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Monday, September 15, 2008
How I spent my weekend: As a condition of my employment with the Department of Social Services, I am bound to serve in the capacity of disaster relief worker after hurricanes. In the past, I've worked to distribute food stamps, and man relief stations. But none of these episodes has been as pointless as this weekend. I'll start with the pre-weekend. On Thursday, as the storm approached, my office was closed at 2 p.m. Coastal parishes were about to face mandatory evacuations, so this was not unexpected. Friday, as the storm grew closer, the office remained closed. But at 9:00 a.m., my District Manager called me at home to inform me that people who work in closed offices had suddenly been ordered to report to open offices further inland. I suppose people belly-ached about having to work while we had the day off. I laughed. It's the kind of pointless thing we expect from my agency. We were expected to go to an office where we had no desks, or computers, or clients. Not only would we get no work done, but our presence would cause a disruption that would prevent the local workers from getting anything done. As I said, I laughed. Then I looked at the clock, and told my Manager that I get off work at 11:00 on Fridays. She agreed it would be pointless to arrive there in time to turn around and go home, so I was off the hook. Later, I was told that the other workers arrived in Lafayette just before lunch time. With no work to do, they went to lunch. While they were away, State Office ordered the inland parishes to be closed, so the workers returned to find the doors locked. They had driven to another parish on a day off, just to have lunch and go home. But it gets better. Saturday the storm was blowing, even in my area, which was pretty far from Galveston. My pager went off, and I called the unfamiliar number and was informed that I had been called up for hurricane duty in Lake Charles. I was to report to a staging area in Lafayette, and would be transported west for duty from 7:00 p.m. to 7:00 a.m. I told them I'd be there as instructed. This was ample notice, and I was glad that it gave me the opportunity to get some sleep during the day, so I could make it through the night. But about an hour later, the phone rang again, and I was told that it had been canceled due to weather (!!!). OK. I've got my Saturday back. So I loaded an audio book on my new MP3 player, and spent my rainy day learning and scrubbing baseboards. As I was on hands and knee that afternoon, scrubbing away in the bathroom, the phone rang again. I was told that the mission was back on, and I was to drop everything and report to Lafayette right away! Damn. Now I was screwed! I never did get any sleep, and I was going to have a hard time working all night. Oh snap! So I brushed my teeth and packed a few bottles of water and drove to Lafayette. The staging site looked just like what you'd expect. There were dozens of ambulances and Army personnel with assault rifles and Hummers. Inside, there was coffee and cots. Our Regional manager was there with his pony tail and laptop. Agency employees were sitting around, looking like they'd misplaced their decks of cards. Some of them had worked all day but others had been there since before dawn, waiting to be assigned to a task. One of my co-workers, Lynel, had also been summoned, but he had evacuated to Baton Rouge, so he had to drive a couple of hours (after selling off his ticket to a football game) to get there. We no sooner arrived, when they told us that maybe the weather wasn't so great, and we'd probably be sent home. Lynel took it with grace, as he has been sending his résumé around anyway. We were told to return at 4:00 a.m. So I went home and set my alarm clock for 3:00. We finally made it to Lake Charles at 5:30. Our driver, Mike, had a Google map, and instructions for the task we'd be doing. He didn't, however, have any contact information for the Lake Charles coordinators. We went to the exact location on the map, which looked like a nursing home, or something like that. There were people there, not looking very busy. They were about to serve breakfast to their residents, and were surprised to hear that their quiet facility was part of the relief effort. In fact. It wasn't. Mike called his District Manager, and she promised a return call right away (it was at least five hours before we heard from her again). She told mike that we needed to meet a man named Dick Gremillion. We had a name, but no cell phone number, so there we were, five guys in a van, driving around an old Air Force base in the dark, looking for Dick. After tracing the same route a few times, and finding no organized relief effort, we decided to look for a place to have breakfast. Lake Charles was a ghost town. There seemed to be electricity everywhere, but everything was closed. Even places that you can count on to be open at all hours. Finally, I suggested we go to the nearest hospital. Sure enough, It was open and the cafeteria had food. They didn't charge us for the few cold morsels they offered. They were just barely open. We returned to the staging area to find that they had finally set up. There were dozens of ambulances, buses, porta lets, soldiers, and rifles. They had everything... except evacuees. That's right. This massive effort was assembled, and no one came. The other Social Service guys who were already there showed us the sign-in list from the day before. About ten people had come, and been bused off to wherever, but it had been very slow. This all took place outdoors. And of course, it had to rain. So all five of us sat in the van, in the rain, waiting for evacuees who would never come. I had my MP3 player, and spent a few hours listening to Barack Obama's "Audacity of Hope" and some Italian language lessons. I shared my New Scientist magazines with the guys, but they quickly lost interest and dozed off. With nothing to do, Mike called our administrators, and asked how long we'd have to stay. We were hoping they'd see what a waste of manpower it was to have five people sleep in a van on a tarmac all day, but they didn't see it that way. Our instructions: we were told that we should be the last to leave. They were not going to have it said that the Department of Social Services people left before anybody else. This is the kind of logic I deal with daily in my job. After Hurricane Rita, we maintained a staff presence in the local relief center, every single day, all day for weeks, like an eternal flame, though we had no duties at all. I wish I'd had my MP3 player back then. Well, you can imagine my first thought after hearing these instructions. What if some other agency had been given the same edict? What if we ended up sitting on the tarmac, in the rain, looking across the acres of concrete at another van full of people who refused to leave as long as we were there, while we refused to leave until they did? It could have been an ugly standoff! Fortunately, at noon, all of the remaining ambulances and buses fired up their engines and left all at once, like they'd been watching their clocks all day long... which they had. What a relief. I made it back home exactly 12 hours after my alarm clock sounded. I feel privileged to have done my part. Friday, January 18, 2008
To look at this site you'd think I stopped blogging altogether. Not true. I blog all the time, but now I mostly write to myself. Sounds stupid, but there's a reason. If I write notes I'll lose them. If I try to keep records on my PC I'll delete them -- I'm always re-formatting my hard drives, installing operating systems, etc. So I use blogs as a means of record keeping and bookmarking. Here are a few you might want to follow... http://jeffsnewpc.blogspot.com/ (I'm building a new PC) http://www.artdemonstrations.com/ I collect these links and share them. http://boomliftlog.blogspot.com/ Just a maintenance log for some equipment I bought http://www.dontforward.com/freebooks/index.html I haven't updated this in a long time, but it still gets traffic. I love audiobooks. I don't post a lot of details about my personal life anymore. No reason. I just figure nobody cares. But if you're interested, we're doing great. We're both healthy as can be, and enjoying life. No health problems, no family problems. No legal crap. No illegal crap. Just same old Jeff and Janice. I'm making progress on my restoration work and my artwork -- two things I haven't started blogging. Maybe I should start. Wednesday, October 24, 2007Our overnight trip We've only slept at anchor a few times, and only at events like the BEER cruise and the Redneck Riviera. Never in Louisiana, and never alone. Well, it was time to set new precedents, so we set sail this weekend to sleep in the marshes that line Vermilion Bay. We were careful to pack everything we could possibly need, including wine and scotch. We had the GPS, camera, cell phone, everything... except propane!!! I realized I had forgotten the all-important fuel only after arriving at the boat. No propane meant no morning coffee. All our food was intended to be eaten cold (cold cuts, cheeses, fruit, bread), but coffee grounds need hot water, and I need coffee. Oh well, no point dwelling on what we don't have. We set sail knowing it would mean a Sunday morning with no coffee (Laura, are you reading this?). We headed for a spot with some camps on the north shore of the bay. There are no roads there, and the camps were built with materials delivered by boat. We figured it would be safe to be near a spot of civilization, if only a dozen remote camps. As we headed for the target, we found that it would mean sailing an uncomfortable run, so we opted to aim for a channel upwind of the camps, then take the Intracoastal down to where we wanted to be.
As we approached the channel, I kept Janice informed of our ETA. We were sailing four knots, and the channel was four miles away, so we'd be there in an hour. Then, by the time we were three miles away, the wind had dropped, and we were sailing three knots. So we'd be there in an hour. Then when we were two miles away... You guessed it, all we could squeeze out was two knots. Just one hour away. No matter how close we got, the channel remained an hour away. An hour later The motor had been giving us trouble lately, so I had to keep my hand on the throttle to play it so it wouldn't die. Well, it died anyway. Then wouldn't start. And of course, there were plenty of witnesses to see me struggle with trying to fire it up again. Apparently the entrance to the channel is quite a fishing Mecca. There were a dozen boats there. I pulled and pulled at the cord, with no success. I'm so sick of that motor! I knew that there wasn't enough wind to get us down the channel, so we tacked away. Now we had troubles. We were too far from home to sail back, and there wasn't enough wind to get us into an anchorage. We tacked away and considered our options. It was looking like we'd be spending our night in open water, so we headed toward the smallest open water we could find, the south end of Weeks Bay. As we sailed and fretted, the wind began to pick up. In a little while it was blowing pretty good, and we headed for the next channel up the bay (there are lots of channels connecting the bay to the Intracoastal). After an hour, we were approaching another channel that looked like it was pretty quiet. The wind was in our favor, so we sailed down the markers (on the upwind side, per Charlie's advice at a previous BEER cruise), and made it to the channel. By now it was pretty windy, but not in the channel. The 12-foot-tall reeds were so thick that they blocked every hint of wind. We could hear the wind on the reeds, and in the bay, but we were quickly coming to a stop. I had already sent Janice forward to set up the anchor rode, and she dropped the hook when I gave the word.
So here we were, in the middle of nowhere, with no motor. I remembered that I left my cell phone at home, because Janice had brought hers. Well, she never programmed anybody's numbers into her phone, so our SOS options were limited. The original plan was to kick back and read and draw, and enjoy the evening on the water. This plan had changed to pull the motor into the cockpit, try to fix whatever was wrong, drink some scotch and talk about why we never bought a gun. Speaking of guns, shortly after anchoring we heard a gunshot nearby. Just what we needed. Bullets zip right through reeds, and the hunters can't see us, so I blasted my air horn once to let them know there were people around. Then I heard a second shot and a squealing pig. It was apparently the beginning of wild pig season. Their mission accomplished, the hunters' guns were silent for the rest of the night. I cleaned the carb, and decided to change the spark plug, just in case it was a contributing factor. I'm really glad I didn't buy a 9HP motor, because I'd never be able to haul it into the boat. I'm NOT glad I bought this motor. It's been a series of headaches.
Well, I'm thinking the new plug was the cure I needed, because the motor fired right up, and I put it in reverse gear and pulled hard to test it. Now the motor was a go, and the anchor was set. The rest of the story was uneventful. We ate, slept, looked at stars and sailed back in the morning. I even got back in time to have a cup of coffee in the marina! Wednesday, February 22, 2006
I've been reading Herman Melville's "Typee" this week. Actually, I've been listening to it in audiobook format. Melville was a seaman, and the book is autobiographical, detailing his days stranded in a tropical paradise with a tribe of natives which he believed inferior to Western man. But gradually, he could not escape the obvious, and made these observations: There seemed to be no cares, griefs, troubles, or vexations, in How much can we learn from those uncorrupted people? Even before reading this passage, I had begun removing myself from sources of hate and discord. I used to be very politically minded, but have concluded that my side is wrong about almost everything. Accepting that, I explored the other side of the aisle, and saw that they too stoked the fires of hate as much as my former party (no need telling you which side I was on, as they are both equally guilty). So I'm off politics. I'm also not watching much news, though it's hard to escape. To watch the news is to have all the world's problems gathered up and served at dinnertime (terrible timing on their part). I've spoken to people who bemoan the state of society, and I ask them how they know it's so bad. Well, it's in the news. Okay, but how much of the crime, and injustice, and evil have you seen with your own eyes? Usually the answer is none, or very little. Am I suggesting we bury our heads in the sand, and deny the world's problems? Well, I can't tell you what to do, but I know that I haven't been able to solve any of them, and dwelling on them only frustrates. The Typee didn't give a rat's ass about things beyond their control, but I'm expected to "care" to the extent that I get ulcers, but change nothing. Maybe I'm making a difference by stepping aside, and minding my own business. So I'm off the news. I'm also keeping away from most internet messageboards. I've met a lot of nice people on them, but for some reason, people get hot headed and hateful when they communicate in near anonymity (a phenomenon similar to road rage). The worst is CraigsList. What an awful place! I'd been hearing a lot about it, and decided to join the fun. Well, it seems that Craig created the site for the sole purpose of flaming and trolling. It seems like even the most innocuous post becomes the target of flamers. But it's not just one site. Flaming seems to come naturally to messageboard users, and I'm just too old to engage in teenage flame wars with people I have no quarrel with. So I'm off messageboards. These days I spend my evenings painting pictures and listening to audiobooks. It's a pleasant pastime, and I look forward to every single evening. I paint for a couple of hours, then I scrub away the picture with mineral spirits, so I can paint on the same surface again tomorrow. It may sound like a waste of time to you, but it's done with a purpose. The paintings get better and better, and I don't have to clutter my home with bad pictures. When I start painting keepers, I'll start keeping them. The audiobooks allow me to make double use of my time, and keep my left brain away from my paintings. For decades Janice and I have dreamed of escapes. We talk of moving to exciting places, or remote places, or pretty much anywhere but where we are. I like the idea of living in a paradise, and I like the idea of living in a metropolis. One day we were discussing this, and we concluded that we already lived in paradise. No, not New Iberia. It's just a place to live. But we really have a paradise of our own going on. We're healthy and happy. We have few problems, and easy access to the activities we enjoy. It's not the kind of paradise that you can print on a postcard, but the kind that the Typee enjoy. Well, not entirely, because we lack their innocence, but it's similar. You've heard the old saying, "lead, follow, or get out of the way". Well, I earnestly want to get out of the way. I'm planning for early retirement, and have no illusions of spending my time traveling the world. I just want to cultivate my own paradise. Anyway, there's not much of a point to this post. But this is where I stand these days. A paradise in the making. Saturday, December 31, 2005
I've come to the conclusion that I write this blog for my own amusement, as few others (except those I send here) actually read it. What's going on? Well, we still have hurricane refugees (well, one refugee) with us. She's not in the house with us, so it's just like any other tenant in our apartments. But Norm is gone, and Barry is gone, and so are their wives and pets. Things worked out pretty well for them, as far as their lives getting back on track, but it's a work in progress. Barry is still working long days getting his life back to normal. He lost everything. What a way to spend your retirement. I've been sailing when I can. The boat is now in a wet slip, and I can sail any time I want, but in winter, that's not so easy. Shane dropped by today and said he hasn't sailed since July 4th, so I'm like the old man in the sea by comparison. We hope to sail again this Monday. Often I wonder how I came to have such a good life. I hate my job as much as any sap who works for a living, but that's just 40 hours per week. When I'm off, I have a good time. I'm a loner by nature, so a good time is different for me than it might be for you. I get home after work and go upstairs to paint pictures and listen to audiobooks. Every morning I piss around on the internet and update my website. I read, I do a few chores, etc. It's not so bad. I'd rather be sailing the high seas, but who wouldn't? You may be detecting that I really don't have much to say, but it's time to update the blog, so here you have it. Someone today mentioned reading this page, and made me ashamed of not keeping it up. So for those who may have been worried, fear not. Life is great for Jeff and Janice. Thursday, October 13, 2005
Sorry for so few updates lately, but I’m not really sure anyone reads this blog, so I don’t get into keeping it up. We’ve had two hurricanes here since my last post. To drive around this area, you’d hardly know it, as no homes lost their roof, and very few trees were felled. But the damage was far more extensive than Hurricane Andrew’s. The storm surge reached to the edge of New Iberia, and I know many people who lost everything to flooding. Many people had water six feet deep in their homes. They’ve lost everything. Entire towns were destroyed, though the buildings are still standing. I’ve heard for years that storm surge could reach as far as New Iberia, but it always seemed like the exaggerations of fear mongers. Sure enough, thousands of homes were flooded. For Katrina we had three evacuees stay with us. My friend Norm came with his wife and son (and cat). I hadn’t met Josh before that, and we didn’t know that he was a sous chef for Emeril. That first week was a bacchanalia of food and wine. Then Josh moved on, and we had Norm and Leslie for a while longer... still lots of food and wine. Then Leslie moved back home, but Norm stayed because he could not re-open his office in New Orleans. He found temporary office space locally and is living and working here still. Again, the food and wine never stopped flowing. We’ve had entirely too much fun for a disaster of such proportions. Norm says he’ll probably be here another week. I’ve always wondered if Janice and I would take in someone who needed a place to stay. We’re very private people, and we rarely have company, but I can say with no hesitation that it’s really been a positive experience for us. Norm is a real gentleman, and a thoughtful houseguest. It’s been a genuine pleasure. But they weren’t our only evacuees. After Katrina, a second storm blew through. This one was headed to Houston, where my mom lives, and she decided to evacuate and come here. In retrospect, it was a bad decision, because the storm hit closer to here than to Houston. I told her she’s the only person I know who actually evacuates TO a hurricane. Her drive to Louisiana was a nightmare. She and her husband drove separate cars, so she ended up driving nearly 20 hours alone. Mom is not well, and it was very difficult for her to drive so long. Traffic moved at a snail’s pace, and it took all day to reach the state line. There was no gasoline to be bought along the evacuation route, and their tanks were nearly empty. Night was falling, and the hurricane was coming, and their cars were on empty. To make it worse, we were losing contact with them. Phone lines were clogged and we could no longer get a call through. Strangely, other people, as far away as Baltimore, were able to call them, but we couldn’t. Finally, I posted on the TSBB (my favorite sailing messageboard), that Mom was in trouble. One of the regulars there was able to reach them, and he arranged to meet them with gasoline. After 20 hours, we finally met up with them in Opelousas (figuring they’d never make it to New Iberia). After the storm, Mom and Jimmy stayed at my house until they got word that it was okay to return to Houston. Their home had zero damage, and I don’t think they even lost electricity. And then there was Barry. I was worried that he might not have fared well, since I hadn’t heard anything from him. I left a voice mail for him, and asked if there was anything he needed. He called back and told me he’d lost everything. He needed a place to live. As luck would have it, my garage apartment was coming available, and I offered it to him. He accepted. Unfortunately, he has large dogs, which makes it a stressful situation for Janice, as she worries about our cats 24 hours a day. We’ve worked out a schedule with Barry, and our cats now go outdoors only when we know the dogs are in. His dogs are quite gentle, and they live with a cat, but our cats don’t know that, so we’re worried they might panic and run into traffic, or run far enough that they wouldn’t find their way home. So far so good, and I think we can make it work. “What about sailing?” I’m glad you asked. I was at the top of the waiting list for a wet slip at the yacht club. I knew I’d get a slip sooner or later, but the storm hastened my ascent on the list (due to damaged and lost boats), and I now have a slip. I’m bringing the boat down this weekend, and I plan to sail O-F-T-E-N!!! There’s plenty more to say, but you’ve probably already lost interest. I’ll blog again later. Monday, August 08, 2005
The Lake Charles Messabout has come and gone again. As usual, the Lake Charlie guys were hospitable and generous to a fault. My only complaint was that there were twelve-year-old girls playing beach volleyball, and there should have been twenty-year-olds. Ken Abrahams assured me there was nothing that could be done about it. Ken owns more boats than anybody I know. Most of his boats are home built, and he brings them all on messabout day. I finally decided to sail one of those puddle ducks. His is built entirely of lumber yard materials, including a polytarp sail. Some of the other puddle ducks had Sunfish sails, and they may get better performance, but you can't beat the price of the tarp! I was surprised at how well the thing sails. I've got to build one!
I brought my kayak and Ken gave it a try. It must have felt very un-natural to him, sitting on a plastic boat! I would be wrapping up this post right about now, except for one minor detail... the Louisiana Chapter decided to go for a sail. The Louisiana Chapter doesn't really exist anymore, so I guess it was a reunion of sorts. You remember Mark Sibille, and his V17? He was there with family and friends. His friend Mike brought along an O'day mariner, and Mark had the Venture. They decided we should all go for a sail.
Mike had beached his boat, and learned that it's easier to beach it than to un-beach it. He knew that I can't wade, so he jumped out and tried to push by himself. I could see that this wasn't working, and I felt like a real wimp, sitting on the boat with the wives while he was doing all the work. He pushed the bow around, trying to twist the boat off the sand. This accomplished one thing. It backwinded the main, sending the boom around hard, smacking Mike's wife, Hope, hard on the side of the head. You have to understand, Hope has a lot of anxiety about being on boats to begin with. Mike tries to make it easy for her, and does what he can to assure her that it's not dangerous, but she still gets sweaty palms when the boat heels. So here she is, holding ice on her concussion, and still willing to go out on the water. I give Hope a lot of credit. This is hard for her. We go out because it's fun. She's going on the water in the face of abject fear. She's a real trooper. The boom started to look like it wanted to return to its previous tack, and I started to realize that it's safer in the water, so I jumped my crippled ass overboard. I needed to do SOMETHING to help, and just having my weight off the boat seemed to make a difference. Don't worry. I didn't soak my borrowed prosthetics. As I climbed off the boat, I rested my left leg on the kayak, and put my real foot in the sand, and started to push. As we got the boat farther out, the kayak got higher and higher, and I started to feel like I was at ballet practice. How do those dancers put their leg on that bar? Back in the boat, we were on our way. Janice and I had packed frozen bottles of drinking water, and Hope was thoughtfully thawing one for us, using the sizable bump on her head. The ice pack was as much a relief to her, as drinking the water was to us. It was a pretty calm day. A great day for paddling We sailed about leisurely, drinking a couple of beers, and spreading sunblock. Mike, as it turns out, has the hairiest chest I've ever seen on an animal with opposable thumbs. He hardly needed sunblock. He had taken off a really cool tee shirt that Mark had bought him in Germany. It was a sailing shirt that said “All we are sailing”. You have to love translators! He and Mark had really latched on to that phrase, and it has become their mantra. Well, I'd be wrapping up this post about now, but for what happened next. As I said, it was a calm day, and we had just enough breeze to move the boat, and keep us from baking in the August heat. At one point, I looked ahead a few hundred yards, and saw Mark's boat was starting to heel over pretty hard. Then a saw the entire bottom of the boat! No kidding. I wouldn't be surprised to hear that his mast had touched the water. I pointed out this strange event to the rest of the group, and they looked over (with better vision than mine), and said “there's someone in the water”. We were in light airs, and whatever wind had hit Paedphor, never made it to us. We sailed in the direction of the MOB, as Mark sailed in the opposite direction. Apparently, Mark's MOB technique is to sail to shore and call for help on the nearest pay phone. With too little wind, Mike cranked his old outboard. This motor puts the “rude” in Evinrude. It doesn't idle, and it has no neutral or reverse gears. We were on a collision course with the MOB, who, as it turned out, was Kim, Mark's wife. Now we knew why Mark was fleeing the scene, but I've seen enough episodes of Forensic Files to know you just can't get away with that kind of thing anymore. When we got to Kim, she was a floating reef of PFDs and throwables. Mark had tossed her anything that would float, and she, of course, felt obligated to swim to each one of them, and collect the entire set. We unburdened her of the extraneous flotation (which was waterlogged, BTW. Replace those old throwables). I took her glasses off her face, as it was a wonder she hadn't lost them already. This is where it got scary. Kim couldn't get on the boat. The Mariner has low freeboard, but Kim didn't have the upper body strength to climb aboard, and we couldn't lift her out of the water. It was futile. We joked about it, but we were all thinking the same thing. This had the potential to be a life-threatening emergency. Thankfully we were in a small body of water, and not far from shore. Kim took hold of the kayak, which we were towing, and Mike cranked up his 'rude. We scanned the lake front cottages for a pier with a ladder, and towed Kim to the nearest one. She was able to climb up to the pier, then step onto the boat. Kim was in good spirits. She told us that the boat started to heel, and she was on the leeward side. They had friends with them on their small boat, so there was no room in the crowded cockpit to jump to the safety of the windward side. I'm not sure if it would have helped, though because the boat heeled really hard. Mark later told us that his cockpit filled with water, and the boat actually passed over Kim. She emerged on the opposite side, and got to inspect the underside of the V17. Believe it or not, we enjoyed the sail back, and Kim recited a shopping list for the week, which included good new throwables and a real swim ladder. Mike actually had a swim ladder, but it was a rope ladder, and Kim couldn't get a good footing on it. She's now demanding a proper stainless ladder. I advise getting a permanently mounted one. If your ladder is in the cabin, and you go overboard, it does you no good. This would be where I'd wrap up this post, but then came dinner... and the auction. LCYC has taken possession of some dilapidated boats, in lieu of unpaid dues. These boats are a mess. No kidding. My club would have cut the lines and set them adrift long ago. Don't you hate to see boats left neglected for years? We inspected them all, and decided none of us would give a plug nickel for any of them... but Mark, who failed at deserting his wife at sea, was hatching a new plan. He carefully bided his time, counting my drinks, before deciding on the best time to propose a partnership. He knew of my plans to buy an inland cruiser for touring the bayous. I had thought of buying a power boat and adding a plywood cabin to it. But Mark had a better plan. How about we buy an old sailboat together. Bid a low ball price, and hope for the best (or maybe worst, depending on your point of view). “Let's bit $50 on that old V23” he said. “I'll take everything that's sailing related, and you get the rest”. This means he'd get the spars and other hardware, and I'd get a hull for river trips. Despite the condition of the boat, the spars were appealing to him. I know his boom is an aluminum pipe, so for $25 he can't go wrong... especially since HE won't be burdened with a crappy hull!!!!! I went along with the scheme, but then he bid $51!!! Hey, wait a minute! “No problem.” he said. “I'll pay the extra dollar.” It wasn't the money that was the issue. I didn't want him doing anything to increase our chances of winning! A dollar could tip the scales! Yikes! Well, they decided that they wouldn't announce the “winners” right away. Since they were accepting bids by mail, and they hadn't checked their mail that day, they wanted to be fair and announce the lucky new boat owners on Tuesday. So now I spend the next two days in high anxiety mode. Well, that's the end of my post... except to say that I've been thinking about that V23, and it occurs to me that it just might make a decent little cruiser. Power wash it, clorox it, and paint it, and you could spend a pleasant weekend on the lake in a $25 boat. It has a roomy cabin, and decent storage space. Maybe we should have bid $100. (P.S. That really is the end of this post... except to say this. I returned home from Lake Charlie to find an email from Cajun John. He wanted to know why I replaced the hot babe on my website with a disgusting picture of a man's ass. I went to DontForward, and got a face full of Goatse! Yikes! I've been hacked!!!!!). Thursday, July 07, 2005{this post was originally posted on the TSBB board. If I reference people you don't know, get over it}
What a great time! Charlie and Laura are wonderful hosts, and they make you want to move to the Texas Coast. They live in a quaint little beach community that hasn't been discovered by the millionaires yet. All of the camps look like real camps, not like the mansions you see in most coastal communities these days. We felt very much at home by this beguiling place! I had never met Wolf or Arfon and our first meeting was, appropriately enough, on the water, as we were headed for the marina. Even though they had never met us, they knew us on sight. “How are Jeff and Janice doing today?”, Arfon called out, as he was being towed by his buddy's boat. “Better than you!”, I hollered back. We had watched them deal with being grounded, and were ready to assist, but by the time we caught up, they were on their way again. Fortunately, Arfon's outboard problems were temporary, and he was good to go for the rest of the weekend. At the marina, the band was setting up for the concert, and we were getting hungry, so we all walked down to a Mexican restaurant for dinner. It was a good opportunity for us to get to know our new friends, and get re-acquainted with old ones. We also got a glimpse at the gallery that sells Laura's paintings... and they do sell. Laura ran into the owner at the concert. He told her he had sold several prints that week. She's really on fire! Larry Joe Taylor was a lot of fun, and we bought a couple of his CDs after the concert. We also bought some coral rings from the Port Lavaca Yacht Club for fifty cents each, and wore them for the next four days. I left mine on the boat, and it will be part of my regular sailing garb from now on. As Wolf said, the night in the marina was hot. We were pretty sweaty, and happy that there was a real shower available in the morning. Not a single TSBBer skipped the opportunity for a good ablution before heading down into the wilderness.
Wayne and Connie were the first to leave in the morning. We also left early assuming, naturally, that we needed a head start, since we're a little slow on the water. It didn't take long for Tehani and La Vie Dansante to catch us and pass us, much like we were standing still. Wolf is apparently a pretty competent sailor, because he left us, and everyone else, in his wake. We expected to be passed by Tehani first, but Wolf blew by us like there was a sale on Corona at the end of the channel.
Our sailing buddies for this trip were Wayne and Connie. We passed them, they passed us, we passed them. It was a nice teeter totter day. We knew there would be someone close by if we got into trouble, and we could see, at least two miles ahead, that Tehani and Wolf were still screaming through the bay. But what about Arfon? Well, we could see he was about a mile behind us, and then farther, and then he wasn't there at all. I figured he'd catch up with us by midnight, and I felt bad that he had fallen so far behind. As we approached the end of the channel, Charlie hailed us on the VHF and told us he'd anchored to wait for us to catch up. “We're anchored with Wolf, and Arfon is just getting here.” Huh? Arfon was miles behind us! I was blown away when I arrived at the jetties to see he was there, at anchor, waiting on us slow-pokes to catch up.
We all got to sail the last mile to the anchorage together. That's where Tehani got into trouble. With the deepest draft, they were feeling out the shallow spots for us
Wolf gave a pretty good description of the evening in his post. The current was stronger than anything I've been in, so we were leery of going ashore. I suggested rafting up, and we all agreed that we could get together for a few hours, but the wind was strong, and the current was wicked, so we knew we couldn't spend the night like that. Janice and I had roast beef, mashed potatoes, and asparagus for dinner. Charlie and Laura had roast beef, mashed potatoes, and asparagus for dinner. Wow! Do great minds think alike! What were he odds we'd pack the exact same dinner?
At sunset, I finally got to blow my conch shell horn. It's a tradition to welcome the sunset in this manner, but I had never done so before. Of course, Charlie had to out-do me by taking out an even bigger conch shell and making a deeper, louder blast!
After we all went our separate ways, on our separate anchors, the fireworks displays started onshore. They were impressive, but not as impressive as the great stargazing they have there. It was dark enough that the Milky Way was as plain as clouds in the sky. Venus and Mars were lined up next to each other. It was great. We were a little nervous about the weather conditions, since we'd never anchored in strong winds and currents before. When I got up at night, it looked like we had dragged anchor, because the anchor lights from the other boats were just dots, and it's hard to judge distance on dots. I kept an eye on it, but in the morning, we learned that we hadn't drifted an inch! The next day was for beach combing and socializing. I learned that Wolf and Arfon are really white, and they intend to stay that way
Speaking of which, I was screwing with the old broad myself. In these modern times, with modern prosthetics, it's hard for an amputee to be a good pirate. We have to stay away from salt water. It was bound to happen, and of course, it did. I stepped onto my kayak at one point, and all of a sudden I was in the water! I don't know what happened, but before I could get situated, I lost my balance and the water came up to meet me. I was wearing my PFD, so I bobbed like a cork, but I knew my leg was soaking up seawater like a sponge. I climbed aboard, and squeezed out all the salt water I could. Then I cut through the “life-like” cover and squeezed out the salt water, then rinsed the mechanism with fresh water and sprayed it with WD-40. Today I put the knee in the shop, and they gave me a loaner (I'm not making this up), and the salt-laden one is headed back to the factory. Sunday we spent the entire day on the beach. Not all of us, since Wayne and Connie were itching to sail, and cast off to do so. Later, we all gathered for a cookout on the beach.
The sail back was a real gas! We hit record speeds, higher than our hull speed, since we were sailing downwind, which O'days apparently love. Later, Charlie announced that he'd made it back in record time, yet he never caught us!!! We did pretty good. When we got back, we had the opportunity of watching Wolf and Arfon go through their packing ritual. It was very involved. Janice and I just leave everything in the boat Charlie and Laura inflated a mattress for us to sleep on, and while I could still feel the rolling boat, while on solid ground, I slept very well in their air conditioning. Tuesday I got to see Charlie's workshop in Victoria. If you haven't seen it yet, you'd better hurry, because he's re-locating to be closer to home (actually, to be home). The trip was a good time My only regret is that the TSBBers who couldn't make it, couldn't make it. They missed a great little cruise. Edit: Here's a little video I made on my digital camera. Wednesday, June 08, 2005 Here's a recent house project. I didn't have enough original woodwork to go around, so I took the best specimins I could find (not shown), and made a cast out of a special rubber casting material. I complain to Janice that she buys the bare minimum materials, and we end up in a bind, but this time I was the guilty party. I bought just enough material to coat the pieces, but the molds weren't thick enough to hold their shape, so I added plaster around it as a support. The results weren't perfect, but were certainly passable, and I doubt that visitors to my home will notice which are real and which are fake. I also under-bought on casting material. I decided to leave the containers unopened for a future (and smaller) project, and went to Lowe's for cheap, yet strong casting material. I bought ordinary fiberglass resin and fiberglass gloth. I mixed sawdust into the resin as a thickener (that's why it looks like wood in the picture), and brushed it into the mold. Then I added the cloth and more resin, then filled the bulk of the space with a pre-cut piece of plywood. I have been restoring a bedroom and bathroom for friends who are visiting this week, but I didn't get it finished on time. My albatross was the ceramic tile floor. I chose the most authentic looking tile I could afford, the little one-inch hexagon tiles, and installed them this weekend. The expert at the store said to be generous with the thin-set adhesive, and let the excess ooze up if it has to. Then, remove the excess only after it's dry, by scraping it. Well, she may not have understood what was involved when you use tiny tiles. There are literally thousands of grout lines, and while ony a fraction of them need to be scraped out, I spent 12 hours working on it Sunday. At the end of the day I saw that I was about half finished. I knew I had been beaten, so we decided we'd drop the restoration for now, and get the rest of the house ready for our guests. They can use our bathroom. Wednesday, May 04, 2005
I'm on "vacation" this week. No, I'm not traveling or sailing. I took a week off work to get my remodeling project done. Maybe not done, but get some progress that I wouldn't otherwise have made. I'll post pictures later. I'm putting in 12 hour days, and making good progress, but old-house remodeling is a slow and tedious thing, and it's hard to see much visible progress at the day. Still, it's getting done, and my windows open and close like a dream! Monday, March 14, 2005 I saw this bug on my house today. Sunday, February 20, 2005Here's some of the progress I've been making these days. I'm restoring an upstairs bedroom and bath in my house, but lately I've mostly worked on the bedroom. The picture on the left shows the original state, as it was when we bought the house. The picture was taken in January, 2005 -- 12 years after we bought the place. That'll give you some idea how long it takes us to get things done.The picture on the right shows the installation of the beadboard ceiling. Real beadboard can be hard to find. You won't find it in the big box stores, because they mostly deal with major manufacturers. Go to the local lumberyard. The one in the delapidated building. They'll do business with the area lumber mills that the big box stores ignore. They're a great source for good materials. Once we found boxes of old door hardware from the 1940s -- still in the original packaging, in an old hardware store. Dig, dig, dig!See the scraps of wood? Those are my jacks (for lack of a better term). They consist of two scraps of wood, with a screw conecting them. I attach them to the ceiling with screws, then lift the beadboard to the ceiling, turn the loosepiece to hold the board in place, wedge the beadboard tight, and nail it with a pneumatic nail gun. It's a slow process, but it'll last a hundred years, so what's a few days work in the grand scheme of things?
Here's a good representative shot of where we stand today. The ceiling is in, and the sheetrock and crown molding are done. The crown molding is much smaller and simpler than what I used downstairs. Typicaly, old houses of this vintage have more ornate downstairs woodwork, and each higher level has simpler woodwork.  There's still a lot to do in this room. The windows need a lot of work, there's painting and wallpaper to deal with, and the floor needs a finish. I love the old floors upstairs. They are original to the house, unlike the downstairs oak floors, which were added in the 1950s. I really don't want to sand them down to new wood. I think I'd lose a lot of charm by doing that. I'm going to see if I can clean them and oil them. I wiped mineral spirits on a section today, and it looked great. When I finish this, I have a bathroom to deal with. We got the "new" tub, which was manufactured in 1913. It'll be a great bathroom!  Saturday, January 22, 2005
My latest obsession is eBay. I've been looking for ways to make a buck online (you know about my Google story), and I decided eBay was the way to go. I work with someone who is also starting to sell, and she's only lost money, as far as I can tell.
I'm scouring the web for wholesale stuff to sell. It's not easy, since most wholesalers close their doors to Joe Sixpack who wants to make an extra buck. They just don't have the time to deal with us, which I understand. I've been looking into dropshippers. I've been familiar with the concept since the pre-internet days. It's hard to imagine, but there was a time you could only reach customers with print ads, or catalogs, or mailers. They'd send the payment, by mail, you'd take your cut, and send the rest of the money to the dropshipper, by mail, and in just a few short months, the customer would get their product. Today everything's fast. But I still can't find the profits. The numbers just don't add up. Here's what I posted today on the eBay discussion forums: Dropshippers offer items at what can laughably be called "wholesale" prices. When comparison shopping on eBay, I see many products selling for less than the dropshipper's charging me as wholesale. So, if I'm lucky, I'll be able to sell the item, but only get a few bucks for my trouble. My first inclination was to think "but I've got nothing invested, so if I make $10 on a $300 item, it's still profit." Well, yes, there's an element of truth there, but if you want to make any real money, you'll have to sell a lot of items. Sounds easy enough. I'll just list ten of them, instead of one. They all sell, and I make $100!!! (exclamation points borrowed from the drop-ship companies). So now all I have to do is shell out $3000 to the drop shipper, and I'm in the black. Only I don't have $3000, or I've got the credit for it, but I'll max out my credit cards just to make $100. (notice how the exclamation points disappeared). If I want to make $1000 per month, it's easy. I just need $30,000 of credit. So now I'm $3000 in debt, and I have to wait for all the accounts to clear before I can make another $100. But lets say one of my customers uses a bad credit card, and PayPal reverses the charge AFTER I have paid for his product. The Drop Shipper has already sent the item, and they accept no responsibility. Other retail businesses have enough of a markup to absorb the occasional loss, but with this business plan, I'm out $300, which will put me deep in the hole, and take me months of selling to break even. And that's IF I don't get stiffed again. Am I the only one who thinks it doesn't add up? My obsessive personality has some advantages. While I'm inclined to jump into any scheme that presents itself to me, I'm also obsessive enough that I dwell on them, and become consumed -- and get the facts. The internet was made for people like me, who have to dig and learn about something, and can't find enough information in the public library (don't you love living in the future? Hard to believe the public library was once our main source of information!) My obsession with the idea compelled me to examine it from all angles, and run the numbers, and conclude that I'd really like to own one of those dropshipping companies. But as their customer, I'll only lose money. I haven't given up. I'll keep looking for something that will make a profit. UPDATE: I hadn't run all the numbers. a $10 markup on a $300 item would put a seller in a hole, since the eBay and PayPal fees would exceed $20. Monday, January 03, 2005
This is Gerald, from the office. A little scary, but not terribly dangerous. Saturday, January 01, 2005
I finally bought a new digital camera yesterday, and it takes pretty good macro shots, though it tends to make my cat uncomfortale, having a camera lens in his face 8^)
Here's an even closer close-up... 
BTW: It's aFujifilm E510. Got a pretty good deal on it at BestBuy
I saw my mom yesterday, and she gave me this old picture.
That's me in the wheelchair. The photo was taken in 1969, when an entertainer named Eddie Peabody visited Shriner's Hospital, my home away from home. I spent a good part of my childhood there, and it was from the boys' ward that I watched the first moon landing. Months later, I was still there, and met Eddie. I've been told that I also met Festus, from Gunsmoke, but I don't have the pictures to prove it. Thursday, December 16, 2004
I’ll give you an idea what my job is like. As you may know, I work for Child Protection in Louisiana.
It’s Thursday, and I’ve spent my entire week working with one family that’s in crisis. But I won’t talk about them. Let me tell you about my day so far. I’ve spent the entire morning doing paperwork on the case record for that family. I’ve already done a lot of paperwork on this case this week, but today’s work was especially stupid. Earlier this week, I wrote the social summary, which is a narrative describing the family dynamics and problems that need to be addressed. This is a good document for recording just about everything you need to know on a new case. Yesterday I copied information from that document, and pasted it into a referral form for court. I also copied it onto a referral form for a therapist. In both instances, I also attached a copy (required) of the social summary. This means that I am supplying the same information, but in two different formats, to these outside people. Now remember, the form we use to refer a family to the court is a different form than the one for the therapist, though they contain similar, and often duplicate information. Today I had to complete other necessary forms to be filed in the case record. These forms aren’t sent to anybody. They’re just filed in the case record with the social summary. First I completed the Risk Assessment form, then the Safety Assessment form. You’d think those could both be addressed in one form. I completed these forms with information from the social summary, and filed them in the record... with the social summary. So that’s three documents with the same information, filed along with copies of the other forms I mentioned, which all have the same information. Now for the Face Sheet. This is a one-page document that lists family members, addresses, phone numbers, etc. If you opened the case right now, you’d think that you were looking at the face sheet. But no. That’s the referral form that the investigator sent me. It’s filed right where the face sheet will go, and contains all the same information. But I have to copy all of the same information from that referral form, and file it in the same spot in the record. That’s two forms – one on top of the other – with identical content, arranged slightly differently on the page. I’ve documented the same information, much of it handwritten, at least five times so far this week, on various documents. Meanwhile, the family is in crisis. Believe it or not, Louisiana has one of the best child protective service agencies in the country. We’re one of the few (very few) to be accredited. God! I’d hate to see what it’s like in other states. Tuesday, November 30, 2004
Well' it's been a long time since I've blogged, so I guess I'm due for an update.
Earlier this year, we sailed with Charlie and Laura (see photo blog below), and I invited them to stay at our house as they sail from Texas to Florida next year. Problem is, I don't have a spare bedroom or bath. If you know me, you know I've been restoring an old house for many years. Well, in truth, I've been living in it for many years. I've done very little restoration in quite a long time. So when I invited Charlie and Laura, I knew what I was doing. I was putting pressure on myself to get some work done. Since then, I've demolished the old upstairs bathroom. I'm installing new joists, as the old ones were in poor shape. Then comes floor, tub, etc. The bathtubs we're looking at all seem to weigh 300 pounds. Don't know how we'll get them up the stairs. In other news, I had a surgery week before last. I had this huge bump on the back of my neck. It was about the size of a hen's egg, and I thought it was a knotted muscle, so I let it stay there for 11 years. This summer, my doctor told me it was a lipoma, and could be removed. It never bothered me, but everyone else wanted me to have it removed, because they were tired of looking at it, especially since I shaved my head. It was more obvious than ever. Other news... let's see. I got a new cordless drill yesterday. Damn. When you start blogging about what you bought at Wal Mart it's time to quit. Good night. Monday, October 04, 2004
Saturday I met up with members of the Lafayette Paddle Club for a morning paddle through Lake Martin, a small but picturesque lake near Breaux Bridge, LA. I was the first to arrive... a full hour before the group, so I took advantage of the fog to get some good swamp pictures. I really need a better camera. There is a wonderful eeriness about the swamp in fog. A quiet that can give you goosebumps. 
Here's my kayak. It's basically a toy, which has never been so apparent as it was this day. The other guys had real kayaks, which moved through the water with great speed, and could actually coast, which mine cannot do. To my surprise, the more serious paddlers actually were impressed with my little vessel for its ability to turn on a dime, and its light weight and easy stowability. I think I was the only one there who didn't have a roof rack, or trailer. It's so small I can toss it in the back of the truck. Still, I doubt the other guys will be trading in their nice kayaks for one of these any time soon. 
We paddled the circumference of the lake. The pictures don't show it, but there's plenty of open water in Lake Martin, but it's more fun to paddle through the trees around the edge. 
Look closely for the alligator on the log. Sorry for the grainy picture quality. The event lasted only half a day, which, sadly, left me plenty of time to mow my lawn when I got home. Next report will (hopefully) be on the Wooden Boat Festival, in Madisonville, LA Friday, September 17, 2004
Scroll down to the pictures of my sailing trip this past June. Well, that spot was ground zero for Hurricane Ivan. I'm starting to get reports from the people who live there, and it seems the entire place was nearly wiped off the map. The quaint marina bar is gone, as are many of the trees and boats and houses and everything.
This was a special place for us, and we're devastated to know that it will never be what it was when we were there in June. What a loss. It was a special place. Wednesday, September 01, 2004
My new outboard motor arrived today.
I have a 1967 Evinrude that would be a real creampuff for anyone who has a knack for old gasoline engines, but I don't, so I bought a new Nissan 6 HP four stroke. I'm stoked. More sailing news: I moved my boat into a wet slip in the yacht club last week. I've sailed three times since then, which is like a dream come true. I'll only have the slip for a matter of weeks, as I am sub-letting it from the owner, but I'm on the waiting list to get my own slip. Can't wait to get that! I need to loosen up on spending a bit. The new outboard is a big extravagance for us. We have been pinching pennies for years, in hopes of taking early retirement. But it looks like early retirement would consist of staying home, and pinching pennies for the rest of our lives, because there won't be any money to spend if I retire at age 48 (my minimum retirement date). So I told Janice we need to enjoy our money a little more. This evening, I browsed the Sharper Image catalog, and didn't see a single thing I'd waste my money on. Old habits die hard. Other news: I had a birthday this week. 45 years old -- yikes.
My mother is getting a haircut.
Not big-sounding news, but after months of chemotherapy and suffering every side effect in the book, she's making a comeback. Monday, August 09, 2004
Well, my new prosthesis is complete. It's radically different than any anything I've had in the past (I've been wearing them for 40 years).
It's held in place with a gel sleeve that has a threaded metal end. A plastic attachment screws into the threads, and a string is pulled to hold it in place. Very different. The upside? The gel insert is very comfortable, and even when I sweat, it doesn't feel hot or sweaty. Janice says I'm walking better, too. The downside? It takes too long to put it on. If I'm not wearing it, and there's a knock at the door, I'll never get there before they leave. It's the price I pay for comfort, I guess. I'm expecting to get faster at it over time. Another plus, it looks better. It has a sprayed-on skin that seems to match my own flesh tones better, and even has little squiggly lines to simulate hair. I get a new one once every six or seven years. Hopefully, this one will stay comfortable and I will not feel like I'm forced to get a new one just to be able to tolerate it. I'm not sure why the old one got to be so uncomfortable, but I'm sure it felt okay when it was new. Maybe it has something to do with weight gain. Weight is another new development. I had recently been forced to buy larger pants, as I outgrew my old ones. Well, the new larger ones were starting to feel too tight, so I decided it was time to finally do something. I'm amazed at how easy it has been to shed those pounds. Janice suggested an Atkins-like approach. She had to go out of town, so she hasn't started dieting yet, but in the week she was away, I lost 3 1/2 pounds. In the first few days of the diet, I thought I was not likely to make much progress, because I felt plenty full after meals, but despite eating well, the pounds are dropping. I haven't researched Atkins, so I don't know the program, but I have cut way back on carbs. Nothing fanatical, but I'm avoiding high-carb stuff. My usual morning ritual, which consisted of a bowl of cereal, has been replaced with bacon and eggs, or sometimes canteloupe. I still go home and make a sandwich for lunch, but without bread. I put the meat and cheese on a large leaf of lettuce, and roll it up. Basically, it's the same lunch I've always had, but no bread. Other than that, I've cut out sweets, which is no sacrifice, as I don't eat that many. I can already see a noticable difference, and it's just been a week. I'll celebrate my 45th birthday this month, and it looks like I'm going to have to start paying attention to diet from now on. I've been thin all my life, and I plan to stay that way, but it won't come naturally anymore. Archives11/01/2001 - 12/01/2001 12/01/2001 - 01/01/2002 01/01/2002 - 02/01/2002 02/01/2002 - 03/01/2002 03/01/2002 - 04/01/2002 09/01/2002 - 10/01/2002 05/01/2004 - 06/01/2004 06/01/2004 - 07/01/2004 07/01/2004 - 08/01/2004 08/01/2004 - 09/01/2004 09/01/2004 - 10/01/2004 10/01/2004 - 11/01/2004 11/01/2004 - 12/01/2004 12/01/2004 - 01/01/2005 01/01/2005 - 02/01/2005 02/01/2005 - 03/01/2005 03/01/2005 - 04/01/2005 05/01/2005 - 06/01/2005 06/01/2005 - 07/01/2005 07/01/2005 - 08/01/2005 08/01/2005 - 09/01/2005 10/01/2005 - 11/01/2005 12/01/2005 - 01/01/2006 02/01/2006 - 03/01/2006 10/01/2007 - 11/01/2007 01/01/2008 - 02/01/2008 09/01/2008 - 10/01/2008 |
, we arrived at the channel markers. Time to fire up the outboard. I had wanted to sail down the channel, but the wind had died to nothing, so I needed the maneuverability the outboard could provide. 
. at times, we were almost totally still on the water, and on occasion, we'd heel a little. Hope tensed instantly. We assured her that there was no way a boat could get knocked down on a calm summer day such as this (Don't you love it when foreshadowing happens in real life?). 
ARFON'S BOAT 
WOLF'S BOAT 
