#my quality of life is through the roof i’m ready for the retiring home
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someone should’ve explained to me that liking sports is just really liking a guy and then hating everyone else that opposes him sooner
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Where Is Home?
We talk about retirement a lot. A LOT. The mister wants out of the south because he hates the hot, sticky weather. I want out of the south for a variety of different reasons. He tears up when he thinks about leaving this house. I get excited thinking of a house with better storage, maybe even a walk-in closet and a big pantry. He loves the idea of townhouse living and all of the freedom it provides. I love the idea of half a football field between me and a neighbor. I wouldn’t mind being snug against a neighbor if we were in a walkable little town and I could have a white picket fence. As we age into our golden years I want to be on city water and city sewer. I do not want to be ninety when the well runs dry or the septic system has a fit. Nope. No, thank you. We have discussed towns from Maine to Arizona and are constantly trading articles about property taxes and real estate markets. Night after night I search Zillow, Realtor, Trulia (oh, those handy dandy crime maps!) and so on. I’ll send Mickey a house in Maryland to admire and mention that it’s just two hours from the world’s cutest grandgirl. He responds that he loves it. Then I send him a townhouse near Tucson and he says the same thing. I’m getting nowhere with this guy. Side note: Yes, I know Arizona gets very hot, but it is not humid. HUGE difference. Also, Arizona has two enormous positives - we could escape allergies and my hair would behave. If you had my hair you’d know that’s more important than the property taxes. Two major negatives would be that it’s too far from family and I can’t imagine never experiencing another autumn. I’m happily willing to give the townhouse idea serious consideration. I know that Mickey would love to never weed eat and edge another yard. Remember the good old days when no one did that? My main issue with townhouses is that they all tend to be multiple stories - sometimes three floors. Wherever we retire, that’s where we’re going to die. I don’t want to be unable to navigate my own home when I’m old. Same reason I refuse to have a basement laundry, I don’t want to drag baskets of clothes up and down basement stairs when I’m a little old lady. You know damn well a cat would trip me and Mickey wouldn’t miss me until he got hungry. Of all the chores I’d be willing to expire while doing, laundry is not in the top three. We’re not lottery winners so our options are limited. When we sell this house we’ll make a tasty profit that will allow us to find a comfortable home - nothing fancy, but we won’t be in a box under bridge. I can make any home pretty, but the bones have to be good. I’m more concerned with structure and mechanics. Who needs a beautiful house with a bad roof or an hvac system on its last leg? The region definitely determines what you get for your money. For the same price you can have this sort of square footage in the south (complete with inground pool)...
or you can opt for proximity to Portland, Maine and get this.
The second house is new construction, but it’s itty bitty, has well water and septic, and is missing the all-important garage that we’d need up north. This is a struggle, people. We just want a nice little house in a nice little town, hopefully one that will meet our needs as we get older. Other items on our wish list? Small town living with easy access to a larger city and a decent international airport. Part of my hunt includes exploring each town’s library website (a vibrant, busy library says a lot about a place) as well as their Facebook page. Looking past the mouthy keyboard warriors that lurk on every page, you can still get a good idea of the town’s vibe. Let’s see - fair property taxes, decent cost of living, small town feel, good airport, seasons...sounds like we should stay put and just endure long, sticky summers, right? Ugh, no. Our reasons for wanting to relocate are so much more than just the summers. Soooo, months and months of searching keep leading me to one state that ticks all of our boxes and then some. Minnesota. A myriad of cute towns surround Minneapolis and St. Paul, all with easy access to the fabulous airport. I’m crazy about New Ulm (I love a town with lots of festivals) and I wouldn’t be heartbroken to live in Mankato, Owatonna, or a number of others. Real estate is affordable, taxes are fair (and are used wisely!), all four seasons are present and accounted for, and quality of life seems really good - from healthcare to education to crime, they seem to have a handle on it.
and you knew there was a but, right? We could happily move there knowing that we’d be close to at least one of our kids. Matt lives in Minneapolis and the thought of having him nearby warms my heart. But he’s weighing the pros and cons of an opportunity that would take him to the east coast and more likely to far flung parts of the world. It’s quite possible that he’d be gone in a flash and we’d be in Minnesota, once again far from family. Right now we’re a day’s drive from everyone except Matt. Truly, we could do it in a day but it would be a miserable thirteen to fourteen hours. I have scoured Maryland and settled on a little place called Ocean Pines. It’s okay, a bit further than I’d like to be from airports, etc - it’s between two to two and a half hours to Baltimore, D.C. or Philadelphia’s. That also means it’s just two hours from my favorite little girl. That would be HEAVEN. But who retires to one of the most expensive states to live in? Would it make our golden years miserable? Who wants to pinch pennies when you should be enjoying life? HELP!! Where is home? I left Alaska more than twenty years ago, the mister was a Florida boy - we don’t want to live in either place. I love the prairie, he loves the mountains. At one point we were looking at real estate on Prince Edward Island (affordable and gorgeous!) but Canada doesn’t want us. Seriously, we filled out the online immigration form. We wouldn’t be able to live there year round and I can’t imagine having to go squat across the border for a couple of months every year once we’re old and rickety. There are pros and cons to every place we’ve looked. No spot is perfect and we have to decide what we can and can’t live without. If someone could just plop this house down next to my grandbaby I’ll shut up about this forever.
Imagine that house surrounded by hydrangeas in the summer. I don’t think that’s too much to ask - just a little pink house near some people I love. Some snow would be nice now and then. What a lovely dream. This boring blog post has been brought to you courtesy of my latest level of boredom. It was either this or go dust the bedrooms, so you had to pay the price for my laziness. My plan for this evening is to watch the Golden Globes and through that maybe find something interesting to watch. We’re approaching the first anniversary of when we locked down here on the Pullen spread and we’ve run out of shows to binge. Remember how naïve we all were when we thought we’d watch Tiger King and then lockdown would be over? At least we’re headed in the right direction now. That’s something. I’m thrilled that my mother is fully vaccinated and so is Dr. Matt. A handful of my dear friends are also protected now. I’ve lost some friends to this horrible virus, including the husband of a dear Rat Patrol member. Our little group now includes a widow for the first time. There’s been so much heartbreak over the last year. I’m ready for it to stop. Okay - what a crazy, rambling post. I think I’ll go dust. It’s probably more productive. If you’re still here, you deserve a cookie. Treat yourself! If you happen to know of the perfect town (I really just want to live in Stars Hollow) send me a message! I’ll put my dust rag down and check it out! Sending out lots of love on this drippy Saturday. Stay safe, stay well, stay sane. XOXO - Nancy
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TWO OLD STAGEHANDS REMINISCING
I bought a new device this morning(Black Friday), disrupting my savings to the tune of $278.19; this was NOT a doorbuster bargain, but was their least expensive 'laptop.' This purchase has relieved me of the burden of Google Chrome & brought back Cortana("Hey!"); also I have the use of my WiFi, and can stay in touch with the Amell family(up in those woods). When I ventured out this AM, it was about fifty degrees out; I got a biscut-breakfast at Hardee's, before negotiating my holiday purchase; after bringing my prize back to the room, I sped off to get 4 packs of cig's and some(6 for $1) donut sticks. Hurricane Michael has managed to permanently close down my Harvey's, so it's Family Dollar, Dollar General & Dollar Tree for now; this has increased expenses significantly, while reducing overall quality & variety. I'm sure to think of something else to write about, but for now, I'm sending this along.
Outstanding! Glad to hear from you. I had another episode with another blocked artery. I'm up to three stents now. This happened right after Michael blew through, so I'd been wondering how you were doing. This news is tonic for me.
sorry; I was checking out alternative forms of identification; not sure if this is tonic(because I'm tone-deaf), but I'll dash off something for a three-stenter; keep this up and you'll be setting off metal detectors at airports and courthouses; when you say 'episode' you should elaborate, even if you have to make the shit up; making shit up has become quite presidential lately RE:Hurricane Michael - about 7 PM, my power went out; luckily, between 5 & 6 PM next afternoon, it was restored I opened my drapes for lighting, and sat facing the window until around 12:30 AM, when the worst of it had passed that bitch was loud, and at one point, while still approaching from SW, one sheet of steel roofing blew off our U-shaped building; a shower of sparks as it blew across the parking lot got my full attention did you purchase a copy of "Whose Boat Is This Boat?" it took 30 min's to get this far... updates and such[speaks to the age of the model I was sold @STAPLES] cheese grits on the breakfast menu, but first I'll be needing a shower
Of course we didn't catch the full fury of the storm, but we got plenty of rain and wind, I have several washed out sections of driveway I need to attend to, it's a rough ride down into the valley here. In regards to my ongoing heart troubles, in 2011 I had a blockage of the left anterior descending artery, that was causing great pressure in my chest, felt like an elephant was sitting on me, no heart attack with that event, but the docs implanted my first stent. The heart attack this past April was brought on by blockage of the right coronary artery, I aggravated my heart by over-exerting myself digging my dogs grave. That event was marked by rapid heartbeat, dizziness, sweating, confusion, and pressure radiating out from the left side of my chest. That blockage was remedied by stent number two. The latest episode at the end of October was preceded by a week or so of pressure and mild discomfort in my chest that was remedied by taking a dose of nitro-glycerin. I awoke with that pressure, took a dose, didn't get any relief, I alerted Debbie, took another dose, but by then I was having difficulty breathing and having strong chest pain, Deb called 911 and gave me a third dose of nitro, at that time I was hyperventilating uncontrollably, sweating profusely, and the pain was very intense...I was sure I was about to die. The EMTs arrived, got me in the ambulance, took my blood pressure, and an EKG, drew some blood, analyzed that with the fancy computer analyzer and came back with "Everything looks fine, you don't appear to be having a heart attack." I got to the hospital, had a quiet morning and afternoon, save for the drawing of blood and the checking of blood pressure. Later that night though, I had six more non-heart-attacks. I won't go into all the drama wrapped around that due to my vitals all showing good normal indications. Anyway, I got my third stent early that next morning, after being catheterized and they found another blockage in the right coronary artery that was downstream of the second stent. Phillip, during those six non-heart-attacks I was truly sure I was going to meet the creator. I had told Debbie all those things you tell someone when you think you're dying. But apparently I've either got unfinished business or I'm just getting some extra time here on earth due to my exceedingly good looks, wit, and charm. ;)
good looks, wit & charm aside, since you have unloaded onto DEB all those last minute appurtenances, you should think about what must be/should be said about your time together since recovering from those six downstream pain events[& consider the high dose of TNT necessary for that most recent download]
We're getting ready for our Thanksgiving tomorrow. Lots of cleaning and such. I'll be in and out all day. Got yard-work to do now that the rain has passed. I have a fire going to save electricity, and the added benefit of warm glowing light is helpful. I've got to go buy a used bass guitar in a little while. I'm snagging parts off of it to make a cigar box bass guitar for Patti (Tuck) Tuckwiler's brother's Christmas gift. I'd already had my oatmeal & blueberries along with a patty of turkey sausage and a slice of toast. I let this guy named Possum hunt on our property, he gave me a slab of backstrap as thanks for hunting privileges. I'm thinking about having a backstrap on a yeast roll for lunch.
shower complete backstrap a la antlered-buck, I'm assuming had some online interaction w/TUCK[doubt she will remember] will your son attend tomorrow's feed? you sound pretty busy, so I'll catch up w/U later
oversized notebook w/no disk player[complicating printer connection]
trak-pad offset too far to left of center[due to hard drive's location to the right of it]; I keep right-clicking when I want to left-click I'm running down my battery for the first time today[not sure whether these rechargeables benefit from 'training'] still 'customizing' my task bar/I can use my 'task view' to 'see' what's down there[and access w/a click] tomorrow will be a 'shopping day' as I'm out of grits limerick is kinda fun most forms are the kind of challenge a writer loves I once wrote a Petrarchian sonnet[back in high school]; it was a love-poem to my girlfriend; in order to fit her 2-syllable name into it, without breaking with meter requirements, I wrote it as G_____[just one syllable]; this came in handy later; I was able to recycle my metric sentiments for future girlfriends. https://www.booksie.com/sent-messages https://en.wikichip.org/w/index.php?title=User:Phillip_DeNise&action=submit
My youngest son works for a company that resolves gift/cash card issues. They're well moneyed, they pay their employees very well, and they feed them like royalty. The company had bought a Thanksgiving feast for 9 people. They spent $1700 on that meal, that was catered by Olive Garden. There was so much food left that all the employees got to take home...like...doggy bags for elephants. My son brought some of that bounty to share with us for our thanksgiving dinner. We also had plenty of food leftover, so much that we sent all the family members home with food for days, and we still have much left in the fridge. I'm having some fettucine alfredo, and yeast rolls for my late lunch. I'd been busy cleaning and straightening from the dinner. Also I'd bought a $50 bass to sacrifice for parts I need to build that cigar-box bass I'd mentioned that I'd disassembled before taking lunch. I'm trying to stay busy and keep moving. Whatever amount of life I have left, I want to use as much as I can, as wisely as I can. After I wrap up this message, I'm going to chop some wood and get a fire started for this evening. It's supposed to be in the low 30s tonight. Cheers! I hope that laptop ain't making you crazy.
fettucine alfredo is one of my all-time-favorites; 1st time I had it, my sis made it at home; she did it so well that I was forever hooked; add smoked chicken breast & sliced, fresh button mushrooms, and... well, Italian ambrosia; plain f.a. is the perfect side for veal marsala do you have to smoke all those cigars for authenticity? ...probably a good way to end up w/John Prine's voice check came yesterday; I'll go to Liquor Locker at 11[as it is usually sans-customers then; less chance of a robbery], to get my wad of ca$h then $625 to motel-boss, $60 + any cash from last mo. goes into savings hidey-hole, leaving about 3 Benjamins for necessities
All the cash that I have to my name is tied up in two guitars and a guitar amplifier. Got them all up on eBay, and Craig's list, hoping some aspiring young rock star has a need...soon. I'm living off the fat of thanksgiving today. Got that fire going, saving on heating bills, and trying to figure out how to get the most cash I can for the HHR. I've got about 1.75 years to go until I can take SS early retirement. I honestly don't know how I'll make it that long, barring a minor miracle or a random act of kindness, but somehow we've manged thus far, I have faith and hope for better days to come. As far as cigar box guitars go, we find the boxes online or at tobacco shops in the area. I haven't had a cigar or cigarette since April when I had the heart attack. I do find myself "wanting" quite often but have taken up gnawing a straw, gum, or a toothpick. The good news is that it's saving me between $10 - $20 a week that I don't have anyway. Yay. Anyhow, I'm going back out to work on the cigar box bass. Peace to you Phillip.
get some sax-reeds for your oral gratification-smoking abatement strategy; a cigar box will make an excellent homemade resonator for a sax-like sample to feed into your reactionary music what changes when you claim your partial & have significantly improved your survival-horizon in the interim?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8buJ2-oD02E https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KDqoTDM7tio https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f2-XU8jm02o where do the best stories come from? editors are famous for taking out the stuff that isn't needed; old men have a similar process occurring among the aging neurons in their noggins; this is giving them a new voice; problem is:if they show their wizened faces, nobody will listen to them; time to employ a mask... a truly vital issue that cannot be ignored Calories are units used to measure heat. Mammals maintain their body temperature by chemically converting starches and sugars back into H2O & CO2. When we burn hydrocarbon fuels, the heat production and the waste products are the same. Plants do just the opposite; they use the H2O & CO2 to store the heat energy in their starches and sugars. Down in Brunswick, there is a company called Hercules; when you pass by their manufacturing plant, you will see tree stumps piled high; they use the waste from lumbering operations to convert the cellulose into gunpowder. The lowly peanut vine, hosts on its root systems, colonies of bacteria[also plants] that 'fix' the nitrogen from the atmosphere, so that it is soluble[thus available to the vines for uptake through those roots]. Rotating to a planting of peanuts can quickly restore the depleted nutrients resulting from cotton or corn plantings. The lint caught up in the air circulating in a cotton mill can cause an explosion if rapidly oxidized. Corn silos can be dangerous concentrations of these plant-stored nitrates as well. As a child, I was the agent providing the fixed nitrogen, when I 'strowed sodie' about the roots in a plot of sweet corn. These crystals of explosive nitrates are chemically produced from nitrogen in the atmosphere. 'Scrubbing' the atmosphere of dangerous concentrations of CO2 can be done in a similar process. If the energy needed to trap the carbon can be 'captured' from sunlight, then the corn plants and explosive fertilizers can be dispensed with. If animal life forms are so much more intelligent than plants, then they should consider taking over all the terraforming functions that they mindlessly perform in their own self-interest. Terraforming distant Mars seems to depend heavily upon creating a breathable atmosphere there; what are our scientists doing about terraforming the Earth, where a kingdom of plant life forms could be better harnessed to accomplish our desired balance of CO2, O2 & N2? Climate change, probably in a warming phase, is increasing our atmospheric H2O; this will eventually reverse the warming trend. In the interim, it seems logical that there are locales on the planet which will benefit from the current trend; these are the places we should be colonizing. Diverting the hordes of humanity, that are fleeing the effects of climate change, into these mostly unsettled areas, not only solves the immigration problems of industrialized nations, but represents a tremendous business opportunity for expanding their struggling economies. These new colonies offer to the 'survivalists' among us, destinations where there is less government and enormous freedom to develop their ideas into social organizations that will promote their own desired political and economic change. No matter where they chose to go, they will still need shoes... need clean drinking water... shelters constructed from available materials[rammed earth domes are remarkably resilient] will immediately be needed; and what will they eat? Business solutions exist for almost every difficulty that such a growing society must soon encounter; why continue looking to charitable organizations and over-burdened governments for the answers?
Everyone now has the capability of being able to hide behind a digital mask on them damn interwebs. Here we have the vastness of mankind's accumulation of knowledge, and people choose to watch cat videos on facebook. There's really not much hope for people in my best estimation, masks or not. I understand why there needs to be a revolution of the mind, heart, and soul. I understand that I'm not the only one that sees this, and I'm glad I'm not alone. One of the problems we face today is the blessing/curse of the internet. People aren't using it so much as a learning tool, but rather as a distraction from all the folly of the times. That said, I'm going off to work on a box.
time actually flies when we are having so much fun; my cheese grits are already at stage one[awaiting the time when I shove the green plastic bowl into the nuke-o-wave, while those frags of kernal-corn soak/soften in cold water], I'm fully dressed & the bed is made; the TV is on & I'm halfway through my first cup of joe and my first cigarette[which I have stubbed out and noticed that the first half was the most generous one]; a great noise is being raised outside my place[some sort of gas-powered welding machine], so staying in bed would not have been a workable alternative; it's rainy out, which is a meteorological condition that could remain in place for three days; I saw that coming, so I visited my nearest Family Dollar yesterday, when it was seventy-two degrees and sunny GATOR used to be right here "gator takes a ride" is my visual offering for today; not sure why the hands call him gator, but getting sent up to the loading bridge is probably a status indicator; I spent a lot of load-in's & load-out's watching and listening from high above the groundlings; I was also rewarded with a department head's position on a national tour for having filed an NLRB charge; that got me to thinking IATSE Local 41 is still on display in cyberspace; do you ever go there? That is where I snatched this image for my ACER. I snuck in using a private browser & made off with my prize. "behindthemain" reminds me of something my Dad used to say; "Once you back your ass up to the teaser, you'll never be able to go back." The age of Rock 'n' Roll was the greatest AGE because they wrote songs about US! How cool is that? What is totally uncool is my mail.com, which has just refused to send this draft until I remove my stolen image; so just imagine a close-up of a stuffed gator-doll perched on an arbor loaded with counterweight which was originally posted by some dude called @behindthemain
Time, at least for me, has become compressed. Three days, maybe a week will go by in the blink of an eye, and there's really not much I can do to slow the procession. The best thing I've found that I can do is create, fabricate, manufacture, and repair. Just trying to stay, to keep from spending too much time in my head. Now there's a dark place. I wouldn't send anyone to spend any time there. One problem is that of psychic transmission on my part. Bad enough I should have to spend time there in my mind, but I was also gifted with the ability to broadcast my thoughts, so, certain lucky "receivers" get to share the "Matt experience". I generally know who's getting that broadcast because they either don't know me but they're able to complete my sentences, or I'll be thinking of or about a person that I know, and they will call me on the phone. If the case is the former, those people tend to try to stay away from me. I'm thinking they can't handle the stream. If you're in the latter group, we're connected. Probably always have been. Determining which thoughts are your own, and those that come beaming in seemingly out of nowhere is the catch to all that. Thoughts??? P.S. I don't consider myself a receiver, but maybe I just can't sort my thoughts from the thoughts of others... Herman Hill passed away a few days ago. He was a receiver of my thoughts. I bet it was confusing for him to be in proximity of me.
intelligence originating from without, as you should already realize, is sorta my thing if I have connected with your interior spaces in the past, I must assume that it did not seem so dark to me I would remember being put off in such a manner
Deb & I have been buying, selling, and trading electric guitars, and amps. Unofficially we are Pocataligo Guitar Exchange. I also do minor repairs to electric guitars & basses. We've flipped 4 Squire Bullet Strats, an ESP - LTD EXP200 Explorer copy, and a DeArmond M65C Les Paul Studio copy, as well as a Peavey Mark III Citation bass amp head, and a Peavey Citation Mark IV guitar amp head. The fun thing about this is that we get to try all kinds of gear that we wouldn't ordinarily get to play with. :)
now you will be needing a PGE logo; some consideration should be given to the silk screening process, when you select a design; the reason for this being cheaper T-shirts and complete PGE control over their manufacture & distribution; just sayin'
1st things first - incorporate as an.LLC. Get a bi'ness license. Then we'll get around to tee shirts and what have you. This will also be the outlet for any cigar box creations.
LLC's are pure crap; there are many ways to protect your #1 asset[your residence] from liabilities you may not see coming, while operating this[any] business at your residence; you can pledge the equity in a residential property as collateral for a small business loan, while your LLC could not; of course your CFO[DEB] would need to chime in on such risky decisions[but risk is what living is all about; security a delusion] got up early[9:03] as per usual on Sunday, in order to catch Jane Pauley on CBS; NOT! there is a tornadic fear monger down in Tallahassee pre-empting the network broadcast to tell me that I need to get in my safe place; all last night there were alerts interrupting my TV-viewing; this 'storm' is indeed unusual for December, with lightning & thunder[started hearing rumbles about 8 PM while watching "Rampage"]; there have been accumulations down here between 2 & 3 inches, but no real cause for flash flood warnings[every 5 to 7 minutes]; added to that sort of aggravation, I'm now an expert in the minutiae of George Herbert Walker's 94-year-long public life[best part is watching secret service guys puking up their guts while an 85-year-old maniac races his speedboat around Kennebunkport's rocky shoals]; if TRUMP died suddenly, we'd really be consigned to TV-hell; so, those warnings expire and they start six minutes of backlogged commercials; sheesh!
Cocoa Beach secret stagehand local?
Titusville; Dad had a friend down there; entire membership of this four-digit film unit was featured on the cover of IA Bulletin
One of the reasons we ditched Atlanta and moved out here was the abundance of nature out here. Ample wildlife, some wild berries and muscadines to be had in good years, plenty of breathing space, no bumping elbows with neighbors. Deb took this picture about 10 minutes ago...
when I go hunting for muscadines, I take along a paper sack; I collect a few in my sack & leave them on that 'shelf' below the rear-window of the jalopy; now the car is infused with the most wonderful odor[perhaps for weeks to come]
It's beautiful, mild and partly cloudy today. I may get out and try to find a good sized deer to take down for our winter meat needs. Possum put up a deer stand that's fully enclosed, about 10 feet above ground that I may go sit in to see what comes by. Rick Scheuerman had a great idea - there's a hangout in Athens named Nucci's Space. It was originally a place where one could rent musical rehearsal space by the month, that also has a coffee shop. I think, as I recall the story, that Nucci had committed suicide, but someone kept Nucci's Space up and running. So one of the things they do there is have auctions of art and musical instruments to provide support for depressed/suicidal people. Rick suggested that I take some of these old beat relical guitars that I have in abundance just sitting around, make them into pieces of art, and either donate or perhaps take a small percentage of the sale of these items. What sayeth thee old friend?
I like the auction angle[not so much the 'cause' enumerated]; also, auctioning off unwanted guitar-bodies converted into 'art' would not provide the benefit I imagine; I think you should cobble together an instrument, using all your acquired skills, that is meant from its conception to be auctioned off @Nucci's Space; the bidders would be local musicians/collectors that you'd be pleased to meet[& that may commission lucrative projects going forward]; no charge for this wonderful idea
the Athens music scene has developed a somewhat muted presence online; it was in emergence-stage, when I was dating my 1st wife & made the drive frequently in my VW-van, fitted w/8-track stereo system sorry I did not mention my amazement at DEB's photo of tomorrow's lunch; I'll use that image for cover art soon, and look forward to gator's comment on it once I have the TITLE, I'll know what to write about in the contents; these images can entice many more clicks, and that is what I'm exploring @Booksie.com my 'editor' sucks, but I'm also exploring better ways to make use of its features; learning as I go keeps me busy at this keyboard not much real interaction with other readers/writers has occurred; there is a moderator calling himself Booksie Guy; BG is probably not a BOT, but I have not really gotten to him yet I tried to get a new persona at Retirement Online, but have not heard back from its Appleton, WI moderator/witch checked out 'online banks' without any success; ALLY requires govt.-issued ID to open an account if you had been able to open my home-video, you could have seen me vibrating; my tremors are pretty bad, and when my paycheck arrives, I usually sign the damn thing first thing in the morning, before I have my coffee; this seems to make the scrawl more legible my typing ability is affected, and this over-sized keyboard is a help with my target acquisition difficulties https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uVlSVkzbJDA check out the antiquated studio equipment featured here
Gary Jules, Michael Andrews
All around me are familiar faces Worn out places, worn out faces Bright and early for their daily races Going nowhere, going nowhere Their tears are filling up their glasses No expression, no expression Hide my head, I want to drown my sorrow No tomorrow, no tomorrow And I find it kinda funny, I find it kinda sad The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take When people run in circles it's a very very Mad world, mad world Children waiting for the day, they feel good Happy birthday, happy birthday Made to feel the way that every child should Sit and listen, sit and listen Went to school and I was very nervous No one knew me, no one knew me Hello teacher, tell me what's my lesson Look right through me, look right through me And I find it kinda funny, I find it kinda sad The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take When people run in circles it's a very very Mad world, mad world Enlarge your world Mad world
The cover art is from a photo taken in 1968. The building featured was a new one, and I graduated from Bass High School on its stage. Most of the boys were headed for college... or Vietnam. I chose the former, and believe that it has made all the difference. When roads diverge in a yellow wood, noticing their width and worn condition is just one approach to the decision-making quandry. I was taught to choose door number three. 1968 was a good time for such choices, and many of my contemporaries made just such a definitive choice. If you possess the technology to view/listen to DVD's, might I suggest the enhanced edition of WOODSTOCK; the movie. You'll see what many of those, that chose door number three, looked like. My graduating class was small by most standards; we chose to sing a song from "Man of La Mancha." But we 'walked' in a less-prescribed manner. I drove off in a Renault Dauphine with a slow-moving-vehicle sign attached to the rear. Though I might like to be eighteen again, at the time, I was not looking back. I did return to this building many times though; I worked there on many occasions. Sometimes I worked on that stage; sometimes I worked in the exhibit hall at the other end of the complex. The construction of this facility, by the municipality, was considered to be an important urban renewal project. That is how 'buttermilk bottom' disappeared from Forest Avenue. Another blight vanished when Fulton County Stadium went up. In 1951, the city received the All-America City Award, due to its rapid growth and high standard of living in the southern U.S. Annexation was the central strategy for growth. In 1952, Atlanta annexed Buckhead, as well as vast areas of what are now northwest, southwest and south Atlanta, adding 82 square miles (210 km2) And tripling its area. By doing so, 100,000 new affluent white residents were added, preserving white political power as well as expanding the city's property tax base And enlarging the traditional leadership upper-middle-class white class. That class now had to room to expand inside the city limits. Federal court decisions in 1962-63 ended the county-unit system thus greatly reducing rural Georgia control over the state legislature, enabling Atlanta, and other cities, to gain proportional political power. The Federal courts opened the Democratic Party primary to black voters, who surged in numbers and became increasingly well organized through the Atlanta Negro Voters League. Rush week was soon upon me, and I attended two of the parties; choices! ALPHA TAU OMEGA was where one of my acquaintances at work had become a paddle-wielding brother, so I checked out their presentation. As a sort of back-up plan, I also checked out the men of ALPHA EPSILON PI; they checked me out as well; I was rejected on religious grounds. Time for door number three. I carried a full load for four consecutive quarters at my new school, before that other door presented itself. From Fall Quarter of 1969 until Fall Quarter of 1970, I was out of school, but stuck to my solemn vow to return in one year[against all the odds]. It had been too cloudy and overcast to see the eclipse of the sun that year; there was a lot going on that I did not see very clearly. When I returned to school, I changed my major from 'undecided' to ANTHROPOLOGY; a Greek professor guided my acquisition of this love for studying men; he was Greek Orthodox, and would have been rejected by those men at AY-EE-PIE as well; he took his 101 class to the Church he attended, and we followed the liturgy in Greek[and wrote a paper on the experience]. The mosaic in the dome was impressive. I never adhered to my degree 'program,' and so I never graduated from GSU; a classmate from Bass had gotten his degree in just four years[Class of '72]; I ran into Ross at SEARS, where he was selling tires; I went back to that stage, where the Class of '68 had sung about walking on through the wind.
Everyone knows that without a valid photo ID, you cannot purchase a box of breakfast cereal. The folks across the wall will need a better system, and the increasing use of bio-metrics[by connected data terminals] is a giant leap for the AI kind. UPC's can be scanned to track products as they change locations. RFID's are often laminated into photo ID's, so an employer can track his/her minions, and control their access to sensitive areas within their workplace. In the US, your SSN connects you to an exhaustive data base that 'knows' how hard you work, how much compensation you receive and where your 'assets' are currently being stored. What can be 'learned' about an individual, and how quickly this new data can be accumulated, attached to the appropriate individual files and how quickly those updated files can then be assessed is what AI exists for. Current business models[like at FaceBook & GoogleChrome] will each gradually lose its earning potential[a process being accelerated by the public sentiment in favor of government regulation of all their data collection and sharing practices], as the flow of data becomes more centralized and access to those files and data streams more restricted. The global expansion of connected Android devices is shifting the product consumption patterns in growing/struggling economies towards some ill-perceived goal, that becomes more and more achievable with each passing minute. Both of the big 'data players' in the streams of ones and zeroes now being catalogued here in the US, have made agreements to share it with our government. If we assume that there are adults in the room, where the analysis of this growing horde is being coordinated, then we can also assume that some of those individuals will be targeted to administer this collection and analysis process, once that 'responsibility' is transferred to a more 'independent' entity, resembling the Federal Reserve in its organization. At that point, the elected representatives in government will be reduced to an ordinary subset of identified individuals, to be monitored and manipulated by an increasingly automated system. If the drones can find you, you could be quickly eliminated. What will determine your value to that global system? Your consumption patterns is the obvious answer; BUY WISELY! I'm off to get an HBO fix; at eight they are replaying a missed episode of "My Intelligent Friend" just for my benefit; this series is filmed in Italian & broadcast with English subtitles; this makes it difficult to enjoy the imagery, because I'm busy reading so I'll know WTF is going on.
AI may be the thing that brings us into full globalization, perhaps the issue that preachers in my past have warned us about. Our baptist preacher out in Mableton used to hand out Watchtower pamphlets that had articles regarding the evils of globalization. Hmm ... to be overseen by the great computer in the sky (cloud networking).
I've been keeping my cloud-connection turned off
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bixby_(virtual_assistant) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jen_Taylor https://www.pcworld.com/article/2099943/microsofts-cortana-digital-assistant-guards-user-privacy-with-notebook.html https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Invoke_(smart_speaker) https://www.ask.com/youtube?q=cortana&v=DxrJWSi_IWo https://www.windowscentral.com/why-splitting-cortana-and-search-windows-10-makes-sense https://www.zdnet.com/article/microsoft-moves-key-technologies-including-cortana-from-research-to-product-groups/ https://arstechnica.com/information-technology/2012/06/inside-the-architecture-of-googles-knowledge-graph-and-microsofts-satori/
https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=ASMR like those furries, these 'artists' are being accused of deviance; what say you? https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=furry+fandom
To be sure, I'm not understanding the nature of adult cos-play.
cable TV is definitely turning my brain to mush, but some furries have serious behavioral issues that can be mitigated by their cos-play; ASMR is the new player on the block, and their 'offerings' have been 'taken down' on multiple forums as somehow inappropriate; I find this lack of freedom[of expression] to be indicative of rapid 'political' corrosion of the medium; that button labelled REPORT would be less attractive, if your reporting history came up with your profile info; STFU would be door # 3 Gibi explains it quite well: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCE6acMV3m35znLcf0JGNn7Q
I'll start back driving for Uber or Lyft later today, after having taken some time off due to those pesky heart issues. I didn't feel confident driving people around knowing that I was possibly still at risk for another "coronary event". The cardiologist has cleared me to return to normal activities. I didn't start driving for these ride-sharing companies to impress anyone, hell there sure as shit ain't nothing glamorous about carting poor people around all day. What it does give me is nearly instant income that I can access almost immediately after giving someone a ride. Pair that with there ain't a boss riding my ass. I can drive whenever I want to, I set my own hours. And lastly it gives me something to do beside sit here and piss and moan about things over which I have no control. :) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tg0BNTebcbY
there are two types of people in the world; when your 'ride' climbs into your vehicle, do you re-adjust the rear-view mirror to center onto the face of the speaker; door #3 is insisting that he/she rides up front; keep on smiling RYAN wrote: I make projects of my experiences working UBER. Last video of this nature got a lot of attention- though, I deleted it to be (slightly) more professional. So here is another few weeks worth of footage. These videos have been for nothing but fun, and I'm glad others have appreciated them. It's awesome to have an audience watch something that I've created and I want to see if this little project can go somewhere. Those in my videos consented to being in my project, blurred identity or not. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pVOJ5ZfzjF8
my TV took a shit... and now SANTANA is blaring; this album, the one with all those damn faces, was given to me by a chick that thought my DONOVAN eight-tracks were just not going to get me there; of course she was right... and so there were drums in the house; another tape cart that was played in that house was WHO'S NEXT; I thought it was pretty good travelin' music, along with a Beatles-thing called RUBBER SOUL; gettin' high & gettin' out on the road was a pretty good way to pass the time on my gap-year; when I decided on ANTHROPOLOGY, it was mostly because it legitimized the study of sex, drugs & rock'n'roll... so I studied... HARD! playing this complete album seems to have slowed down the clock; that's an unusual effect; I'm shopping for a King Crimson video [ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=no8L51U_KlM ]; not any WHO'S NEXT videos that do anything; guess I'll just let it play for awhile I get my TV going, and dammit... the water goes off; they're out there digging up the street; probably gonna be off the rest of the day brewed my coffee w/ice cubes; just try and outsmart an old white guy... go right ahead wrote a new ICU last night; about 40 peeks at it, w/no comments, so... vanished new text has less film-script niceties... less humor... no dialog...
He had to admit... he couldn't see a thing. A good bluff sometimes can win the pot. He spoke into the darkness, "I see you!" He hoped it had sounded convincing. Not a sound. Why had he come out here without his trusty flashlight? Only gonna be gone for a minute. Tell it to the wind. He turned with a confidence he wasn't actually feeling. In a slightly lowered voice, he spoke to himself as he walked away from where he thought the creature must be. "I'll be right back,... so don't you dare move." Not a sound. He tried to imagine his 'creature' when it was not cloaked in utter blackness. The imagined lighting his mind put into those trees just beyond the clearing where his friend had parked his truck was of no use; he could see the trees right enough, but the image he needed simply would not materialize there. Not knowing what was there with him... not knowing how far his friend needed to go in the truck to fetch water... not knowing how fast he could make it to the imagined safety of the old cabin... not knowing was making him sweat. And that creature could smell the fear... smell the open containers with food in them... smell where the truck had been parked, and the odor on that other one... that was far away now. His thoughts were on the amaretto hidden in his sleeping bag; then his hand was on it. He poured into the tin cup... the one he knew he'd left on the table; cup in hand, he closed and latched the rustic door. It was pitch black in the cabin too. He drank deeply. Forty proof means about twenty percent alcohol; better than a beer... smelling better too. Now there was scratching and clawing at the corner of the door. "I'd pour you one too, but I gotta find that flashlight,... first. Then maybe I can find another cup." He mock-toasted his little friend, and drank deeply once again. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_UNMTthguCQ
confession:the only GARCIA I like has cherries & chunks of chocolate in it
I've been rummaging around in those dusty old memory-bins, trying to remember when I switched from eight-track tape-carts over to vinyl LP's; first came WQXI, and then FM-stations became a thing; we were at 481 Clifton Rd., by the time I bought a stereo system[I would have been a senior in high school at the time... 1968]; 8-trak player/amplifier w/2 speakers that weighed nearly nothing; in the next room, my sister[13 months younger] was spinning LP's of Firesign Theater, Mothers of Invention & Jimi Hendrix Experience to annoy me; I moved out of there JAN 1970, & took that same stereo system to my Briarcliff apartment; during those tape-cart-years, I was driving an old VW 'bus[w/windows all-round]' that was repainted blue & gray; I had a tape player[under-dash] professionally installed; two ceiling-mounted speakers and a six-volt to twelve-volt converter mounted on the pan beside my engine; you could hear muted spark-field-noise when your tracks played[like a subtle audio-tachometer]; this 'dustbin' is kinda like a public library filled with stories packed onto shelves that nobody ever disturbs; these stories have sacrificed chronological accuracy for other, more aesthetic consistencies; at this point in my recollection process, I believe that "Tea For The Tillerman" was a tape I had bought, and that "John Barleycorn Must Die" was purchased on vinyl; both these were released in 1970; one night, in that first apartment, I popped in a tape that I distinctly disliked, and slept all night while wearing bulky headphones, and while the tracks endlessly looped; Blood Sweat & Tears... NYC's antidote to Chicago; I cannot remember when I bought a better home-system & a turntable, but I recall listening to Ten Years After, Grand Funk Railroad & Bloodrock; "The Survival of Saint Joan" was also an LP that I bought[released 1971 by a Tucker, GA garage band]. In 1972[Fall/Winter], I drove around the US in my '71 VWCampmobile[bought new], with nothing more than a German-built radio; the best I could do, was find a pirate station, broadcasting at major mega-wattage, from a tall tower located on Canadian soil.
over there, I'm friedlich I'm new there, having joined on Black Friday tonight, I ran across your e-mail address, in a COMMENT you had left most folks do not do that, and maybe you are different from most folks[that, at least, is my hope] I sometimes publish my e-mail address, trying to encourage a more image-friendly medium of exchange my privacy concerns are next to none, and anxiety over firewall-type protection against virus/worm/spam/whatever is negligeable the site reminds me of a multi-player game moreso than a community of writers of course, I'm still figuring out how to use the site for my own purposes I'm an older guy, living in southwest Georgia a retired stagehand; been writing since I quit working in 2005 not a boozer[or any other vice that costs money] caffeine & nicotine are my thing[like most writers... ALLEGEDLY] my stories run the gamut, and there is a lot of it that could be described as non-fiction fiction is preferred, when stinging truths are being revealed a cloak of plausible deniability my favorite author is Neal Stephenson hands down but I read a lot of books, and admire some of the fascinating women who have chosen to write Barbara Kingsolver springs to mind - http://www.kingsolver.com/books/ send me something you are working on
Ready for rain. My youngest half-sister, Sandra, (who's roughly 16 years older than me) married this guy back in...66 - 67. Perry Carlton Buie, aka Buddy. I have no idea how or where they met. They had gotten a house over near Columbia Avenue, behind Belvedere Plaza. Sandra had two daughters in tow from a previous marriages, Belinda, and Johnnie. Belinda is two years my senior, Johnnie is 4 years younger. My mother and I would visit them pretty often, and they were all lots of fun to visit. Buddy was a budding song writer/producer that had been working with southern recording legend Bill Lowery. Bill at that time owned Mastersound Studio, and had a publishing company called Low-Sal. Buddy's first hit was a song called "I Take it Back" recorded by Sandy Posey'
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r-zoLSF_-3c
And that was the launch of a very successful career for him. I won't bury you under all the details of all the artists that he has written for. He passed away a few years ago.
When he was really starting to bring in the money he was working with members of Roy Orbison's stable-band, The Candymen. They had some nominal success, but The Candymen begat The Classics IV, which did very well and had a handful of top 10 AM radio hits. The Classics IV begat The Atlanta Rhythm Section. ARS did great in the album oriented rock (AOR) format. But as always success has a price. Sister Sandra was jealous and didn't trust Buddy, he was always around southern rock celebrities, and their hot ass girlfriends. Not a good combo, so that marriage flopped.
The real point of it all though, was to say that I had some early life exposure to the music industry and I knew back then that I wanted to be somehow in the business of working in and around music. A car radio installer. A stagehand cum audio assistant. A song writer and a casual player of guitar, bass, and synthesizers, and now a maker of fine cuban cigar box instruments. (laugh at the last one).
When Buddy would have the guys from The Classics IV come by for rehearsals, me and little Johnnie would hang out in the hallway listening intently to what they were playing. What I saw about Buddy that was so appealing to me was that he kinda just did what the fuck he wanted, when he wanted to, and had very few people to answer to.
I liked that aspect of R&R...
you told me about BUDDY once before, and now I get the CANDYMEN connection to that pineywoods thing you sent; did you visit Blue Devil-country often enough to learn your way around? ...any Belvedere Plaza experiences that would make a story or song lyric? Those places were within cycling range of my Little Five Points-hood; my gang would even go fishing in a creek out there. Kids today ain't about shit; so much character-building movement across a sprawling urban environment; we weren't afraid, and we weren't over-supervised I'm writing about my Sunday morning, which is the only day of the week, when I make the effort to rise from my bed as early as 9 AM. I'm retired now, which carries with it the unquestionable benefit of 'sleeping in.' I make this conscious effort, because I cannot bear to miss the SUNDAY MORNING broadcast.
An interesting ARTICLE, aimed at baby boomers who read such 'posted material,' requires that I first do a bit of research. This morning's research has yielded the e-mail address directing this COMM to some unknown reader. What if this lucky recipient became known to all those that rise early on Sunday morning, like I have done? Such a story, to actually make the cut, would need to have some visual appeal... something for the camera to 'see' that is not just another talking head. If it becomes about the many suggestions that are not considered by the show's producers, I'm imagining an over-the-shoulder shot of an INBOX displayed on a PC's monitor; boring... right? Following the next suggestion that has some potential, through a chain of CBS News employees, into a roomful of writers and producers having the kind of discussion that ends with a proposal that will get funded, while turning the negative into a positive, still lacks the kind of imagery that will excite a camera crew. With the show's long history, many of the best ideas will have probably been done before, but a story about the technology that has changed the whole process probably has not been considered. Retired persons have an attachment to the kind of resistance to change that would permeate such a story. They also have a strong dislike for seeing a computer screen depicted as a character in a film or TV broadcast. And reading those texts that pop-up on the screen, because there is a SmartPhone in the scene, is particularly annoying. A surprising amount of the liesure time that retirement affords my boomer colleagues is devoted to online communication, by the many individuals who have made the necessary adjustments to modern technologies. These intrepid 'explorers' deserve a part in the story, but the visual appeal considerations must still be artfully applied. Some 70 million retired individuals make up a significant slice of an imagined pie-chart, that represent specific demographic segments to be considered as 'topical' by story creators up there. Please don't show us the pie chart... boring! Show us the bewildered old guy, searching for a qualified salesperson at Best Buy, to guide his purchase of an affordable laptop. Engaging that much younger demographic, now driving story selection in those board rooms, is a key consideration, if I'm to get my story selected for production. So, lets have a look at that young salesperson, that gets to help the customer make this purchase of electronic gadgetry. Are we talking tatoo's, facial piercings and a blue tooth-device protruding from the ear canal? Do we focus on his/her need to pay off the loan that sent them to some university, that forgot to teach them about being over-qualified for that sales position they would end up in? The scene ends in two ways; the kid sells the customer more gaming capability than he'll need for Skype, his gmail account and finding his grandchildren's FaceBook pages; or,... and this outcome is far more unlikely... the grandfather bests the salesperson, walks out of Best Buy with the low-end device he can afford[and was surprisingly in stock] and encounters no insurmountable difficulty, when he turns the contraption on at his comfortable breakfast-table, later that day, after a frustrating 45-minute ride on a metro bus, and a 20-minute hike, from the nearest bus stop, carrying his purchase with tired old arms, and painful arthritic hands. The interaction between the two alien cultures, that needs to occur for a purchase to be transacted, holds out the best hope I have for this story to get made. There are casting considerations, of course; two actors with current shows on CBS works best, so who could we actually get? They should both maintain residences in the same city, and those probable 'locations' to be used during production should be near a cooperating Best Buy retail store. My Dad was a technician that was employed by CBS News, back in the film-days, when a 3-man crew was required to document a story. He would go out with Laurens Pierce when cities in the South were burning; a dangerous job at the time, for a man armed with a Sun Gun. I got lucky enough, just once, to get one of these call-outs from our local affiliate; the three of us lugged equipment up to a crowded office-space at CDC Headquarters; a story was breaking about syphylitic men going untreated, during a clinical study over in Alabama; the prepared statement that we recorded there, was hardly worth all the labor involved[much less the expense incurred due to union wages that were paid]. This 'story' has already been published; here is a LINK to the page: https://www.booksie.com/577188-sunday-morning Please spare no expense with your REPLY to my e-mail. I'd like to add it to the story.
When I consider bits and pieces of the article, not viewed as a whole - "lacks the kind of imagery that will excite a camera crew." that statement kinda stuck out. Who gives a fuck what motivates a camera crew? I'd think, and wtf do I know, that the union pay scale would in and of itself be motivational. Having put that out there, it was just the first thing that came to mind. For my edification, in this story, what is your objective? How easy or how difficult the purchase was to make? Beat the kid at the sales game? Having made the purchase, the seemingly sad and somewhat difficult trip home? Perhaps an object lesson about our aging boomer population? All of the above? I see angles. Perspectives. I see an opportunity to make Best (fucking) Buys a proletariat hero, which is just bullshit. I see an opportunity to attempt to make plain to the children of boomers how difficult life can be. I see an op to make the whiz kid at BestBuy look like a jerk. What made the bus ride so frustrating?
Q#1:crew excited by producer's idea will spend more time and produce more fascinating video; imagine being CBS's go-to guy for interviews Q#2:dual objective:sell someone @CBS to do such a story & use e-mail text as content for Booksie.com[fixing to go silver sometime today] Q#3:under 'all of the above' I was trying to imagine what a crew could do to illustrate 'the story' with video that might be doable; my first trip to STAPLES to buy[for ca$h] my new laptop left me leaving for Office Depot with 'urge to kill' etched on my wizened face; next to finding out that the model displayed, at a sales price I can afford, is no longer in stock, my 2nd greatest peeve would be that sales pitch to purchase the more expensive laptop, conveniently on display right next to the one they don't even have, pointing out all that upgraded capability, like he was trained to say to his customer, because he don't know HDMI from HTML; the portrayal of transportation difficulties experienced routinely by retirees, goes to the value to the customer of the salesperson getting everything right on his first try Q#4:at the very end where you highlight the frustration, it would be up to the crew here to depict in their visual medium, the sorts of riders one might encounter, on a ride that zig-zags through all the housing projects, picking up more annoying riders, or perhaps letting the worst of them get off, stopping too abruptly, engaging in stupid arguments over the payment of the fare that delay any forward progress, and arriving at the desired destination 45-minutes later, when a crow could fly that distance in about three minutes its been pretty quiet up that way,... so a shout-out found a new 'place;' it's called bookrix throwin' life a spitter; got up about 7:30 when I do this, I end up snoozin' during my news broadcasts latest short story kind of a poke at LGBTQ's Y-knot try something new? might bring some of these trolls out of the woods kinda stole these paragraphs, for... ??
The life of a writer is pretty solitary, both by design and necessity. While you may find yourself in the neighborhood coffee shop a few days a week just for a change of pace, being a writer can be lonely and quiet.
Well-meaning as they are, your friends and family don’t understand the nuance between conflict and crisis. Try as they might, they can’t relate to the complexity of creating a consistent voice.
It’s no wonder that writing and alcohol are familiar companions. But it’s not happy hour yet. Here’s the good news: you’re not alone. In fact, right this moment, writers just like you are actively participating in writing communities all over the web. It’s time that you meet.
don't care for the alcohol bit, but it might fly did the coffee shop bit; kinda cool, but I'm persona non gratis at the downtown one cain't afford that shit no more nohow; cain't even get it together for Burger King Dollar Tree had some tasty canned goods; a $1 can of red beans & rice went down smooth[& spicy] lady behind me in line says that it's $.89 @Wal-Mart the pie-filling I bought would be $2 @Harvey's trade-off looks like Mueller's plannin' a warm reception for those freshmen/women Congressfolk Macron's reception heating up across the pond[the two M's havin' a populist crisis too; Europe's toast] it all started @NAPSTER; not Putin's doin' like some think battery in this Windows lapbook is for shit still fightin' off the FANG crowd; my spam folder still empty, but saw a browser-history thing pop-up w/firefox this AM tried out my MS-internet explorer as plan-B, but BING keeps interferin' & there are other annoying features I use WordPad, so I don't activate my introductory Office suite if I shut down instead of sleep, I have to close the cloud thing that slips in firefox wants to be set as default[another bothersome keystroke] there was an MS e-mail account that can't be used without a phone for activation code figuring out workarounds is my puzzle-thing; won't even register for ACER is there some LINUX browser code? wouldn't want snoopy here to know I was looking into that friedlich is being shamed for trolling already gonna try for a haircut today; it's gettin' too long[sides & back] clipping backside tricky w/tools I got w/trimmer[blind barber w/shaky hands] then there's the mess to clean up there's always the pony-tail option I also have one of those wave-caps, if I go native looking at the side of this new LG, there are yellow[video], white[L or MONO] & red[R] inputs and an S-VIDEO thingy w/tiny pins no HDMI I should find something like the back-up drive you suggested that can 'go there' have not heard back from CBS; no surprise they found a dead body on the corner; not watching my local news broadcasts means checking online for further details maybe they were digging his grave when the water went off my rides to the store, often two trips, indicate a decline in my physical strength that is mildly disturbing after 935-days of incarceration, I had soon gained back some musculature three trips to my storage unit, bearing incredible loads, took a lot more physical prowess than I now command I reminded myself that 2013-2015, I used to hoof it to the store[about 1 mi.], and backpack/carry back my supplies cycling is a luxury I'd hate to suddenly lose this motel-living is also a luxury[said the once-homeless man] I gathered all my manuscripts into one pile[for disposal?] took out any 'identifying documents' for safekeeping also have one three-page ms in an envelope I'll send that way one day tried giving away some of this ladies' apparel, but I think I offended my neighbor-lady with the gesture she liked the costume jewelry that was swag/booty found on the floor of my plan-B hidey-hole across from BK running out of ideas here "lady on"
I can relate to having lost some of that muscle. After I had the shoulder replacement I was laid up for about 8 weeks. Couldn't use the left shoulder at all, and was in a sling/pillow assembly that kept the arm in a state of comfortable non-use. That was pretty much the beginning of the end for my muscle tone. I'm striving to maintain the strength I have. I never thought I'd be this diminished. I sometimes have trouble lifting a full gallon of liquids such as water or milk with the left arm. Pair that with nerve damage that's caused a loss of sensation in my hands...argh...it's frustrating, considering that there was once a time when I could lift a chain motor with 75' of chain with just the left arm. That day has come and gone. I'd love to go pull that shrimp net with you again. Some of the most fun I've had was down at St. Andrew's sound, especially during a mullet run, where the dolphins were snagging mullet that were jumping the nets. What a great show of nature. I'm off for my half-mile round trip hike to the mailbox & back, then back to work on this bass guitar wine-box project for Tuck's brother. I'm almost finished with that, I just have to install the neck, the volume & tone controls, solder all the connections, install the machine heads, and seal the box. Ciao4now. Seizure later agit8r.
Seizure later agit8r ain't bad; mine was Ricky's tagline my intro to chain motors resulted from the now infamous "A call is a call" policy instituted by Local 41 bakNtheDAY; I was offered the chance to say no or yes to the worst thing on offer, before being skipped until my name rotated all the way back around; there was great benefit, on occasion, to getting first crack at something nobody else wanted to fuck with; this 'strict' policy was also a great way for a crook to skip quickly over a lot of referrals, before starting to fill a film crew, with a long list of assholes that turned down anything not film related, in order to maintain their position in this 'privileged' part of the rotating list; a full-time stagehand, with no friends in office[never wanted any], had to say yes every time[endless 4-hour calls] in order to eat; my rigging days started when OMNI Coliseum was new; we routinely had a 5-man crew[one groud rigger]; most points were not directly below any steel accessible from the catwalks in the pods; this, of course, meant guaging the lengths of two cables, Y-ed together with a down-length, to hit the bullseye; this was not only years before riggers became spider-men, that could rig points from beams running between pods, but also years before roadcrews trooped enough cable to deal with arena-shit like the fukkin OMNI; the building had enough cable for their everyday rigging needs, but... it was all 1/2" shit; add the weight of 30 to 50 feet of 1/2" cable, to about 90' of chain, and you get two men pulling against two other men in another pod, that they cannot see or hear; a good ground rigger was key, and you didn't want no sound puke up there pullin' on that heavy shit beside you; no pussies need apply! - a manly physique was the result, when most of the[by now hundreds of them] guys on the old rotating list found out what was required to say yes to a rigging call, and the list just spun right back to the last 5 guys that took a call at the OMNI; I got seriously beefed-up, before this bullshit came to an end[& before those spider-men showed up, and they started paying a premium wage to get them] I couldn't find any rigger-pics, but this attachment shows the connector tubing; access to the catwalks was from the roof; to access the steel at the apex of a pod, you had to walk up the outside of the pod, using a rope left dangling for the purpose; if brave enough, you could save a lot of time and effort, walking the very broad tube to the next apex position; one problem, however... there was a crotch-height + 3" lightning rod half way across; not so bad far the tall cowboys
I got lucky having Reagan, Milo, Hokey, and Big Bob to show me the ropes as it were. The Fox and Civic Center were generally easy rigs with most points onstage being single-point because of the way the grids were laid out. The Classic Center grid is a different story though. with 7 main beams spanning upstage to downstage, and no beams spanning left to right, practically every point was a compound bridle. At least in The Classic Center you can see & hear the up-riggers. Also nice is that The Classic Center had installed expanded steel grates between the beams so you can stow cables and gear up there. I miss being a rigger. I miss being healthy enough to rig.
I think 'stinger' should read stringer here; a 'stinger' is a 10' grounded extension cord[I had to ask the Best Boy]; bridle, basket & chain-motor are okay; when I took my ground rigger's training in Vegas, there was only one correct way to lay out pieces and parts for baskets... one way to engage the shackles with 'economic' motions of hands, feet & back... one way to tie a completed bridle out on the floor so the high men could inspect the work before lifting; the up-rigger 'makes' the basket[shouldn't have to undo a shackle or untie a bowline knot, to secure the hardware properly]; at the fukkin OMNI, the poor ground rigger frequently had to hold the 1.5 ton motor overhead, long enough for his four guys to secure both baskets, because it's 110' to the apex & the chain was all paid out; at least, if held above the headbone, the dropped shackle ain't a killshot
know of wire-rope, and witnessed a splicing operation @OMNI one day; the splice was as long as the arena[cleared for the process] Kermit[Spradlin] tryed over and over to teach me to splice hemp; that turn-back on the end, that was what the old guys did[pretty quickly] when they cut a rope[often for a snub to tie off a line set], instead of all that gooey electrical tape, was about all I could ever handle; the other end of a snub[about 6'] had a short loop spliced into it[about 14" splice enough for securing the 'safety' to the pinrail] I still think that stinger is just wrong, Wrong, WRONG!
O Peaceful One, That’s what the word ‘friedlich’ means in my first language. And yes, I remember Linda Goodman and her books. The first one was very good, but by the time the second one appeared Linda had ‘caught’ spirituality and went way, way, way over the top with it. She invented a new numerology that did not make any sense at all, if I remember right and I can’t recall whether I read that second book to the end. It was a very poor affair and just cashing in on the success of the first one. God bless and have a good day, With love – Aquarius
2nd book disapointed the girls as well; they weren't half bad predicting love matches, nasty break-ups & etc. they would get your birthday in their crew-roster, and find the one for you my best match was the lighting designer, but he had too many other boyfriends[ballerino's everywhere] I'm PISCES, & the match w/wife #1 not so good[CAPRICORN]; next tour was a GEMINI that earned herself a full-length fur coat she was way too smart to become #2 my mentor was Aquarian man; smartest man I've ever known horoscopes are like fortune cookies; a dream-job if you are a writer[used to love the 'fortune' in BAZOOKA bubble gum] write the stuff correctly, and anyone will agree that his/her sign just got pegged; those coin-op dispensers don't have 12 hoppers Mary Alice Kemery a.k.a. Linda Goodman, of course, would not/could not agree but,... who wouldn't rather have 12 good forecasts in each daily paper instead of[in my case] one fishy one the shepherd that first saw a maiden bringing water in the heavens over his thirsty head, should get more credit, than some ancient astrologer, wearing ermine, & bearing myrrh this mentor had a way about him[buckle-up,... I'm talking about you now]; every person in his presence, big or small, credentialed or insignificant, would instantly be made to feel of prime importance; the sun shone upon you; this is bearing water, dear meanwhile, your defenses utterly destroyed, he'd be in your head... deep in your head, figuring things out... for YOU... for HIM... for someone else, that he may not have even met yet... well, that all depends on how the 'long game' plays out he could artfully manipulate anyone, make them feel good about it, and even if things turned out pretty badly 4U you loved him all the more... hating only his enemies[that had attacked you, because he was invincible] he would take you to 'special' places, impart sacred knowledge only meant 4U, find things you thought forever lost all the things a magus commands he was quite the yenta as well[but would probably end up 'with' your perfect girl] he moved in some pretty powerful circles, and it was as easy as 'teaching' kindergarten children his favorite recording was a live one w/Neil Diamond enduring an actual Hot August Night this was, of course, him, singing his siren-song to every young girl in a 100-mile radius are you blushing yet DON'T I love you! Everything about you! I'm not, however, fixing to drink your blood.
when I ran away from home[1st & last time], I was driving my sweetie[Diane was a year older w/fiery red hair] in a red Renault 10 w/push-button transmission For 1963 (initially only in France), Renault offered an automatic transmission of unique design, developed and produced by Jaeger.[7] It was first shown at the September 1962 Paris Motor Show.[8] Although it was described as a form of automatic transmission at the time, in retrospect it was more realistically a form of automatic clutch, inspired by the German Saxomat device which appeared as an option on several mainstream German cars in the 1950s and 60s. The clutch in the system was replaced by a powder ferromagnetic coupler, developed from a Smiths design.[8] The transmission itself was a three-speed mechanical unit similar to that of the Dauphine, but from the beginning with synchromesh on all gears in this version. The system used a dash-mounted push button control panel where the driver could select forward or reverse and a governor that sensed vehicle speed and throttle position. A "relay case" containing electromagnetic switches received signals from the governor and push buttons and then controlled a coupler, a decelerator to close the throttle during gear changes, and a solenoid to select operation of the reverse-first or second-third shift rail, using a reversible electric motor to engage the gears. The system was thus entirely electro-mechanical, without hydraulics, pneumatics or electronics. Benefits included comparable fuel economy to the manual transmission version, and easy adaptability to the car. Drawbacks included performance loss (with only three available gears) and a somewhat jerky operation during gear changes. The transmission was also used in the Dauphine and the Caravelle. https://otto-models.com/en/ - build your own Renault at 1/18 scale
This ability to do some figuring, is greatly enhanced, because of the rudimentary training I received, on how to use those FRACTIONS. Most classrooms today allow the use of calculators, even during exams. Some students, much younger than I, have trained themselves in the use of their digital assistant, through trial-and-error regimens, that work well for ONLINE GAMES. Learning long division is a thing of the past, but having learned that method greatly improves one's ability to calculate something in one's head. ESTIMATING the answer can greatly simplify these mental processes, while providing acceptable numerical results. You may not have a CALCULATOR handy, when you suddenly need the kind of guidance, that a numerical calculation could quickly provide. 'Scientific Calculators' are reasonably priced, and include many more FUNCTIONS, than their stripped-down companions on the shelf have. My favorite one of these added functions, at the touch of a button, causes a randomly generated three-digit number to be displayed. How utterly useful! Another pre-loaded data point, that makes these calculators much more useful, would be a FORMULA remembered from some geometry class, or a physics lab you endured in college. With a formula, and an understanding of the relationships between numerator and denominator of two separate fractions, you can do a lot of useful shit. This verity is the reason they sell calculators at Home Depot & Loew's. They also sell the kind of tools needed, to remove the electronic device from its bubble-packaging. A formula I like is the one for calculating the length of a circle, which uses both its diameter and pi[the Greek symbol that roughly equals 3.14]. This FORMULA is useful for calculating the speed at which our planet circles about the sun, if you remember how far away that star is. Using such a large quantity in a calculation, means that your answer will sometimes be represented in 'scientific notation.' This is to save space on the tiny read-out screen, and should not create insurmountable problems for the operator. Similar calculations, using the same formula, will tell you how many tulip bulbs will be needed, of each color that you have chosen, for several varigated, concentric circles, planted hastily in the FALL, when the bulbs are widely available, and much cheaper to purchase. Figuring out how many eggs you should boil, so you can mix up a three-day supply of fluffy egg salad, is a different kind of problem, but it also has a trial-and-error solution. Believe it or not, it was this trial-and-error process that enabled Apollo astronauts to land their LEM on the moon.
three 'wise' men, bearing gifts followed a star[which some say 'moved' in the night sky in a noticeably unusual fashion] was there any disagreement among these three about what had been observed? three's are pretty important, as you know are there psychological implications buried in this belief in the 'power of 3?'
I was in ANTHROPOLOGY, and freely admit shortcomings relating to psychology cocaine use & Red Book symbolism did fall within my purview study & research into astrology, sorcery & freemasonry have me leaning towards early roots involving healers
this said, I'm quoting the 20th century's most prominent spiritual master:
Black Magic has always one definite characteristic. It is the tendency to use people for some, even the best of aims, without their knowledge and understanding, either by producing in them faith and infatuation or by acting upon them through fear.
this scrap of text was saved, because I was anticipating your e-mail response, so prepared myself I choose to 'act'/think about YOU, instead of wonder why I'm doing it I did take a senior-level course with a new textbook:"Culture & Personality" what did a gal, with an astrologer's webpage, study in preparation? reading stories gently molds the 'story of SELF' that determines our ability to ACT any 'story' requiring these 'edits' simply cannot be accepted as FACT[two rhyming stanzas... should I go for THREE?]my story is so long, that the attention span required does not yet exist language is the real key to a greater understanding in most every FIELD useful language always ends with a tryst negotiating a willingness in the other to YIELD[4 stanzas] this 'sentiment' is purely Darwinian the truth is, since civilization was birthed by, and gave birth to an alphabetic written form of the spoken language there are far too many individuals, fully integrated into society, that can choose to be motivated by artificial drives that do not contribute to successful reproduction like writing stories about it blame it on the moon
Think that would be handy for calculating sidereal time, vs solar time?
you mock me; how tall is your obelisk?
I'm not mocking you brother, I was just having a chuckle. We're victims of our own mechanisms. The calculator made us weaker and less knowing. This is also happening with computers and smart phones. We aren't pushing our minds to be all they can be. I haven't stored anyone's phone number in years. The argument is that you can use your mind for other, more important things ...like watching cat videos on the screen...
yeah,... those damn cat-videos; I meant your reference to sidereal time, and something I had written about shadows moving about on the floor of my two-man cell
FaceBook, Apple, Netflix & Google are the 4 FANG stocks, which are characterized by their unreasonable P/E-ratios. When I boot-up my device, the first set of keystrokes that I execute, get me disconnected from 'the cloud.' Then, I can click on several options, colorfully displayed, when my FireFox portal screen is displayed. [though this browser is pinned to my task bar, I keep on declining to set it as my default browser;2 more keystrokes] These options are 'ranked' & Google & Amazon are ahead of the Mail.com option that is convenient for me. I have never even visited the Amazon site, but a lot of their junk came already loaded on my new device. There is another one included in my top six, waiting to whisk me away to a MicroSoft APP-store. I wonder what their current P/E-ratio is? There is a YouTube link, but I do visit that Google territory frequently. Apple sold-out to Microsoft, before Microsoft sold-out to Google, and that was before FaceBook & Google sold-out to HSA. In 2011, law enforcement technicians took physical possession of my Notebook device in order to duplicate its drive. Nowadays, such nonsense is no longer necessary. LE's problem now is sorting all those automatically sorted files that keep piling up on their servers. They do not have enough agents to do the necessary sorting & opening of so many suspect files needed to keep up. Instead of a new SpaceForce, Uncle Sam should be preparing for CyberWar, like the Russians & Chinese have. Losing the CyberSpace Race ain't gonna be good, and they have already received several 'Sputnik-embarrassments.' Android OS, in combination with a successful G5-buildout, represents additional frontiers to be protected. During WWII, piles of printed propaganda, were dropped by aircraft overflying urban areas in Axis-territory. The US CyberSpace is being overflown by simiar distributors of toxic materials, and we are powerless to respond. This, as our own propaganda grows increasingly less toxic. Ill-advised trade wars further weaken our position globally, as well as incentivizing new agreements & partnerships. Recent downward pressure on both stock & bond markets simultaneously, is being characterized as a rare occurrence. What happened on those historical occasions? A declining US Dollar would have just such an effect on financial markets. Where assets are denominated in weak currencies, one can expect tandem movements of all asset classes. The global currencies headed in the opposite direction should not be invested in such assets. Large trade imbalances where those debts can be paid off with ever-cheaper Dollars, are also undesirable. So, when India seeks to export significantly less product, what happens to prices in the US? And what becomes of the bluff, that our media has labeled a trade war?
We've been being profiled with steadily increasing depth as data storage became abundant and inexpensive either locally or remotely. A terabyte of retail hard drive storage is about $50, cheaper if you choose to cloud-store your data. My first HDD was 10MB and cost around the same amount. Between AI driven flagging mechanisms, faster and more abundant storage, and our own willingness to share personal information on therm inter-webs, anyone with a smart phone, tablet, or other computing device most likely has a profile. I feel sure that since 1991, there's been enough information gathered about me to provide LE a solid psych profile. I bought my first PC to begin determining the myriad of ways that we're being surveiled. We're screwed, dude.
I'd prefer, at least, the courtesy of a reach-around; wonder if Snowden is still in Moscow?
I think it is laughable, and very French, that yellow vests only clog Parisian boulevards on weekends, as they have to work. Picket lines at the GWCC, and @warehouse where my dear old Dad was a captain, were like that. I remember when all of Poland went out on strike, and "Solidarnosc!" entered the conversation. I spent four long years in a non-union apprenticeship, suggested by an old redneck @BAT. At one point, there was a 'hearing' and I was to be booted from the program. I invited this old bureaucrat to sit in on it, as a concerned observer. Problem solved. Repercussions loomed however. After a series of job interviews 'they' referred me to[where the member-contractor had already agreed not to hire me], I went to IBEW to seek their help. The union organizers sent me to a job site, they were targeting[in order to get at union members working there], where I was quickly hired at journeyman wage. I'd give those 'slugs' a dose of vitriol, as I was going in about 7:45 AM. Then I'd pocket the sign-in sheets, when I got upstairs[40th floor], and secreet them to the organizers. When that job ended, I returned to the Fox stage, a wiser man.
1988 Democratic National Convention in Atlanta at The Omni & GWCC. Just miles & miles of cables running between those two facilities. Seemed rather weak. The bridge/turnaround between The Omni & GWCC. FBI labor racketeering agent Brian Hitt on the scene with with his team of covert cam-ops and the audio squad with their shotgun mics. It's all well documented in the FBI & GBI archives, but you can't find dick about it on the internet. It's as though only one low-rent food workers union was the only union to apply any (laughable) pressure on the DNC in 1988. I will say this, whoever came up with the idea to oil the up-ramp to the bridge/turnaround from Int'l Blvd to the Omni was a fuckin' genius.
there were live feeds from convention hall to CNN secured to the bottom of that bridge; another fuckin' genius made some air-gaps interrupt the video; some kinda stones, huh?
From what I hear, there were several instances of air-gapping the cable runs. ;) Must have been just a series of unfortunate accidents.
probably slipped on that slippery slope, with a sharp cutting-tool inhand; unfortunate indeed
RUNNING for a Congressional Office builds up a momentum; a physical movement towards certain achievements, related to specific ISSUES, that should never be interrupted, by a 2-, 4- or 6-year rest period. Learning how to draft enduring legislation, need not involve years slaving away in some accredited law school. YOU can acquire the necessary skills in a fairly brief span of study-time. You must begin, by reading as many 'representative samples' as you can obtain. You could limit the documents to be thoroughly parsed, to the kinds dealing specifically with the ISSUE you have chosen to focus your efforts on. Your problem, initially, will be expanding your vocabulary enough to be clearly understood, once you enter the writing phase that will follow. Certain traditional 'forms' should be employed during this second phase. Phase three begins, when you furnish copies of your document to qualified confidants, for their opinions regarding certain changes that should be made, forecasting prospects for successful passage of such legislation or suggestions about how courts might reinterpret aspects of any resulting LAW's. For this, you need e-mail addresses for serving Congressmen, judges currently on the appropriate bench and affected business entities that can refer your inquiry to a battery of litigators. Replies to your inquiries will almost certainly indicate certain adjustments to your output that would be advisable. Phase four involves giving credit for the introduction of your BILL, to some ranking member of Congress, that has publicly attached himself to your ISSUE, in order to get himself elected. Previously unaddressed ISSUEs are somewhat problematical in this regard, but can be advanced by celebrities, clergymen and struggling local politicians that are 1)not camera shy, & 2)looking for a powerful issue to which they might attach themselves. More e-mail addresses will most likely be required. My ISSUE was pension administration, and it was very unpopular. I did considerable research, to be sure that I had my facts straight. I collected a plethora of e-mail addresses. I wrote a speech, and practiced before a mirror while timing myself, until I could, basically, read forcefully, everything that I had written, in less than 15 minutes. The facts I was pointing out, never made opinions change very much, but did garner me a lot of attention that had not existed before. I became "Chicken Little," delivered my speech years before my time and eventually, was proved right, when the sky indeed fell. About 700 participants, in my defined benefit pan, were adversely affected.
An ACT OF CONGRESS is not always the creation of a LAW. Often, these 'acts' invite some Administrative Agency to enact new LAW's, or otherwise ENFORCE certain specified REGULATIONS. Such LEGISLATION, must be carefully & unambiguously worded. Most of our 20th century Congressmen, though many of them were indeed trained litigators, were either unable to write the legislation they 'introduced,' or indisposed in some way to do so. Sometimes large staffs of competent individuals get the job of creating a BILL, while often obliged to adhere to instructions given them, to keep in mind, always, that whatever is introduced, cannot be awfully objectionable to the majority political party, in either end of the domed Capitol building. Another source for these craftily-worded proposals is the legal staff, maintained by some powerful business or political entity, whose well-paid lobbyist will deliver the carefully prepared 'suggestion,' at a steak dinner, over an expensive bottle of wine. In the 21st century, 'diversity' among the freshmen/women arriving in Congress every two years, often means that even more of the BILL's that we hear about will have been outsourced. In fact, the ability to read/comprehend proposed legislation, is also in rapid decline, and so the advice from adequately trained staff members grows in its influence, and its importance to the constituency. When you complain that some desirable change in your current situation would require an Act of Congress, you have unconsciously ceded your own ability to be effective, to myriad third parties with agendas that are often going to prove quite toxic. STOP WHINING! First, remove the most glaring ambiguities from that internal expression of your most fervent desires. Get help if that is what you need. Then, ACT... like Congress. Or maybe that should read, "like Congress should be capable of doing, willing to do & adequately prepared to do."
my sign-in/homepage @mail.com was the fist thing that I saw this AM, after a full boot-up[& ditching that cloud] went into that little gear-box yesterday, and while I was changing a few things, I asked a few questions & paid those Firefox folks a visit too there's even some research on MS & that sell-out to Google[fukkin Chrome-enablers] oops! there's an APP Explorer update notification[@taskbar]; WTF did that shit come from[I don't do APP!] there's some flamin' MS news thingy keeps me apprised whenever there are 'significant developments' RE:the Mueller investigations not too annoying, and that's how I found out about the 'big' earthquake the other day[4.7 in TN/GA] have you been reading about Jesse & Fred? I also wrote/posted something about the reveered Booksie Guy[founder/moderator] this prompted the evil Dr. Acula to kick me out of his publishing 'house' of 1000 horrors[had to move 4 'books' to QWERTY QUORUM] house-cleaning a sure sign that 1)I'm hitting a nerve, & 2)there's NAZI's @Booksie.com that deserve a little more attention trying to be subtle, & really do try to suppress MY trolling tendencies I'm up pretty early this AM, & lookin' forward to a SPAM-sammy for breakfast egg salad came out great, & there's still 8 eggs in the fridge 4more eggs are relatively cheap, so gettin' out my portable kitchen worth all the trouble & upset my theater-sound in disarray[but still available in a pinch] Miss Universe was a Filipina; I thought NEPAL had the best eye candy[in the top 20]; Miss Ecuador[eliminated earlier still] was HOT! Eagles squeaked past Rams last night; lot of spoilers in the mix this season[go Chiefs] Mariota's on Saturday[?]; some screwy holiday scheduling BS I wonder how my Thunder will fare, when B-ball takes over the only sports event awareness I had while in Vegas, was brother-in-law's phone call during Masters taunting PV about Tiger in AZ, it was Churchhill Downs here, the natives get restless[& loud] during March Madness and NBA playoffs I'm the lone holdout for the fukkin World Series that's all I have on sports
There's so much movie and TV work going on that the wonder girl is frazzled and looked about shot-out. Tuck sez they work 12 - 14 hour days 5 or 6 days a week. She programs lighting systems for the industry. Naturally we didn't just talk "banjo". Mostly she just explained all the different stuff she has going on.
TUCK needs WYSIWYG; design the lighting from home
Whaaaaaaaaaat? Gay musicians...un-fucking-heard of!!! Those shoes are just screaming "what a 'mo."
in high school, I wore the world's first pair of bright orange saddle oxfords; what was that screaming?
You wore 'em, you tell me. ;)
my Grandfather was a painter[both of houses & portraits], and on one of his visits when I was a child, he had returned from a job with a bit of dark brown in a can; I'm in the backyard with Joe, watching him organize all the shit piled in the trunk of his old beater; he sees that there is enough of the viscous remnant, and begins stirring with a broad pig-bristle brush; then, with a brushfull of shiny brown possibility, he throws his foot up onto his rear bumper, and applies a generous coating to his paint-speckled brogans[sock & all]; I guess it made an impression; Mods & Rockers were changing fashions and orange saddle oxfords seemed apropos to getting with it; they were my most comfortable pair[I had five pairs of saddle oxfords; a different look for each day in the school-week], and were badly scuffed from wear; I FIXED THEM! I was already queer-bait, so flamboyant footwear only added the faintest shout to already broadcast "come hither's"
if Mexico were to fund & build a wall on their northern border, they could design & control any gates thought necessary Canada could come to this same brilliant conclusion, but have a much longer border to their south USofA would quickly become a 'backwater' & learn some diplomacy Abe[not Lincoln] has decided to add a state-of-the-art aircraft carrier to their somewhat modest self-defense force's naval arsenal I can't wait to see it sailing proudly upon the China Sea those Russians, allowed to continue their occupation of Japanese territory in the 1965 treaty, better look out Abe could pull a 'Thatcher' on their ass[still claiming self-defense] Modi will not let this important development go unobserved Aussies could use any help coming from both these Asian-Pacific naval assets all that ocean water makes a poor border-wall Philippines & Indonesia could be taking sides soon, and they represent major populations that produce surplus foods on DEC 21, Antarctica will be at the peak of their summer thaw, and we should start seeing some scary video from down that way South America is fast becoming a bigger wild card than Africa Panama will need two[very short] border-walls; they could get whatever they need from Home Depot Online I'm fixing to adjourn long enough to grate some boiled eggs & craft myself a sandwich I had Special K for breakfast[at 1:08 PM]
not so long ago, Japan had the most avid/affluent collectors of vintage guitars like the market for fresh tuna, they kinda became spoilers[unless you are a seller]
Japan was, at one time, made the best guitars you could buy outside of the US. Nowadays, with computer assisted design, and CNC milling machines almost any putz with a few thousand dollars to spare can be in the business of making precision, high quality guitars. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b4bbUaqwTlk
Japan also distills the world's highest quality Scotch. whassup w/dat?
So, you pair that CNC mill (with which one can also mill metal parts) with a computer, and a 3D printer, and I'm sure that ones ability to fabricate virtually anything becomes reality. Whoa. Hold on there, buckaroo. What about Mr. Retailer and his market-locked semi-monopoly selling copyrighted and patented products? DIGITAL RIGHTS MANAGEMENT...
NAMM was a wonderland, where competing instrument manufacturers got a very expensive opportunity for exposure. Some very well-attended guest artist performances at GWCC come to mind. Who plays your instrument is really the price-driver, and the actually-played instrument catapulted into the price-paid stratosphere! That auction you mentioned, could become a venue for one of these recognizable artists from the Athens music-scene. Have him or her[maybe them] play all your inventory, right before the bidding begins. Let the artist auction off the companion signatures, for the cause. Am I getting through here?
if Siskel & Ebert were arguing about some new film that was just out, their heated discussion might drift onto PRODUCTION VALUES(only EBERT would be likely to do that); if he argued for a THUMBS UP, based on excellent production value(making a film is like telling a story; some tell the same story better), he will say nthat the film's producers used amazing cinematography(spent lots more $$$) to express several themes/ideas, where most would not have(or would not have to), & that added P.V. made the film infinitely better, more entertaining & the extra-mile techniques became like another character in the story. YOUR TASK:when you have decided upon a particular 'song' to work-up for improving the ESSENCE ACT, do a YouTube search for videos & collect all that you may find(especially the less-professional and/or amateurish looking/sounding ones that somehow got posted); next, watch them all(probably several times each) & select the best few from the batch; discuss w/band-members WHY you thought those were the best ones; you may tend toward the better sound quality or the best of the musicians; you might find that you wanted to choose one of them, not for the music, but something they did that was captured in the video, or there were close-ups of fingering that you appreciated or just that the film featured separate performers at the right change-ups. My 1st TV-production had two cameras & a switcher; it was a softball game, sponsored by 96-ROCK & Alex Cooley, played by DJ's vs. band-members from KANSAS, when they came into town for a Concert(Cooley Promoted); it drew a large & raucous crowd of KANSAS-fans to Piedmont Park one sunny afternoon, helped promote both the Concert & the radio station(while having video-production equipment/personnel at the game helped boost all the excitement); one camera was fixed on a tri-pod behind the plate(to capture pitches & swings) & the other was just past 1st-base, and could pan to follow a hit and catch the play in-field or out-(w/close-up on 1st-base action); there was just one microphone, so I put it on a tall stand w/heavy, steady base, and placed where I got an adequate feed for both Alex's play-by-play calls on the P.A., and good coverage of the crowd-reactions(and even some overheard conversations in the bleachers); it took 3 of us, cameraman on 1st to do the panning if there was a hit/play, another guy on the switcher at my truck to change from behind-the-plate coverage, to the panning view of the field, whenever he heard that sound an aluminum bat makes clobbering a softball; then, of course, I was there directing(or perhaps repositioning the mike or just speaking a fake-part as faux-fan), and could have made the spectacle even greater, if I had carried a large megaphone around & shouted-out camera/switcher cues. Things went smoothly with 3-crew, and even though cameras weren't sync-ed & each switch rolled the image, the tape we produced gave the feeling of being there with crowd/Alex/KANSAS; my BetaMax was so amazing, that when I loaned my only copy to Alex, he never returned it(but word got around about my Channel 41 Productions, because this big promoter showed it to everyone that stopped by his office om business)!!! The Production Values of the song-videos you collect and watch depends on so many different things, that it would behoove ESSENCE to thoroughly exploit as many of them as practical in their future bookings; your SHOW can be good enough to disguise any musical- or talent-shortcomings, while growing a better- or well-organized local fan-base, that by bringing more folks to your bookings will equal higher- and better-paying gigs as you mature as a group, or change-out various artists as needed.
https://www.facebook.com/oldstagehands/photos/a.1375675492750537/1375675312750555/?type=3&theater
Following a performer around with what amounts to a big flashlight sounds easy, and probably looks easy too, if you watch while it's being done. Well, it ain't; and your lack of ability is most immediately apparent to the other operators who can make those first outings tough on you if they wish. That's when those relationships first begin to pay back dividends. The lighting director will be less aware of your foibles because the angle from which he is observing is a bad one; the audience even less able to see anything of what is going on. Your buddies can cover for your short-comings, and try to talk you through the rough spots. You'd better be able to take a ration of good-natured ribbing about it too! Watching an experienced operator while the show is going on is one of the best ways to get a heads-up on many of the subtleties that can take years to acquire. If you show the proper respect to his situation, you can ask questions and get helpful answers during the show. This exchange is doubly instructive because you observe the mysterious operations while in direct correspondence to actions occurring on the stage. Sometimes the cuing is coming through a biscuit(a small portable speaker) and you see that much more clearly how his responses co-ordinate with what is taking place. The respect part is something that you must learn about too, in order to understand; when to ask your questions so that they are not bothersome, distracting or downright disastrous; being aware that the presence of the headset sometimes means others are hearing everything or aware of your presence in the booth. Few apprentice operators ever spend that much time doing this; many experienced operators are glad they don't!
Phillip DeNise: ever change the hot carbons? 3rd paragraph from PREFACE to "Work For It, Baby!":Writers are frequently counseled to write about what they know. This writer knows spotlights better than anything else he was exposed to while in his secret world. What I know about them, if taken alone, would provide the content for an exhaustive technical manual. If we begin to consider how I learned what I know, a process then becomes the subject of the manual. Describing that process is most naturally facilitated by making constant reference to actual experiences that I had while learning to operate this specific piece of equipment.
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JUDY WOODRUFF: A new report due out later this week from the National Institute on Early Education Research finds that a number of states are struggling to find ways to improve access to high quality pre-kindergarten.
Tonight, we look at a unique approach taken by a preschool in Seattle, Washington. It’s giving children life lessons that go beyond the classroom, and providing a unique opportunity to seniors.
Special correspondent Cat Wise has our report. It’s part of our Making the Grade series on education that airs every Tuesdays.
MARY MCGOVERN, Resident, Providence Mount St. Vincent: What do you see?
CHILD: A brown bear.
CHILD: A brown bear.
CAT WISE: Mary McGovern is 95 years old, and one of her favorite things to do is read to toddlers.
MARY MCGOVERN: And what is that? A bird.
CHILD: A bird.
MARY MCGOVERN: A bird. What color is the bird?
CHILDREN: Red.
MARY MCGOVERN: Red. Everybody knows that.
CAT WISE: Luckily for Mary, she doesn’t need to go any further than down the hall to find her young friends.
MARY MCGOVERN: Oh, see, look in here is the little kids in there.
CAT WISE: Oh, yes.
McGovern lives at Providence Mount St. Vincent, a nursing home in Seattle, Washington, that also houses a day care for children up to 5 years of age.
WOMAN: Thank you, honey. Thank you. There you go. Thank you very much.
CAT WISE: Every weekday, 500 residents are joined by 125 children in the facility affectionately called The Mount.
MAN: Peekaboo.
WOMAN: Peekaboo.
MAN: I see you.
Administrator Charlene Boyd:
CHARLENE BOYD, Administrator, Providence Mount St. Vincent: We wanted to create a place for people to come to live, and not come to die.
CAT WISE: So, in 1991, Boyd and other administrators added a high-quality preschool to the nursing home and created an intergenerational learning center, a community for the very old and very young.
Why is there is this railing here?
CHARLENE BOYD: This railing is here not for the kids, but it’s here for residents. And it’s a safety piece for a resident in a wheelchair to push themselves up and to hold on and to bring themselves to a standing position and watch the children through the window.
CAT WISE: So, they can stand here and look in?
CHARLENE BOYD: They can stand here and look in.
It’s putting high-quality child care in a setting that link old and young together, making the magic between these two ages together, bringing joy to the residents and joy to those young children. It’s just like this magical formula that happens every day.
WOMAN: Can I get a high-five? There. He knows how to do a high-five.
MARY MCGOVERN: Most of them, they’re curious about me. Why are you here? I tell them I’m here because, when I was living in my house, when I got too old, I wasn’t always walking straight, and sometimes I would fall. And if fell, I had to have some help to get up, because I couldn’t get off the floor.
I want to hug your baby doll.
MAUREEN MCGOVERN, Mary McGovern’s Daughter: I think there are things that both parties take away from the interactions. It’s not like a lifelong relationship, but just for that moment in time, they’re both enjoying each other’s company, and getting something out of their relationship with that person in that moment.
MARY MCGOVERN: Give me a hug. Come on.
CHARLENE BOYD: All of us have common needs to be recognized. All of us have common needs to be loved, and all of us have common needs to share life together. And so these children bring life and vibrancy and normalcy. It’s a gift. It’s a gift in exposing young families to positive aspects of aging, and it’s a gift of also having children seeing frailty, normalcy and that’s part of that full circle of life.
(SINGING)
CAT WISE: Intergenerational activities can be spontaneous or planned, like this sing-a-long.
MARIE HOOVER, Intergenerational Learning Center: There’s 36 visit possible each week, so each classroom, six classrooms, has at least three visits, up to six visits.
CAT WISE: The director of the center, Marie Hoover, says children become comfortable with elderly residents at an early age.
MARIE HOOVER: Whether they’re in a wheelchair, or in a walker, or maybe they’re hard to understand, or you have to speak louder, it is just about who that individual is, and they adjust. The kids just don’t — they really don’t blink an eye. This is normal. This is just who this resident is.
READ MORE: Why safe drinking water is no safe bet for some U.S. schools
CAT WISE: Ninety-three-year-old Harriet Thompson joined this sing-a-long on her way to the dining hall.
HARRIET THOMPSON, Resident, Providence Mount St. Vincent: I usually like to go sit down for a while before dinner, but I heard them singing, so in, we went.
CAT WISE: What do you experience internally when you’re around these children?
HARRIET THOMPSON: Happiness, just plain old happiness. You know, yes, it beats anything else. Beats television.
CHARLENE BOYD: Boredom and loneliness at sort of the plagues of older adults. There’s nothing more delightful than seeing young children with noise, with laughter. You see the residents, and they hear the sound of the kids coming down the hall, and it’s as though sunlight just came through the window.
HARRIET THOMPSON: I’m a great-great-grandmother, but they’re in another town. I can’t hold my own little girl because she’s far away. And so this is what makes me happy. You get to know them, and watch them, and act silly with them. And it’s good to feel like you’re 3 years old again.
CAT WISE: Teachers see similarities in the ways these two very different age groups communicate.
MARIE HOOVER: The brain of a toddler, and as somebody is beginning to have, you know, some signs of dementia, the brains are similar, and their development, or their decline, is similar.
CAT WISE: That was apparent in this art class, where resident John Goss, a retired surgeon, and 5-year-old William Kraynek (ph) teamed up as painting partners.
JOHN GOSS, Resident, Providence Mount St. Vincent: This is a junk brush?
CHILD: A giant.
JOHN GOSS: Giant, yes.
He’s operating on my plain, and I’m operating on his plain, and so we have an attachment. He helped me, and we were working together.
CHILD: I used blue, and he used blue, and I used green, and he used green.
JOHN GOSS: It’s wonderfully fun, because things come out of your hand, rather than your mouth.
MARIE HOOVER: The kids are certainly of that age where this there isn’t this sense of, oh, that’s weird or something to be scared of, and I think that’s happening on both sides of the age.
CHILD: What’s your name?
ANNIE CARTER, Resident, Providence Mount St. Vincent: Annie Carter.
CAT WISE: Later the same day, William Kraynek visited the skilled nursing section of The Mount to help make sandwiches for the homeless.
CHILD: I had three sandwiches.
ANNIE CARTER: Oh, I see.
CAT WISE: Here, William partnered with 92-year-old Annie Carter.
ANNIE CARTER: We just talk about our work, just like anybody else on a job. That’s our job, so we have to do the right thing.
WOMAN: This is Alex.
Hi, Alex.
MAN: How you doing?
WOMAN: Hi.
CAT WISE: How do the children deal with difficult situations, like a resident that might be declining or even death? How do the children deal with those situations?
MARIE HOOVER: Developmentally, it’s not really something they can conceptualize. Even our oldest kids, at 5, kids don’t quite get that whole death concept.
If the kids bring that up to the teachers, then the teacher’s response is going to be, I miss Mary too. What’s your favorite memory about what she did?
And those are the kinds of things they’re going to focus in on, as opposed to somebody died. They’re just not quite ready to get that concept.
CAT WISE: Child care at The Mount is competitively priced with similar high quality preschools in the area. Currently, 400 families are on the wait list.
Administrators believe The Mount’s model can be replicated across the country, and they expect interest to peak this summer, when a documentary featuring their work called “Present Perfect” is released.
For the “PBS NewsHour,” I’m Cat Wise in Seattle.
PBS NewsHour education coverage is part of American Graduate: Let’s Make it Happen, a public media initiative made possible by the Corporation for Public Broadcasting.
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Maple Quotes
Official Website: Maple Quotes
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• A lone maple leaf resting on sand Have you ever been out for a late autumn walk in the closing part of the afternoon, and suddenly looked up to realize that the leaves have practically all gone? And the sun has set and the day gone before you knew it, and with that a cold wind blows across the landscape? That’s retirement. – Stephen Leacock • A river is the most human and companionable of all inanimate things. It has a life, a character, a voice of its own; and it is as full of good fellowship as a sugar maple is of sap. It can talk in various tones, loud or low, and of many subjects grave and gay…. For real company and friendship there is nothing, outside of the animal kingdom, that is comparable to a river. – Henry Van Dyke • A sad sort of vulnerability was wafting from her, making the night smell like maple syrup. – Sarah Addison Allen • A solitary maple on a woodside flames in single scarlet, recalls nothing so much as the daughter of a noble house dressed for a fancy ball, with the whole family gathered around to admire her before she goes. – Henry James • A withered maple leaf has left its branch and is falling to the ground; its movements resemble those of a butterfly in flight. Isn’t it strange? The saddest and deadest of things is yet so like the gayest and most vital of creatures? – Ivan Turgenev • After the keen still days of September, the October sun filled the world with mellow warmth…The maple tree in front of the doorstep burned like a gigantic red torch. The oaks along the roadway glowed yellow and bronze. The fields stretched like a carpet of jewels, emerald and topaz and garnet. Everywhere she walked the color shouted and sang around her…In October any wonderful unexpected thing might be possible. – Elizabeth George Speare • Again the blackbirds sings; the streams Wake, laughing, from their winter dreams, And tremble in the April showers The tassels of the maple flowers. – John Greenleaf Whittier • And again it snowed, and again the sun came out. In the mornings on the way to the station Franklin counted the new snowmen that had sprung up mysteriously overnight or the old ones that had been stricken with disease and lay cracked apart-a head here, a broken body and three lumps of coal there-and one day he looked up from a piece of snow-colored rice paper and knew he was done. It was as simple as that: you bent over your work night after night, and one day you were done. Snow still lay in dirty streaks on the ground but clusters of yellow-green flowers hung from the sugar maples. – Steven Millhauser • Anne reveled in the world of color about her. “Oh, Marilla,” she exclaimed one Saturday morning, coming dancing in with her arms full of gorgeous boughs, “I’m so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers. It would be terrible if we just skipped from September to November, wouldn’t it? Look at these maple branches. Don’t they give you a thrill–several thrills? – Lucy Maud Montgomery • Around in silent grandeur stood The stately children of the wood; Maple and elm and towering pine Mantled in folds of dark woodbine. – Julia Caroline Dorr
jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'Maple', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_maple').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_maple img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); ); • But truth be told, I’m not as dour-looking as I would like. I’m stuck with this round, sweetie-pie face, tiny heart-shaped lips, the daintiest dimples, and apple cheeks so rosy I appear in a perpetual blush. At five foot four, I barely squeak by average height. And then there’s my voice: straight out of second grade. I come across so young and innocent and harmless that I have been carded for buying maple syrup. Tourists feel more safe approaching me for directions, telemarketers always ask if my mother is home, and waitresses always, always call me ‘Hon. – Sarah Vowell
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• Catch a vista of maples in that long light and you see Autumn glowing through the leaves…. The promise of gold and crimson is there among the branches, though as yet it is achieved on only a stray branch, an impatient limb or an occasional small tree which has not yet learned to time its changes. – Hal Borland • Consider the many special delights a lawn affords: soft mattress for a creeping baby; worm hatchery for a robin; croquet or badminton court; baseball diamond; restful green perspectives leading the eye to a background of flower beds, shrubs, or hedge; green shadows – “This lawn, a carpet all alive/With shadows flung from leaves’ – as changing and as spellbinding as the waves of the sea, whether flecked with sunlight under trees of light foliage, like elm and locust, or deep, dark, solid shade, moving slowly as the tide, under maple and oak. This carpet! – Katharine Sergeant Angell White • Do you think I’m wonderful? she asked him one day as they leaned against the trunk of a petrified maple. No, he said. Why? Because so many girls are wonderful. I imagine hundreds of men have called their loves wonderful today, and it’s only noon. You couldn’t be something that hundreds of others are. – Jonathan Safran Foer • Everyone had a Japanese maple, although after Pearl Harbor most of these were patriotically poisoned, ringbarked and extirpated. – Barry Humphries • For anyone who lives in the oak-and-maple area of New England, there is a perennial temptation to plunge into a purple sea of adjectives about October. – Hal Borland • For hours she had lain in a kind of gentle torpor, not unlike that sweet lassitude which masters one in the hush of a midsummer noon, when the heat seems to have silenced the very birds and insects, and, lying sunk in the tasselled meadow grasses, one looks up through a level roofing of maple-leaves at the vast, shadowless, and unsuggestive blue. – Edith Wharton • For watching sports, I tend to drink Guinness; early evenings always begin well with a Grey Goose and tonic with plenty of lime; and on a cold winters night, theres nothing quite like a glass of Black Maple Hill… an absolute peach of a bourbon. – Martin Bashir • Freezing concentrates sugar (maple sugar), alcohol, and salt solutions as efficiently as heating distils water or alcohol from solutions. Open pans of maple sugar can have the surface ice removed regularly (each day) until a sugar concentrate remains. Salts in water, and alcohol in ferment liquors can be concentrated in the same way. – Bill Mollison • I always feel at home where the sugar maple grows…. glorious in autumn, a fountain of coolness in summer, sugar in its veins, gold in its foliage, warmth in its fibers, and health in it the year round. – John Burroughs • I always go to the lowest common denominator for that ingredient. So if I think squash, I try to think what it means to me — and if it doesn’t mean anything to me, I’m not gonna do well when I cook it. So [squash] means to me: fall, maple syrup, cinnamon, and things just come into your head so you can narrow the vortex and make it a bit smaller and you go with something because there’s no time. – Geoffrey Zakarian • I always have a good quality extra virgin olive oil. A cheap quality oil will end up cheapening your dishes. And I love sweetening my dishes with maple syrup. It has a bit of a bitter kick at the end that works wonderfully in savory dishes. – Nadia Giosia • I am passionate about tea, running, the idea that we are bound only by the limits of our imaginations, and maple syrup. – Misha Collins • I ate breakfast in the kitchen by candle-light, and then drove the five miles to the station through the most glorious October colouring. The sun came up on the way, and the swamp maples and dogwood glowed crimson and orange and the stone walls and cornfields sparkled with hoar frost; the air was keen and clear and full of promise. I knew something was going to happen. – Jean Webster • I drink maple syrup. Then I’m hyper so I just run around like crazy and work it all off. – Rachel McAdams • I grew up trying to play for the Toronto Maple Leafs, not Team Canada. Didn’t even know it existed. – Adam Oates • I happen to know everything there is to know about maple syrup! I love maple syrup. I love maple syrup on pancakes. I love it on pizza. And I take maple syrup and put a little bit in my hair when I’ve had a rough week. What do you think holds it up, slick? – Vince Vaughn • I have a maple leaf tattoo over my heart, quite literally, and my two favorite things on Earth are being in Canada and making movies. – Jay Baruchel • I like Toronto a lot, it’s a good city. The only thing that really annoys me about Toronto is that you’re turning Maple Leaf Gardens into a grocery store, which is absolutely nothing short of disgusting. – Rick Wakeman • I remember it as October days are always remembered, cloudless, maple-flavored, the air gold and so clean it quivers. – Leif Enger • I sit where the leaves of the maple and the gnarled and knotted gum are circling and drifting around me. – Alice Cary • I think maybe, if I could be a Canadian super hero, I’d have some kind of freezing power and some sort of maple syrup weapon. Could be a little sticky. – Nathan Fillion • I thought of my mother as Queen Christina, cool and sad, eyes trained on some distant horizon. That was where she belonged, in furs and palaces of rare treasures, fireplaces large enough to roast a reindeer, ships of Swedish maple. – Janet Fitch • I used to go to Maple Leafs games all the time when Nic shot To Die For here in Toronto. This is a great city. I love it here. – Tom Cruise • I was cutting and threading pipe in the tunnels to get water into the shower rooms for athletics. I was repairing old metal windows, fixing cement walls where rain was coming through, and drying out the maple gym floors in hopes of removing the warping. – Tom Baker • I was just getting acquainted with the wood. I wanted to see if it was maple or pine. – Kurt Rambis • If it’s not 100 per cent pure maple syrup, it can’t be called ‘pure maple syrup. – Nancy Greene • If you’ve only got one day to live, come see the Toronto Maple Leafs. It’ll seem like forever. – Pat LaFontaine • I’m not from a maple producing area and so my maple syrup credentials are very much of the eating side. – Nancy Greene • I’m very proud to be wearing the “C” for the Maple Leafs. It puts a smile on my face everyday – Mats Sundin • In New York and New England the sap starts up in the sugar maple the very day the bluebird arrives, and sugar-making begins forthwith. The bird is generally a mere disembodied voice; a rumor in the air for two or three days before it takes visible shape before you. – John Burroughs • In spring when maple buds are red, We turn the clock an hour ahead; Which means, each April that arrives, We lose an hour out of our lives.
Who cares? When autumn birds in flocks Fly southward, back we turn the clocks, And so regain a lovely thing That missing hour we lost in spring. – Phyllis McGinley • In the long dusks of summer we walked the suburban streets through scents of maple and cut grass, waiting for something to happen. – Steven Millhauser • It is a poor observance of our first century as a nation if we run up a flag of surrender with three dying maple leaves on it. – Charlotte Whitton • It is a vast wilderness of rocks in a sea of light, colored and glowing like oak and maple in autumn, when the sun gold is richest – John Muir • Leaf fans loyalty is unshakeable. The fans keep coming back and it hurts, I have been there. I have lost in game six to go to the finals with the Maple Leafs, against Carolina and what a great final that would have been. – Curtis Joseph • Lyric night of the lingering Indian Summer, Shadowy fields that are scentless but full of singing, Never a bird, but the passionless chant of insects, Ceaseless, insistent. The grasshopper’s horn, and far-off, high in the maples, The wheel of a locust leisurely grinding the silence Under a moon waning and worn, broken, Tired with summer. – Sara Teasdale • Many of the artifacts of my house had become potential devices for my own destruction: the attic rafters (and an outside maple or two) a means to hang myself, the garage a place to inhale carbon monoxide, the bathtub a vessel to receive the flow from my opened arteries. The kitchen knives in their drawers had but one purpose for me. – William Styron • Maples are such sociable trees … They’re always rustling and whispering to you. – Lucy Maud Montgomery • Maple-trees are the cows of trees (spring-milked). – Henry Ward Beecher • Much can they praise the trees so straight and high, The sailing pine,the cedar proud and tall, The vine-prop elm, the poplar never dry, The builder oak, sole king of forests all, The aspin good for staves, the cypress funeral, The laurel, meed of mighty conquerors And poets sage, the fir that weepest still, The yew obedient to the bender’s will, The birch for shafts, the sallow for the mill, The myrrh sweet-bleeding in the bitter wound, The warlike beech, the ash for nothing ill, The fruitful olive, and the platane round, The carver holm, the maple seldom inward sound. – Edmund Spenser • My end goal in the piano is to play Scott Joplin’s ‘Maple Leaf Rag. – Miranda Leek • My first semester I had only nine students. Hoping they might view me as professional and well prepared, I arrived bearing name tags fashioned in the shape of maple leaves. – David Sedaris • My love of maple syrup. I’ve been known to knock back a can over a couple days: A swig here, a swig there, and next thing you know it’s gone. It’s a habit I have to stave off. I don’t want to lose all my teeth. – Rufus Wainwright • My uncle, Mr. Stephen Maple, had been at the same time the most successful and the least respectable of our family, so that we hardly knew whether to take credit for his wealth or to feel ashamed of his position. – Arthur Conan Doyle • No clouds are in the morning sky, The vapors hug the stream, Who says that life and love can die In all this northern gleam? At every turn the maples burn, The quail is whistling free, The partridge whirs, and the frosted burs Are dropping for you and me. Ho! hillyho! heigh O! Hillyho! In the clear October morning. – Edmund Clarence Stedman • October turned my maple’s leaves to gold; The most are gone now; here and there one lingers: Soon these will slip from the twigs’ weak hold, Like coins between a dying miser’s fingers. – Thomas Bailey Aldrich • Oh! to be a child again. My only treasures, bits of shell and stone and glass. To love nothing but maple sugar. To fear nothing but a big dog. To go to sleep without dreading the morrow. To wake up with a shout. Not to have seen a dead face. Not to dread a living one. To be able to believe. – Fanny Fern • One day the ‘Maple Leaf’ will make me King of Ragtime Composers. – Scott Joplin • Our lives are like islands in the sea, or like trees in the forest. The maple and the pine may whisper to each other with their leaves … But the trees also commingle their roots in the darkness underground, and the islands also hang together through the ocean’s bottom. – William James • Spring has many American faces. There are cities where it will come and go in a day and counties where it hangs around and never quite gets there. Summer is drawn blinds in Louisiana, long winds in Wyoming, shade of elms and maples in New England. – Archibald MacLeish • That`s a maple leaf, Canadian, not just for being too European but too Canadian. Not so subtly putting [Ted] Cruz`s face inside that maple leaf there. – Chris Hayes • The approach to that movie wasn’t, ‘Lets make this movie about Amsterdam and maple syrup.’ The concept was, ‘Lets go to Amsterdam. Amsterdam is fun.’ So we flew to Amsterdam with our cameras and we saw what happened and then we got back and we sat down and we said, ‘What’s the movie here.’ That’s when we realized that the movie was ‘The Maple Syrup Saga’. – Casey Neistat • The ash her purple drops forgivingly And sadly, breaking not the general hush; The maple swamps glow like a sunset sea, Each leaf a ripple with its separate flush; All round the wood’s edge creeps the skirting blaze, Ere the rain falls, the cautious farmer burns his brush. – James Russell Lowell • The food that’s never let me down in life is porridge, especially with milk and maple syrup, which is delicious. Paris isn’t a porridge place, but I can buy it in London when I’m there and bring it back with me. – Marianne Faithfull • The gaps are the thing. The gaps are the spirit’s one home, the altitudes and latitudes so dazzlingly spare and clean that the spirit can discover itself like a once-blind man unbound. The gaps are the clefts in the rock where you cower to see the back parts of God; they are fissures between mountains and cells the wind lances through, the icy narrowing fiords splitting the cliffs of mystery. Go up into the gaps. If you can find them; they shift and vanish too. Stalk the gaps. Squeak into a gap in the soil, turn, and unlock-more than a maple-universe. – Annie Dillard • The morns are meeker than they were, The nuts are getting brown; The berry’s cheek is plumper, The rose is out of town. The maple wears a gayer scarf, The field a scarlet gown. Lest I should be old-fashioned, I’ll put a trinket on. – Emily Dickinson • The rinsed foam swirled into one drain that always clogged come October when the maples dropped Canadian propaganda over everything. – Daniel Handler • The scarlet of the maples can shake me like a cry Of bugles going by. And my lonely spirit thrills To see the frosty asters like a smoke upon the hills. – Bliss Carman • The spirit of the year, like bacchant crowned, With lighted torch goes careless on his way; And soon bursts into flame the maple’s spray, And vines are running fire along the ground. – Edith M. Thomas • The stripped and shapely Maple grieves The ghosts of her Departed leaves. The ground is hard, As hard as stone. The year is old, The birds are flown. – John Updike • The sugar maple is remarkable for its clean ankle. The groves of these trees looked like vast forest sheds, their branches stopping short at a uniform height, four or five feet from the ground, like eaves, as if they had been trimmed by art, so that you could look under and through the whole grove with its leafy canopy, as under a tent whose curtain is raised. – Henry David Thoreau • The summer ends and we wonder who we are And there you go, my friends, with your boxes in your car And today I passed the high school, the river, the maple tree I passed the farms that made it Through the last days of the century And I knew that I was going to learn again Again, in this less hazy light I saw the fields beyond the fields The fields beyond the field – Dar Williams • The very uprightness of the pines and maples asserts the ancient rectitude and vigor of nature. Our lives need the relief of such a background, where the pine flourishes and the jay still screams. – Henry David Thoreau • The wilderness is near as well as dear to every man. Even the oldest villages are indebted to the border of wild wood which surrounds them, more than to the gardens of men. There is something indescribably inspiriting and beautiful in the aspect of the forest skirting and occasionally jutting into the midst of new towns, which, like the sand-heaps of fresh fox-burrows, have sprung up in their midst. The very uprightness of the pines and maples asserts the ancient rectitude and vigor of nature. Our lives need the relief of such a background, where the pine flourishes and the jay still screams. – Henry David Thoreau • The woman is not just a pleasure, nor even a problem. She is a meniscus that allows the absolute to have a shape, that lets him skate however briefly on the mystery, her presence luminous on the ordinary and the grand. Like the odor at night in Pittsburgh’s empty streets after summer rain on maples and sycamore. – Jack Gilbert • The world of life, of spontaneity, the world of dawn and sunset and starlight, the world of soil and sunshine, of meadow and woodland, of hickory and oak and maple and hemlock and pineland forests, of wildlife dwelling around us, of the river and its wellbeing–all of this [is] the integral community in which we live. – Thomas Berry • There is a beautiful spirit breathing now Its mellowed richness on the clustered trees, And, from a beaker full of richest dyes, Pouring new glory on the autumn woods, And dipping in warm light the pillared clouds. Morn on the mountain, like a summer bird, Lifts up her purple wing, and in the vales The gentle wind, a sweet and passionate wooer, Kisses the blushing leaf, and stirs up life Within the solemn woods of ash deep-crimsoned, And silver beech, and maple yellow-leaved, Where Autumn, like a faint old man, sits down By the wayside a-weary. – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow • There were so many miracles at work: that a blossom might become a peach, that a bee could make honey in its thorax, that rain might someday fall. I thought then about the seasons changing, and in the gray of night I could almost will myself to see the azure sky, the gold of the maple leaves, the crimson of the ripe apples, the hoarfrost on the grass. – Jane Hamilton • There’s nothing people like better than being asked an easy question. For some reason, we’re flattered when a stranger asks us where Maple Street is in our hometown and we can tell him. – Andy Rooney • This fastest of all games [hockey] has become almost as much of a national svmbol as the maple leaf. – Lester B. Pearson • This hill crossed with broken pines and maples lumpy with the burial mounds of uprooted hemlocks (hurricane of ’38) out of their rotting hearts generations rise trying once more to become the forest just beyond them tall enough to be called trees in their youth like aspen a bouquet of young beech is gathered they still wear last summer’s leaves the lightest brown almost translucent how their stubbornness has decorated the winter woods. – Grace Paley • To her bier Comes the year Not with weeping and distress, as mortals do, But, to guide her way to it, All the trees have torches lit; Blazing red the maples shine the woodlands through. – Lucy Larcom • We don’t want you convicted for condiment theft. You go to that prison, you’ll meet big-time operators. Maple syrup stealers. – Deb Caletti • We must keep these waters for wild rice, these trees for maple syrup, our lakes for fish, and our land and aquifers for all of our relatives – whether they have fins, roots, wings, or paws. – Winona LaDuke • We would much prefer to see ownership in the hands of the Maple Group, if only because we would much rather see Canadian ownership of our stock exchange. What we are first of all interested in is making sure that Montreal is able to preserve that niche or expertise. – Jean Charest • When April winds Grew soft, the maple burst into a flush Of scarlet flowers. The tulip tree, high up, Opened in airs of June her multitude Of golden chalices to humming-birds And silken-wing’d insects of the sky. – William C. Bryant • When you were a kid, if you went to the Montreal Forum or a hockey game at Maple Leaf Gardens, which I did, there was a great feeling. The new stadiums don’t have it. Why don’t they have it? Building codes. – Frank Gehry • With the fans and the Toronto Maple Leafs organization, the way I’ve been treated here has been awesome. – Mats Sundin • Writing an informative yet compact thriller is a lot like making maple sugar candy. You have to tap hundreds of trees – boil vats and vats of raw sap – evaporate the water – and keep boiling until you’ve distilled a tiny nugget that encapsulates the essence. – Dan Brown • You cannot imprison me!” He bellowed. “I am Hyperion! I am-” The bark closed over his face. Grover took his pipes from his mouth. “You are a very nice maple tree. – Rick Riordan
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Maple Quotes
Official Website: Maple Quotes
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• A lone maple leaf resting on sand Have you ever been out for a late autumn walk in the closing part of the afternoon, and suddenly looked up to realize that the leaves have practically all gone? And the sun has set and the day gone before you knew it, and with that a cold wind blows across the landscape? That’s retirement. – Stephen Leacock • A river is the most human and companionable of all inanimate things. It has a life, a character, a voice of its own; and it is as full of good fellowship as a sugar maple is of sap. It can talk in various tones, loud or low, and of many subjects grave and gay…. For real company and friendship there is nothing, outside of the animal kingdom, that is comparable to a river. – Henry Van Dyke • A sad sort of vulnerability was wafting from her, making the night smell like maple syrup. – Sarah Addison Allen • A solitary maple on a woodside flames in single scarlet, recalls nothing so much as the daughter of a noble house dressed for a fancy ball, with the whole family gathered around to admire her before she goes. – Henry James • A withered maple leaf has left its branch and is falling to the ground; its movements resemble those of a butterfly in flight. Isn’t it strange? The saddest and deadest of things is yet so like the gayest and most vital of creatures? – Ivan Turgenev • After the keen still days of September, the October sun filled the world with mellow warmth…The maple tree in front of the doorstep burned like a gigantic red torch. The oaks along the roadway glowed yellow and bronze. The fields stretched like a carpet of jewels, emerald and topaz and garnet. Everywhere she walked the color shouted and sang around her…In October any wonderful unexpected thing might be possible. – Elizabeth George Speare • Again the blackbirds sings; the streams Wake, laughing, from their winter dreams, And tremble in the April showers The tassels of the maple flowers. – John Greenleaf Whittier • And again it snowed, and again the sun came out. In the mornings on the way to the station Franklin counted the new snowmen that had sprung up mysteriously overnight or the old ones that had been stricken with disease and lay cracked apart-a head here, a broken body and three lumps of coal there-and one day he looked up from a piece of snow-colored rice paper and knew he was done. It was as simple as that: you bent over your work night after night, and one day you were done. Snow still lay in dirty streaks on the ground but clusters of yellow-green flowers hung from the sugar maples. – Steven Millhauser • Anne reveled in the world of color about her. “Oh, Marilla,” she exclaimed one Saturday morning, coming dancing in with her arms full of gorgeous boughs, “I’m so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers. It would be terrible if we just skipped from September to November, wouldn’t it? Look at these maple branches. Don’t they give you a thrill–several thrills? – Lucy Maud Montgomery • Around in silent grandeur stood The stately children of the wood; Maple and elm and towering pine Mantled in folds of dark woodbine. – Julia Caroline Dorr
jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'Maple', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_maple').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_maple img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); ); • But truth be told, I’m not as dour-looking as I would like. I’m stuck with this round, sweetie-pie face, tiny heart-shaped lips, the daintiest dimples, and apple cheeks so rosy I appear in a perpetual blush. At five foot four, I barely squeak by average height. And then there’s my voice: straight out of second grade. I come across so young and innocent and harmless that I have been carded for buying maple syrup. Tourists feel more safe approaching me for directions, telemarketers always ask if my mother is home, and waitresses always, always call me ‘Hon. – Sarah Vowell
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• Catch a vista of maples in that long light and you see Autumn glowing through the leaves…. The promise of gold and crimson is there among the branches, though as yet it is achieved on only a stray branch, an impatient limb or an occasional small tree which has not yet learned to time its changes. – Hal Borland • Consider the many special delights a lawn affords: soft mattress for a creeping baby; worm hatchery for a robin; croquet or badminton court; baseball diamond; restful green perspectives leading the eye to a background of flower beds, shrubs, or hedge; green shadows – “This lawn, a carpet all alive/With shadows flung from leaves’ – as changing and as spellbinding as the waves of the sea, whether flecked with sunlight under trees of light foliage, like elm and locust, or deep, dark, solid shade, moving slowly as the tide, under maple and oak. This carpet! – Katharine Sergeant Angell White • Do you think I’m wonderful? she asked him one day as they leaned against the trunk of a petrified maple. No, he said. Why? Because so many girls are wonderful. I imagine hundreds of men have called their loves wonderful today, and it’s only noon. You couldn’t be something that hundreds of others are. – Jonathan Safran Foer • Everyone had a Japanese maple, although after Pearl Harbor most of these were patriotically poisoned, ringbarked and extirpated. – Barry Humphries • For anyone who lives in the oak-and-maple area of New England, there is a perennial temptation to plunge into a purple sea of adjectives about October. – Hal Borland • For hours she had lain in a kind of gentle torpor, not unlike that sweet lassitude which masters one in the hush of a midsummer noon, when the heat seems to have silenced the very birds and insects, and, lying sunk in the tasselled meadow grasses, one looks up through a level roofing of maple-leaves at the vast, shadowless, and unsuggestive blue. – Edith Wharton • For watching sports, I tend to drink Guinness; early evenings always begin well with a Grey Goose and tonic with plenty of lime; and on a cold winters night, theres nothing quite like a glass of Black Maple Hill… an absolute peach of a bourbon. – Martin Bashir • Freezing concentrates sugar (maple sugar), alcohol, and salt solutions as efficiently as heating distils water or alcohol from solutions. Open pans of maple sugar can have the surface ice removed regularly (each day) until a sugar concentrate remains. Salts in water, and alcohol in ferment liquors can be concentrated in the same way. – Bill Mollison • I always feel at home where the sugar maple grows…. glorious in autumn, a fountain of coolness in summer, sugar in its veins, gold in its foliage, warmth in its fibers, and health in it the year round. – John Burroughs • I always go to the lowest common denominator for that ingredient. So if I think squash, I try to think what it means to me — and if it doesn’t mean anything to me, I’m not gonna do well when I cook it. So [squash] means to me: fall, maple syrup, cinnamon, and things just come into your head so you can narrow the vortex and make it a bit smaller and you go with something because there’s no time. – Geoffrey Zakarian • I always have a good quality extra virgin olive oil. A cheap quality oil will end up cheapening your dishes. And I love sweetening my dishes with maple syrup. It has a bit of a bitter kick at the end that works wonderfully in savory dishes. – Nadia Giosia • I am passionate about tea, running, the idea that we are bound only by the limits of our imaginations, and maple syrup. – Misha Collins • I ate breakfast in the kitchen by candle-light, and then drove the five miles to the station through the most glorious October colouring. The sun came up on the way, and the swamp maples and dogwood glowed crimson and orange and the stone walls and cornfields sparkled with hoar frost; the air was keen and clear and full of promise. I knew something was going to happen. – Jean Webster • I drink maple syrup. Then I’m hyper so I just run around like crazy and work it all off. – Rachel McAdams • I grew up trying to play for the Toronto Maple Leafs, not Team Canada. Didn’t even know it existed. – Adam Oates • I happen to know everything there is to know about maple syrup! I love maple syrup. I love maple syrup on pancakes. I love it on pizza. And I take maple syrup and put a little bit in my hair when I’ve had a rough week. What do you think holds it up, slick? – Vince Vaughn • I have a maple leaf tattoo over my heart, quite literally, and my two favorite things on Earth are being in Canada and making movies. – Jay Baruchel • I like Toronto a lot, it’s a good city. The only thing that really annoys me about Toronto is that you’re turning Maple Leaf Gardens into a grocery store, which is absolutely nothing short of disgusting. – Rick Wakeman • I remember it as October days are always remembered, cloudless, maple-flavored, the air gold and so clean it quivers. – Leif Enger • I sit where the leaves of the maple and the gnarled and knotted gum are circling and drifting around me. – Alice Cary • I think maybe, if I could be a Canadian super hero, I’d have some kind of freezing power and some sort of maple syrup weapon. Could be a little sticky. – Nathan Fillion • I thought of my mother as Queen Christina, cool and sad, eyes trained on some distant horizon. That was where she belonged, in furs and palaces of rare treasures, fireplaces large enough to roast a reindeer, ships of Swedish maple. – Janet Fitch • I used to go to Maple Leafs games all the time when Nic shot To Die For here in Toronto. This is a great city. I love it here. – Tom Cruise • I was cutting and threading pipe in the tunnels to get water into the shower rooms for athletics. I was repairing old metal windows, fixing cement walls where rain was coming through, and drying out the maple gym floors in hopes of removing the warping. – Tom Baker • I was just getting acquainted with the wood. I wanted to see if it was maple or pine. – Kurt Rambis • If it’s not 100 per cent pure maple syrup, it can’t be called ‘pure maple syrup. – Nancy Greene • If you’ve only got one day to live, come see the Toronto Maple Leafs. It’ll seem like forever. – Pat LaFontaine • I’m not from a maple producing area and so my maple syrup credentials are very much of the eating side. – Nancy Greene • I’m very proud to be wearing the “C” for the Maple Leafs. It puts a smile on my face everyday – Mats Sundin • In New York and New England the sap starts up in the sugar maple the very day the bluebird arrives, and sugar-making begins forthwith. The bird is generally a mere disembodied voice; a rumor in the air for two or three days before it takes visible shape before you. – John Burroughs • In spring when maple buds are red, We turn the clock an hour ahead; Which means, each April that arrives, We lose an hour out of our lives.
Who cares? When autumn birds in flocks Fly southward, back we turn the clocks, And so regain a lovely thing That missing hour we lost in spring. – Phyllis McGinley • In the long dusks of summer we walked the suburban streets through scents of maple and cut grass, waiting for something to happen. – Steven Millhauser • It is a poor observance of our first century as a nation if we run up a flag of surrender with three dying maple leaves on it. – Charlotte Whitton • It is a vast wilderness of rocks in a sea of light, colored and glowing like oak and maple in autumn, when the sun gold is richest – John Muir • Leaf fans loyalty is unshakeable. The fans keep coming back and it hurts, I have been there. I have lost in game six to go to the finals with the Maple Leafs, against Carolina and what a great final that would have been. – Curtis Joseph • Lyric night of the lingering Indian Summer, Shadowy fields that are scentless but full of singing, Never a bird, but the passionless chant of insects, Ceaseless, insistent. The grasshopper’s horn, and far-off, high in the maples, The wheel of a locust leisurely grinding the silence Under a moon waning and worn, broken, Tired with summer. – Sara Teasdale • Many of the artifacts of my house had become potential devices for my own destruction: the attic rafters (and an outside maple or two) a means to hang myself, the garage a place to inhale carbon monoxide, the bathtub a vessel to receive the flow from my opened arteries. The kitchen knives in their drawers had but one purpose for me. – William Styron • Maples are such sociable trees … They’re always rustling and whispering to you. – Lucy Maud Montgomery • Maple-trees are the cows of trees (spring-milked). – Henry Ward Beecher • Much can they praise the trees so straight and high, The sailing pine,the cedar proud and tall, The vine-prop elm, the poplar never dry, The builder oak, sole king of forests all, The aspin good for staves, the cypress funeral, The laurel, meed of mighty conquerors And poets sage, the fir that weepest still, The yew obedient to the bender’s will, The birch for shafts, the sallow for the mill, The myrrh sweet-bleeding in the bitter wound, The warlike beech, the ash for nothing ill, The fruitful olive, and the platane round, The carver holm, the maple seldom inward sound. – Edmund Spenser • My end goal in the piano is to play Scott Joplin’s ‘Maple Leaf Rag. – Miranda Leek • My first semester I had only nine students. Hoping they might view me as professional and well prepared, I arrived bearing name tags fashioned in the shape of maple leaves. – David Sedaris • My love of maple syrup. I’ve been known to knock back a can over a couple days: A swig here, a swig there, and next thing you know it’s gone. It’s a habit I have to stave off. I don’t want to lose all my teeth. – Rufus Wainwright • My uncle, Mr. Stephen Maple, had been at the same time the most successful and the least respectable of our family, so that we hardly knew whether to take credit for his wealth or to feel ashamed of his position. – Arthur Conan Doyle • No clouds are in the morning sky, The vapors hug the stream, Who says that life and love can die In all this northern gleam? At every turn the maples burn, The quail is whistling free, The partridge whirs, and the frosted burs Are dropping for you and me. Ho! hillyho! heigh O! Hillyho! In the clear October morning. – Edmund Clarence Stedman • October turned my maple’s leaves to gold; The most are gone now; here and there one lingers: Soon these will slip from the twigs’ weak hold, Like coins between a dying miser’s fingers. – Thomas Bailey Aldrich • Oh! to be a child again. My only treasures, bits of shell and stone and glass. To love nothing but maple sugar. To fear nothing but a big dog. To go to sleep without dreading the morrow. To wake up with a shout. Not to have seen a dead face. Not to dread a living one. To be able to believe. – Fanny Fern • One day the ‘Maple Leaf’ will make me King of Ragtime Composers. – Scott Joplin • Our lives are like islands in the sea, or like trees in the forest. The maple and the pine may whisper to each other with their leaves … But the trees also commingle their roots in the darkness underground, and the islands also hang together through the ocean’s bottom. – William James • Spring has many American faces. There are cities where it will come and go in a day and counties where it hangs around and never quite gets there. Summer is drawn blinds in Louisiana, long winds in Wyoming, shade of elms and maples in New England. – Archibald MacLeish • That`s a maple leaf, Canadian, not just for being too European but too Canadian. Not so subtly putting [Ted] Cruz`s face inside that maple leaf there. – Chris Hayes • The approach to that movie wasn’t, ‘Lets make this movie about Amsterdam and maple syrup.’ The concept was, ‘Lets go to Amsterdam. Amsterdam is fun.’ So we flew to Amsterdam with our cameras and we saw what happened and then we got back and we sat down and we said, ‘What’s the movie here.’ That’s when we realized that the movie was ‘The Maple Syrup Saga’. – Casey Neistat • The ash her purple drops forgivingly And sadly, breaking not the general hush; The maple swamps glow like a sunset sea, Each leaf a ripple with its separate flush; All round the wood’s edge creeps the skirting blaze, Ere the rain falls, the cautious farmer burns his brush. – James Russell Lowell • The food that’s never let me down in life is porridge, especially with milk and maple syrup, which is delicious. Paris isn’t a porridge place, but I can buy it in London when I’m there and bring it back with me. – Marianne Faithfull • The gaps are the thing. The gaps are the spirit’s one home, the altitudes and latitudes so dazzlingly spare and clean that the spirit can discover itself like a once-blind man unbound. The gaps are the clefts in the rock where you cower to see the back parts of God; they are fissures between mountains and cells the wind lances through, the icy narrowing fiords splitting the cliffs of mystery. Go up into the gaps. If you can find them; they shift and vanish too. Stalk the gaps. Squeak into a gap in the soil, turn, and unlock-more than a maple-universe. – Annie Dillard • The morns are meeker than they were, The nuts are getting brown; The berry’s cheek is plumper, The rose is out of town. The maple wears a gayer scarf, The field a scarlet gown. Lest I should be old-fashioned, I’ll put a trinket on. – Emily Dickinson • The rinsed foam swirled into one drain that always clogged come October when the maples dropped Canadian propaganda over everything. – Daniel Handler • The scarlet of the maples can shake me like a cry Of bugles going by. And my lonely spirit thrills To see the frosty asters like a smoke upon the hills. – Bliss Carman • The spirit of the year, like bacchant crowned, With lighted torch goes careless on his way; And soon bursts into flame the maple’s spray, And vines are running fire along the ground. – Edith M. Thomas • The stripped and shapely Maple grieves The ghosts of her Departed leaves. The ground is hard, As hard as stone. The year is old, The birds are flown. – John Updike • The sugar maple is remarkable for its clean ankle. The groves of these trees looked like vast forest sheds, their branches stopping short at a uniform height, four or five feet from the ground, like eaves, as if they had been trimmed by art, so that you could look under and through the whole grove with its leafy canopy, as under a tent whose curtain is raised. – Henry David Thoreau • The summer ends and we wonder who we are And there you go, my friends, with your boxes in your car And today I passed the high school, the river, the maple tree I passed the farms that made it Through the last days of the century And I knew that I was going to learn again Again, in this less hazy light I saw the fields beyond the fields The fields beyond the field – Dar Williams • The very uprightness of the pines and maples asserts the ancient rectitude and vigor of nature. Our lives need the relief of such a background, where the pine flourishes and the jay still screams. – Henry David Thoreau • The wilderness is near as well as dear to every man. Even the oldest villages are indebted to the border of wild wood which surrounds them, more than to the gardens of men. There is something indescribably inspiriting and beautiful in the aspect of the forest skirting and occasionally jutting into the midst of new towns, which, like the sand-heaps of fresh fox-burrows, have sprung up in their midst. The very uprightness of the pines and maples asserts the ancient rectitude and vigor of nature. Our lives need the relief of such a background, where the pine flourishes and the jay still screams. – Henry David Thoreau • The woman is not just a pleasure, nor even a problem. She is a meniscus that allows the absolute to have a shape, that lets him skate however briefly on the mystery, her presence luminous on the ordinary and the grand. Like the odor at night in Pittsburgh’s empty streets after summer rain on maples and sycamore. – Jack Gilbert • The world of life, of spontaneity, the world of dawn and sunset and starlight, the world of soil and sunshine, of meadow and woodland, of hickory and oak and maple and hemlock and pineland forests, of wildlife dwelling around us, of the river and its wellbeing–all of this [is] the integral community in which we live. – Thomas Berry • There is a beautiful spirit breathing now Its mellowed richness on the clustered trees, And, from a beaker full of richest dyes, Pouring new glory on the autumn woods, And dipping in warm light the pillared clouds. Morn on the mountain, like a summer bird, Lifts up her purple wing, and in the vales The gentle wind, a sweet and passionate wooer, Kisses the blushing leaf, and stirs up life Within the solemn woods of ash deep-crimsoned, And silver beech, and maple yellow-leaved, Where Autumn, like a faint old man, sits down By the wayside a-weary. – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow • There were so many miracles at work: that a blossom might become a peach, that a bee could make honey in its thorax, that rain might someday fall. I thought then about the seasons changing, and in the gray of night I could almost will myself to see the azure sky, the gold of the maple leaves, the crimson of the ripe apples, the hoarfrost on the grass. – Jane Hamilton • There’s nothing people like better than being asked an easy question. For some reason, we’re flattered when a stranger asks us where Maple Street is in our hometown and we can tell him. – Andy Rooney • This fastest of all games [hockey] has become almost as much of a national svmbol as the maple leaf. – Lester B. Pearson • This hill crossed with broken pines and maples lumpy with the burial mounds of uprooted hemlocks (hurricane of ’38) out of their rotting hearts generations rise trying once more to become the forest just beyond them tall enough to be called trees in their youth like aspen a bouquet of young beech is gathered they still wear last summer’s leaves the lightest brown almost translucent how their stubbornness has decorated the winter woods. – Grace Paley • To her bier Comes the year Not with weeping and distress, as mortals do, But, to guide her way to it, All the trees have torches lit; Blazing red the maples shine the woodlands through. – Lucy Larcom • We don’t want you convicted for condiment theft. You go to that prison, you’ll meet big-time operators. Maple syrup stealers. – Deb Caletti • We must keep these waters for wild rice, these trees for maple syrup, our lakes for fish, and our land and aquifers for all of our relatives – whether they have fins, roots, wings, or paws. – Winona LaDuke • We would much prefer to see ownership in the hands of the Maple Group, if only because we would much rather see Canadian ownership of our stock exchange. What we are first of all interested in is making sure that Montreal is able to preserve that niche or expertise. – Jean Charest • When April winds Grew soft, the maple burst into a flush Of scarlet flowers. The tulip tree, high up, Opened in airs of June her multitude Of golden chalices to humming-birds And silken-wing’d insects of the sky. – William C. Bryant • When you were a kid, if you went to the Montreal Forum or a hockey game at Maple Leaf Gardens, which I did, there was a great feeling. The new stadiums don’t have it. Why don’t they have it? Building codes. – Frank Gehry • With the fans and the Toronto Maple Leafs organization, the way I’ve been treated here has been awesome. – Mats Sundin • Writing an informative yet compact thriller is a lot like making maple sugar candy. You have to tap hundreds of trees – boil vats and vats of raw sap – evaporate the water – and keep boiling until you’ve distilled a tiny nugget that encapsulates the essence. – Dan Brown • You cannot imprison me!” He bellowed. “I am Hyperion! I am-” The bark closed over his face. Grover took his pipes from his mouth. “You are a very nice maple tree. – Rick Riordan
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Wide Ride: A Custom 1967 Widebody Mustang Fastback
To paraphrase an old saying, Mustang ownership is paved with good intentions. We’ve seen countless Mustangs sitting and languishing over the decades. From the famous “son that never came home from Vietnam” story to the more common “it’s not for sale and I’m going to restore it someday”—we’ve heard them all. More often than not the stories have merit and the owners mean well, but time doesn’t stand still or wait for anyone and before you know it the Mustang is so far gone it’s practically not worth saving.
Richard Flores of San Antonio, Texas, can certainly relate. He’s the person responsible for taking action on the Flores family fastback you see here. Richard’s father purchased the car in 1969 from the original owner and it has been in the Flores family ever since. His father used the fastback as a daily driver to get to and from trade school, since the family sedan saw duty as his wife’s daily driver to her job. Like most of these stories go, the car broke down sometime in 1976 or 1977 and it was parked. First it sat curbside in front of the Flores home in San Antonio. Later it would be pushed into the front yard adjacent the driveway, and finally it was moved into the Flores’ one-car garage, away from prying eyes.
It’s a love it or hate it proposition for many Mustang enthusiasts when it comes to a classic Mustang with a modern-looking body-color engine bay. We are big fans of the look for Pro Touring/G-machine builds like this.
During the years it sat at the curb (and even in the front yard), countless well-intentioned enthusiasts rang the doorbell or left notes on the fastback with questions of selling. “I give a lot of credit to my father (and mother), despite the occasional shortfalls financially, for never selling the car. Even after Gone in 60 Seconds with the increase in interested buyers, not once did they waiver. I was away in Austin for college, and whenever we would talk on the phone they would tell me how many serious offers they had received,” Richard remembers. Of course the father and son team meant well and tried to get it running a few times, with the last big effort in 1982. “We zeroed in on the problem and found the voltage regulator to be bad. For whatever reason, we never bought a new one, and the effort to breathe new life into the fastback never materialized.”
The reason many of these languishing Mustangs finally see the light of day are, of course, the memories. For Richard it was the memories he held close of “driving” the fastback at the age of seven. Sitting in the passenger seat, left hand on the four-speed, and rowing to the next gear when his dad said “now” as he pushed in the clutch. Other memories include Richard sitting on his father’s lap and steering the fastback down the road while his dad handled the pedal work and the shifter. Of course, not all the memories were good; one in particular still amazes Richard to this day. “I remember the Mustang dropping the driveshaft from the rear diff on a highway off ramp. Didn’t know it then, but now I realize how lucky dad and I were that it didn’t fall from the other end! I guess that’s why I had a driveshaft loop installed during the build process.”
It’s a love it or hate it proposition for many Mustang enthusiasts when it comes to a classic Mustang with a modern-looking body-color engine bay. We are big fans of the look for Pro Touring/G-machine builds like this.
Also like most restorations, as things moved along the scope of the project grew. Richard brought the fastback to Muscle Rod Shop, owned by Steve Enochs, also in San Antonio. The project started as a basic restoration of Richard’s dad’s ’67 fastback with the usual rust repair bits like floors, battery apron, and so on, and the fastback was just about ready for paint when Steve put an interesting idea in front of Richard—turning the fastback into a widebody build! “We did drawings and mockups and it was readily apparent that the new widebody idea was fantastic. The car was cut apart and the modifications were made. This process included widening not just the quarters but the entire length of the body. On Richard’s car, the grille and headlight area is stock width, but each fender begins to flare out immediately behind each headlight. From there clear to the tailpanel each side of the body was split and widened, culminating in a total of six inches added at the tailpanel. The roof is stock, but the fenders, doors, quarters, and tailpanel are significantly wider,” Steve explained of the process to get the look you see here.
Muscle Rod Shop also raised the wheel arches up into the body line. This gives a “slammed” look without ruining the ride quality. On this fastback build the rears were raised five inches. Add in the dropped rockers and channeled suspension for that “in the weeds” look without resorting to short suspension rates or air suspension. Additional custom metal work performed by Steve’s brother Brandon includes handmade steel front and rear valances and a custom hood. Once the all metal mods were finished the body was expertly prepped by Muscle Rod Shop’s Lorenzo Perez, and then finished off in House of Kolor Cinnamon Pearl base/clear by Muscle Rod Shop’s painter Jaime Ramos. “427R call-outs on the white side stripe with the subtle Longhorn graphic add personal touches. The color of the car was selected due to its similarity to UT Orange,” Steve says.
Keeping the interior looking stock, but with a gentle tweak, continues to the seats themselves. They’re the stock frames, bolstered by TMI’s sport foam and upholstery kit for a more comfortable ride.
Richard’s fastback was one unreal looking monster at this point, but of course it needed all the right boxes checked to turn it into a true masterpiece. To that end calls were made to some of the best drivetrain and suspension/brake/wheel companies out there. First call went to Roush for one of its famous 427R small-block crate engines, which is backed by a Tremec T-56 six-speed that is mated to the Roush mill via a Quicktime bellhousing that hides a McLeod clutch. A fully built Fab 9 9-inch housing with a helical geared posi unit wrapped in 3.89 gears is found out back. FPA headers and MagnaFlow pipes/mufflers snake through all of this to exit the fumes at the rear. The entire drivetrain was put in the capable hands of Jeff Enochs at Muscle Rod Shop.
Suspension-wise the fastback wears the full TCP catalog, including its front tubular coilover setup with rack-and-pinion conversion, while out back TCP’s famous G-Bar triangulated four-link with coilovers keeps the rear ably following wherever the front is steered. At all four corners you’ll find Baer brakes (14-inch slotted/drilled rotors with six-piston calipers boosted by a Hydratech hydraulic-assist unit) covered with Boze Lateral G hoops wrapped in Nitto Invo rubber—P245/40R18 fronts and P315/35R20 rears.
It might be a little deceiving, but if you had the chance to park this fastback next to a stock one the body modifications would be readily apparent, especially the raised wheel arches. That said, note the use of stock chrome bits (bumpers are tucked and tight-fit, but still chrome) and not an overabundance of billet widgets and exotic-looking race bits. Just a classic Mustang fastback with an attitude.
After his mom passed away from cancer in 1996 and his dad was getting on into retirement, Richard attempted to have the fastback restored by his dad’s 67th birthday; however, it would be another ten years, for his dad’s 77th birthday, before the fastback was finally done. The build itself took Muscle Rod Shop two years to complete and was ready to go home in 2015. “We are blessed to have dad still with us despite developing dementia before the reveal date in August of 2015. Dad was now living with us when Steve (Enochs) and I brought the car home. We parked the car in the driveway on the other side of a closed garage door. To ‘reveal’ the car to dad, we activated the garage door opener, and as the door slowly opened and dad saw the car he emphatically said, ‘Wow! That’s a ’67 fastback!’ Holding back the tears, I replied, ‘Dad, that’s YOUR ’67 fastback,’” Richard stated.
Since that reveal in 2015 Richard has put about 1,100 miles on it hitting cruises and shows, but his best time behind the wheel these days is when he takes his dad for a drive in it. “When we’re driving around, I can see in his eyes as distant memories come to the forefront of his mind. He doesn’t say much, but I can only imagine what he’s thinking. I find myself saying nothing to him so as not to disturb his moment of reminiscing. As his dementia progresses, I often wonder if there will come a time when he will forget who I am, or my wife, or his grandson. But I think with complete certainty that dad will always remember his 1967 Mustang fastback. And to honor him, I had the custom license plates on HIS car read, ‘DADS67.’”
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End of Plowed Road: Winter camping for the New Year!
Perhaps one of the most frustrating things about winter, outside of those dreadful family get-togethers with the side of the family you’ve spent the last 12 months avoiding, is cabin fever. There’s nothing on Netflix funny enough and no channel on YouTube catchy enough to feed that desire of exploration that often just sits and grows when the daytimes shorten and the temperatures fall. If you’re like me, you take a bunch of awful tasting Vitamin D gummies in the morning, but still find that even One-A-Day vitamins have a serving size of two if you look at the back of the bottle. Although it’s only been a few months since our last expedition, our tolerance for the rude people of Ann Arbor has reached it’s breaking point. It’s wonderful that many dress their leased Ford Escape up like Rudolph, but at least reindeer have the fucking decency to park on the roof, rather than in the middle of an entrance to a parking lot like these assholes. Wait, maybe I’m the rude one? Regardless, it was time to escape mindless-consumer-copia, to a part of the world that haven’t been told cars are driving themselves nowadays. Michigan’s beautiful upper-peninsula.
The ride up, all 4300 pounds of truck, drove against some intense winds on US-23 that began in Brighton, and lasted even after we crossed the Mackinac Bridge in St. Ignace. The fuel mileage on this truck is already bad. Like less than 15mpg bad, but taking 15mpg and pointing it against 30mph winds for 4 hours, well, I had friends in college that wouldn’t even drink that much.
On the way up, we saw an amazing rig at a gas station fueling up. Picture a lifted Ford E-Van, with some minor exo-skeleton welded around it, an empty roof-rack, a rear spare-tire carrier, ARB-like bumper armor, and a huge tool box in the back. The license plates said Washington, but the rig looked like it was ready to go across the world. We didn’t have a chance to stop the owners for a chat, or take photos, but with a rig like that you could easily live out of it and call the whole world your backyard (ignoring vast portions of ocean of course)!
Another good sign of things to come were the number of trucks hauling snowmobile trailers. Although there are plenty of trails in the lower mitten, the real fun happens in the UP, where portions of the state become accessible to snowmobiles only.
Our plan from the start left us with 3 options for a place to stay once we reached St. Ignace (4.25 hours north of Ann Arbor): Mackinac Straits State Park St. Ignace (just over the Mackinac Bridge) DNR said this was open all year. Bathrooms/Showers?
Little Brevort Lake State Campground Charming town of Brevort DNR said maybe you could get in, even though it’s closed We hate campgrounds
Garnet Lake State Forest Naubinway (an hour west of St. Ignace) Nobody answered when we called for information What happened to the survivors at the summit?
Alternatively, because we are sleeping inside the truck after-all, we just find a spot and claim it as ours.
When we arrived in St. Ignace, we found that the Straits State Park was closed. Little Brevort, for as thrilling as it sounded, might be closed as well, and Garnet Lake was too far away. So we drove around, using our HemaMaps app to look for trails and roads that led to the coast. Sure enough, we found a spot near the Kewadin Casino, that was right on the coast of Lake Huron! It was down a dirt trail that nobody had been on in the last few snows so it appeared, and eventually turned into some deep frozen tracks that we’d need to safely maneuver to get to the point.
Finding the spot isn’t even half the battle though. When the temperatures are at 20 degrees, and the windchill is strong enough to cut even that in half, there’s still a lot of work to do. This was the first time, Maia and I, had ever camped during the winter. Sure, as kids we can each remember staying out in our snowforts well after the sun had set, but this time nobody would have a hot bowl of soup ready for us when we were done playing.
The most important and initial step in this one-night escape would be beer and dinner, in that order. Usually we’d cook, but we had an unshakable taste for pizza. On our way out of B.C’s Pizza in downtown St. Ignace, we asked the delivery driver with the lifted Jeep Grand Cherokee, where we could find firewood. Due to the danger of emerald ash borers, an invasive ash-tree murdering beetle, it’s illegal to transport wood from the lower peninsula, into the upper peninsula, but luckily there was a “guy.”
Jim, who’s retired, but sells firewood on the road just before you reach the Quality 8 Hotel, has a red and white spaniel with a nub for a tail. It’s a delightful dog, and will even open the door of Jim’s mobile home to say hello to you if you’re in need of lumber, before Jim is even aware you’re at his home. I had interrupted his night of women’s basketball, a sport he repeatedly told me he enjoys watching. That’s great Jim, but why? Why does this sport fascinate you to the point you’re explaining to me who’s playing who while standing in freezing cold temperatures in your pajama pants as your spaniel also has it’s own fascination with sniffing crotches and poking butts? Jim finally admitted that he likes women’s basketball because it’s slower and easier to watch; part of me feels like he may have come to this conclusion because he doesn’t pause men’s basketball when it’s on television.
Nevertheless Jim was a huge help in finding cedar, that would light quick, and burn hot for us while we setup the truck. Maia was set on bringing a thousand blankets and sleeping bags. I argued before we left, it would be a waste of space to carry that much, and the camp-detector-test determined, I was wrong.
When you winter camp, everything you attempt takes a few extra steps. Unlike previous camps, we couldn’t just throw things on top of the truck overnight, or else they would freeze or blow away. Running around barefoot, was also an obvious, but big, no-no. Peeing; the second night I had to pee so bad, but the temperatures were so cold, I just said fuck this I can wait. I later regretted waiting when I had to bend my body to put pants and shoes on, with a painfully-full bladder.
As Maia built the fire with wood potentially sponsored by the WNBA, I began building the bed. We would end up sleeping in the truck for two nights this weekend, experimenting with bed setups both times. This night though, we had our usually foam padding across the platform, a comforter above those, each of us sleeping in one sleeping-bag inside another sleeping bag, with a comforter on top of that. The rear passenger windows, would have a blanket hanging against them on each side to help knock some of the cool air down. The seats up front, a thick comforter laying across it hung from the ceiling to create a small fort/room in the back to keep us warmer.
It would drop to 10 degrees with the windchill where we were parked, and although all the blankets and bags keep body warms, if you don’t fall asleep before the temp in the truck drops, the cold air creeps into the cabin in a suspicious way, like a warm fart works its way around a dining room table when the in-laws are over. It takes its time, its in no rush to escape. Everything exposed, your face, your hands, and each breath of cold air you take burns your lungs a little. It’s pretty awesome. I don’t know how people do this in tents (no I’m not going to use a pun here, but I’m aware I could).
Having a fire while you setup is an amazing mood-booster, even if it’s too cold to enjoy like you normally would in the summer. The heat coming from that flame, is so important, and you’re using it for more than just entertainment or a place to melt marshmallows. We had enough wood to burn a fire before bed, and again in the morning as we got ready to head out. For breakfast, we had a dehydrated bag of Biscuits and Gravy with a hot chocolate. With 2,000mg of sodium, it would leave us thirsty for the rest of the day. But it was delicious!
On our way out, as soon as we started to head west of St. Ignace, the snow flurries began. The lower parts of the UP didn’t have too much snow on the ground, but as we navigated further north on country roads, the the snow on started to pile up!
Many of the country roads up there, like many of the ORV routes, become snowmobile only. Not because of laws, but because of conditions. Narrow unplowed roads that still curve and dash between tall pines and cedars can become pretty tough to navigate through without getting stuck. And some of the trails, we learned, would become too narrow to even turn around in once you do go too far down the unbeaten path. But how will you ever really know how far your rig can make it if you don’t try it? Try it!
We attempted to reach the coast of Lake Superior, at the mouth of the Two Hearted River where we planned to crack open a few ice-cold Bell’s Two-Hearted Ales, and call it a night. The further north we went, the worse it became. In fact the only other traffic we ran into were folks on snowmobiles. Without even a lifed Jeep in sight, we kept going, but only made it a few hundred feet passed an enormous sign that read END OF PLOWED ROAD. They weren’t kidding. With the last little bit of light left in the day hitting the snow in a way that made it seem as though you were driving through a friendly cloud, when the trail went from road, to all snowmobile trail, I could feel the traction from the gas pedal lose grip on the land below, as we the Xterra began to dig its own grave.
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Once we became slightly stuck, I took upon myself to set the truck into 4LO, and dig us even further down, in a sort of fighting fire with fire sort of way. The snow had gone above the lower control arms, and at that point there’s not much you can do but dig yourself out. We did, thanks to our handy full-size shovel, it wasn’t too much work, but once freed from that tragedy, I somehow managed to back us further off the trail, and down into the ditch, where the truck would sit for roughly an hour, with all four wheels spinning.
Luckily for us, some snowmobilers we had passed earlier returned to help push us out of the ditch! We turned around, and went back to the Lower Tahquamenon Falls for the night! This is a campground that’s open all-year round, and even has electricity hookups. We were one of three people staying there for the night, and the only ones without an RV or snowmobile. For food, we just heated canned soup. It’s easy to pack, cheap, and doesn’t require much clean up. For drinks, the Two-hearted Ale we wanted to enjoy at the Two-hearted River went quick.
Sleeping in the truck that net wasn’t as cold as the previous night. For this sleep, we unzipped both sleeping bags, and spread them flat across both our bodies. With this technique, we’d have shared body heat, and even if the tips of the blanket did become cold, the extra pair of legs was helpful in keeping those spots far and few between.
In the morning the truck was covered in a thick blanket of snow, and we used our last few logs of firewood for breakfast, and heat, while we packed the truck. Soon we’d be ready to backtrack a few miles to the Lower Tahquamenon Falls, that still had a surprising number of people visiting it, especially since most weren’t traveling via snowmobile.
Once in Marquette we checked into a hotel because we needed a shower big-time. Can you smell that smell? It was us. You know you’ve gone far too long without touching the ivory cellphone when you can smell your armpits without lifting your arms, and they smell a lot like wet feet. More beer was also inorder.
It’s here we would celebrate the new year! Marquette, MI has a cute ball-drop downtown, where they play music from what I assume is a Now Thats What I Call Music 13 compact disc. It’s all in fun, especially when you’ve been drinking.
InAnXterra is a blog about two people in Michigan with a Nissan Xterra from Craigslist as they journey to the Dakotas!
#camping#winter#snow#michigan#outdoors#overland#adventure#lake huron#lake michigan#lake superior#marquette#4x4#nissan#xterra#fire#camp#diy#exploration#trails#offthegrid#trips#trip#orv#st. ignace#brevort#falls#tahquamenonfalls#newyears#new year#2016
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