Ouch!

Disclaimer: The injury shown in the photo below is the result of a workplace accident that was 100% my fault. In this country that has more than one million lawyers it might seem tempting to place the blame on my employer and attempt to extract some undeserved quantity of cash. Not the way I operate although I'm positive every Lionel Hutz (LINK) scumbag-type-lawyer in town would love to take this case all the way to the Supreme Court. I'm glad not to have lost the finger and my respect/fear for the wire braiding machines I work with on a daily basis has grown even greater. I really enjoy my job and want to keep it, whether it costs me a few fingers or not.

For a week after the accident I was taking Percocet (LINK) for pain relief. I have to say that I enjoyed it. It provided adequate respite from the ringing pain in the finger but the constipation, fatigue, dizziness, nausea, lightheadedness, headache, euphoria, dry mouth and anxiety gets old kind of fast. Combine all that with a six pack of Pabst and you've got yourself a very emotional one man party. One minute you're up, then next you're asleep for 15 hours. Days slip by. Boredom, idleness and work-absence-guilt kicks in. Party's over, get back to work. And I did.

Lyonsy

Rest in peace Lyonsy. You'll be missed very much by the world. That's all I can say.

Score!

I scored an absolutely obscene amount of old skirting board, door frame, trim and coving today. It's all antique white with just the right amount of decay and chipping. Perfect for furniture making (LINK). Once again the Prospect Park neighborhood (LINK) where we used to live has blessed me. I'm very excited to dig through the pile and start figuring out what I can make. I now have an abundance of materials that should see me through the next three pieces at least. Everything is comin' up Milhouse! And while I'm feeling cocky I suppose I should share the fact that I made three strikes in a row at bowling this morning. They calls that a turkey they do. A feckin' good day. USA! USA! USA!

And now to celebrate... few beers, some Buck65, a few articles from American Craft magazine. Sad, I know, I'm fully aware of that. We all bear a cross.

Wood Pixels

I've wanted to get into the making of wooden pixel art for a few years. Now is as good a time as ever. I transplanted my woodworking operation to the basement of our house since the shed is now a freezer in which no honest man deserves to try and get stuff done. It's winter and it's cold. End of story.

The stairs down to the basement are steep and narrow thus limiting the size of projects that can be accomplished in that secret underground lair of tea and radio and dreaming. It is completely true that I have no clear idea of how I can make the leap from methodically cutting up scrap wood to a finished work. Sometimes the process is as enjoyable and important as the end result. I'm an engineer, not an artist. Striving for absolute uniformity as I cut the little squares imposes self discipline and I like that.

Helix

While working on a helix (LINK) related problem at work today I came across this definition:

"A helix is a curve for which the tangent makes a constant angle with a fixed line. The shortest path between two points on a cylinder (one not directly above the other) is a fractional turn of a helix, as can be seen by cutting the cylinder along one of its sides, flattening it out, and noting that a straight line connecting the points becomes helical upon re-wrapping. It is for this reason that squirrels chasing one another up and around tree trunks follow a helical path."
Wikipedia

The squirrel analogy is 100% true. We have millions of the little shit-monkeys in our back garden and I have often see them do the helical chase around the oak tree.

Squirrel-centric analogies are key to my survival in the modern workplace.

Popperville

Apparently there was some kind of election yesterday here in America. Who knew? St. Paul, my adopted home town, tends to be a bit of a quiet/sedate/unconscious/dead place to live and particularly so as we prepare for another long-drawn-out winter. Major world events often slip by St. Paul without much notice from those that serenely dwell within her leafy enclaves. There are times when I wake up believing that I live in the fictitious town of Popperville (LINK). I’m fine with that. In fact, I aspire to that. My universe is small (family, work, shed and drinking in that order) so I have little free time to keep up with what is going on two towns over, never mind further afield.

But in an effort to wise up and be an informed citizen I’ve done some post-election research on this Obama guy and I like what I see. These are indeed exciting times… if you live anywhere but St. Paul, Minnesota of course.

Crazy Kidz

There are times when I worry that my kids ((LINK), (LINK), (LINK)) are actually and officially insane. No, they just have imaginations sans corners. Must be nice.

The Polaroids are by Martha (LINK) of course.

Oregon

Pictures from Oregon this summer (LINK). That's where Noah and Tegan (Martha's step-brother and his wife) live. What a cool state they live in. Volcanoes, high desert, ancient forests, misty coastal towns, pedestrian friendly cities, good food and beer... What more could a man want?

Kalifornia

Some pictures from our West Coast trip this summer (LINK). Why the fuck did I not take some pictures on the beach at Redwood Forest National Park? Idiot. Beautiful place. The weather was so interesting, and emotional to be honest.

Door

Martha found this amazing old door (LINK) in an alley in our neighborhood. I am in the process of building it into a new closet for our foyer. That's right, the Dunne's have a foyer, not a hall. Hall's are for common folk.

Tiny House 2

Ideas are forming for this next big project. This will be the adult version of the playhouse already built (LINK) for the kids.

Slowly but surely found/donated/salvaged/swiped/whatever building materials are finding their way from the streets into my car and then to the shed, the final holding place for all the beautiful things the city has given to me.

I have pretty much decided on the proportions of the front elevation, 4' x 7'. Not sure on depth yet. Maybe 6'.

Sitting on an idea for a few months before executing it is almost as pleasurable as enjoying the finished project. I am learning patience. Stupid mistakes and the resulting sadness can be avoided this way. Small mistakes still find their way into the job but those are important.

Not with it

Sometime in 2005 we "dropped out" of popular culture. The Dunne's don't own a TV. Correct, there is no television in our house. Again, there is no device within our four walls that contains a cathode ray tube. We are still unsure what was so popular about that culture.

How do we live? Like feckin' animals (LINK)... and we love it.

Erik Otto

We nearly bought some work by Erik Otto ((LINK), (LINK)) this summer on our trip to the west coast. I still need to write a story about the trip because it was bloody fantastic. The hostel in San-San-Sico (as Elise calls it) that we stayed in was one block away from a new gallery where we saw the Otto show.

The quality and originality of the work nearly brought tears to me eyes. I'm weak like that. When you haven't got the words to express how you feel you may as well cry like a girl.

Tiny House 1

I had to build this. I knew the kids would love it and I knew that I would enjoy making it. Elise calls it "The Tiny House". I can fit in there with the two kids, no problem. The inside dimensions are 48" x 48" x 48" which is just enough for the chislers and me.

The whole thing is built from materials found on the streets/in dumpsters/etc.

I recently spent a rainy afternoon in The Tiny House with a cup of tea and the kids. Nice memory. Elise likes to draw all over the walls with her markers. I don't let her draw on the outside or on the window and she is pretty good at following the rules. Homeowners pride I guess.

The back door is actually a basement window that I found in our neighborhood last winter on a snowy evening. I attached it to the frame of the house with self-closing hinges which means we don't have to worry about squirrels getting in and taking over if the door accidently gets left open. Clara refers to squirrels and birds and rabbits as dogs.

Tiny House 2 will hopefully get built this winter. That will be an adult version where me and Martha can hang out. My vision is that I could be in it reading a book, drinking tea (but more likely beer) and watching the snow fall. I need to figure out some kind of non lethal heating system. I have a woodstove that I can use. Maybe I can hook up a radiator to it.

Storage solutions

Here's a snapshot of some ideas bubbling around in my head (LINK) for the next big project, after I get the kitchen cabinet job (LINK) completed. Better get the finger out, winter is around the corner.

While on a recent family excursion to the Bell Museum of Natural History on the U of M campus (LINK) both Martha and I took a shine to some old display cases that housed bones and rocks and the like. The proportions were perfect. I'd like to build something like this for our dining room. The function would be slightly different. Instead of displaying artifacts we would have books mixed in with art objects. My take on what I saw at the museum would be to have three to five individual storage units, each the exact same size but with variations in the materials used and construction method of each.

Stacking Boxes

Not sure where this idea is going or if the concept is even worthy of turning into reality. What you have is a set of different sized boxes all mounted on a pole. Each box can swivel 360°. The pole is secured in a concrete cube for stability.

Back to the drawing board. Comments or suggestions welcome.

Short back and sides

I got a flyer today for a free hair cut at SportsClips (LINK). Odd concept but seems to make solid marketing sense. Only in America...

Craft in Ireland

A very inspiring article in American Craft Magazine (LINK) provided me with some must see things for when we are in Ireland next summer.

Check out the breathtaking woodturning of Liam Flynn (LINK).

Make

Here's (LINK) a story about some furniture I am making for the kitchen. The weather is getting perfect for working up a thirst in the shed.

So many plans so little time! Wait, I have a good 50 or so years in me so there is no reason I can't someday become the full time furniture maker I dream of being.

Yes We Can

It's September 5th 2008. It's 9:15PM, Central Time. It's St. Paul, Minnesota, my beloved new home town. It's the last night of the Republican National Convention. My wife and mother in law went on their bikes to downtown St. Paul to peacefully (hopefully) protest the RNC. A really old man is giving a speech. His name is John McCain. He is a hero for all the wrong reasons. He dropped bombs on villages in Vietnam from the safety of 20,000 feet above the earth and then was stupid enough to get shot down. Martha often preaches the creed of karma. She is never wrong. Nearly everything I have learned in life I have learned from her. I am more serious than a dream-job-ironed-the-night-before-interview-shirt.

Supposedly this speech marks a historical moment. This Irish-American is displaying his indifference to history by turning off the radio, having a fire in the backyard, downing a six pack of beer and crushing beer cans in the vise to see if a perfect collapse of the cylindrical form can be achieved without buckling. I am also listening to old Christy Moore songs (In Zurich, The Lakes of Pontchartrain, Little Musgrave) on my iPod while I stumble in and out of the shed. My beautiful children sleep in their beds without care for the waste of energy taking place in downtown St. Paul. Bless the little clowns!

Andy Goldsworthy

A couple of months ago an extremely important event, possibly sacred even, occurred in my life. I made this crude post (LINK) about a few of the living (or not long dead) artists that create the kind of art that stirs unquantifiable levels of optimism inside of me. I don't understand it and probably never will. Maybe that's the point. When you can see all sides of an object then there is nothing left to generate wonder, so you walk away. The object doesn't seem so big anymore. You move on. The event that took place made me stand still... and I have not moved one inch since. I'm transfixed beyond words. That rarely happens, thank God.

Emmet (LINK) commented on the post with a suggestion that I investigate the work of one Andy Goldworthy (LINK). Emmet's tips are typically the stuff of legend and this one didn't fall short of the mark. What makes the story interesting (to me anyway, not sure about you) is that many weeks later while in Waupaca for the weekend at Fran and Marci's I found myself bored, I think. The kids had gone to bed, everyone else was out. I was tired. I had worked a full day back in the Twin Cities then drove four and a half hours (LINK) from work straight to Waupaca. Working my way through a cold six pack and sitting with the dogs on the couch a DVD on the shelf caught my gaze. An Andy Goldsworthy DVD, Rivers and Tides (LINK) was tucked between all the other DVD's. I put down me beer and slapped it on.

I would only embarrass myself if I tried to further explain what this has all meant to me. Words are too limiting. I can't put the right ones together to create a meaningful whole.

Goldsworthy's divorce from his wife and the breakup of his family (he has four young kids) temporarily soured the art for me. I love my wife and kids so much and would have no idea what to do if ever we became divided. It saddens me to see unhappiness visit anyones door but his family situation is not my business so I have no reason to judge. It was interesting to hear him say on the Rivers and Tides DVD that he enjoyed being alone and then to see him (on same DVD) at his kitchen table oblivious to the kids and pets that were milling around him in a scene of domestic normality. He wore the appearance of an man loosing touch with the mortal world.

Perhaps he just couldn't supply the energy and commitment needed to play a role as a family member. Creating immortal art cannot be easy.

Spud Girl

Once a month or so Martha makes a fantastic potato based dish called "Potatoes O'Brien" (LINK). Elise has renamed it "The Potatoes Are Crying" so I always laugh when I hear that we are having Potatoes O'Brien for dinner. It's the way she says it that makes it so cute. Love that kid.

Craic House

The years fly by don't they? It seems like only yesterday that I had two small kids in the house. Yep, Elise and Clara have flown the nest and decided to move out... to the garden.

I built this shack for them. Actually, that's a poor reflection on my carpentry skills. This is a fine home that any kid would be proud to own. In fact, small adults (such as me) have been known to enjoy a bowl of ice cream or two within those four walls.

And now onto the next project... cutting the feckin' grass.

West Coast 2008

It's nearly time to go on our summer vacation. Excitement is mounting, and it should be. This will be a cool trip (LINK). Take no prisoners, take no shit, take lots of pictures, eat lots of salmon cooked on the fire by Tegan, spend lots of money, build family memories, collect beach glass for a bathroom mosaic back at home, drink lots of beer, avoid starting another wildfire, be a dick, be a nice guy, see it all, eat M&M's in a different time zone, take a piss in a new ocean...

A
Fly from Minneapolis, MN to Portland, OR. See flag A on linked map. Stay three nights in a hostel in the city. Dwell magazine had plenty of great things to say about this city. Let's see if print media can match reality.

B
Drive from Portland to Mount Hood, OR. See flag B on linked map. Camp for three nights, in a tent and not in an air conditioned RV with six bathrooms, a basement, a tennis court, a billiards room... Yes we are insane thinking that all four of us in a small tent is going to be smooth as Baileys on ice. I need some excitement in my life. Surely this experience will fill the void.

C
Drive from Mount Hood to Eugene, OR. This is Noah and Tegan's adopted town. Cause three nights of trouble in a hostel in the city. See flag C on linked map.

D
Drive from Eugene to Redwood National Park, CA. See flag D on linked map. Stay two nights in a hostel right on the beach. See those giant sequoia trees.

E
Drive from Redwood National Park to San Francisco, CA. Spend four nights there in a hostel smack in the middle of the city. Maybe I will get to visit Alcatraz. It's one of those dreams I have that shouldn't really be classed as a dream. To be honest, I'd take a new iPhone over a trip to The Rock. Fly back to little old St. Paul, MN. Resume regular life possibly sporting a new beard picked up on the trip.

Vegetable Garden

These photos were taken when we had just finished building the fence and were getting ready for planting. We built the garden in the spot beside the shed where we used to park the cars. This is a much better use of space. As usual entire job was done with found materials.

I was surprised to learn that a 12' x 14' plot could support all our vegetable needs for so many months. I was even more surprised to realize that you really can taste the difference between something you pull out of the ground and eat right away and something you buy from the shop. Not being snooty, just making an observation.

Clara

Clara has the biggest eyes of anyone I know. They see all.

The Shop

Support (LINK) the arts you bastards!

Better than I

Without sources of inspiration ((LINK), (LINK), (LINK), (LINK), (LINK), (LINK), (LINK), (LINK), (LINK), (LINK)) what's the point?

Each year I try and accomplish a few projetcs (2007: (LINK), (LINK), (LINK)). It's not easy with winter being six months long and my shed not being heated or insulated but it could be worse. At least I have a shed, eh? The project list for 2008 is slightly longer that last year list but that's the idea. Do a little more every year. Ambition.

The other night I started work on a large kitchen cupboard with countertop that will replace four smaller units. When finished she will measure 50" wide x 84" high x 28" deep. I hope to build her using about 90% found or salvaged materials. I have no definitive design requirements other than the need to fit into the 50" x 84" x 28" envelope and provide a decent amount of countertop area for Martha to make bread. I built the bookcase (LINK) last year without a design so I'm sure it will all come together. The trick is to take it easy and stop for frequent tea breaks. It's during the tea drinking that the best ideas come to the furniture maker.

Whatever

Totally forgot what I wanted to say... half drunk... waste of a blog post, waste of your time, wasted, screw it. Hitting the west coast this summer. Washington, Oregon (LINK), California... All good in the 'hood.

Maple syrup

Subconsciously I suppose I always knew that maple syrup came from actual maple trees although the exact conversion process never entered my mind. That has all changed now. Martha's folks own 15 acres of land, a decent portion of it being hardwood forest, outside Waupaca, Wisconsin. We got married on that land and are eternally grateful to all that Fran and Marci did to make the "blessed event" be such a memorable day. We visit that land nearly every time we are in Wauapca. I say nearly because deer hunting season makes it off limits. Downtown Baghdad is a safer (and warmer) place than rural Wisconsin when deer huntin' is open. There may be more bullets flying in Baghdad but in Wisconsin there are guns mixed with beer, cheap beer, the kind of beer that is sold in 30 packs for $12 and drank first thing in the morning by both men and women. Yes, that kind of beer.

At the highest elevation and sitting on the western perimeter of the property Fran built by hand and without electricity a 500sqft shed. That was more than 25 years ago. Over time the shed fell to ruin but a few years ago he began to work on it and it is now a half cabin half workshop. It just might be his pride and joy. Should Fran and Marci ever lose their house to a tornado or be driven from town by a torch wielding angry mob due to their political leanings the shed would make a more than feasible new home, a fresh start. There is no internet or running water but $5,000 would be enough to have a well dug to address the water issue... and the internet, it can go to hell, what has it done for anyone lately? The shed is heated by a wood stove with infinite fuel being provided by naturally downed trees in the woods. The land is quite arable so with Fran's insatiable appetite for drudgerous and back breaking labor I would safely say that a parcel of non wooded land could be tilled, with a shovel of course, to grow enough crops to feed a small army. If the lust for red meat should ever darken the door of Fran and Marci then all they would have to do is pick off a few of the deer that graze on the land. Have you ever had freshly killed venison cooked on an open fire? Holy shit is all I can say.

There are hundreds of maple trees in the woods. There may even be thousands but I can't be sure. It's very possible that Fran has conducted a detailed trees census so he would be far better able to quantify the maple population than this urban reporter. Getting the sap, that once boiled down will become syrup, out of the tree is simple, almost so simple that it is counterintuitive.

Step 1: Bore a 9/16" hole about 3" deep into the trunk of the tree at waist height from the ground.

Step 2: With a hammer beat a metal tap into the hole. The tap is basically a piece of tubing that provides a pathway for the sap to run from the tree. While inserting taps myself, Fran and Pat Mahoney speculated that the Native Americans (Indians) could have used animal bones as taps. If the marrow was removed then the bone would function well as a tap. Depending on the size and condition of the tree multiple taps can be put in one tree. The law of diminishing returns applies though. Sometimes it is better to single tap many young trees than to multi-tap a few mature trees but what the hell do I know?

Step 3: Hang a large plastic bag on the tap so that the liquid sap can be collected in the bag.

Step 4: Retreat to Fran's shed and drink some Beck's beer, light the wood stove, eat thick slices of local cheddar cheese and handfuls of non local tortilla chips, be happy doing nothing other than getting lost in the sounds of wood crackling in the fire and the long and lonesome whistle of a passing freight train.

Step 5: Let nature do its work. The freezing nighttime temperatures and mild daytime temperatures stimulate the sap to run from the trees into the collection bags. It's the freeze-thaw action that only allows maple syrup to made in the winter. No, winter is not over yet. It's a six month season. The sap is nothing like the viscous sticky goo from a Christmas tree. Maple tree sap is pretty much water with a small sugar content. That surprised me but it does explain the 30:1 sap to syrup ratio. I tasted some of the sap to validate all the information that Fran and Mahoney were dispensing. No word of a lie was told that day.

Step 6: Consolidate the sap. The collection bags need to be emptied on an almost daily basis. This involves trudging through the snowy woods with 5 gallon buckets into which the sap is dumped. Once the buckets are full the sap collector (the sap mule) must reverse trudge out of the woods and dump the sap into a storage tank. Some trees produce nearly a gallon of sap per day while others produce fuck all. I think there are 100 tapped trees. I called Marci today and she said they had 300 gallons of sap in the tank! The sap output depends on the age and health of the trees but also on the location of the trees relative to the edge of the woods. This made no sense when Fran said it but I couldn't argue with the facts; the trees deep in the woods were pissing out vast quantities of sap while those on the edge were weeping out only paltry sums of the precious juice. Maybe it is natures attempt to maintain balance with man. If all tress delivered the same amount of sap then there would be no incentive for man to sweat. He would merely have to drive around the edge of the woods and make a journey of a few paces from maple tree to storage tank on back of pickup truck. Nature is smarter than you or I.

Step 7: Boil the sap. This is the end of the line for the weak sugar water that we know as sap. A large outdoor fire is built and a steel pan is set over the fire. The sap is teamed into the pan and boiled. The water content evaporates into the air and the sticky residue, the maple syrup, is emptied into quarter gallon jars. Fran has a 35 gallon boiling pan and from what I have heard it may take 24 hours to boil down all 300 gallons of sap. Two or more shifts of able bodied (but often drunk) adults are needed to manage "the boil". The fire must be kept so hot that the steel pan glows orange. Efficiency is improved by preheating the sap beside the fire so that it does not go to the pan full of ice chunks.

Step 8: Enjoy the fruits of the labor. The maple syrup can now be put on pancakes, used to baste ham, added to stir fry as a natural sweetener or given away as a gift.

I learn something valuable every single time I visit Wisconsin.

Paddy On The Road

Happy St. Patrick's Day to one and all! I hope you all got to quench your thirst and redden your knuckles today, God knows I did. T'was a fine day to be shure, divil a bit of doubt about it.

Actually, I cut my hand at work on a wire braiding machine so the cause of my wounds is not really that exciting. And while I'm in confession mode I might as well tell you I am not drinking today... because I drank all my beer on Saturday and Sunday. Ah feck it, I may as well keep digging my own grave here... I hate cabbage too, can't look at the crap. I'm the worst excuse for an Irishman, ever.

While leaving a moderately upscale St. Paul coffee shop yesterday evening with Martha and the youngsters I grabbed a copy of the Irish Gazette (LINK). It's not a bad free rag at all and does a decent job of communicating reasonably interesting and relevant snippets of information from the old country. Lest we start making comparisons to the New York Times let me make it clear that this publication is dangerously cheesy, but in an innocent and likable kind of way. My favorite section is "News from Ireland" (LINK), not for the content but for the practically derogatory illustrated character that appears at the top of the page.

I call him Paddy O'Shea. Let's enter Paddy's twisted world.

Paddy's house/hut
Shure, tis no more than a thatch cottage. The thatch looks decent but the lack of chimney, door or window is worrying. I know damn well there is a fireplace in there, so how does he deal with the carbon monoxide issue? Is he so tough that he is immune to toxic fumes? Nobody is that tough. Perhaps there is logic to the absence of door or window and the fumes leave the dwelling via those holes. But if that is the case how does he keep the rain and thieves out? The answer is simple but twofold; he has nothing worth stealing and he doesn't give a shite about the rain, it only makes him stronger (but emotionally weaker). No, that can't be it, doesn't add up. I give up. Like Paddy himself, the house is an enigma covered in pig shite.

Paddy's street
Badly paved road or depressing river of mud? Did the British take the road? I can't tell. Those wavy lines imply some kind of rutted mud track suitable only for ass and cart.

Paddy's attire
The quintessential Irish farmer's multipurpose suit. In that suit this man can bale hay, go to mass, fight, converse on ecumenical matters with the parish priest, down a half barrel of stout, dance like a lunatic, flawlessly impersonate Iranian president Mahmoud Ahmadinejad (LINK), fix the PTO on a tractor, pick up women, beat women, herd cattle. Wait a second... tailored suit + heroics = James Bond!

Paddy
Standard Irish cap (in the process of being tipped to bid a neighbor/enemy a good day), big hands, twine possibly being used for a belt, full beard, one thick eyebrow, nervous demeanor, shy, legendary tea maker, poet, lover, work machine...

And now back to readin' me paper.

Meat Sweats

I pinched this text from a wikipedia article. I believe it is highly relevant.

Meat Sweats
A term used to describe a well known malady and byproduct of mass animal protein consumption.

Degrees of severity
Meat sweats are generally categorized on a scale of varying degrees starting at third degree, being a mild meat sweat, to a first degree meat sweat being very severe in nature. Generally, pork and chicken dishes will result in third degree meat sweats, depending on the gross amount consumed, and beef will result in a first degree meat sweat. A first degree meat sweat can result in a temporary debilitating condition causing one to feel symptoms of lethargy, depression and severe apathy. The spiciness of the meat consumed, in a counterintuitive outcome, does not necessarily increase amount of meat sweats that one experiences. This may have to do with the nature of meat sweats, which have a base of lipids rather than perspiration.

Meat Sweat Moans
Upon onset of severe cases of Meat Sweats, a hyper audible moaning or wailing sound has been witnessed by several parties. Although it can not be confirmed, many scholars maintain that this wailing is a direct result of mankind's mammalian instinct - and this moan is an innate trait used to warn off predators during time of mass carnal feeding.

The Death of Har-Mar

Martha took this shot of the Har-Mar movie theater (part of the Har-Mar mall) in Roseville one evening this week. It could be the last time we see this place. My feelings are mixed, but not 50/50 mixed, I'm leaning more towards displeasure. Yes, I got engaged there, in an old photo booth to be exact, and I'll miss the place but the building is far from beautiful. Ok, it may even be ugly but what will replace it I am sure will be simply disgusting and because of that I am obliged to mourn the loss of a place that actually stood out from the rest of the strip mall crap. The Har-Mar movie theater had class, not a ton of class but just enough class to get by.

Over the course of the last six months a dedicated team of workers have been methodically disassembling the Har-Mar movie theater. I know this because we go to the Har-Mar mall all the time, they have one of the best Barnes & Noble (LINK) book shops around, and with each visit we note the progress of the job. Now that I think about it I am confused as to why they are working so carefully. Most destruction jobs are brutal and quick. This one is a very special case, very clinical. First they stripped the light fixtures and all the seating out, then the bathroom fixtures, then the popcorn machines, then they rolled up the carpets, then they brought in a digger and broke up the concrete floors to get down to bare earth. Only when a hollow shell remained did they remove the massive (and incredibly tasteless) cheap glass chandelier.

Azure

I'm not sure why Martha doesn't care for this Polaroid that she snapped a few months back. I love it. I absolutely love it. It conjures up distant memories of warmer days, back in September of last year, before the snow and ice came down from Canada and cooped us all up indoors, like frozen shit-monkeys. Like you I am also confused as to what a shit-monkey is or why it seemed all too logical to say that. It is what it is.

I miss my (LINK) shed. It's off limits for now. Not even the 40,000BTU propane heater I bought was able to make it a remotely enjoyable place to be. Winter is really grating on me. Another month or so and it will fade thank God. Perhaps in a few years I will be able to insulate the shed enough for it to hold heat.

To hell with this crap...

iPhone

I'm going to get an iPhone but I'll wait for the 2nd generation model that should be out late 2008. It may be a few dollars cheaper by then and will no doubt be packed with more new features than I know what to do with. The Google Maps feature is what I really need. Anyone who knows me probably has a few stories about how they got in the car with me to go on a simple errand but ended up very, very far from the intended target. Those days will be a thing of the past when my trusty iPhone is at hand. No more trips to the shop, via Nebraska, for me.

To be honest, the only reason I am holding back is that I don't have the money. No, that's not true. I do have the money but I kind of made a deal with Martha that I would have to earn the money I need for it instead of just taking it from our bank account. So if you need your grass cut just give me a call and we can arrange a price. Need the car washed and waxed (LINK)? How about a spit shine on those shoes there sir? Nah, I'm not going to stoop so low that I'm basically panhandling my way to an iPhone. There are legitimate and dignified ways to make dollars and those are the avenues I shall pursue.

On no account does this mean that I will give up my nasty little habit of stealing small change from other peoples cars. Kelley Shea knows what I am talking about. What I finds, I keeps.

Serious Clara

Clara has always made strange faces. A few days after she was born we noticed that her demeanor was very business like (LINK), hence the temporary nickname "Serious Clara". Now she is starting to do an assortment of suspicious faces. What next, paranoia? She's a funny kid. We'll keep her.

Cold as ice

Right now, with wind-chill factored in, it is -34°C outside. Sweet mother of divine God! Can you imagine being homeless on a night like this? Earlier this evening I felt sorry for myself when I had to run out to the shed to get my calculator (which took 30 minutes to thaw and work properly). Shame on me.

Both of the kids and Martha have cold like symptoms so I called twice from work today for a snot update. They were all lying low and not daring to venture outdoors. This weather is not funny. It will KILL you before you have time to ask yourself why you thought going outside was such a fantastic idea.

I overheard a conversation this week at work of which myself and a Welsh employee were the subject of a good hearted discussion. Apparently our frequent use of bad language (swear words and the like) is a source of entertainment. It's official, we are as rough as fuck. It is still surprising to me how clean the average American mouth is in the work environment. They'll break, oh yes, they'll break.