New Grill... mount

We went to the local building supply the other day and saw a tailgating grill as above. The only thing I didn't like was the price, $300!

I immediately went to conniving mode and started running the idea through my mind. I took advantage of the first opportunity to visit a local muffler shop (run by friends) and get a little pipe work done.

We, the entire family, are beach engineers. We carry a load of things with us to make the ocean side more comfortable, tents, large coolers, grills and enough food for a small army. All this takes space and it's nice to have it outside and easily available rather than in the bed of a truck or back of a jeep. The answer to the problem is a cargo carrier, that can be used for other things as well. Like fishing, for example. The thing about fishing is the rod, long spindly thing that is easily broken and terribly awkward. The solution is a rod rack or rod holders.

My cargo carrier has long been modified to carry fishing rods.

Now, it has additional duties. I took a little trip down to the pipe bender boys and in short order had a tube bent to a right angle with a piece of tubing welded to the long side perpendicular to the tube. A short piece from the scrap bin that would insert into the welded tube would be the base for the grill. A short drive to Harbor Freight for two PTO pins and a trip to a fab shop for a 1/8 inch steel plate was all I needed to finish the job.

I slid the tube over the top of an existing rod holder and drilled a hole for a pin to hold it in a storage position, rotate it and drill it for a cooking position. Weld the plate to the mounting tube and repeat. Place the grill, one that I already had on the plate and drill the feet to bolt it down, and you have this.

It has had a field test that worked out well, and is about to get another. Cost, a little over $36.

Does it look as cool as the other? Only if you look into your wallet first, then it looks better.

The next question is.... what next?

DAV Ride

One of the things I missed this last job was riding the bike. I didn't have a good way to haul it (working on that), so it didn't go along. Eight weeks with no scoot, sucks!

Howsomever, I am riding a lot more and have located the Facebook site that allows me to find out who is riding where.

Saturday the local DAV was having a fund raiser, a poker run from a local bike shop to a local dealership, via the scenic route.

TLOML didn't care to ride so I asked the youngest to ride, as a healing for a difficult time. She agreed and after getting her up early, for a Saturday, we went for breakfast and then signed up for the day.

The total was about 116 miles with an eclectic group of folks that only have one thing in common, motorcycles.

I didn't win anything, at least I don't think so, we didn't hang around to see. We were tired, sunburned, and ready to go home, so I gave my tickets to someone who would donate anything I won back to the fundraiser and called it a day.

Now it's time to check on the next one

Just so you know...

If you mix Whipped Cream flavored vodka with an orange soda, it tastes like a creamsicle that will punch you in the head.

Update on the work break

This has been a busy summer, very interesting, like the Chinese curse.

TLOML had a lumpectomy the day before I had to leave for work. If I live to be a thousand I will never do anything harder. Still the bills have to be paid. They were substantial, all covered now. God be praised, the mass was benign. Laser treatments (???) and medication and things are better.

We have done some kitchen up grades, and a major cleanup in the garage. If you think that was a minor thing, then you haven't seen my work bench.

We took a weeks vacation in Mexico, pictures below. We climbed some pyramids, swam in underground rivers, rode ATVs in the jungle and walked on the bottom of an inlet in hard hat dive equipment. We enjoyed some local foods, liquors, and entertainment.

The clan will have a new member in September, courtesy of my stepson and his love. She is the sweetheart he has been waiting for, or if he screws it up, he's an idiot.

One of my son-in-laws is changing jobs, so his soon to be ex-coworkers gave him a farewell party that left him at his door step at four in the morning, in his socks and boxers, falling down drunk, covered in ranch dressing and deli meats. ( WTH???) I don't think I will ever party like that.

God is telling me I'm Fat

Like I didn't know already.

I have my excuses, like work, like something hurts, like I'm a whiny baby.

This morning I walked down to the street. It was a beautiful day and warm. I looked down the street and saw an interesting profile. Looked like a weight machine. I wondered what kind of shape it was in, so I strolled over.

Mumh, looks Ok.

I went home and grabbed a two wheeled dolly, and, uhh, recycled it. It has two weight stations, one for fly's, presses, and curls. The other for leg extensions, pull downs, rowing and other things I will discover, surely.

I cleaned out the garage, washed the unit and drug it in, first work out and I didn't even use the machine.

As the good Lord has provided, so will I work.

Looks like I'm out of excuses.

The large TIM (Time Is Money) calculator shown above was based on the stepped drum calculator mechanism. This was the first type of four function calculator and these machines were inherently large and heavy. (The model shown was 21.5" x 7" x 6" and weighed 23 pounds.)

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The first stepped drum calculators were made in wooden boxes (see the Burkhardt below), but the model shown was an improved metal-cased model that was made in 1909. Because of their bulk, sales of these early machines were relatively small. (Dozens to hundreds per year.) Price was another obstacle. In today's dollars, a TIM would be priced at well over $10,000.

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Manual four function calculator.

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For a small amount I could have a scientific calculator wrist watch, that I would never use. If I wanted to, I could use my cell phone. Actually I can do most anything I need on one of the three desk top calculators cluttering the joint.

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Which I bought for a dollar each.

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Where will it go?

A long walk on a beautiful day

I enjoy walking, it's a good thing too, as the love of my life loves to walk.

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The 27th and 29th were two of the prettiest days I have seen in a long while. Particularly in the winter, almost 70 F by lunch, cloudless skies and light winds. The first day we were in shorts and walked bare foot on the beach, for six miles. I got a blister on my big toe.

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The second day we drove down the beach to the edge of a State Natural Area (didn't know there was such a thing), and walked down the beach from there. There were no vehicles and almost no people. We saw a total of six or so in five hours.

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Some where about two hours into the stroll, I took leave of my senses and thought it would be cool to walk to the next village for coffee.

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The round trip was thirteen miles, give or take.

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Thank God most of the sand was hard, slogging that far in soft sand would be a real nightmare.

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The first picture above is the Outer Banks pretty much as Stead Bonnet must have seen it a few hundred years ago.

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If you look closely Ft. Caswell and Old Baldy can be seen, as well as the mouth of the Cape Fear River. Those places were vacant in Bonnets time. Just to the right of this picture is Southport and Bonnets Creek, where the pirate hid his vessel, until his capture and hanging in Charleston.

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The second picture captures your humble scribe in winter plumage, standing on a dune, under the bluest sky I have seen in ages, with the wind at my back. Shortly after this was taken it warmed to the point that the jacket had to come off.

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I wish I could grow hair on my head like I can on my face, I'd look like wolf man. I already have the hair on my ears.

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To my left as you view the picture is Bonnets Creek.

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The third picture is a view of one of the few pristine beaches left, about five miles of strand with nothing on it except tracks.

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One of the things we do used to be called "beach combing". In our case, the search is for "sea glass", broken bottles that have washed in like sea shells, smoothed and frosted. We use them to fill the bottom of clear bowls for decoration.

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There is no point to our excursions, we just go and walk or wander for miles, soaking up the sun getting wind blown and hot or cold as the season dictates.

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The Ft. Fisher Hermit lived near here in a WWII bunker. He was there for twenty or so years, alone except for his dogs, until he was murdered for something he didn't have.

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I think I know why he stayed.

Explorer???? OK!

Your result for The Steampunk Style Test...

The Explorer

32% Elegant, 45% Technological, 40% Historical, 72% Adventurous and 9% Playful!

You are the Explorer, the embodiment of steampunk’s adventuring spirit. For you, clothing should be rugged and reliable, and just as functional as it is attractive. You probably prefer khaki or leather, and your accessories are as likely to include weapons as technological gizmos. You probably wear boots and gloves, and maybe a pith helmet. Most of what you wear is functional, and if you happen to wear goggles people had better believe that you use them. In addition to Victorian exploration gear, your outfit probably includes little knickknacks from your various travels. Above all, you are a charming blend of rugged Victorian daring and exotic curiosity.

Try our other Steampunk test http://www.helloquizzy.com/"> style="color:#131313">HelloQuizzy

There are times when you just know to STFU....

When The Love of My Life and I started dating the first of those things we found that we really enjoyed, that can be done in public, was road trips. We visited San Francisco, later we went out west and camped. While we were there we hiked and generally did and saw some wonderful things. During my first marriage I had done a couple of driving trips all around the west and mid west, and thought it would be cool to share the experience with a couple of the more adventurous kids.

The planning was done and off we went. I had a four wheel drive Suburban to provide room for four and,,,,,stuff. We camped hither and yon for roughly two weeks. From the Badlands to Vegas and Tombstone, we went where ever the urge took us and stayed the night.

One of the many places I wanted to go was Devils Tower. This Native American sacred sight is known as the Home of the Bad God. It's as impressive as any natural structure I have seen. It is in a rather remote area. Oh, well actually, go to the end of the world and turn left, drive until you see the sign.

We had camped at Badlands National Park, and driven a long day to get to the approximate time zone. I don't know how long the ride was, but every one was napping, including, occasionally, the driver. The Love of My Life was driving, at the posted speed limit of 55mph.

Remember that number.

I woke up long enough to wonder where the hell we were. I was in the navigators seat and snagged the map, started looking for road signs, and trying to get information from TLOML.

The road was long straight and apparently endless, then I saw a sign, and almost immediately a town. When I looked up from the map again, I saw the highway sign that indicated our turn.

Then I really screwed up bad. I said "You need to turn here", and she did.

At 55 miles an hour, TLOML took both her little hands on the wheel, and yanked that land yacht into a right turn.

It must have looked like a cartoon. Dust flying, tires bellowing, passengers pasted to the window on the down hill side. I knew we were going over. If I hadn't been wearing my seat belt I probably would have flown out the drivers window.

Jesus in all his mercy, must have reached down and held that truck in the road.

That must have been what woke up Officer Peterson.

He was a young man performing his duty, apprehending a wild eyed, breaker of the law. He fired up the cruiser and in short order blue lighted TLOML and allowed her a short bleep of siren.

About that time I made another life changing mistake, my second of the day. As the good officer reached the window, I was about to try to help, I said "Now baby," that's as far as I got.

TLOML turned to me, I swear lightning came out of her eyes, ears and butt all at once. She told me, "don't you BABY ME!!!" everyone for miles knew that I would not baby her anytime soon, on pain of a fate worse than death.

From that point on I was peeping out of the crack at the bottom of the seat. Officer Peterson stepped back for a second, and then did a lot of talking from behind his hand.

I think he strangled occasionally.

As soon as he determined that I was an idiot (not too difficult) he gave us directions and sent me off to my fate.

I wonder why he was wiping his eyes while walking to his car, must have been the dust.

We're baaaack......

As requested here are pictures.

The vacation criteria was ..blue water, white sand, palm trees and cheap rum. We got all that and more.

I don't know how cheap the rum was, because the venue was all inclusive. One price for lodging, food, transfers, drinks and tours. The mini bar was replenished daily with drinks and beer. the restaurants were top notch and the service was all with a smile.

The five days and four nights thing, turned into three days and four nights. Thanks to two travel days. We got a half day at the pool the day we checked in.

Our second day we toured Chizen Itza, Just... WOW!

The third day was grey and cloudy for the morning, thanks to Ike.

The fourth day was sunny and breezy and we spent the majority of the day at the pool. I was under a palm tree and the Love of My Life was toasting in the edge of the pool.

Lots of cold beer and lots of good food, and nothing to do but lay in the shade.

I could probably stand a couple of weeks more there.

Some things stand out. The mosquitoes were big enough to molest buzzards. That's understandable, as the place is built in a mangrove swamp.

We had dinner in a beach side restaurant with open walls and no AC the first night, when we noticed the table closer to the outside had two couples seated and move to another table in short order. We were sitting close to a spice that was burned to keep the mosquito's away, and they were not in the draft that carried the smoke.

Poor babies!

I had bought insect repellent shortly before, for the next day on the tour and had it in my pocket. The second couple, apparently newly wed, were moved to a table just out of my sight behind me. The young lady, a tall thin, blond continued to swat and twist. TLOML was facing her and got the full show. TLOML was feeling pretty sorry for the girl and I was about to offer the bug spray, when TLOML said "OMG! cooter shot", I spit wine across the table and tried not to choke. TLOML looked at me and said "I swear she had her foot behind her head!"

Sorry I missed that.

The distraught young man was being berated by his new spouse and and was slowly sinking into his chair. You could tell he had "locked brain syndrome" and wasn't going to come up with any answers. I was a heart beat away from sticking my nose in when she asked a waiter if they had insect repellent. When the waiter turned away to go and ask, I put my can of bug spray in his hands. He offered it to the girl, who was massively relieved. The first couple who had been swarmed, also asked if they could use some. I asked them to go outside and spray, to avoid the flame from the little candles on the table turning the whole cloud into a fire ball.

I made four friends on the spot.

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Several things made a lasting impression, like the young ladies who came to the resort and could only afford half their bathing suits, and the half they wore was too small. I felt soooo sorry for them.

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In the resort every thing was beautiful, outside was grinding poverty. I know poor, and these people couldn't work their way up to mearly poor in a life time.

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The skill of the local drivers was on display a little too much. A short van ride resulted in a least six near crashes, not bumps, crashes.

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All things considered it was one of our better trips, I would go back tomorrow, and stay longer.

Out of town

Gettin' out of town for a few days, didn't win the big one (91 mil) so I have to come back. Goin' to Cancun. Fly out of D.C. to Miami, (just my luck) and then on to the Yucatan. I feel like I'm playing "run dodge and jump", Army dudes will remember that one from Basic, with storms.

We are going to Chechinitza, remember that one? A huge city that was built before Europe got started good.

Pics when we get back.

Lucky Man

Ok, if you get arrested in Harlan County, Kentucky and come out in the same condition you entered. Praise you lucky stars. If you insult ladies there and get the chance to apologise. You are indeed blessed.

http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,410422,00.html

Idiot!

Dawg has a lesson...

Dawg gets a little excited from time to time. She likes to show us how fast she can run around the yard. The Love of My Life chanting "run dawg, run" drives her to a frenzy, ears flying, tounge hanging out, slobber trailing, the short little legs churning, she is a vision of exuberance.
She will get the bit between her teeth if the Grand Babies are in the yard and cut up something fierce.

The GB's were over the other day, and wanted to get in the hot tub. The LOML went out to check the water condition and temp and the girls went along to ensure that all was to the specification of eight year olds. Dawg has been known to jump onto the cover of the hot tub.

As the LOML raised the cover, Dawg comes up the steps, full tilt boogie, doggie happy face in full bloom, ears floppin', and jumps to the top of the hot tub to show how athletic she is.

Except the top is open, and Dawg positively sails, kersploosh, into the tub!

OMG!!!! BATH!!!!

I would have loved to have seen her, she totally freaked!

TLOML and the girls about peed on them selves.

They had to catch their breath before helping Dawg out.

I miss all the good ones!

Interesting test.....

You Can Definitely Spot a Liar

Maybe you have good instincts. Or maybe you just have a lot of experience with liars. Either way, it's pretty hard for someone to pull a fast one on you. You're like a human lie detector.

http://www.blogthings.com/canyouspotaliarquiz/">Can You Spot a Liar?

Learned by watching my sister, and son in-law, they've been lying since they first said "mama"!

Loooong Overdue blog love,

Here is some long over due Blog -Love for some very interesting folks.
LPN with an M-16. Cool profile Pic. with some very familiar sounding issues dealing with being in the Green Machine.
http://armylpn.blogspot.com/

Acute Politics, this gentleman has been over the mountain, as they say. An excellent writer with an educated view point on Iraq among other things.
http://acutepolitics.blogspot.com/

One of my favorites for last, Home on the Range. A really great writer that's also a really great cook. With some really cool Pics of meals and other interesting stuff.
http://mausersandmuffins.blogspot.com/

Down that long sandy road,

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to a future too bright to see. This is the Fourth of July, the most American Holiday. It's special to little boys particularly, for the fireworks, the water melon, and a break from the boredom of endless summer.

When I was growing up in the fifties and sixties, every summer was endless. When school was let out, no thought of fall and next years school ever came to mind. It was too far away to think about and overshadowed by all the wonderful empty days, that we would find a way to fill with adventure.

That might be fishing in the creek, or hitching to the pool, or wandering down a creek, or over a mountain. I was fortunate enough to be raised, or in some cases jerked up by the hair of my head, in the country or in a small town. In those places and times my extended family was every adult I met. Each and every one of them knew so much better than us how bright the future could be, and were determined to see to it that we lived long enough to enjoy it. There were some truly bad people, violent, drunken; irresponsible was the nicest thing that could be said for some of them. However, none of that ever extended to children. We were who they wanted to be, carefree and full of the possibilities of childhood.

Not to mention that if anything unfortunate were to befall us, the responsible party would have one of "those" discussions with the Uncles.

This was a fate to be avoided.

It didn't matter what you did, or where you did it, someone would tell your momma or daddy, that was only to put a little limit on your foolishness. Limits of that nature were good, we had a great reserve of foolishness.

It wasn't all sunshine and wading the creek, I can remember when my Grandpa died. My Daddy was home and some men came and talked to him. When my mother asked him who they were and what they wanted, he told her to shut her mouth and go inside.

That was a first.

He left for a while and when he came back, he had Grandpas wallet for Grannie. That's the first time I saw my Daddy cry. I can still see it, I was four.

Grannie moved to the country near her brothers and sisters. It wasn't a homecoming, she was destitute, although with enough pride to make her want to take care of herself.

That was the beginning of many summers in the sun, working or playing to fill the days.

I spent a lot of summers with my Grannie Amos after my Grandpa died. I didn't know until I was in my thirty's, that she was paid to watch me.

She watched me all right, most of the time she watched me leave her place at about daylight and go down the road to my uncles house to work until dark, when I would come back and take a bath and sleep until morning and then do it again. From the age of six or so to eleven I worked on the farm, from can see, to cain't see, for all the milk and fresh vegetables I could eat. I had never heard of dehydration or heat stroke, probably the only reason I didn't die from one or the other.

I have memories that are in a glare of sunlight, chopping the weeds out of tobacco, look ahead and look behind, can't see the end of the row or edge of the field, look back at the ground and keep on choppin'. The night will come and we have another field tomorrow. The last two years I worked, I was paid ten dollars a summer. That was after I didn't come back, and I was missed for the work I had done.

Then there were my cousins from the mountains.

I was eleven and very small for my age, they weren't.

I have scars, and blurred memories of horrible impacts.

I should be dead.

It was great.

When I stayed with them it was, all Hell's out for lunch and the Devil gets the hindmost.

We would cut a vine and swing like pirates, sleep in the barn like runaways, run through the mountains like Indians on the war path. We played all those things, and more. We slept in abandoned houses like Huck Finn, fished every day, hunted with a pack of yard dogs every night. We hunted Ginseng, and Yellow Root for money, we sold drink bottles for change for the pool tickets. I could at any time of day or night borrow a shotgun and no one found that worrisome or unusual. We knew what it was for and what it could do. We could fight all day and still be best friends at night. We were family and blood was thicker than water, trust me, I saw enough of it to know.

I remember hiding in giant hollow logs left over from the Chestnut blight, watching the rain come up the hollow. I remember the old moonshine still we found. I remember "walkin' the TV line" to the top of the mountain to clear the limbs that were grounding the signal. Our heroes were on TV every Saturday morning, they wore white hats and rode the smartest horses. I can still see the paths in the woods, the ferns on the creek, the groundhogs and 'coons. We picked cherries out of an old orchard way up on the mountain, and ate until we were all sick. I remember sitting on the top of the mountain after midnight, looking at the top of the fog like a silver lake, with the moon full behind me.

For us, summer would never end.

I remember so much that is gone now.

We were the lost boys.

More Suthen-ism's:

Only a Southerner knows the difference between a hissie fi t and a conniption fit , and that you don't "HAVE" them, you "PITCH" them.

Only a Southerner knows how many fish, collard greens, turnip greens, peas, beans, etc., make up "a mess." _____

Only a Southerner can show or point out to you the general direction of "yonder." _____

Only a Southerner knows exactly how long "directly" is, . as in: "Going to town, be back directly." _____

Even Southern babies know that "Gimme some sugar" is not a request for the white, granular sweet substance that sits in a pretty little bowl in the middle of the table. _____

All Southerners know exactly when "by and by" is. They might not use the term, but they know the concept well. _____

Only a Southerner knows instinctively that the best gesture of solace for a ne ighbor who's got trouble is a plate of hot fried chicken and a big bowl of cold potato salad. If the neighbor's trouble is a real crisis, they also know to add a large banana puddin! _____

Only Southerners grow up knowing the difference between "right near" and "a right far piece." They also know that "just down the road" can be 1 mile or 20. _____

Only a Southerner, both knows and understands, the difference between a redneck, a good ol' boy, and po' white trash. _____

No true Southerner would ever assume that the car with the flashing turn signal is actually going to make a turn. _____

A Southerner knows that "fixin" can be used as a noun, a verb, or an adverb. _____

Only Southerners make friends while standing in lines, ... and when we're "in line," . we talk to everybody! _____

Put 100 Southerners in a room and half of them will discover they're related, even if only by marriage. _____

In the South, y'all is singular, all y'all is plural. _____

Southerners know grits come from corn and how to eat them. _____

Every Southerner knows tomatoes with eggs, bacon, grits, and coffee are perfectly wonderful; that red eye gravy is also a breakfast food; and that fried green tomatoes are not a breakfast food. ((Actually- I love them anytime) _____

When you hear someone say, "Well, I caught myself lookin'," you know you are in the presence of a genuine Southerner! _____

Only true Southerners say "sweet tea," "sweet milk," and "light bread". Sweet tea indicates the need for sugar and lots of it -- we do not like our tea unsweetened. (The sugar needs to be put in after the water is boiled to blend in well- then the water or ice cubes, if you need it right away) Sweet milk" means you don't want buttermilk. And "Light bread" is white bread. _____

And a true Southerner knows you don't scream obscenities at little old ladies who drive 30 MPH on the freeway. You just say,"Bless her heart" ... and go your own way. _____

To those of yo u who are still a little embarrassed by your Southerness: Take two tent revivals and a dose of sausage gravy and call me in the morning. Bless your heart! _____

And to those of you who are still having a hard time understanding all this Southern stuff, ... bless your hearts, I hear they are fixin' to have classes on Southernness as a second language! _____

And for those that are not from the South but have lived here for a long time, all y'all need a sign to hang on y'alls front porch that reads "I ain't from the South, but I got here as fast as I could."

Southern girls know men may come and go, but friends are fahevah !

Now...... Shugah, send this to someone who was raised in the South or wish they had been!

If you're a Northern transplant, Bless your little heart, fake it. We know you got here as fast as you could!

Now, all ya'll know, I didn't think this up. I could only wish!

Busy day yesterday....

Signed my contract, spent an hour looting for my spotting scope, didn't find it until about nine last night,

Figured out that all my cases for the guns were at the storage unit (rats) !

The boys came over a little early and we loaded up, we took about Four hundred dollars worth of ammo and a truck load of guns to the range.

I keep a stock of belts, holsters, ear plugs, targets, and my cleaning kit is a huge tackle box.

We had four long guns and eight pistols.


Even though a shot from some of those guns amounts to throwing two dollars on the fire, we had a blast.

I am secure in my position as family marksman, I can still out shoot the boys. The entertainment industry continues to have a disastrous effect on marksmanship. I did some coaching and demonstration, to good effect.


Two of the rifles fire vastly different calibers at about the same velocity. The big bore is three times as heavy per bullet as the smaller. Each has a target style scope with large turrets for adjustment.

I like to shoot long distance.


The bowing to the master started when I started calling my shots and picking clothespins off the line at a hundred yards, with a .300 Winmag. That's not up to my previous standard, but I'm going to work on that. Most of our long distance shooting was done with a .223 with a heavy stainless barrel, much easier on the shoulder.

The final shot sealed the deal, I called the pin and centered the pin and the rebar it was pinned to with the first shot.


The son-in-law was suitably impressed.

Is this where we're going?

This is perfect! Go read it.
http://oneroughdiamond.blogspot.com/2008/06/from-my-colonel.html

How would any of this be explained to children?

Well.... how would one explain this???

Your results:
You are Zoe Washburne (Second-in-command)

Zoe Washburne (Second-in-command) 80% Malcolm Reynolds (Captain) 70% Wash (Ship Pilot) 70% Jayne Cobb (Mercenary) 70% Derrial Book (Shepherd) 70% Dr. Simon Tam (Ship Medic) 65% Alliance 55% Kaylee Frye (Ship Mechanic) 50% River (Stowaway) 30% A Reaver (Cannibal) 10% Inara Serra (Companion) 0%

Dependable and trustworthy. You love your significant other and you are a tough cookie when in a conflict.