One year ago today: April 3, 2016, $15 per hour, huh?
Five years ago today: April 3, 2012, I eventually got the Fishman.
Nine years ago today: April 3, 2008, “Motzart.”
Random years ago today: April 3, 2015, portrait of a dumb bastard.
It was all small stuff today so that’s what you get. This is a branding iron which will soon be shiny and new. I don’t like it, the handle is too short. I know the cow is tied up, but I still ain’t getting that close to a critter I’m about to zap. There’s a very fine line between being kicked in the head a few times and being a cowboy in the first place. I’ve always considered it fortunate our farm was the worst one in the territory so we had no livestock. The meeting this morning was over pricing. Apparently there is a guidebook most people trust as to the value of all these farm antiques.
The libraries around here are duds when it comes to books or research on gold dredging and gold operations in general. This could be good or bad, but I’m used to Colorado where every other guy on the street has done some field work early in his career. You don’t want to know what Florida has substituted for work experience among the young. Anyway, I can’t do research if the material isn’t there. Also, I could not find any mining supply stores in the district. But I will.
We further conferred about the sluice and we are in agreement as to building a cheap model and seeing what works. The average size is around 8 feet long by 17” wide and deep enough to let the water slosh down the trough. I presented pictures of the 49ers using wooden baffles. I had no gumption, so I watched a number of videos on locating good river spots. I learned nothing new, the gold will be where the creek slows down or where it erodes a riverbank. The jury is still out on the thermoplastic impeller. (If I sometimes spell it impellor, so did my old science teacher many a year ago, and I think it looks classier.)
Another discovery was a batch of these rather nicely made pistol holsters in with some old cavalry harnesses. These are not hand made, the stitching is far too precise. They are nice and supple and are stamped as made in Canada. I’m guessing it is old issue as Canadians are not allowed to carry handguns and because of that almost always do exactly as they are told. For that matter, doing so is considered normal.
The black dirt that I placed in the front yard did not survive. I mixed it in with the sandy top layer and all was nice for a few weeks. But the wind during the day gradually rolled the blend away and stripped away the lighter manure flakes. I kept it reasonably watered but to no avail. It’s cheap enough that I could keep adding to it but the better approach is to find something that binds the soil together. And it’s not like I haven’t been searching for that a while.
Trivia. Why is a sunflower called a sunflower? It seems many people think it has to do with the flower being yellow and having rays. I thought everybody knew it was due to the way the flower twists around to follow the sun all day. You just have to watch really slow or view some time-lapse video.
Utah.
Remember to use BACK ARROW to return to blog.
Here’s a shot of a coal oil lamp in my bathroom. This has nothing to do with the stuff we are selling, this is the real deal. My bathroom light has some kind of bad connection and I’m in the process of re-wiring it into something useful. I’m installing a fan and moving the light switch to a more convenient spot. It’s the same story with that work, nothing has happened since I got back from Miami last week. I just can’t get started in the morning. Fine, this has happened before but the work always gets done.
The angle there has been the same since the 1980s. They think they are good enough that if they can trick you into investing the time and gas to show up for an audition, they will bowl you over with their fantastic licks and make you their humble servant. I hope you don’t think I’m kidding about that. Read the March 30 post for the results of my try-outs and add this fifth guy to the list, the one who though he could get me into a 5-pc. It’s too bad stupidity isn’t painful.
When I can get there first, I usually grab the last month’s Smithsonian magazine from the free rack. Alas, there is another publication that has been watered down due to the Internet. Circulation falls as their prices rise, so they compensate by altering their format. Their articles are still better written than most but they have gotten quite far away from their roots. They used to delve into the original and present entire researched articles on relevant but obscure issues. Now the articles have become longer and one-dimensional. The sort of reading that Millennials would read if they thought it left a good impression on strangers.
The Jan-Feb edition had a major article about a marching band. I kept reading it thinking I would learn something new, that there might be some insight or surprises. Nope, it’s just about the band and how much it costs to move the 240 people around. Ah, then the libtard theme came out. The band is how the university attracts black students. Smithsonian, I thought you were better than that. The same issue had that old sob story about the Japanese internees of WWII. Please, one race article per release is enough, guys. Actually, it is more than enough.
“This guy says to me, 'Knock knock', so
I told him you’ve got to be joking.”
The northeast corner of my yard, the place with the black soil, has become a mini-biosphere. The visitors have fairly established routines and make the circuits. I took the crooked top from the big tree cut down in the back yard and stood it in a clay pot. Hang on, I’ll get you a picture. There you go, through the window screen. This creates a small triangular area between the birdbath, the feeder, and this bare branches, each roughly twelve feet apart. The area is shady and open so no cats can prowl. The tree top was instantly popular with the cardinals.
I admit to getting zilch work done on the house in over a week. But the planning continues. I’ve got an idea of building some sturdy wooden props of 4x4, then removing the living room floor. This oak will also be salvaged, but it is not destined to replace where it came from. Then, from the inside of the house, I will be able to raise the floor enough to sledge hammer out that rotten sill plate, leveling the front of the building in the process. This makes the operation invisible from the street. Enough people have told me there is no advantage to getting city permits. Still, I don’t want to make any big waves. Not yet.
The one solid piece of information I have is that the city wants poured foundations. I don’t know how thick, but all the available material says four inches minimum, so why not do six? There is only 64 feet of footing required, and I can build the decks separately from the walls and roof. For clarity, I mean I would build the deck first and add the rest later. The city taxes are frivolous compared to what I was paying in rent a year ago.
ADDENDUM
For some reason, I got up at 4:00AM and tarpapered the bedroom east wall. It was like I got inspired. Either that, or the weather is still perfect at that time of night. It’s when you do a weather-sealed room like that when you notice the slight rotten-egg smell to tarpaper. At least I hope it was the tarpaper.
One more thing. Do blue jays play? If so, the blue jay in the yard loves that new dead tree top. It’s been there just a few days and he already seems to be keen on running up and down the branches and hopping back and forth. He is still silent, so the nest is nearby.
Last Laugh
Return Home
++++++++++++++++++++++++++
