Consolidation
To pick up the thread, go get a helping of Wolf Food.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Saturday, March 04, 2006
Fishing Hurts.
I have the worst pinched nerve in my neck today.
That happens whenever I put any strain on my back. I try not to do it. But last night, a big lingcod surprised me.
Friend and fellow artist Chris Wasankari was with me when I was fishing for greenling.
A lot of greenling fishing involves starting to haul in a foot-long fish, and suddenly have a huge pole-bending fight on your hands, and then the fight goes out of it, or the fish escapes. You wonder that such a small fish has so much fight.
A greenling started its small steady pull on the line, and I started to reel it in. Suddenly the pole dropped and I had a real fight on my hands. Reeling in so hard and fast is what hurt my neck.
I nearly had the fish to the beach when the heavy pressure came off, and the fish I pulled in was again just a foot-long greenling. Good eating, but where comes this huge fight? Are greenling that strong?
The fish was scored with the marks of larger jaws, and the vent was torn open. I had proof of what I'd long been suspecting.
When you hook a greenling and drag it out of a kelp bed, sometimes a lurking lingcod rushes out and grabs it. A ling is a big mean cousin of the little mollusk-eating greenling.
If the ling can haul the greenling off the hook, you lose the fish. If the ling can't get the greenling off the hook, it spits it out and you get a bit-up fish. I once saw one of the Hat boys haul in a three-foot-lingcod, its greedy mouth stuffed with a hooked greenling. The fish was dragged clear into the shallows and the only reason the kid didn't grab it is because, unlike its smooth-mouthed cousin, it has a mouthful of tiger teeth, befitting a predator. That one managed to yank the kid's catch loose and take off.
So if you're ling-cod fishing, grab fast, don't get your hands near its teeth -- and don't reel in too fast or hard.
Ow.
I have the worst pinched nerve in my neck today.
That happens whenever I put any strain on my back. I try not to do it. But last night, a big lingcod surprised me.
Friend and fellow artist Chris Wasankari was with me when I was fishing for greenling.
A lot of greenling fishing involves starting to haul in a foot-long fish, and suddenly have a huge pole-bending fight on your hands, and then the fight goes out of it, or the fish escapes. You wonder that such a small fish has so much fight.
A greenling started its small steady pull on the line, and I started to reel it in. Suddenly the pole dropped and I had a real fight on my hands. Reeling in so hard and fast is what hurt my neck.
I nearly had the fish to the beach when the heavy pressure came off, and the fish I pulled in was again just a foot-long greenling. Good eating, but where comes this huge fight? Are greenling that strong?
The fish was scored with the marks of larger jaws, and the vent was torn open. I had proof of what I'd long been suspecting.
When you hook a greenling and drag it out of a kelp bed, sometimes a lurking lingcod rushes out and grabs it. A ling is a big mean cousin of the little mollusk-eating greenling.
If the ling can haul the greenling off the hook, you lose the fish. If the ling can't get the greenling off the hook, it spits it out and you get a bit-up fish. I once saw one of the Hat boys haul in a three-foot-lingcod, its greedy mouth stuffed with a hooked greenling. The fish was dragged clear into the shallows and the only reason the kid didn't grab it is because, unlike its smooth-mouthed cousin, it has a mouthful of tiger teeth, befitting a predator. That one managed to yank the kid's catch loose and take off.
So if you're ling-cod fishing, grab fast, don't get your hands near its teeth -- and don't reel in too fast or hard.
Ow.
Sunday, February 05, 2006
Ducking the Bullet
Had the guys from Rainmasters putting up a new roof on Thursday.
Friday, 70-mph winds hit the coast.
We ducked that bullet by ONE day. Jeff Layman, who owns the company says that our roof was just beginning to rot and go soggy. The storm would have brought a flood down on our heads.
BUT now we have a lovely new roof that should take us the next thirty years.
"Good!" I said. "We'll be dead by then."
When you're 53 and 58, you see this big projects as something you won't have to do again because you won't outlive them. It comes as a relief. THAT's done. One less worry in life.
Anyway, the Harvest Brown roof matches our little yellow double-wide just perfect. The roof can air out now, because it's vented all along the ridge. The old double-wides were too airtight, and they'd rot from the ridge. The new venting will let the house breathe.
A guy I was talking to about roofing, who had put his own roof on a couple years ago, didn't know this, and he had to do it all over again. And Labor and Industry won't sign off on your roof unless a bonded company does it. Maybe not a problem now, but who needs to jump through more hoops come time to sell? The job wasn't that expensive, anyway, not for the great job they did and with all the materials.
Up here you don't fool around with roofs. Maybe in Arizona, but up here the rain will just eat a house to death if that roof isn't put on right. It's worth the money to get a professional with a long history of putting up roofs between the rain squalls.
Even though the power went out Friday at about 11:00 am and didn't come on again until about 3:00 pm Saturday, we sat by the woodstove and listened to the wind howl and whip at our perfect ease. Because I couldn't get on the computer -- everything was down, trees, electricity, dsl -- I just sat and did pages for the newestDesert Peach all day long.
I don't get depressed in the dark. Some candles in some cut-glass vases -- which act as Fresnell lamps -- and I'm good for the day.
We will have to build some kind of shelter for the Bug. Or hold the tarp on the car better with the punji cords.
Had the guys from Rainmasters putting up a new roof on Thursday.
Friday, 70-mph winds hit the coast.
We ducked that bullet by ONE day. Jeff Layman, who owns the company says that our roof was just beginning to rot and go soggy. The storm would have brought a flood down on our heads.
BUT now we have a lovely new roof that should take us the next thirty years.
"Good!" I said. "We'll be dead by then."
When you're 53 and 58, you see this big projects as something you won't have to do again because you won't outlive them. It comes as a relief. THAT's done. One less worry in life.
Anyway, the Harvest Brown roof matches our little yellow double-wide just perfect. The roof can air out now, because it's vented all along the ridge. The old double-wides were too airtight, and they'd rot from the ridge. The new venting will let the house breathe.
A guy I was talking to about roofing, who had put his own roof on a couple years ago, didn't know this, and he had to do it all over again. And Labor and Industry won't sign off on your roof unless a bonded company does it. Maybe not a problem now, but who needs to jump through more hoops come time to sell? The job wasn't that expensive, anyway, not for the great job they did and with all the materials.
Up here you don't fool around with roofs. Maybe in Arizona, but up here the rain will just eat a house to death if that roof isn't put on right. It's worth the money to get a professional with a long history of putting up roofs between the rain squalls.
Even though the power went out Friday at about 11:00 am and didn't come on again until about 3:00 pm Saturday, we sat by the woodstove and listened to the wind howl and whip at our perfect ease. Because I couldn't get on the computer -- everything was down, trees, electricity, dsl -- I just sat and did pages for the newestDesert Peach all day long.
I don't get depressed in the dark. Some candles in some cut-glass vases -- which act as Fresnell lamps -- and I'm good for the day.
We will have to build some kind of shelter for the Bug. Or hold the tarp on the car better with the punji cords.
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
Ling Cod Back
Eagles at Slip Point:
With the fish having taken off for vacation or something since September, we hadn't been getting much fish in the diet.
The greenling do seem to be back on the beach. Caught three nice ones within the last week, which means that I can feed raw fish to our old cat Spuds.
Yes, Spuds is still around. His nose is still blooming, but we're keeping the virulence of the growth back with a silver/sulphur cream. He'll probably end up with a Jimmy Durante nose, but at least we won't have to drag him all over the place for biopses and surgery. The old man is 17. Dan and I have a living will so nobody will put us on machines. I've threatened to have "Do not resuscitate" tatoo'd on one wrist, and "no heroic measures" on the other, just so the emergency personnel would read it for sure while trying to take my pulse. After having inflicted heroic measures on other old cats, we don't want to do it to Spuds. He's having too much fun sleeping in front of the wood stove and running out into the sun.
Anyway, about the ling cod: threw the greenling heads and guts and skins back into my favorite fishin' hole. So I shouldn't have been surprised when something HAULED on my line today and chewed it off, twice. If I'm going to chum for ling cod, even by accident, what do I expect?
Ling cod season opens in May. I'm getting a wire leader.
Dan on the first nice day in a long time. He's watching eagles:
Eagles at Slip Point:
With the fish having taken off for vacation or something since September, we hadn't been getting much fish in the diet.
The greenling do seem to be back on the beach. Caught three nice ones within the last week, which means that I can feed raw fish to our old cat Spuds.
Yes, Spuds is still around. His nose is still blooming, but we're keeping the virulence of the growth back with a silver/sulphur cream. He'll probably end up with a Jimmy Durante nose, but at least we won't have to drag him all over the place for biopses and surgery. The old man is 17. Dan and I have a living will so nobody will put us on machines. I've threatened to have "Do not resuscitate" tatoo'd on one wrist, and "no heroic measures" on the other, just so the emergency personnel would read it for sure while trying to take my pulse. After having inflicted heroic measures on other old cats, we don't want to do it to Spuds. He's having too much fun sleeping in front of the wood stove and running out into the sun.
Anyway, about the ling cod: threw the greenling heads and guts and skins back into my favorite fishin' hole. So I shouldn't have been surprised when something HAULED on my line today and chewed it off, twice. If I'm going to chum for ling cod, even by accident, what do I expect?
Ling cod season opens in May. I'm getting a wire leader.
Dan on the first nice day in a long time. He's watching eagles:
Saturday, December 24, 2005
Brakes
Yes, the busses in Clallam Bay's school district DO have brakes. In an earlier post, I guess I scared people by making it seem like the busses won't stop. I meant that the brakes are very very delicate, being air-brakes. One has to step on them softly but firmly.
I'm getting not half bad at driving these things, or so Bob Cain says. Bob owns Cain's Marina, and does the maintenance on the busses and got stuck with teaching me to drive. I'm not scaring the willies out of him when I back up any more. At least he's not ducking behind the seats.
I didn't grow up driving trucks and boats or backing them up, so backing up is difficult for me. Bob's got this extremely narrow little alley beside his property that he's using to teach me to back into. It's a bear, but it's a good idea. If I ever get the hang of back-turning the bus into that alleyway I'll be able to back between the line of traffic cones during the test. Bob's a pretty good teacher.
Yes, the busses in Clallam Bay's school district DO have brakes. In an earlier post, I guess I scared people by making it seem like the busses won't stop. I meant that the brakes are very very delicate, being air-brakes. One has to step on them softly but firmly.
I'm getting not half bad at driving these things, or so Bob Cain says. Bob owns Cain's Marina, and does the maintenance on the busses and got stuck with teaching me to drive. I'm not scaring the willies out of him when I back up any more. At least he's not ducking behind the seats.
I didn't grow up driving trucks and boats or backing them up, so backing up is difficult for me. Bob's got this extremely narrow little alley beside his property that he's using to teach me to back into. It's a bear, but it's a good idea. If I ever get the hang of back-turning the bus into that alleyway I'll be able to back between the line of traffic cones during the test. Bob's a pretty good teacher.
Cyber-Fish
After 3 and a half months without a bite, I finally pulled a decent-sized female greenling in off the Slip Point beach. Fish haven't been biting all over the straits and into the ocean, so this one was a bit of a surprise.
She looked a bit odd. Her golden back was nearly red and the light places on her gill covers and belly were more white than the usual yellow.
When I opened her up, her flesh was bright blue. Not the usual greenish-blue of a greenling, but bright chemical blue. Her stomach was pale artificial blue and very stiff. In fact, everything in her except her heart and liver was like hard plastic. It was like cutting into Cyber-Fish.
Her fillets, after two days soaking in milk, came out nice and white, but the milk was chemical blue. We ate the fillets anyway. They cooked up lovely white and tasted great. No ill effects.
No one I described her to could explain why a fish might be bright light blue, until Dan and I were out cutting wood with Tim van Riper. He said that the divers around here sometimes illegally use copper sulphate crystals to drive octopodi out of their holes in the rocks. This greenling, in her foraging for crustaceans on the reef, had probably swallowed one of the crystals.
At least now we know.
After 3 and a half months without a bite, I finally pulled a decent-sized female greenling in off the Slip Point beach. Fish haven't been biting all over the straits and into the ocean, so this one was a bit of a surprise.
She looked a bit odd. Her golden back was nearly red and the light places on her gill covers and belly were more white than the usual yellow.
When I opened her up, her flesh was bright blue. Not the usual greenish-blue of a greenling, but bright chemical blue. Her stomach was pale artificial blue and very stiff. In fact, everything in her except her heart and liver was like hard plastic. It was like cutting into Cyber-Fish.
Her fillets, after two days soaking in milk, came out nice and white, but the milk was chemical blue. We ate the fillets anyway. They cooked up lovely white and tasted great. No ill effects.
No one I described her to could explain why a fish might be bright light blue, until Dan and I were out cutting wood with Tim van Riper. He said that the divers around here sometimes illegally use copper sulphate crystals to drive octopodi out of their holes in the rocks. This greenling, in her foraging for crustaceans on the reef, had probably swallowed one of the crystals.
At least now we know.
Already On Television.
I'd been thinking this place would make a good setting for a play or a book or a movie.
It's been done.
Picked up a dvd of the second season of "Northern Exposure" at the library the other day. In the course of watching the show I started recognizing the characters and places and situations around here.
If that ain't that bunch of red-headed kids I don't know what is. And the way everybody is always running around doing something with kayaks and second-and-third-hand trucks, and moose in the streets (or, in our case, eagles and the occasional cougar).
Or maybe these little rural towns are just all like that. When I was watching that show a decade ago, I never realized I'd be moving to it.
I'd been thinking this place would make a good setting for a play or a book or a movie.
It's been done.
Picked up a dvd of the second season of "Northern Exposure" at the library the other day. In the course of watching the show I started recognizing the characters and places and situations around here.
If that ain't that bunch of red-headed kids I don't know what is. And the way everybody is always running around doing something with kayaks and second-and-third-hand trucks, and moose in the streets (or, in our case, eagles and the occasional cougar).
Or maybe these little rural towns are just all like that. When I was watching that show a decade ago, I never realized I'd be moving to it.
Saturday, November 26, 2005
Thursday, November 17, 2005
Maybe we should get them Safeway cards.
WISH I'd had my camera today. Guy had shot a 7-foot female cougar and she was lying in the back of his truck.
Of course I had to go pet. Cats are my totem animal. Some other guys were gathered around the truck. While I was petting her, I asked: "So what do you do with a cougar?"
A young guy said, "They eat real good." (He was petting her, too).
Another young guy said, "They jerk good, too."
And then another guy said, to the first young guy who was petting: "She ain't gonna feel your affection!" To me he said, "They eat a lot of animals."
I said, "Well, they can't go to Safeway."
The second young guy said, "And they would get children, too."
I can understand killing any animal to eat or use the hide -- circle of life and all -- but I don't understand sports. If you're going to KILL something, tell me you did it to eat it or because you were cold. Don't be making excuses because you just wanted to shoot it. I don't catch-and-release fish, because let's face it, there are kids on the beach, and teaching kids to torment animals for the fun of it is just asking for future trouble -- you can end up being one of the animals.
And I thought cougars were a lot bigger than THAT. If this is a big one, they're really kind of small.
When I got home and let the cats smell my hands they had no reaction. Which was a surprise to me.
WISH I'd had my camera today. Guy had shot a 7-foot female cougar and she was lying in the back of his truck.
Of course I had to go pet. Cats are my totem animal. Some other guys were gathered around the truck. While I was petting her, I asked: "So what do you do with a cougar?"
A young guy said, "They eat real good." (He was petting her, too).
Another young guy said, "They jerk good, too."
And then another guy said, to the first young guy who was petting: "She ain't gonna feel your affection!" To me he said, "They eat a lot of animals."
I said, "Well, they can't go to Safeway."
The second young guy said, "And they would get children, too."
I can understand killing any animal to eat or use the hide -- circle of life and all -- but I don't understand sports. If you're going to KILL something, tell me you did it to eat it or because you were cold. Don't be making excuses because you just wanted to shoot it. I don't catch-and-release fish, because let's face it, there are kids on the beach, and teaching kids to torment animals for the fun of it is just asking for future trouble -- you can end up being one of the animals.
And I thought cougars were a lot bigger than THAT. If this is a big one, they're really kind of small.
When I got home and let the cats smell my hands they had no reaction. Which was a surprise to me.
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
Scared More Witless Than I Am.
Sooo....... we don't need a LOT of money up here, but when all our appliances and the roof and the car and my teeth and the computer die at the same time, some part-time cash is going to come in handy. I mean, my art works out for non-emergency situations but this got a little ridiculous.
I've been testing for the Commercial Driver's Licesense to drive a school bus, and now I have my learner's permit. And today Bob Cain, who keeps the Cape Flattery school buses so clean and safe, was out letting me haul the first big rig I ever drove around the Clallam Bay area roads.
Talk about scared. What really scared me was the brakes -- they didn't seem to BE there! They're air brakes, and I'm used to the Squash-Me-Hards on the VW bug. Trying to back the bus out of the bus barn I managed to feather the brakes into exhaustion and had to put it into neutral with the parking brake so the compressor could fill the system back up. But Bob let me do it. Well, I'll have to do it twice a day anyway, now won't I?
I just know what's going to happen. I'll end up driving the Neah Bay route. Yeah, go look at this: Washington State Maps
It's truly twisky-betwiskt. And I hear the woman who drives it now needs some time off. When I threatened as a child to "go live with the Indians," I didn't know it would mean DRIVING THEIR SCHOOL BUS.
So if you hear any reports of a Cape Flattery School Bus going off the edge into the Strait of Juan de Fuca..... just hope it's not me.
My father the truck-driver must be laughing his head off in Heaven.
At least I haven't got a Has-Mat license!
Yet....
Sooo....... we don't need a LOT of money up here, but when all our appliances and the roof and the car and my teeth and the computer die at the same time, some part-time cash is going to come in handy. I mean, my art works out for non-emergency situations but this got a little ridiculous.
I've been testing for the Commercial Driver's Licesense to drive a school bus, and now I have my learner's permit. And today Bob Cain, who keeps the Cape Flattery school buses so clean and safe, was out letting me haul the first big rig I ever drove around the Clallam Bay area roads.
Talk about scared. What really scared me was the brakes -- they didn't seem to BE there! They're air brakes, and I'm used to the Squash-Me-Hards on the VW bug. Trying to back the bus out of the bus barn I managed to feather the brakes into exhaustion and had to put it into neutral with the parking brake so the compressor could fill the system back up. But Bob let me do it. Well, I'll have to do it twice a day anyway, now won't I?
I just know what's going to happen. I'll end up driving the Neah Bay route. Yeah, go look at this: Washington State Maps
It's truly twisky-betwiskt. And I hear the woman who drives it now needs some time off. When I threatened as a child to "go live with the Indians," I didn't know it would mean DRIVING THEIR SCHOOL BUS.
So if you hear any reports of a Cape Flattery School Bus going off the edge into the Strait of Juan de Fuca..... just hope it's not me.
My father the truck-driver must be laughing his head off in Heaven.
At least I haven't got a Has-Mat license!
Yet....
Sunday, October 16, 2005
Baby Whale in Clallam Bay
Dan and I were down walking the beach today, Sunday, in the grey mizzle. We had done a tour of the reef and were starting to wander back toward the town or river end of the beach, when Dan looked back and said, "Look!" and pointed.
Right next to the beach, barely 15 feet out, where the gravel shelves down about 10 feet deep, a 20-foot baby gray whale was feeding. If we'd wanted to, we could have jumped in and petted her. Her white-and-dark-gray mottled flukes and flippers waved in the air as she fed, and disappeared as she rolled to blow.
A couple of times, it became pretty obvious that she wasn't feeding, but was circling around to watch us. At one point she ground up on the shallow gravel shelf and had to kick a bit to get back into deep water.
We could see her light mottled form under the surface. She went out about 50 feet and then turned back and came straight toward me, quick as a torpedo. I might have been standing on the beach, but I gasped and backed up. All right, YOU have a 20-foot streamlined leviathan come at you and see what you do.
I ran back to get my camera, and on the way yelled at the kids that were walking along the street in the rain: "Baby whale on the beach!"
As I ran back from the house, one of the girls passed me at a dead run. They should have her out for track next year.
By the time I got back to the beach, all we could see of the whale was light puffs out by the kelp line as she moved off into the Strait of Juan de Fuca.
Dan and I were down walking the beach today, Sunday, in the grey mizzle. We had done a tour of the reef and were starting to wander back toward the town or river end of the beach, when Dan looked back and said, "Look!" and pointed.
Right next to the beach, barely 15 feet out, where the gravel shelves down about 10 feet deep, a 20-foot baby gray whale was feeding. If we'd wanted to, we could have jumped in and petted her. Her white-and-dark-gray mottled flukes and flippers waved in the air as she fed, and disappeared as she rolled to blow.
A couple of times, it became pretty obvious that she wasn't feeding, but was circling around to watch us. At one point she ground up on the shallow gravel shelf and had to kick a bit to get back into deep water.
We could see her light mottled form under the surface. She went out about 50 feet and then turned back and came straight toward me, quick as a torpedo. I might have been standing on the beach, but I gasped and backed up. All right, YOU have a 20-foot streamlined leviathan come at you and see what you do.
I ran back to get my camera, and on the way yelled at the kids that were walking along the street in the rain: "Baby whale on the beach!"
As I ran back from the house, one of the girls passed me at a dead run. They should have her out for track next year.
By the time I got back to the beach, all we could see of the whale was light puffs out by the kelp line as she moved off into the Strait of Juan de Fuca.
Saturday, October 15, 2005
Salmon Egg cheese
Went fishing for a break -- the bait was old and fermented so I threw it into the creek. Sugar+salt+salmon eggs + 6 months cheezing up. Two otters came right over and dived for it. Otter candy! Hey, you and I eat fermented animal milk fat. We can't talk.
Salmon eggs packed in a cedar box and buried for 6 months while they turned into salmon-egg cheese were once a delicacy and emergency food mongst the natives, here. They still use eulachon (candlefish) oil. They still bread and fry up the salmon egg sac, too -- and the balls of lingcod eggs found in the rocks are stewed up, too.
I'm glad the otters enjoyed the salmon egg cheese/candy... but they can have it.
Went fishing for a break -- the bait was old and fermented so I threw it into the creek. Sugar+salt+salmon eggs + 6 months cheezing up. Two otters came right over and dived for it. Otter candy! Hey, you and I eat fermented animal milk fat. We can't talk.
Salmon eggs packed in a cedar box and buried for 6 months while they turned into salmon-egg cheese were once a delicacy and emergency food mongst the natives, here. They still use eulachon (candlefish) oil. They still bread and fry up the salmon egg sac, too -- and the balls of lingcod eggs found in the rocks are stewed up, too.
I'm glad the otters enjoyed the salmon egg cheese/candy... but they can have it.
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Fun Things To Do At Airport Security.
All of which I’ve done and they’re very satisfying.
1. As you remove your jacket or shoes, hum The Stripper.
2. Don’t take your shoes off ‘till the last minute – and if anybody asks you why, snap, “Only prisoners sluff along in line in their socks.”
3. Wear very high-laced shoes or boots and sit on their tables to undo them (slowly) and take them off.
4. Baa like a sheep in line. Or moo like a cow.
5. Drop your ID and say, “Oops! Dropped my plasteek!”
6. Reply to snapped orders with a very loud and pointed “You’re welcome” until snapper begins to mumble “please” and “thank you.”
Admittedly this will get your baggage damaged and things stolen – been there, done that – but pack the good stuff with you and just accept it as part of the good fight. It’s SOOOOO worth it.
Isn't there a song someplace with "Katrina" in the lyrics?
Accepting suggestions or good stories of things to do to -- or you've done to -- airport security.
All of which I’ve done and they’re very satisfying.
1. As you remove your jacket or shoes, hum The Stripper.
2. Don’t take your shoes off ‘till the last minute – and if anybody asks you why, snap, “Only prisoners sluff along in line in their socks.”
3. Wear very high-laced shoes or boots and sit on their tables to undo them (slowly) and take them off.
4. Baa like a sheep in line. Or moo like a cow.
5. Drop your ID and say, “Oops! Dropped my plasteek!”
6. Reply to snapped orders with a very loud and pointed “You’re welcome” until snapper begins to mumble “please” and “thank you.”
Admittedly this will get your baggage damaged and things stolen – been there, done that – but pack the good stuff with you and just accept it as part of the good fight. It’s SOOOOO worth it.
Isn't there a song someplace with "Katrina" in the lyrics?
Accepting suggestions or good stories of things to do to -- or you've done to -- airport security.
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Back From Boston
That's where I've been the last month, and yes, I should have been posting, but I was too busy getting my teeth fixed -- look! Gold for Charon! -- and learning the basics of InDesign and laying out two whole new books and going mushroom hunting with my friend Eric's very cool mom, Amy.
Amy, by the by, is quite the artist: Amy Schneider's ArtI kinda sorta built that blog for her -- and if you want any of those magnificent paintings, she now takes PayPal! So I'd contact her if I were you, and get those paintings before somebody else does. She's also talking prints, so ask her.
Anyway, I'm home, and today Dan and I are just SHOT. We spent four hours gathering chanterelle mushrooms in the woods yesterday, and it ate us alive. Admittedly we have all the mushrooms we'll need for the year, and any more we pick after that are just gravy -- but it's all stoop labor, and slogging through swamps and ducking fir spikes. Dan is a total mass of bruises (not my fault!) today. And he was wearing those hard hiking shoes of his. I was wearing these neat little running shoes I picked up for a quarter at the too right Clallam Bay One-Day-Going-On-Two-Years Rummage Sale, so at least my FEET aren't dead. If you're going to stomp over rotting logs and hillocks in a slash forest, do wear dem running shoes. They are just a fancier form of moccasins. And I've got that long Rom back that lets me put my hands flat on the ground, and do stoop labor all day, so while I've got the usual pinched nerve when I get tired, I'm not so banged up. Hey, we're not spring chickens here any more!
Anyway, weird and goofy things going on up here. More later.
That's where I've been the last month, and yes, I should have been posting, but I was too busy getting my teeth fixed -- look! Gold for Charon! -- and learning the basics of InDesign and laying out two whole new books and going mushroom hunting with my friend Eric's very cool mom, Amy.
Amy, by the by, is quite the artist: Amy Schneider's ArtI kinda sorta built that blog for her -- and if you want any of those magnificent paintings, she now takes PayPal! So I'd contact her if I were you, and get those paintings before somebody else does. She's also talking prints, so ask her.
Anyway, I'm home, and today Dan and I are just SHOT. We spent four hours gathering chanterelle mushrooms in the woods yesterday, and it ate us alive. Admittedly we have all the mushrooms we'll need for the year, and any more we pick after that are just gravy -- but it's all stoop labor, and slogging through swamps and ducking fir spikes. Dan is a total mass of bruises (not my fault!) today. And he was wearing those hard hiking shoes of his. I was wearing these neat little running shoes I picked up for a quarter at the too right Clallam Bay One-Day-Going-On-Two-Years Rummage Sale, so at least my FEET aren't dead. If you're going to stomp over rotting logs and hillocks in a slash forest, do wear dem running shoes. They are just a fancier form of moccasins. And I've got that long Rom back that lets me put my hands flat on the ground, and do stoop labor all day, so while I've got the usual pinched nerve when I get tired, I'm not so banged up. Hey, we're not spring chickens here any more!
Anyway, weird and goofy things going on up here. More later.
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Boston Spuds
No postings lately -- I'm playing health tourist (for my teeth) near Boston. To see where I've been and what I've been doing, check out www.youtube.com (search: Rummelhart) and www.flickr.com/photos/stinz.
Been doing a LOT of work on the Desert Peach novel. And on Peach #31 -- "Pithed" -- in full color.
The novel will ship from Diamond in January. IF they will order directly from www.booksurgedirect.com If not, the retailers will have to order directly, themselves.
"Pithed" will ONLY be available from www.lulu.com as soon as I get it posted -- and then only directly to customers. The site is working on getting as publisher-friendly as Booksurge. In the meantime, order it directly. It's the only site where I can put up POD for a reasonable price.
Lovely place I'm staying with lovely people. But as we used to sing in the army, "Lord how I wanna go home." For one thing, I want to see Spuds. The silver sulphur cream we're putting on his nose seems to be doing the trick at least for now.
And while gone I put the VW bug up and down for sale 4 times. I CANNOT bring myself to sell that thing. I'd have to get a lot more than $1500.00 to let go of it. It's been through a lot with me. I have four separate selves to contend with -- brain, soul, body and now heart. Oy.
No postings lately -- I'm playing health tourist (for my teeth) near Boston. To see where I've been and what I've been doing, check out www.youtube.com (search: Rummelhart) and www.flickr.com/photos/stinz.
Been doing a LOT of work on the Desert Peach novel. And on Peach #31 -- "Pithed" -- in full color.
The novel will ship from Diamond in January. IF they will order directly from www.booksurgedirect.com If not, the retailers will have to order directly, themselves.
"Pithed" will ONLY be available from www.lulu.com as soon as I get it posted -- and then only directly to customers. The site is working on getting as publisher-friendly as Booksurge. In the meantime, order it directly. It's the only site where I can put up POD for a reasonable price.
Lovely place I'm staying with lovely people. But as we used to sing in the army, "Lord how I wanna go home." For one thing, I want to see Spuds. The silver sulphur cream we're putting on his nose seems to be doing the trick at least for now.
And while gone I put the VW bug up and down for sale 4 times. I CANNOT bring myself to sell that thing. I'd have to get a lot more than $1500.00 to let go of it. It's been through a lot with me. I have four separate selves to contend with -- brain, soul, body and now heart. Oy.
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Well, lately I've just been taking films and shots and posting them.
For just photos, you want to check out: www.flickr.com/photos/stinz
For films, the following:
For Chito Beach Resort's moment in film history (hi, Pat!): http://www.youtube.com/?v=Ft0P39nzE-w
Makah Days! And me dancing: http://www.youtube.com/?v=IDbMulREqOw
Smoking Fish: http://www.youtube.com/?v=OvS9vAEm7PE
Bone Gaming: http://www.youtube.com/?v=M_wtfl41Xbc
Or you can just go to www.youtube.com and search for "Rummelhart."
For just photos, you want to check out: www.flickr.com/photos/stinz
For films, the following:
For Chito Beach Resort's moment in film history (hi, Pat!): http://www.youtube.com/?v=Ft0P39nzE-w
Makah Days! And me dancing: http://www.youtube.com/?v=IDbMulREqOw
Smoking Fish: http://www.youtube.com/?v=OvS9vAEm7PE
Bone Gaming: http://www.youtube.com/?v=M_wtfl41Xbc
Or you can just go to www.youtube.com and search for "Rummelhart."
Monday, August 22, 2005
Dead Fish
Okay... so now the seals are catching our fish for us.
Before you ask, just consider that our old cat Spuds needs raw fish to make him happy. He's old -- as said -- he has a growth on his nose. So he gets when he wants.
So I was down at the beach yesterday, gathering mussels off the reef to catch him fresh greenling in the evening. The tide was mass out, so I wander a little further out, in search of scallops. Whoops. The summer seaweed growth soon stopped that -- I was asking for a broken neck horsing around on anything that slippery.
I was heading back when I spotted a 15-inch fish floating in a clear tide pool. With absolutely none of my old city squeamishness, I went and picked the fish up. No head -- had been ripped off, and took all the guts, neat as neat. Seal job. They'll take the head and guts sometimes, leave the rest to feed other predators, or the plankton (no waste in nature). I scrubbed off the body and pulled out excess membrane still clinging to the white flesh. Smelled of it, inside and out -- nice and fresh. Why not? It had probably been beheaded that morning, and floated under the surface of icy water ever since.
When I got it home, we quickly identified the fish with the fish book. Pacific Hake, or Whiting. Filleted and skinned it. Soft flesh. Yup. Hake. Put the raw fillets on a plate in the fridge.
Since then, everybody in the cat tribe has had a nip at it -- but they got tired of it. And it wasn't drying as well as the greenling fillets I already had on a towel on a plate in the fridge. So figured I better cook what was left.
Cooked up nice. Really white, sweet fish. Mixed it with noodles and lentils, hot sauce, tomatoes, olive oil, vinegar. Tasty.
So now the seals are catching our fish for us.
Okay... so now the seals are catching our fish for us.
Before you ask, just consider that our old cat Spuds needs raw fish to make him happy. He's old -- as said -- he has a growth on his nose. So he gets when he wants.
So I was down at the beach yesterday, gathering mussels off the reef to catch him fresh greenling in the evening. The tide was mass out, so I wander a little further out, in search of scallops. Whoops. The summer seaweed growth soon stopped that -- I was asking for a broken neck horsing around on anything that slippery.
I was heading back when I spotted a 15-inch fish floating in a clear tide pool. With absolutely none of my old city squeamishness, I went and picked the fish up. No head -- had been ripped off, and took all the guts, neat as neat. Seal job. They'll take the head and guts sometimes, leave the rest to feed other predators, or the plankton (no waste in nature). I scrubbed off the body and pulled out excess membrane still clinging to the white flesh. Smelled of it, inside and out -- nice and fresh. Why not? It had probably been beheaded that morning, and floated under the surface of icy water ever since.
When I got it home, we quickly identified the fish with the fish book. Pacific Hake, or Whiting. Filleted and skinned it. Soft flesh. Yup. Hake. Put the raw fillets on a plate in the fridge.
Since then, everybody in the cat tribe has had a nip at it -- but they got tired of it. And it wasn't drying as well as the greenling fillets I already had on a towel on a plate in the fridge. So figured I better cook what was left.
Cooked up nice. Really white, sweet fish. Mixed it with noodles and lentils, hot sauce, tomatoes, olive oil, vinegar. Tasty.
So now the seals are catching our fish for us.
Monday, August 15, 2005
Goodbye, Spuds
When we moved to Clallam Bay, the former owner begged us to take her old grey and white cat, "Spuds." We did, and we love him dearly. He is such a very sweet purry old character.
But Spuds spent a lifetime lazing in the sun, so now he has what our vet very much suspects is a squamous nasal sarcoma (and research on the net turned up photos that look the same for the condition, or rather, much more advanced cases).
Our vet says he hasn't the capabilities for the surgery. The nearest veterinary surgeon he could refer us to for this treatment is in Seattle. Clallam Bay is far out on the Olympic Penninsula (www.mapquest.com), and we don't have a car right now (working on that!), and I have to go to Boston for major dental surgery, myself.
We're keeping Spud's condition down with steroid shots and antibiotics, just for the tissue damage, and the vet is going to give us some cream to keep down the pain and infection. But it doesn't look good.
Spuds is 17. He's not suffering yet, but we don't want him to, either. If a month or two more of decent life in front of the wood stove is all he's got, we can accept that, too. We want to do what's right for this good old cat (we've got a number of cats, and have gone through several animal deaths, including those from old age and various traumas). And any treatment we've found will either endanger his eyes (radiation) or make him vomit (chemicals). That's not how to spend the last days of his life. Hell, Dan and I have living wills so no one will do it to us.
So Spuds is out in the yard, basking in the sun, waiting for winter.
When we moved to Clallam Bay, the former owner begged us to take her old grey and white cat, "Spuds." We did, and we love him dearly. He is such a very sweet purry old character.
But Spuds spent a lifetime lazing in the sun, so now he has what our vet very much suspects is a squamous nasal sarcoma (and research on the net turned up photos that look the same for the condition, or rather, much more advanced cases).
Our vet says he hasn't the capabilities for the surgery. The nearest veterinary surgeon he could refer us to for this treatment is in Seattle. Clallam Bay is far out on the Olympic Penninsula (www.mapquest.com), and we don't have a car right now (working on that!), and I have to go to Boston for major dental surgery, myself.
We're keeping Spud's condition down with steroid shots and antibiotics, just for the tissue damage, and the vet is going to give us some cream to keep down the pain and infection. But it doesn't look good.
Spuds is 17. He's not suffering yet, but we don't want him to, either. If a month or two more of decent life in front of the wood stove is all he's got, we can accept that, too. We want to do what's right for this good old cat (we've got a number of cats, and have gone through several animal deaths, including those from old age and various traumas). And any treatment we've found will either endanger his eyes (radiation) or make him vomit (chemicals). That's not how to spend the last days of his life. Hell, Dan and I have living wills so no one will do it to us.
So Spuds is out in the yard, basking in the sun, waiting for winter.
Nose Cancer
Oh, man. It looks like that cat I was talking about -- Spuds, with the nose problem-- has a nasal squamous sarcoma. In other words, a cancerous growth in the nose. Pink-nosed cats who lay in the sun all day long until they are bleached -- like Spuds does -- get this.
Our vet can't just cut it out. The only oncologists who can are in Seattle. No, we don't have a car, yet.
And Spuds is 17 years old. Any treatment at all may allow survival from a month to 36 months, according to what I can find on the net. And of course, it costs an arm and a leg (one does not ignore the $$ problem on health care).
He's still cheerful, but these things can get ugly and painful fast. The photos on the net are UGLY. This poor old cat does not deserve this.
Oh, man. It looks like that cat I was talking about -- Spuds, with the nose problem-- has a nasal squamous sarcoma. In other words, a cancerous growth in the nose. Pink-nosed cats who lay in the sun all day long until they are bleached -- like Spuds does -- get this.
Our vet can't just cut it out. The only oncologists who can are in Seattle. No, we don't have a car, yet.
And Spuds is 17 years old. Any treatment at all may allow survival from a month to 36 months, according to what I can find on the net. And of course, it costs an arm and a leg (one does not ignore the $$ problem on health care).
He's still cheerful, but these things can get ugly and painful fast. The photos on the net are UGLY. This poor old cat does not deserve this.
Saturday, August 13, 2005
Update
Okay. Now we need a new roof.
BUT --
I got Dan working on that one. He's supposed to be finding estimates and looking up $$ on www.grants.gov Hey, I said I would do the roof and just pay for the materials (Hartnagels Truevalue Hardware in Port Angeles has a Pink Tool Apron program in which women who do a project and take photos and do descriptions for their website get the materials for contractor's prices). But Dan, who has done work with his Dad, said NOOOOO, that would leak. Rini Duncan next door said she did a roof when she'd never done any such thing, with -- was it her brother? - and a female friend - and the guys' side of the roof leaked, and the girls' side didn't. Well, of course, females are detail-minded. Or anal. Picky picky picky gets you a dry roof. But Dan is insisting we hire a crew and I said, "Okay, you want a crew -- YOU FIND THE MONEY." Deal.
The car is fixed (clutch was shot -- but it had a billion miles on it!), and Bugmasters in Seattle is working on finding a buyer. I've got it up at www.craigslist.com under Seattle and Cars.
Working on getting a new car -- that's in the pipeline. In the meantime, using the incredible Clallam County bus system. From now on, in the summer, it's the bus. TOO nice, and no messing with vacation traffic.
New fridge! Neat little apartment size one, that uses $20.00 less a month in power. Full of beer, bait and smoked salmon.
Mouth is a mess -- ancient rotting hole in my face from a dead nerve UNDER a crown (why do I never feel these things?) and busted another tooth. Local doc gave me antibiotics to hold me, and said the busted tooth was fine -- the filling is still good.
But -- I need an endodontist.
Working on flying to Boston where endodontists are MUCH cheaper, and staying with friends who want me there, too (and make incredible fried chicken) -- fix the mouth, have loads of fun visiting (publish a book while I'm there, because I'll be forced to work on it, having no other computer access. Use www.lulu.com), AND -- if it works out -- set up a book signing tour for Permanent Party (www.booksurge.com). Oh, and go to horse shows to learn more about this incredible new camera.
I need to be cloned.
Did I tell you about the camera? A reader went a little crazy and got me a Nikon CoolPix 8700 and a full kit -- including extra lithium batteries, storage disks or whatever those are called, tripods, fancy carrying cases -- JEEZE! I'm still in shock.
And all he wants in return is I learn to be a photographer. John Brewer at the Penninsula Daily News says that as soon as I get a car, he'll buy me lunch. Because with a car and this camera, I can even take FILMS. I'm going to figure out how to get those up on the blog.
AND learned how to smoke salmon with little work or mess -- and it's the best smoked salmon EVER. And my smoker is a bunch of old two-buy fours and broken concrete brick and some cedar shakes and some old racks, and I use little bits of driftwood to smoke.
Just picked up free advertising with a publisher who ain't much now but I'm convinced is going someplace.
And demanding stock options.
Things are pretty good.
Okay. Now we need a new roof.
BUT --
I got Dan working on that one. He's supposed to be finding estimates and looking up $$ on www.grants.gov Hey, I said I would do the roof and just pay for the materials (Hartnagels Truevalue Hardware in Port Angeles has a Pink Tool Apron program in which women who do a project and take photos and do descriptions for their website get the materials for contractor's prices). But Dan, who has done work with his Dad, said NOOOOO, that would leak. Rini Duncan next door said she did a roof when she'd never done any such thing, with -- was it her brother? - and a female friend - and the guys' side of the roof leaked, and the girls' side didn't. Well, of course, females are detail-minded. Or anal. Picky picky picky gets you a dry roof. But Dan is insisting we hire a crew and I said, "Okay, you want a crew -- YOU FIND THE MONEY." Deal.
The car is fixed (clutch was shot -- but it had a billion miles on it!), and Bugmasters in Seattle is working on finding a buyer. I've got it up at www.craigslist.com under Seattle and Cars.
Working on getting a new car -- that's in the pipeline. In the meantime, using the incredible Clallam County bus system. From now on, in the summer, it's the bus. TOO nice, and no messing with vacation traffic.
New fridge! Neat little apartment size one, that uses $20.00 less a month in power. Full of beer, bait and smoked salmon.
Mouth is a mess -- ancient rotting hole in my face from a dead nerve UNDER a crown (why do I never feel these things?) and busted another tooth. Local doc gave me antibiotics to hold me, and said the busted tooth was fine -- the filling is still good.
But -- I need an endodontist.
Working on flying to Boston where endodontists are MUCH cheaper, and staying with friends who want me there, too (and make incredible fried chicken) -- fix the mouth, have loads of fun visiting (publish a book while I'm there, because I'll be forced to work on it, having no other computer access. Use www.lulu.com), AND -- if it works out -- set up a book signing tour for Permanent Party (www.booksurge.com). Oh, and go to horse shows to learn more about this incredible new camera.
I need to be cloned.
Did I tell you about the camera? A reader went a little crazy and got me a Nikon CoolPix 8700 and a full kit -- including extra lithium batteries, storage disks or whatever those are called, tripods, fancy carrying cases -- JEEZE! I'm still in shock.
And all he wants in return is I learn to be a photographer. John Brewer at the Penninsula Daily News says that as soon as I get a car, he'll buy me lunch. Because with a car and this camera, I can even take FILMS. I'm going to figure out how to get those up on the blog.
AND learned how to smoke salmon with little work or mess -- and it's the best smoked salmon EVER. And my smoker is a bunch of old two-buy fours and broken concrete brick and some cedar shakes and some old racks, and I use little bits of driftwood to smoke.
Just picked up free advertising with a publisher who ain't much now but I'm convinced is going someplace.
And demanding stock options.
Things are pretty good.
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