmospheric species and aerosols that affect air quality and ozone chemistry in Earth's atmosphere, I feel that I can better use my talents keeping my fellow Americans safe from intruders who are even more directly menacing than greenhouse gases. Thanks so much for your interest and best of luck in filling the position.

------------

Dear Colonel Granger,

As you know, I have been mulling over whether I should re-enlist next month. I have been very tempted by the opportunity to fly a FA/18 Super Hornet Jet, and by the prospect of getting into anti-submarine warfare and mine countermeasures. However, after much deep thought, and prolonged counsultation with my family, I have decided to take up a new mission as a civilian. As you are no doubt aware, insects and pests of all kinds are, at every moment, attempting to penetrate food storage areas and otherwise hygenic areas of the homes of our countrymen and women. Terminix (TM) has offered me an opportunity to combat these waves of vermin and I feel I must not let it slip by. Plus, I prefer the Terminix (TM) uniform. Thank you for the confidence you have shown in me.

Let's Hear it for New York!

How are you spending your heat wave?

My grand plan for this week - one that I hatched in my bed in the early morning hours of winter days months ago - was to use this week for a multi-day bike tour of the Erie Canal bike path: my own personal shake-down cruise.

Welllll. As things transpired...

The Understudy had been willing to wager that I would not make my bike trip, which obnoxious of her (whereever does she get it?).

Suffice it to say that Shackleton and I are here, not far from the Erie Canal Bikeway, at my Dad and Stepmother's house near Albany (where else do we ever go?)

O.K. So the Understudy was mostly right with her forecast, but partly wrong since I brought my bike along (not my vintage English roadsters but something more modern that resembles a shark, in its way). And for each of the last three mornings I have taken my shark with its 21 gears and its bum-saving seat out for a spin. An hour the first two mornings, on roads around Dad's house, and two hours yesterday - actually along a section of the Canal Bike Path. Given the heat (96 degrees yesterday) I was more or less compelled by health and safety considerations to finish up these rides by 9 AM. (That, and the fact that I had reached the limits of my endurance - no way could I have ridden that bike for a whole day).

The section I rode yesterday could have been marked Memory Lane, well known to me as it was from my ever receding childhood, adolescence and early 20s.

In some shoe box somewhere there is a picture of me on this stretch of path astride my new red Ross 10-speed in a "Virginia is for Lovers" poly blend T-Shirt, flare jeans and Tom McCann sneakers. I am sporting a hair cut that could have been achieved by cutting around the bottom of a mixing bowl Oh, 2003 where have you gone? (kidding! this was darkest 1977). I went by the little league field where my brother once got his jaw broken by a bad hop, and the GE lab where my father has toiled for decades, making possible the house where I have been luxuriating in AC, bathing in a big whirlpool tub and watching the Netherlands push past Uruguay in giant HD splendor. (No wonder we never go anyplace else).

Here's some of what I saw on these trips: (Taking picture with my camera phone provided cover for my need to hop off the shark and pant).



An old school building...



Where once we came for field trips...



Lock 7 on the Mohawk River

Pathetically short as my little bike tours have been I have been inspired to ride a lot more this summer. It was really great to feel a little sore and get the old metabolism moving. Oh, and have I mentioned how I had no misgivings at all about loafing at the parental palace all day after an hour's work in the mornings? It's so freeing to have accomplished a bit of exercise first thing - like buying an indulgence.

Shackleton, however, has spent his days here a little lonely, without the Understudy (though he refuses to admit it). He mostly spent yesterday in the kid zone (read, "basement") making videos of the local toys (camera was taped to "truck man") and watching TV. I took pity on him and joined him for a little TV around dinnertime. We watchd a PBS show which included a section about kids bowling.

"Let's go bowling!"

Great. Wii bowling has a lot to recommend it - like no bowling ball and high likelihood of high scores, but real bowling meant leaving the house and it was time for that. Also, downtown Albany has a throw-back alley that I went to once for a charity bowling event 20 years ago. Here was a chance not only for bowling, but for a cultural experience for a Vermont boy.

Suffice it to say we had a great time at the Playdium. (See today's banner). It is in a racially mixed neighborhood - something we don't have much of in northern New England. It was mobbed with people of all ages and colors and there was a snack bar and a regular bar and insufficient air conditioning. We worked up a sweat. The scoring equipment featured little videos that mocked us for throwing gutter balls. A good time was had by all. Well, maybe not so much by the two young guys who got the alley next to me and Shack. They listed their bowling names as Ice-T and T-Rex and I think my presence dampened their good time. (Middle-aged broad who looks like she might be a teacher or some otherwise unwelcome entity). I noticed that despite their quasi gangster appearance and youth, they bowled really bad, like, worse than me and looked kind of gay doing it. More than a little gay. It's good to get out and see the world!



Back to VT at noon today. No AC awaits once we get back there. Oh dear.

A Bad Wife, But a Good Collector

I have been distracted, which is one of the reasons the old blog has languished lately.

The distractions have been the usual ones: getting and spending, mostly.

Recent purchases included a vintage tupperware pitcher and two vinyl albums of the Lichfield Cathedral Choir from the mid 1980s. I spent one dollar and twenty nine cents procuring these items at "ReSource" (f/k/a Recylce North). I bought them on Whusband's birthday and presented him the records as a birthday present. I think he would be impervious to the vintage grooviness of the Tupperware. At his age it would just look like something he put in the back of a cabinet and forgot about. The presentation of the records was partly to make up for the fact that I kind of forgot his birthday that morning. The penny dropped at around noon. Ooops.

This isn't quite as bad as it sounds. Whusband actually prefers gifts from me that cost very little. Other people are welcome to spend wildly on him, if they choose to do so. (Surprisingly, not many have made this choice). But when it is me doing the buying, since it all comes out of the common pot, he wants only the tiniest spoonfuls dipped out. Which brings us to a related topic.

Every time a box comes in the mail with my name on it, or I turn up with a bargain from an auction or an antique store, he carries on like I am Leona Helmsley or Zsa Zsa Gabor. You can tell how far off he is by one look at my closet, and my person, which has been allowed to slide into ruin in a way no big spending woman would ever allow. I make these points when we are enjoying one of these periodic discussions. He has to agree there is no arguing about my clothes or my state of semi-collapse.

On Whusband's birthday, I also bought him some of his favorite bagels, although I forgot to mention the gift aspect of their presence in the house. I told him this morning, when he got his first bite of the last one. "Happy Birthday!"

I bought those bagels in Burlington. I made a special trip because it was his birthday. The bagel shop happens to be across the street from the erstwhile Recycle North (see above), so I couldn't avoid a little junk shopping en route. The owner of the bagel place makes Montreal bagels that are even better than the Montreal bagels from Montreal. It is not easy for me to get these bagels because the shop closes its doors at 1 PM (its Montreal mother-ship is nearly 24 hours, but I digress). When we lived in Burlington, Whusband would always chat up the Bagel maker/shop owner. They talked about Montreal, which is really home for both of them. Whusband shared with me that the baker had a rough trade, so to speak. The hours of a bagel entrepreneur are killing - the store closes at 1 PM because the baker is working by around 4 AM. Also, people hired to work in bagel shops often prove, are you sitting down? unreliable.

Visiting the bagel shop on Friday to get the (alleged) birthday bagels, I saw the poor baker. I haven't seen him in a couple years and the strain is showing. I have been thinking all weekend that a bagel makes a good servant, but a bad master.

This brings us, in a fashion, to yesterday. Sunday and an auction Sunday to boot.

Reader, they were selling three vintage English roadsters, fresh from a barn in Stowe. I ask you, what was I supposed to do? I let the 1960 three speed get away. It was up over $150 when I backed off. But the other two? I wasn't leaving without them. (See above and all over for the pictures).

The total auction damages, with a partial set of Enoch Wood "Castles" dinnerware, was $200 and change (well, a lot of change, but under $300 - under I say...)



Let me add (before you sign up for Whusband's side of the spending discussion) that the GFP (great fiction project) where I spend a lot of mental time and energy involves 1912 English road bike, very like the ones I bought yesterday. VERY LIKE!

Plus, although while it's true that we have two classic English 3-speeds already, (1969 Raleigh Sport that is the Understudy's main ride, and a 1973 BSA, which is her back up) these new additions are single speed: plain, pure. And one is from the 1920s and the other is a men's bike. Men's bikes are more expensive and hard to find and Shackleton is going to get it when he's big enough to ride it. So, oh, and they are ART. Industrial Art. See the pictures.

Let me add here that those Lichfield Cathedral Choir albums are in very good shape - one would think they had hardly been played. And only a few of the tracks are the dissonant modern works that choir directors feel obliged to administer to their captive congregation. I am sure Whusband will have years of enjoyment from them. They were worth every penny of the 70 cents that I spent on them and an excellent value like everything else I buy.