Doggerel 4

There being no earth shaking news to inspire a new post, I've reached back into the archives and dusted off one my vintage doggerels.  This one, like the previously published Manure, is about the 'good' old days back on the Minnesota farm.

GOOD STUFF

 

When my siblings and I hear those words, it brings a smile because it has a unique meaning to us.  It definitely doesn’t mean ‘pot’ or high quality goods.

 

Dad just loved those auction sales.

Bought ‘good stuff’ in boxes and pails.

Rusted nuts and bolts and tools,

Old lopsided milking stools,

Ugly lamps, pictures, clothes;

Dented doorknobs and leaky hose.

 

Anything for sale was nifty,

If bought for less than a buck-fifty.

Of junk he never got enough,

Useless?  Worn out?  No!  Good stuff!

Good stuff we could not discard.

Garages full of it; cars in the yard.

 

Farm life wasn’t all that fun.

No time for hobbies except this one.

My packrat dad: gene or obsession?

Inspired perhaps by the Great Depression?

 

The good stuff finally went away.

All sold at auction in just one day.

It lives on still, in box and trunk.

One man’s treasure; another man’s junk.

 

Acorn falls not far from tree.

And yes, that can be said of me.

I’m driven to save at every till,

But my good stuff’s gone to Goodwill!

 

Mike Delaney

9-7-05

All rights reserved.

We got 'em

There's a saying here, "You've either got 'em or you're going to get 'em."  What are they referring to?  A) Wrinkles  B) Cooties  C) Redneck Neighbors  D) Tortilla Chips  E) None of the Above.  The correct answer is E).  Unless you've lived here and have heard the saying it's highly unlikely that you'd guess the right answer, which is - ta, da: subterranean termites.

A couple weeks back, Trish was cleaning up Ranger's dining area (he's well trained but apparently slept through the class on table manners) and said, "Oh, oh!"  'Oh, ohs' aren't good.  I've yet to hear any good news that started with the words 'oh, oh.'  This was no exception.  She discovered that termites had been merrily chomping away at the kitchen counter floor moldings, and in some places, had consumed everything except the paint.  The molding surfaces were lumpy and you could poke your finger right through the paint 'skin' along a 10' stretch.

S-mites are tiny, can gain access via cracks as small as 1/32".  Homes are built on concrete slabs here.  When the concrete slab cracks, as they all inevitably do, the little SOBs sound the trumpets, raise the flags and march right on in.  "Come on guys, let's eat!"  And eat they do.  I'm amazed that anything that tiny can cause so much damage. 

Yesterday, I removed all the damaged molding and vacuumed up the bugs and sawdust.  Then, I measured and cut the new moldings, a royal pain in the ass due to weird angles and bull nose corners.  The pest control guy's coming tomorrow and will apply termiticide to selected areas of the house perimeter and inject it into the kitchen counter wall. 

Here's some of the old molding.  Bottom piece is just a husk with a few slivers of wood. 

 

There's no such thing as a 100% sure fire/never fail approach to keeping these bugs out.  Not in the long term, anyway.  You need to have an annual pest inspection, which is free, thankfully.  That, followed by spot treatment as needed.  

The Game

I'm not the first to notice the similarity between life and poker.  Kenny Rogers' song, The Gambler, may be the most well known analogy.  I liken life to a game of 5-card draw.  You get 5 cards and you can exchange up to 3 for different cards in hopes of improving your hand.

In the game of life I define the 5 cards as intelligence, attractiveness, personality, health and environment.  It's a mixed bag of nature and nurture elements, some a mixture of both.  You can't choose the environment you were born into nor the health you were born with; those are 2 cards you can't exchange.  You can improve your appearance and, although many experts say personality is fully developed by age 7, I contend that it can be changed and improved as you grow and mature.  I also think intelligence can be enhanced, if not improved, with the right stimulus and education.

There's a lot of luck involved.  A scant few are dealt pat hands and fewer still, incredibly lousy ones.  Most of us get a mixed bag of keepers, losers and so-so's - and harbor high hopes of exchanging the marginals and losers for something better.  The cards themselves aren't the only factor, though.  How you play your hand has a good deal to do with the outcome.

The analogy was recently refreshed in my mind by a conversation with an old friend.  Verna's 33-year old son, Justin, was born with multiple health issues, has been struggling with them ever since and will have to continue that struggle throughout his life.  I commented to Dave (my old friend and Verna's husband) that Justin was dealt a lousy hand.  And that reminded me that I was dealt a pretty darn good one.

We who received the good ones should remain cognisant of the fact that it wasn't our doing.  We were lucky.  When we're feasting on turkey in a few weeks, let's be thankful for the good cards.  I'm thinking that family, in the form of genes and environment, deserves most of the credit. 

Errata

Errata is defined as corrigenda.  This is one of those times when you go to double check the meaning of a word only to find that the definition is more obscure than the word itself.  I've seen the term 'errata' several times in books and other written materials but have never seen 'corrigenda' until just now.  Here's an understandable definition of the 2 words: a list of errors in a specific piece of written material.  Both words are plural, the singular forms being erratum and corrigendum. 

Hmm, erratum and corrigendum - kind of catchy, good name for a pair of folks who play classical music duets.  "And now, it gives me great pleasure to present, for their first appearance in Carnegie Hall, the great classical artists, Eric Erratum and Constance Corrigendum!"  The house lights are dimmed, the curtain opens, the stage footlights and overhead floods come up very slowly, finally and fully illuminating the world famous duo.

Okay, I'm back.  Got carried away there.  There was an error in one of my posts, the one titled Grand Staircase.  In that post I said that there was no visitor center, which is incorrect: in fact, there are 4 visitor centers.  We had yet to come across one of the centers when I did the post, since there isn't one on the northern edge of the monument.

In another post, Bryce, I said that I didn't know how Paria View got its name.  I was curious, so did a little research, found that paria is a Paiute word meaning either 'water with elk' or 'water with mud'.  The next time I visit my favorite Paiute restaurant, I'll not be ordering the Paria Daily Special.  Too iffy.  I really like elk; mud pies not so much.

Now everything is clear, right?  It makes perfect sense.  I mean really, no one could possibly come up with a more appropriate name than watery elk/mud for a scenic overlook at Bryce NP.  Oh yeah.

 

National Park Service

The National Park Service is a bright spot in a coliseum of dim bulbs, an example of government at its best.  Although proud of my country, I've become less and less a fan of big brother over the years.  My participation in the Vietnam debacle didn't inspire warm fuzzy feelings towards the DC gang, for starters.  Since then, congress has gotten progressively more worthless, accomplishing squat, focusing on keeping their places at the trough, and when their mouths aren't stuffed full of pork, parroting the party line like platoons of brain dead zombies.  Were it within my power, I'd shit can the lot of them.

But, I'm quite delighted with the NPS.  Having visited over 100 NPS locations (there are about 400) gotta say that they get it right a lot more often than not.  With the exception of the occasional Nazi campground host, NPS employees are dedicated, knowledgeable and helpful - despite, I suspect, marginal monetary compensation.  NPS sites are popular with foreigners, also, especially Japanese and Germans.  At some NPS campgrounds foreigners outnumber natives, or at least it seems that way.*  I'm pleased that so many foreigners still find the USA worth touring but saddened that more of my countrymen apparently don't.

 

Brochures from some of the NPS sites I've visited.

I have 2 copies of some brochures and thought I'd removed all the duplicates before I took the picture but I see I missed a couple.  Want to play Where's Waldo?

 

There are 29 different NPS designations, about 20 more than needed.  Take rivers for example.  There are 7 designations for rivers: National River, National Recreational River, National River and Recreation Area, National Scenic River/Riverway, Scenic and Recreational River, Wild River, Wild and Scenic River. 

Then there's the historical battlefield designations.  There are National Battlefields, National Battlefield Sites and National Battlefield Parks - plus National Military Parks.  Also, some  historic battlefields are called National Monuments and a few more are named National Historical Sites.  It appears that all of these places are managed the same, regardless of designation.  According to Wikipedia, the various designations have little meaning in themselves and are simply a reflection of the whims of congress on any given day, nothing more, nothing less.  Let's hear it for congress and inconsistency!

*Japanese come in herds (tour groups); Germans come in Cruise America rental RVs.  I wasn't aware of the German/CA connection until Trish pointed it out a couple years ago.  Seems like 90% of the CA rigs are filled with Germans.  It's become a private joke with Trish and I.  We meet a CA rig on the road and one of us invariably says, "Germans."

Washout

On July 13th, LHC experienced a monsoon downpour that resulted in flash flooding and washed-out roads.  The event is being called a 50-year flood; 2.6" of rain fell in 4 hours.  There was one death: 3 men were in a vehicle that was washed away, 2 escaped, 1 did not.  If you're interested, there are several (very amateur) youtube videos of the flooding, google: lake havasu city flood july 2012.

Closer to home - at home, in fact - there's some flood-related damage.  Water pouring over the retaining wall behind the house created a sinkhole about 12' by 3' where the ground surface dropped 6".  No big deal that, just shovel in gravel from the bank above, and dig a trench to coax the next big runoff to head on down the hill rather than over the retaining wall.

A bigger deal is the driveway.  The flooding washed out lots of gravel along the outside edge, and undercut the concrete driveway itself up to 2' in some areas.  Repairing that is a job I'm not gonna mess with, have 3 concrete contractors working up bids on it; first bid is $750.

BTW, July 13th was a Friday.  Maybe it's an unlucky day and number after all.  Paraskevidekatriaphobics is the scientific name for folks who fear Friday the 13th.  It's a great word; practice pronouncing it so you can impress your friends and neighbors.  Since I don't suffer from this phobia and will never be able to use it on a scrabble board, I'm going to forget it as soon as I post this.  There's already too much useless trash in my cranial archives and my trash retriever isn't what it used to be.

Shrunk

Was there something in the water that caused the shrinkage?

 

This picture is left over from our summer travels, too cute to be left out of the blog.

It was taken at Union Creek Resort, near Crater Lake.