May 18, 2017

Yesteryear
One year ago today: May 18, 2016, should I buy this place?
Five years ago today: May 18, 2012, Haitian mining leases.
Nine years ago today: May 18, 2008, a generic post.
Random years ago today: May 18, 2006, nine flavors of coffee?

           A cool morning had me transplanting another 16 spike plants to form my new hedge. This photo shows the first of four layers going in along the barbed wire. The plant seems to grow to that height and stop. Then cut the slats for my new lawn bench, using the old pieces as a template. That marks the first “big” project undertaken inside the new work shed under the new roof. Finally, fifty years later what my parents kept saying came true. “You wait until you are out on your own and then you can have anything you want.”

           I must say, though, working inside with the proper tools makes all the difference to the amateur. This morning’s second photo shows the chair rails that I’m replacing. There’s a lot of lip service dished out by what appear to be failed shop teachers about how it’s the man, not the tools. Yeah, well I say different. If you can learn to use the right power tools right off, to hell with years of apprenticeship putting up with nonsense from old farts.

           Referring to my own experience with this, I’ll repeat it for any newcomers, which by the way, welcome all my new readers from Germany and Russia. Yes, I watch my stats. Back to my story, when I was a teen, I offered to work for cheap across town with this guy who had a machine shop, the deal was he would train me to use the power tools. He hands me the broom to sweep up. For two weeks I kept asking when I would start on the tools and kept handing me this manure that the basis of all carpentry was a clean shop. What little wood work he gave me was prying boards and sawing by hand, which really works up a sweat—the very thing I was looking to avoid.
           I stuck it out the two weeks for that paycheck, then told the old bastard he could get his mother to sweep the floor. You want a janitor, you hire a damn janitor. At the rate he was “teaching” it would be years before I got on the tool I wanted to learn, which was a wood-turning lathe. A piece of equipment I still do not own and it is well known at my age it takes longer to learn everything. Maybe forever.

           Now before you finish chuckling over my misfortune, here’s more of the issue. That was the job I wanted because I was approaching university age and was just beginning to suspect my parents had lied about paying for it. In any case, I knew that if I dated any girls, that money I would have to earn extra, my parents would never give you money just to have fun with. Well, if that carpenter had not lied to me, if he had shown me how to operate that lathe, he would have had an excellent workman on his team. And I could probably have put myself through university on schedule if I’d had that skill.
           What’s more, he stole the last valuable summer I could have learned such a trade, because that same two weeks later, junior high was out for the summer and all the easy jobs were gone. I had to take a skill-less job with the department of highways. Please, nobody defend the guy, that would only convince me you were stupid enough to have gone through that “apprenticeship” system and are too ashamed to admit what a dolt you were. I state for a fact that doing woodwork by hand is not needed to “properly” work a machine, they are completely independent skill-sets. The only common element is the wood, and that is easily learned whichever route you take. My shop is messy as hell, but safe and I’ll match my output to anybody who is a slow enough thinker to suppose apprenticeship is good.

Picture of the day.
Kalispell, Montana.
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           That’s Agt. R up the creek without a paddle. Somewhere upstream, the river has been blocked to check the spread of that pollution (finally), giving us a chance to prospect along the bare banks, as shown here. The downside is the water is barely moving, so we got sandbars but no gravel bars. This is just south of Wachaula, near Little Mexico, er, I mean, Zolfo Springs.

           Nope, neither of us know what we are looking for. What looks like gravel on the far bank is petrified coral, the substrate for most of Florida. It is from this point we plan to troll upstream, looking for any possible outcropping. Today we found nothing promising. Upstream is toward the back of the picture.

           We collected around three pounds of mixed material, mostly mussels both living and bird-eaten. The literature says to look for many colors of rocks, I found only black and dark grey. There are three batches drying in the yard now, getting ready for a pick-through tomorrow. Hey, at least we got this far and showing no signs of quitting. We were also near a boat landing, so the area has been well-trodden. The water still has a whiff to it.
           Scrounging through the Civil War scrap pile, we found several useful prospecting tools, including some we don’t know how to use. Here’s a screen that sifts particles smaller than 1/100th of an inch. What this is used for is beyond me, that’s like talcum powder. Even gold that small hardly has any value. It has a brand name, so I’ll ixquick it.

           A cursory examination says of the material gathered, less than a fifth is gravel. There appears to be petrified wood, coal chunks, crushed mussel shells, and fleck of a black material, at this point that’s our first confusionite. It was a great expedition, but to get your money’s worth, you need a boat and a way to get to any gravel bars that may exist. Don’t get fooled, what looks like gravel usually isn’t. Just tons of that coral limestone, and its poor quality limestone at that. Brittle, crumbly. Need’s work.
           I printed up another twelve pages on the finer aspects of rock polishing. Once again, don’t believe the sales pitch that it’s an easy hobby. It’s gronk hard work and from what I can tell, requires an excellent record-keeper to produce good product. You also need a supply of various grits and cushioning pellets. Few people have the inclination to start a project that takes eight weeks and is unlikely to pay off. I’ve got enough information to do a cost analysis. Is this even worth it? When you have to leave a rock tumbler running for 8 weeks, I suggest you learn how to calculate the cost of the electricity before you start.

           Read today’s addendum for more data on rock polishing and on our startup conditions (it is written out of order, so ignore repeat statements). For now, I have a report on the new guitarist that is highly complimentary. Not only did he show a willingness to learn and try something different, he did not denigrate my giving band performances a higher priority than musicianship. He wrote back the next day asking questions that only someone doing his homework would have. As a test, I asked him to send me some MP3s. He went the extra mile and got me the original tunes, not links or live versions I can’t use.
           Furthermore, he does things right without being asked or being told. Hence, progress is rapid and he’s got a good grasp on how to arrange the guitar parts that has him mildly enthused. He admitted this, adding when he first heard me play, he was terrified he’d gotten in over his head. But once I got past the theory, he found he actually had a lot of leeway on what sounded right, not previously having analysed the music with the same set of guidelines. Note by comparison, the New York guy was adamantly against any arranging. Like all fat-head guitarists, he wanted a free rein to play it any way he wanted and it was up to the rest of the band to provide backup.
           Next rehearsal is slated for Saturday, and that’s at the request of the other guy. That chap is doing his chores and you know, I don’t think he quite realizes what a gold-plated opportunity he’s getting learning all this stuff for free. If the Hippie or Billy-Bill had simply just given this a try, we would have taken Miami by storm fifteen years ago. There is no excuse for not even trying, but once a guitarist goes sour, I’ve never seen a turnaround.

Quote of the Day:
"Drill for oil? You mean drill into the ground to try and find oil? You're crazy."
Drake’s job applicants, 1859,
           It didn’t rain on my new shed roof. Good, I’m not finished nailing it down. The clouds were pretty ominous so I’m forgiven, at least by myself. Another downside to that roofing is that 2/3 of the work is prep. It’s a bit rough on a guy my age, so yes, once I quit at dusk, I zoned out for ten hours plus. Say, I promised you a unique picture, don’t let me forget. Here it is. Ever seen this before? Probably not. It is not a butcher block, although one guy redid his entire kitchen counters with this excellent wood. It’s solid laminate wood, but for what?

           I’ll give you a hint. It is considered a sport, though not by me. I’ve played it and actually saw this type of wood being installed when I was eight or nine. Give up? It is a chunk of old bowling alley lane. These blocks were sawn out of an old alley being demolished. The lumber is in excellent shape and still highly polished. Nope, it is not for sale. But isn’t that something? And where did you see it first?

           I bought some cookies because I don’t know how to make pecan shortbread. Looking at the package, it says “made with real pecans”. That’s “with”, not “from” or “of”. That got me thinking. As opposed to what? Fake pecans? Then a horrible thought crossed my mind. With all the artificial flavorings and genetic modifications going on, how do we know those people who alter the food haven’t changed peanuts? That’s right, does anyone know if they’ve cloned the pecan flavor and injected it into peanut DNA? Since I’m not that bright, how do we know they haven’t been doing that for years? Who would catch them if they did?
           Instant Internet? Not always, it took nearly an hour to download my tax forms this year. I was at the downtown library, so I watched some clips of America’s Got Talent. Yeah, in the vocalist department, it’s got talent up the ying-yang. It’s boring. I want to see other acts, not more singing. Every one of them is so over-fantastic, it’s become routine. The housewife who can sing is still a housewife ten years later, same pattern with the loading dock drop-out and the water boy. Dammit, people, move on to other acts. Unless they also look like and act like Taylor Swift, these countless hordes are wasting everybody’s time. The Internet put an end to the one-trick pony.
           Message to America’s Got Talent: I want to see the unusual. Not and endless stream of vocalists. They get enough coverage elsewhere so let them fund their own advertising. Taylor would agree with me. You know, she always insisted I call her “Tay”. At least she would have had we ever met.

ADDENDUM
           Here’s something you’ve likely not seen before. I’m studying the process of using the rock tumbler. This is the conclusion of step 1 of 4, where the rocks have spent a week inside the tumbler. They are covered with a grey “mud” from the grinding compound. This is not a hobby for the lazy, that is, throwing the rocks in the tumbler and waiting is not going to produce polished rocks. A small batch takes close to two months, and the progress has to be checked daily at some stages.

           There is also a time-consuming process of examination after each stage, which requires a trained eye. Some rocks must be returned for a previous stage, others must be discarded. I saw a video of a lady cutting rocks to remove “protrusions” which apparently don’t tumble well. I was surprised, she had a saw the easily cut the stones to shape.

           From what I’m reading, the desirable stones are the various agates that are tumbled to smooth ovals in up to eight weeks. Ha, do I even know anybody with that much patience? And is patience enough? What about a shed sixty feet back in the yard so the sound doesn’t bother anyone?
I learned a new term, “confusionite”. This is a collection of stones that serious polishers accumulate which are not identified. Sound logical. I have electrical components nobody can name. I don’t know a thing about identifying rocks, much less picking the ones that will tumble well. After reading the 17 pages of instructions, I also realize that none of the people who every talked to me about rock polishing, including my father, were bullshitting that they knew the process. You throw the rocks in a tumbler, they said. There’s a lot more to it than that, including the need to keep a written log. That’s the point when I knew the people were lying. Log? As in a systematic, disciplined record? That’ll be the day.

           Thusforth, even at this early stage, I would not recommend this hobby for most people, and I further doubt most people who buy a rock tumbler have any idea what they are getting into. For best results, you need two tumblers, the second being used exclusively for the final stage. Which often involves shavings of Ivory soap and those little plastic X pieces used for spacing tiles. The rocks you see for sale must be produced on a commercial scale with vibrating, not rotary tumblers. And even a small operation would plainly require banks of tumblers to produce a steady output over each 8 week stretch. I can imagine the racket.
           Nonetheless, I will attempt a trial run with the machine. This involves finding out where and then buying the supplies and extras. Several books suggest a scale so as to not overload your tumbler. Agt. R reports the river is still polluted, but that near Wachaula there is clear water again. I emphasize I have no clue how to find the good rocks from the bad.


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