For basic maintenance of our cars, we usually go to the Firestone place next to Briarwood Mall. I can drop the car off and walk around the mall or sit under a tree and read a book while I wait.
Last summer, I was waiting for our Saturn to be repaired. I was at the JCPenney end of the mall, and I could see they had lowered the car and were about to drive it out into the parking lot. I decided to wait there and watch. I had been there for about 5 minutes when a mall security truck drove up and stopped in front of me. The security guard got out and asked if everything was OK. I said “Sure”. He said that he had received some calls from concerned shoppers about me, and wondered if I could explain why I was standing there.
The sarcastic, cynical person in me, the one who is tired of all the phony-baloney security rules that have been imposed for no good reason on American citizens since 9/11, wanted to ask him for more details about the switchboards lighting up from “concerned shoppers” and just what exactly they were all concerned about. (“Oh my gosh, there’s this 40 year-old white guy who’s like, average height, with a farmer’s tan and he’s wearing brown shoes and a ten-dollar watch standing outside the mall and he has a book in his hands! I think the book may be about TERRORISM!”)
But I went along with it.
I told him I was waiting for my car to be done at Firestone, and he accepted this as a reasonable explanation, got back in his car, and drove off.
I have some observations and questions about mall “security”:
1) If I were a terrorist and I wanted to strike the women’s underwear department at JCPenney’s, all I would have to do is bring a book and claim to have my car at Firestone? That’s easy.
2) If he truly thought I was a danger to the mall, shouldn’t he have called the police?
3) If people were actually calling him to report problems, wouldn’t I have noticed someone grabbing their cellphone to make that call? If so, who would they have called? The number for mall security, or 911? If the former, where did they get the number, and, if the latter, wouldn’t the real police have shown up?
I'm not so much insulted that the security guy asked me what I was doing there. I imagine they have some guidelines that they have to follow that says people can't just loiter around the mall. Fine. I am insulted that he thought I was too stupid to know he was lying to me about the "phone calls". Does he think I believed him? A middle-aged guy with a book warrants multiple calls to mall security?
No one would have given me a second glance had I been INSIDE the mall, sitting in one of the many chairs, surrounded by stores and a steady stream of shoppers. Where a criminal mind who wanted to make a statement could do some real damage...
When I was a Young Warthog: Mowing, Yard Work, and other Miscellaneous Jobs
This is Part V in a series. You can see the other parts here: Part 1, Part II, Part III, and Part IV.
I think I was 14 when I went to the high school office to get a work permit. It was a piece of paper that (and I am guessing here) would allow an employer to legally pay me for work, and do so under the minimum wage. Today, the minimum wage only applies to employees 16 and over, and for argument’s sake, I’ll assume it was the same 27 years ago.
The first yard work job I had was for a woman who lived on the edge of Jackson. We knew her from church, and somehow John and I ended up doing work for her. After a while, John wasn’t coming with me, and I did the work alone. Dad would drop me off and pick me up since I was too young to drive. She had a large corner lot on Kibby Rd. and had lots of gardens, sidewalks, bird feeders, and landscaping. She’s the first person I knew who had a compost pile. She taught me how to do everything she needed done: how to weed, how to edge a sidewalk, how to mix compost into the soil, how to clean out gutters, how to paint a basement floor, I did a lot of jobs for her, and she was a good teacher. I cleaned the bird bath and hauled things away and went to the nursery with her to pick up annuals and planted them for her. She lived with her mother, who at the time was in her 90s, and I would come inside when I was done and talk to her for a little while before I left for home. If I was there for a whole day, she’d make me lunch and we’d talk while I ate. I remember her being quite at ease with me even though we were probably 50 years apart. The one thing I don’t think I ever did there was mow her lawn, which is odd considering all the time I spent mowing everyone else’s.
We were 15 years old when a friend of the family who owned some apartments outside Jackson hired us to mow the apartment lawns. We drove our station wagon, which was really more like a small UPS truck with a Buick nameplate, over to their house to get their two lawn mowers and gas cans, then drove to Parma to mow the apartments. When we first started doing it, there were also some apartments in Hanover that we mowed, but he sold them soon after that, so that was one less hour on the road.
Since we were teenagers, we didn’t worry about our hearing or having eye protection (other than sunglasses), and we probably didn’t care if we got sunburn or sore ankles.
Using the Buick to move the lawn mowers back and forth naturally created a problem for us when we wanted to use the car for a date – the whole thing was covered with dust and if the windows were down, it wasn’t unusual for grass to float around inside the car. The fact that part of the body of the car had rusted through in several places didn’t help – it created an extra wind tunnel to catch everything. (The holes in the back were about 20-25 feet behind the driver’s seat, but that didn’t stop the dust from flying.) We learned to take the OTHER car if we went on a date or were going to be seen in public. (Speaking of this car, the irony of this remote job was that the only time I ever got into what could be described as a car accident was backing out of the driveway on our way to mowing the apartments. I left the rear driver’s-side door open, and when I backed up, the door crunched into the house, bending the door and damaging the aluminum siding. The door was never fixed – it closed well enough, and stayed in that state until it was sold a few years later to someone who was going to use it in a demolition derby. True story.)
When we first started mowing the apartment lawns, we were paid a flat hourly rate, maybe $5 an hour. We realized quickly that we would be gone for over 2 hours mowing lawns, and we’d come back with $10 for the effort. We figured that a professional lawn company would probably charge $40-50 for that lawn, and we could make $10 for a half-hour of mowing at a few other houses we were taking care of. We asked Dad to renegotiate, and it was agreed that we would get a minimum of $15 per outing, which was better. Not swimming-pools-movie-stars better, but better.
A few times we went to the apartments to help fix some other things. I remember fixing some folding closet doors and using a spoon to scoop crud out of an old water heater. I also remember getting paid once in quarters collected from the on-site washer and dryer. The owner was proud of himself for thinking to pay me in quarters (“you can use them to play video games!”) but I think he just didn’t want to carry a bag of quarters to the bank. (Note to youngsters: We used to have to leave the house to play video games. They cost a quarter. Quarters are kind of like Chuck E. Cheese tokens.)
I joke about it, but he did give us some opportunities and job experience, and we even babysat for him on occasion. He was a consistent job-provider for us for several years, and helped us find another homeowner who hired me to mow her lawn. This woman didn’t have a lot of money, and several times tried to pay me with cookies. I felt bad saying I couldn’t accept the cookies as payment, but I needed the money. I’m pretty sure it was only $5.
John and I had other jobs besides mowing. We worked for a retired couple, mowing their lawn as well as doing some other jobs. (They paid us $10 to mow, and it was the smallest of the lawns we did. We argued over who got to do the mowing each week.) They wanted to install a shower in the basement, and needed to chisel through the concrete floor to get down to the drain pipes. I remember hacking away at it, taking turns with John. At one point, we had to stick our heads in the hole, laying on our backs, to chisel out some of it. I got claustrophobic upside down with my head in a hole, so John had to take over for a while. They had an indoor pool for the woman, who had some arthritis problems, and I had never known anyone with an indoor pool before that (I still don’t.) They wanted to put some lights up, so we ran Romex wire throughout the large pool room, and John climbed up into the rafters with a box of wire nuts to attach all the wires together. Somehow, he knew what he was doing with the wiring, even though I don’t think he had done it before (that won’t surprise those of you who know him.) Another time we put some steel cables and turnbuckles in the rafters above his garage because he was afraid his garage floor was cracking and shifting, and he wanted to make sure it didn’t take the framing of the garage and house with it. I’m not sure if that was an effective measure to take, but it sounded good to me at the time. I’m sure there are other things we did for them, and they always paid us well, so we were eager to help.
Occasionally, I delivered papers for my friend, Craig, when he was on vacation. I would bike over to his house and do the route. The route was quite spread out if I recall correctly, and it seems like it took a long time. A few times when I had to deliver the Sunday paper, Dad would go out with me and drive so we could get it done quickly. I remember him complaining about why I was required to get the papers to houses so early when OUR paper delivery person took his time on Sundays. I don’t remember what I was paid per day of delivering papers, probably very little, but it made me feel productive. I liked walking around with the papers and I appreciated the fact that I didn’t have to go to everyone’s house collecting money. (Note to youngsters: Back then, paper carriers went door-to-door to collect the money for the papers, they didn’t have online payment and automatic credit card charges. Sometimes they used quarters.)
Being a semi-talented musician when I was younger, there were some opportunities to make a few bucks. I played cello in several pit orchestras, for which I was probably not paid much, and sometimes not at all. I was in a few pretty good pits – we were young but we knew what we were doing. Having a professional church musician in the family, I occasionally played for free or almost free for various churches and temples. (No mosques, but only because there weren’t any in Jackson.) I also played for various school functions, and it was taken for granted that because I was a student at the high school, I was automatically available to play for free for any other school-related event. Nuts to that! I started getting wise to that and gracefully declined those “opportunities” One grumble-worthy episode in my brief life as “Free Help” was a large downtown Jackson church whose services are attended by many hundreds and were broadcast on the radio. There was a big deal of a musical event that I took part in, which involved several practices. I had to play a very difficult solo in the middle of it - it’s a scary and lonely feeling playing a solo in that place– it’s huge, and everyone’s watching you. But I nailed it at both services, because when you hire me for free, you get more than your money’s worth. This was grumble-worthy because the people who put this whole thing together never thanked me, in person, or in a postcard, or any other way. That was the last time I volunteered to play music unless it was something I wanted to do, and for someone I knew would appreciate it.
When I was a little older I played for a wedding and made some money, maybe $100? Mom, my sister, and I played a few songs from “The Lion King” that Mom arranged and maybe one other. There wasn’t a lot of room in the sanctuary (Temple Beth Israel in Jackson), so I was around the side of the seats. About two feet behind me was the video camera that taped the whole service. After the glass had been stepped on and everyone was happy and married, we were playing the bride and groom out when the man operating the camera swung it around and pointed it right at me. I was, naturally, in the middle of the part that I had the most trouble playing, and I think my heart stopped for a few seconds, but my years of training and playing in front of people offset the instant panic, and I persevered, much as the chosen people persevered in the desert for forty years (Completely inappropriate and disproportionate Torah reference. Possibly blasphemous.)
I lost money on this deal, though, because the cost of replacing my old cello strings was about the same amount I was paid. I would have complained to the union but I didn’t belong.
I did some other odd jobs for money before I sold myself out to Corporate America, but it’s hard to remember all of them. The summer after graduating from college (AKA the summer before I got a job) I remember helping my future in-laws move some things from their house in Jackson to Okemos, taking down one of their neighbors’ mailboxes in the process. I bought shoes with the money they gave me – I was broke. That summer I also taught beginning cello lessons to a girl who lived across the street from my parents. I initially felt guilty for charging them money since I had never taught lessons before, but I think I did a pretty good job. I went to Parkside school to talk to the band/orchestra teacher, who handed me a pile of beginner books to use, with the understanding that he’d get them back someday. I don’t know if the girl continued playing cello or not – if she was smart she didn’t, because those things are a pain to haul back and forth to school on the bus.
This wraps up all the paying jobs I’ve had. Actually, there is one more, but the government’s faithful servants at the Witness Protection Program have asked me not to discuss anything that happened on or around Christmas Day, 1987.
I think I was 14 when I went to the high school office to get a work permit. It was a piece of paper that (and I am guessing here) would allow an employer to legally pay me for work, and do so under the minimum wage. Today, the minimum wage only applies to employees 16 and over, and for argument’s sake, I’ll assume it was the same 27 years ago.
The first yard work job I had was for a woman who lived on the edge of Jackson. We knew her from church, and somehow John and I ended up doing work for her. After a while, John wasn’t coming with me, and I did the work alone. Dad would drop me off and pick me up since I was too young to drive. She had a large corner lot on Kibby Rd. and had lots of gardens, sidewalks, bird feeders, and landscaping. She’s the first person I knew who had a compost pile. She taught me how to do everything she needed done: how to weed, how to edge a sidewalk, how to mix compost into the soil, how to clean out gutters, how to paint a basement floor, I did a lot of jobs for her, and she was a good teacher. I cleaned the bird bath and hauled things away and went to the nursery with her to pick up annuals and planted them for her. She lived with her mother, who at the time was in her 90s, and I would come inside when I was done and talk to her for a little while before I left for home. If I was there for a whole day, she’d make me lunch and we’d talk while I ate. I remember her being quite at ease with me even though we were probably 50 years apart. The one thing I don’t think I ever did there was mow her lawn, which is odd considering all the time I spent mowing everyone else’s.
We were 15 years old when a friend of the family who owned some apartments outside Jackson hired us to mow the apartment lawns. We drove our station wagon, which was really more like a small UPS truck with a Buick nameplate, over to their house to get their two lawn mowers and gas cans, then drove to Parma to mow the apartments. When we first started doing it, there were also some apartments in Hanover that we mowed, but he sold them soon after that, so that was one less hour on the road.
Since we were teenagers, we didn’t worry about our hearing or having eye protection (other than sunglasses), and we probably didn’t care if we got sunburn or sore ankles.
Using the Buick to move the lawn mowers back and forth naturally created a problem for us when we wanted to use the car for a date – the whole thing was covered with dust and if the windows were down, it wasn’t unusual for grass to float around inside the car. The fact that part of the body of the car had rusted through in several places didn’t help – it created an extra wind tunnel to catch everything. (The holes in the back were about 20-25 feet behind the driver’s seat, but that didn’t stop the dust from flying.) We learned to take the OTHER car if we went on a date or were going to be seen in public. (Speaking of this car, the irony of this remote job was that the only time I ever got into what could be described as a car accident was backing out of the driveway on our way to mowing the apartments. I left the rear driver’s-side door open, and when I backed up, the door crunched into the house, bending the door and damaging the aluminum siding. The door was never fixed – it closed well enough, and stayed in that state until it was sold a few years later to someone who was going to use it in a demolition derby. True story.)
When we first started mowing the apartment lawns, we were paid a flat hourly rate, maybe $5 an hour. We realized quickly that we would be gone for over 2 hours mowing lawns, and we’d come back with $10 for the effort. We figured that a professional lawn company would probably charge $40-50 for that lawn, and we could make $10 for a half-hour of mowing at a few other houses we were taking care of. We asked Dad to renegotiate, and it was agreed that we would get a minimum of $15 per outing, which was better. Not swimming-pools-movie-stars better, but better.
A few times we went to the apartments to help fix some other things. I remember fixing some folding closet doors and using a spoon to scoop crud out of an old water heater. I also remember getting paid once in quarters collected from the on-site washer and dryer. The owner was proud of himself for thinking to pay me in quarters (“you can use them to play video games!”) but I think he just didn’t want to carry a bag of quarters to the bank. (Note to youngsters: We used to have to leave the house to play video games. They cost a quarter. Quarters are kind of like Chuck E. Cheese tokens.)
I joke about it, but he did give us some opportunities and job experience, and we even babysat for him on occasion. He was a consistent job-provider for us for several years, and helped us find another homeowner who hired me to mow her lawn. This woman didn’t have a lot of money, and several times tried to pay me with cookies. I felt bad saying I couldn’t accept the cookies as payment, but I needed the money. I’m pretty sure it was only $5.
John and I had other jobs besides mowing. We worked for a retired couple, mowing their lawn as well as doing some other jobs. (They paid us $10 to mow, and it was the smallest of the lawns we did. We argued over who got to do the mowing each week.) They wanted to install a shower in the basement, and needed to chisel through the concrete floor to get down to the drain pipes. I remember hacking away at it, taking turns with John. At one point, we had to stick our heads in the hole, laying on our backs, to chisel out some of it. I got claustrophobic upside down with my head in a hole, so John had to take over for a while. They had an indoor pool for the woman, who had some arthritis problems, and I had never known anyone with an indoor pool before that (I still don’t.) They wanted to put some lights up, so we ran Romex wire throughout the large pool room, and John climbed up into the rafters with a box of wire nuts to attach all the wires together. Somehow, he knew what he was doing with the wiring, even though I don’t think he had done it before (that won’t surprise those of you who know him.) Another time we put some steel cables and turnbuckles in the rafters above his garage because he was afraid his garage floor was cracking and shifting, and he wanted to make sure it didn’t take the framing of the garage and house with it. I’m not sure if that was an effective measure to take, but it sounded good to me at the time. I’m sure there are other things we did for them, and they always paid us well, so we were eager to help.
Occasionally, I delivered papers for my friend, Craig, when he was on vacation. I would bike over to his house and do the route. The route was quite spread out if I recall correctly, and it seems like it took a long time. A few times when I had to deliver the Sunday paper, Dad would go out with me and drive so we could get it done quickly. I remember him complaining about why I was required to get the papers to houses so early when OUR paper delivery person took his time on Sundays. I don’t remember what I was paid per day of delivering papers, probably very little, but it made me feel productive. I liked walking around with the papers and I appreciated the fact that I didn’t have to go to everyone’s house collecting money. (Note to youngsters: Back then, paper carriers went door-to-door to collect the money for the papers, they didn’t have online payment and automatic credit card charges. Sometimes they used quarters.)
Being a semi-talented musician when I was younger, there were some opportunities to make a few bucks. I played cello in several pit orchestras, for which I was probably not paid much, and sometimes not at all. I was in a few pretty good pits – we were young but we knew what we were doing. Having a professional church musician in the family, I occasionally played for free or almost free for various churches and temples. (No mosques, but only because there weren’t any in Jackson.) I also played for various school functions, and it was taken for granted that because I was a student at the high school, I was automatically available to play for free for any other school-related event. Nuts to that! I started getting wise to that and gracefully declined those “opportunities” One grumble-worthy episode in my brief life as “Free Help” was a large downtown Jackson church whose services are attended by many hundreds and were broadcast on the radio. There was a big deal of a musical event that I took part in, which involved several practices. I had to play a very difficult solo in the middle of it - it’s a scary and lonely feeling playing a solo in that place– it’s huge, and everyone’s watching you. But I nailed it at both services, because when you hire me for free, you get more than your money’s worth. This was grumble-worthy because the people who put this whole thing together never thanked me, in person, or in a postcard, or any other way. That was the last time I volunteered to play music unless it was something I wanted to do, and for someone I knew would appreciate it.
When I was a little older I played for a wedding and made some money, maybe $100? Mom, my sister, and I played a few songs from “The Lion King” that Mom arranged and maybe one other. There wasn’t a lot of room in the sanctuary (Temple Beth Israel in Jackson), so I was around the side of the seats. About two feet behind me was the video camera that taped the whole service. After the glass had been stepped on and everyone was happy and married, we were playing the bride and groom out when the man operating the camera swung it around and pointed it right at me. I was, naturally, in the middle of the part that I had the most trouble playing, and I think my heart stopped for a few seconds, but my years of training and playing in front of people offset the instant panic, and I persevered, much as the chosen people persevered in the desert for forty years (Completely inappropriate and disproportionate Torah reference. Possibly blasphemous.)
I lost money on this deal, though, because the cost of replacing my old cello strings was about the same amount I was paid. I would have complained to the union but I didn’t belong.
I did some other odd jobs for money before I sold myself out to Corporate America, but it’s hard to remember all of them. The summer after graduating from college (AKA the summer before I got a job) I remember helping my future in-laws move some things from their house in Jackson to Okemos, taking down one of their neighbors’ mailboxes in the process. I bought shoes with the money they gave me – I was broke. That summer I also taught beginning cello lessons to a girl who lived across the street from my parents. I initially felt guilty for charging them money since I had never taught lessons before, but I think I did a pretty good job. I went to Parkside school to talk to the band/orchestra teacher, who handed me a pile of beginner books to use, with the understanding that he’d get them back someday. I don’t know if the girl continued playing cello or not – if she was smart she didn’t, because those things are a pain to haul back and forth to school on the bus.
This wraps up all the paying jobs I’ve had. Actually, there is one more, but the government’s faithful servants at the Witness Protection Program have asked me not to discuss anything that happened on or around Christmas Day, 1987.
Tuesday Wrap-up
Last Friday, we went to the Ann Arbor Art Fairs. It was beautiful weather and we all had a good time. The gyro went down smooth.
One booth of note was that of John Chumack, astronomer, telescope maker, observatory expert, and photographer extraordinaire. Here are a few links to his work and his observatories.
http://www.galacticimages.com/
http://www.galacticimages.com/equipment_scopes.html
-----
Check out singer/songwriter Brian VanderArk at his website. We have a minor connection to Brian through my brother, John (aka “Boo”) who was working for Brian’s band The Verve Pipe back in their heyday. We met Brian a few times then, and have run into him occasionally when he comes to Ann Arbor for shows. J and the boys met up with Brian, his wife, and their young daughter during Brian’s family’s recent visit to AA for his “Sonic Lunch” performance downtown. We have his latest CD (called “Brian VanderArk”) in the car, and the kids know which songs are the ones they like the best. They call out the numbers of the tracks from the backseat – “Play #2! Then 3 then 6.”
-----
M’s working on his PT-109 boat and doing a good job. His painting has come a long way. He will paint and assemble as much of this as he possibly can – I’m going to stay more hands-off this time and let him do it. I painted the hull of the U-505 sub we built together so it would look its best, but this model will be as much of M’s work as possible.
I’m working on the USS Arizona model. Unfortunately I made a big mistake with the paint on the hull. I used the enamel paint without thinning it, and I have wavy brush strokes over parts of it. I sanded it a little, but you can’t sand too much or you start to “erase” some of the detail lines. So I have a less-than-optimal hull to begin with. Rats. Maybe I’ll slice the bottom off and put it in a “waterline” display, where you only see the ship above the waterline. I’ll go ahead and blame my local hobby shop for this paint problem. (I’m not really blaming them, but it’s a good introduction to my next paragraph…)
The aforementioned hobby shop, Ryder’s, is phasing out their acrylic (water-based) model paint stock. (Why? Probably something to do with money.) Acrylic paints are FAR easier to brush on than the enamel (oil-based) equivalent, and being able to have a cup of water handy to clean a brush is a big time-saver. The acrylic isn’t as thick as the enamel, either. Having to use paint thinner to clean the enamel paint off of tiny brushes is a pain in the neck. Since Ryder’s is the only hobby shop in town, it looks like I’ll have to find another place to buy the paint. I might even have to buy some online, which I don’t want to do. But I’m not going to start another model without acrylic paints. If the Arizona hull’s paint had been acrylic paint, I wouldn’t have the problems I’m having.
I’m also thinking of how much M is enjoying making models lately – he should be able to do most of the painting himself, including cleanup, and I shouldn’t always need to be around when he’s working on a model. The slow-drying model cement, while not always the best or fastest choice, is usually adequate to use, and he should be able to manage that himself. (The two main types of super glue, liquid and gap-filling, are my first choice 95% of the time, but I’m not letting him loose with those yet.)
-----
A brutally funny Wondermark comic for the lover of dark humor.
-----
Happy Tuesday, everyone.
One booth of note was that of John Chumack, astronomer, telescope maker, observatory expert, and photographer extraordinaire. Here are a few links to his work and his observatories.
http://www.galacticimages.com/
http://www.galacticimages.com/equipment_scopes.html
-----
Check out singer/songwriter Brian VanderArk at his website. We have a minor connection to Brian through my brother, John (aka “Boo”) who was working for Brian’s band The Verve Pipe back in their heyday. We met Brian a few times then, and have run into him occasionally when he comes to Ann Arbor for shows. J and the boys met up with Brian, his wife, and their young daughter during Brian’s family’s recent visit to AA for his “Sonic Lunch” performance downtown. We have his latest CD (called “Brian VanderArk”) in the car, and the kids know which songs are the ones they like the best. They call out the numbers of the tracks from the backseat – “Play #2! Then 3 then 6.”
-----
M’s working on his PT-109 boat and doing a good job. His painting has come a long way. He will paint and assemble as much of this as he possibly can – I’m going to stay more hands-off this time and let him do it. I painted the hull of the U-505 sub we built together so it would look its best, but this model will be as much of M’s work as possible.
I’m working on the USS Arizona model. Unfortunately I made a big mistake with the paint on the hull. I used the enamel paint without thinning it, and I have wavy brush strokes over parts of it. I sanded it a little, but you can’t sand too much or you start to “erase” some of the detail lines. So I have a less-than-optimal hull to begin with. Rats. Maybe I’ll slice the bottom off and put it in a “waterline” display, where you only see the ship above the waterline. I’ll go ahead and blame my local hobby shop for this paint problem. (I’m not really blaming them, but it’s a good introduction to my next paragraph…)
The aforementioned hobby shop, Ryder’s, is phasing out their acrylic (water-based) model paint stock. (Why? Probably something to do with money.) Acrylic paints are FAR easier to brush on than the enamel (oil-based) equivalent, and being able to have a cup of water handy to clean a brush is a big time-saver. The acrylic isn’t as thick as the enamel, either. Having to use paint thinner to clean the enamel paint off of tiny brushes is a pain in the neck. Since Ryder’s is the only hobby shop in town, it looks like I’ll have to find another place to buy the paint. I might even have to buy some online, which I don’t want to do. But I’m not going to start another model without acrylic paints. If the Arizona hull’s paint had been acrylic paint, I wouldn’t have the problems I’m having.
I’m also thinking of how much M is enjoying making models lately – he should be able to do most of the painting himself, including cleanup, and I shouldn’t always need to be around when he’s working on a model. The slow-drying model cement, while not always the best or fastest choice, is usually adequate to use, and he should be able to manage that himself. (The two main types of super glue, liquid and gap-filling, are my first choice 95% of the time, but I’m not letting him loose with those yet.)
-----
A brutally funny Wondermark comic for the lover of dark humor.
-----
Happy Tuesday, everyone.
Friday Morning And I'm Not At Work
I'm taking the day off work today...
First: Yes, I made the wands I showed in my previous posting. I was pretty subtle about it, I know. I also made the boxes, the padded inserts, and the labels.
Some links of interest from the past week:
Auction of NASA artifacts. Any of these would be fine for Christmas, birthday, Columbus Day, or any other occasion. If you are a fan of the space program you could easily spend an entire day looking at this auction catalog. Some of the items still have moon dust embedded in them.
Speaking of NASA, 40 years ago, Apollo 11 made a quick visit to the moon. NASA is restoring and cleaning up their video images of the landing in honor of the event. Check Boing Boing's summary for a few examples of the videos.
-----
10 facts about Detroit
-----
Continuing my trend of posting links of objects built from other objects, here are some nuts and bolts vehicles.
-----
Building an F/A-18 Hornet (video). Time-lapse photography of building a Hornet. Makes it look easy.
-----
Want to work at Sandia National Laboratories, like my neice Ann's boyfriend David? They have something for everyone, from Office Administration Assistant to Post-doctoral appointee working on Large Eddy Simulation of Internal Combustion Engines. If I wasn't so tired of Large Eddy Simulations already, I'd consider applying for that one. Click here to see the list.
-----
A few more days left for the Ann Arbor Art Fairs. Bring your water bottle, and don't forget to stop at the Greek Orthodox Church's booth to pick up a gyro for lunch. No matter how you pronounce "gyro", it always tastes fair-riffic.
-----
M's new model project: PT-109
Next model up for me, if I ever get around to it: USS Arizona
The scale of the PT-109 and the USS Arizona are different, so when they're built, the PT-109 will be almost as big as the Arizona.
-----
Have a great weekend!
First: Yes, I made the wands I showed in my previous posting. I was pretty subtle about it, I know. I also made the boxes, the padded inserts, and the labels.
Some links of interest from the past week:
Auction of NASA artifacts. Any of these would be fine for Christmas, birthday, Columbus Day, or any other occasion. If you are a fan of the space program you could easily spend an entire day looking at this auction catalog. Some of the items still have moon dust embedded in them.
Speaking of NASA, 40 years ago, Apollo 11 made a quick visit to the moon. NASA is restoring and cleaning up their video images of the landing in honor of the event. Check Boing Boing's summary for a few examples of the videos.
-----
10 facts about Detroit
-----
Continuing my trend of posting links of objects built from other objects, here are some nuts and bolts vehicles.
-----
Building an F/A-18 Hornet (video). Time-lapse photography of building a Hornet. Makes it look easy.
-----
Want to work at Sandia National Laboratories, like my neice Ann's boyfriend David? They have something for everyone, from Office Administration Assistant to Post-doctoral appointee working on Large Eddy Simulation of Internal Combustion Engines. If I wasn't so tired of Large Eddy Simulations already, I'd consider applying for that one. Click here to see the list.
-----
A few more days left for the Ann Arbor Art Fairs. Bring your water bottle, and don't forget to stop at the Greek Orthodox Church's booth to pick up a gyro for lunch. No matter how you pronounce "gyro", it always tastes fair-riffic.
-----
M's new model project: PT-109
Next model up for me, if I ever get around to it: USS Arizona
The scale of the PT-109 and the USS Arizona are different, so when they're built, the PT-109 will be almost as big as the Arizona.
-----
Have a great weekend!
The Wolverine's Lair Wand Company
If any soon-to-be-7-year-olds named Kevin or Julia are nearby, please ask them to leave the room before you continue reading this. Woe be unto he or she who doth spill the metaphorical beans.
The Wolverine's Lair Wand Company, established by no coincidence in the same year as Kevin and Julia were born unto this earth, has produced these fine wands, not available in stores anywhere.
For Kevin, a serpent in cherry wood. The custom box's color is Magic Blue. (click to enlarge)
For Julia, a vine and leaf wand in basswood. Packaged in a soft bed of red velvet inside an Earth Tan box. Seven leaves for seven years. (click to enlarge)
Anti-science Television
There’s a new show, The Othersiders, on Cartoon Network, in which some teenagers take night-vision goggles, video cameras, and thermal-sensitive cameras into a suspected haunted house. They go into dark rooms while scary background music plays, gasp at “unexplainable” sights, and generally try to scare themselves and the viewers. At the end of the show, they discuss what they saw, and whether they think the house is, in fact, haunted.
My kids were watching an episode yesterday. As they were wrapping up the show, all but one of the show’s cast members were sure the house was haunted. As “proof” and “evidence”, some of them said they “felt weird” when entering certain rooms. The initials of the woman who died in the house were written on a wall and a mirror. A door that was once closed was now open. They saw something through a thermal-sensitive camera that looked like heat, but when they touched the area that was showing heat, it was cool to the touch. At least two of the kids said they couldn’t imagine any way to explain these things, outside of the house being haunted.
When the show was over, I asked my kids what they thought about it. They said they were sure the house was haunted. I asked them why. They repeated the things the kids on the show had said. I told them that just because you don’t know why something happened doesn’t automatically mean a house is haunted. They protested: “But – the initials were written on the wall! There was something floating in the air! The door was closed, and when they went back, the door was open again!”
I told them that cameras working in the dark don’t see the same things as our eyes see. Lights on video cameras and pictures taken through night-vision goggles show different things. We’re not used to seeing the world in the dark, or through man-made lenses, or only with flashlights. The appearance of floating “orbs” captured by flashes in dark rooms is a very common occurrence – it’s dust reflecting the light from the flash.
They're not the first people to be in this house, and they came in when it was dark, so all their discoveries were presented as if it was the first time anyone had ever seen them.
The biggest issue I have with the conclusions from this show is that it’s OK to explain things you don’t understand as supernatural or other-worldly.
If you see something flying through the air, and you cannot immediately identify it as a plane or helicopter or bird, then it must be a spaceship from Mars, right? It's ok to jump directly to that conclusion without considering any other possibilities, right? If I hear a noise on St. Patrick’s day that I can’t identify, it couldn’t possibly be anything other than a leprechaun trying to find his way back to his pot of gold. It’s so easy (and lazy) to assign some supernatural explanation to everything we can’t immediately understand.
I would like to see The Othersiders show bring in someone who knows something about thermal cameras, photography, and so on, to explain to these teenagers WHY they were seeing the things they saw. Someone could easily debunk all the “evidence” and “proof” that was found in the house.
Next time, I'll have the kids watch something good, like How It's Made or Deconstructed. At least they'll learn something useful.
My kids were watching an episode yesterday. As they were wrapping up the show, all but one of the show’s cast members were sure the house was haunted. As “proof” and “evidence”, some of them said they “felt weird” when entering certain rooms. The initials of the woman who died in the house were written on a wall and a mirror. A door that was once closed was now open. They saw something through a thermal-sensitive camera that looked like heat, but when they touched the area that was showing heat, it was cool to the touch. At least two of the kids said they couldn’t imagine any way to explain these things, outside of the house being haunted.
When the show was over, I asked my kids what they thought about it. They said they were sure the house was haunted. I asked them why. They repeated the things the kids on the show had said. I told them that just because you don’t know why something happened doesn’t automatically mean a house is haunted. They protested: “But – the initials were written on the wall! There was something floating in the air! The door was closed, and when they went back, the door was open again!”
I told them that cameras working in the dark don’t see the same things as our eyes see. Lights on video cameras and pictures taken through night-vision goggles show different things. We’re not used to seeing the world in the dark, or through man-made lenses, or only with flashlights. The appearance of floating “orbs” captured by flashes in dark rooms is a very common occurrence – it’s dust reflecting the light from the flash.
They're not the first people to be in this house, and they came in when it was dark, so all their discoveries were presented as if it was the first time anyone had ever seen them.
The biggest issue I have with the conclusions from this show is that it’s OK to explain things you don’t understand as supernatural or other-worldly.
If you see something flying through the air, and you cannot immediately identify it as a plane or helicopter or bird, then it must be a spaceship from Mars, right? It's ok to jump directly to that conclusion without considering any other possibilities, right? If I hear a noise on St. Patrick’s day that I can’t identify, it couldn’t possibly be anything other than a leprechaun trying to find his way back to his pot of gold. It’s so easy (and lazy) to assign some supernatural explanation to everything we can’t immediately understand.
I would like to see The Othersiders show bring in someone who knows something about thermal cameras, photography, and so on, to explain to these teenagers WHY they were seeing the things they saw. Someone could easily debunk all the “evidence” and “proof” that was found in the house.
Next time, I'll have the kids watch something good, like How It's Made or Deconstructed. At least they'll learn something useful.
Pilates
I had my first Pilates class today. It was at work at lunch time. I know some of you are thinking, "Why don't you do something more macho, like play basketball with those guys at the north corner of the parking lot? Isn't Pilates kind of girly?"
The answer to the first question is "Because those guys are all sweaty, and Fracker will block most of my shots anyway". The answer to the second question is "No".
Historians disagree about Pilates' original name, but the earliest mentions, dating back to the 16th century, have it named "The Manly Sport of Pilates" or "The Deadly Combat Fierceness of Pilates." No less an authority on bloodshed than Sun Tzu mentions it in his book "The Art of War", and the song "War is a Science" in the broadway musical "Pippin" was originally choreographed by Bob Fosse to include various Pilates fundamentals. Critics panned early previews of the show as looking like a high-school calisthenics class, and the producers had Fosse re-choreograph that song to look more like modern military movements (such as marching).
All of this is, of course, nonsense. It's pretty girly. Walking through the hallway with my little exercise mat robs me of my masculinity a little each time. But I already paid my money, so I'm going. And at the end of the summer, when I have six-pack abs, it will have been worth it.
I hope.
The answer to the first question is "Because those guys are all sweaty, and Fracker will block most of my shots anyway". The answer to the second question is "No".
Historians disagree about Pilates' original name, but the earliest mentions, dating back to the 16th century, have it named "The Manly Sport of Pilates" or "The Deadly Combat Fierceness of Pilates." No less an authority on bloodshed than Sun Tzu mentions it in his book "The Art of War", and the song "War is a Science" in the broadway musical "Pippin" was originally choreographed by Bob Fosse to include various Pilates fundamentals. Critics panned early previews of the show as looking like a high-school calisthenics class, and the producers had Fosse re-choreograph that song to look more like modern military movements (such as marching).
All of this is, of course, nonsense. It's pretty girly. Walking through the hallway with my little exercise mat robs me of my masculinity a little each time. But I already paid my money, so I'm going. And at the end of the summer, when I have six-pack abs, it will have been worth it.
I hope.
Summer Reading
The kids are doing the summer reading program through the Ann Arbor District Library. If they read ten books, they get to choose a free book from a rack at the library. This poses a conundrum for them, since they are both in the middle of Harry Potter books - HP books are way too big for them to be able to read ten in a summer (and besides, there are only seven Harry Potter books.) So they've shifted down to smaller books for the time being.
J's doing the grown-up summer reading program. Adults who finish five books get a free loaf of bread at Great Harvest, I think.
I didn't sign up this year. I did just finish a novel, though, "Nobody's Fool" by Richard Russo. I've read a few other Russo books: "Empire Falls", which was a Pulitzer winner, and "Straight Man". He's a terrific writer.
Prior to that I read "Shop Class as Soulcraft: An inquiry into the value of work" by Matthew Crawford. It was kind of disappointing - it's about how our educational system has systematically devalued hands-on training like wood shop, metal shop, and auto shop, in favor of the coming "information society." The society in which, if you ask educators, no one will need to use his or her hands again to do anything. I don't know who those people think will fix their cars, or make furniture. Maybe robots? The book didn't go into remedies, or examples of communities who rallied their schools to re-introduce this kind of training and exposure. Maybe it will get people talking.
Obviously, you know I write software for a living, and know that computers can do great things for us and make our lives better and easier. But at some point, they can't. I don't see why we should deny middle-schoolers the opportunity to pick up a file or a saw, or take away their chance to create a lopsided screwdriver during third period metal shop. (Everybody's screwdriver was lopsided, not just mine, right?) Heaven help them if they ever need to do something like change a tire.
My most recent checkouts from the library, by the way, are "Understanding Wood Carving" and "How to Carve Wood". I'm working on a secret project which I will reveal (using computers!) in a few weeks. It promises to be a shining example of good intentions, whimsy, and basement-workshop amateurism - stay tuned.
-----------------------------
Speaking of summer reading, Wondermark has a great comic about those who like to relax with a good book.
http://www.wondermark.com/510
Happy reading!
J's doing the grown-up summer reading program. Adults who finish five books get a free loaf of bread at Great Harvest, I think.
I didn't sign up this year. I did just finish a novel, though, "Nobody's Fool" by Richard Russo. I've read a few other Russo books: "Empire Falls", which was a Pulitzer winner, and "Straight Man". He's a terrific writer.
Prior to that I read "Shop Class as Soulcraft: An inquiry into the value of work" by Matthew Crawford. It was kind of disappointing - it's about how our educational system has systematically devalued hands-on training like wood shop, metal shop, and auto shop, in favor of the coming "information society." The society in which, if you ask educators, no one will need to use his or her hands again to do anything. I don't know who those people think will fix their cars, or make furniture. Maybe robots? The book didn't go into remedies, or examples of communities who rallied their schools to re-introduce this kind of training and exposure. Maybe it will get people talking.
Obviously, you know I write software for a living, and know that computers can do great things for us and make our lives better and easier. But at some point, they can't. I don't see why we should deny middle-schoolers the opportunity to pick up a file or a saw, or take away their chance to create a lopsided screwdriver during third period metal shop. (Everybody's screwdriver was lopsided, not just mine, right?) Heaven help them if they ever need to do something like change a tire.
My most recent checkouts from the library, by the way, are "Understanding Wood Carving" and "How to Carve Wood". I'm working on a secret project which I will reveal (using computers!) in a few weeks. It promises to be a shining example of good intentions, whimsy, and basement-workshop amateurism - stay tuned.
-----------------------------
Speaking of summer reading, Wondermark has a great comic about those who like to relax with a good book.
http://www.wondermark.com/510
Happy reading!
Independence Day Activities
We saw some fireworks last night at Hudson Mills Metropark (near Dexter.) We had never been there before but decided to give them a try. The line of cars into the park was about 1 mile long, and we inched along for a while before we finally made it into the park. We didn't know where to go, so we followed the crowd.
We were sitting on blankets, with everyone in the area all facing across a large field in the same directly. We joked with some other people that we hoped they knew where they were going, because we didn't. Must have been everyone was a rookie in our area, because no one seemed to know where the fireworks were.
When they started going off, ninety degrees to the right of where we were sitting, everyone shifted around and faced them. But there were a lot of trees nearby, so most people moved to a different spot, and there were long lines of people stretched out that could see between various groups of trees. There were large areas with no one in them, and then clumps of people in a row.
Because it took us so long to get into the park, we were dreading the inevitable nightmare of being stuck there for another hour getting out, but we were pleasantly surprised by the traffic control, and we were out of the park in less than ten minutes.
--------------
This morning we went to the Ann Arbor 4th of July parade, which was fun. We sat with some friends and watched all the local groups and politicians go by. The kids collected bags of candy, which was thrown to the crowd by almost every group. This was a good thing because I needed a snack, so I raided M and K's bag for something to tide me over until lunch.
--------------
The boys spent last week at Camp Birkett. They were only there for day camp. A bus took them there from one of the Ann Arbor elementary schools, so we didn't have to drive them all the way there and back. They had a lot of fun, and we spent some longer-than-usual dinnertimes listening to their stories. M swam in the lake every day, even the days that were kind of cold, and was honored by his counselor as the camper who swam in any weather.
K was in a group with a friend from school, Julia, and they got to do arts and crafts, archery, and all the other summer camp activities. K told us about the card games he learned, then he asked me if I could teach him how to play poker. I am going to think the best of the YMCA camp and assume there weren't any backroom poker games going on during day camp, but I told K it was too complicated to learn in a day. He's good at games, though, and I could see him coming home with a pile of his fellow campers' money.
------------------
I'm working on a special present for K for his birthday, which is in a few weeks. I'll post a picture of it after he's gotten it.
------------------
Happy 4th!
We were sitting on blankets, with everyone in the area all facing across a large field in the same directly. We joked with some other people that we hoped they knew where they were going, because we didn't. Must have been everyone was a rookie in our area, because no one seemed to know where the fireworks were.
When they started going off, ninety degrees to the right of where we were sitting, everyone shifted around and faced them. But there were a lot of trees nearby, so most people moved to a different spot, and there were long lines of people stretched out that could see between various groups of trees. There were large areas with no one in them, and then clumps of people in a row.
Because it took us so long to get into the park, we were dreading the inevitable nightmare of being stuck there for another hour getting out, but we were pleasantly surprised by the traffic control, and we were out of the park in less than ten minutes.
--------------
This morning we went to the Ann Arbor 4th of July parade, which was fun. We sat with some friends and watched all the local groups and politicians go by. The kids collected bags of candy, which was thrown to the crowd by almost every group. This was a good thing because I needed a snack, so I raided M and K's bag for something to tide me over until lunch.
--------------
The boys spent last week at Camp Birkett. They were only there for day camp. A bus took them there from one of the Ann Arbor elementary schools, so we didn't have to drive them all the way there and back. They had a lot of fun, and we spent some longer-than-usual dinnertimes listening to their stories. M swam in the lake every day, even the days that were kind of cold, and was honored by his counselor as the camper who swam in any weather.
K was in a group with a friend from school, Julia, and they got to do arts and crafts, archery, and all the other summer camp activities. K told us about the card games he learned, then he asked me if I could teach him how to play poker. I am going to think the best of the YMCA camp and assume there weren't any backroom poker games going on during day camp, but I told K it was too complicated to learn in a day. He's good at games, though, and I could see him coming home with a pile of his fellow campers' money.
------------------
I'm working on a special present for K for his birthday, which is in a few weeks. I'll post a picture of it after he's gotten it.
------------------
Happy 4th!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)