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May 22, 2006
Thank You
Thank you, Michael Waller, for the touching poems.
Thank you, SSG Gary Collins, for your service.
Thank you, PFC Joshua Sparling, for enduring.
Thank you to Smash, Doc, Chap, Cowboy Blog, John, Mikey, MajorDad, Michael Yon, and all my other active, reserve, and retired military friends too numerous to name for serving voluntarily.
Thank you, each and every soldier, sailor, airman, Marine, National Guardsman, Coastie, and all your families.
For every time you were frightened, for every moment you had to be away from loved ones, for everything: THANK YOU.
Posted by Da Goddess at 10:30 PM | Comments (6)
May 19, 2006
Barrel-Making
Call it a quirk, or whatever else you want, I found myself pondering barrel-making today.
Having been raised partly in a semi-rural area of Ohio, I had witnessed many a cooper at work through various excursions here and there, but that was many years ago and the lessons learned were forgotten as other information filled my databank. And so, with this newfound curiosity piquing my interest, I did a little research.
Most ponderous to me was the ability of the barrels to not absorb or leak the liquid with which the barrels were filled. The questions I had were answered easily by reading through the process on Master Garden Products.
Basically, the wood grain and vein, the assembly, and the aging of the wood are all of equal importance. The grain and vein of the wood must be followed in order to preserve strength, natch. Aging the wood allows it to harden. Okay. I get that.
The assembly, with joints to create adequate seals between slats or staves, must be perfect to create a leakproof barrel.
Solidly held in place by three metal hoops that have been forced into place, the "rose" is then subjected to a trial by water and fire in the workshop, where it takes its final shape. Repeating movements that are part of the most ancient tradition of his art, the cooper seals joints by passing a wet cloth inside and outside the staves, then heating the barrel over a wood fire for approximately 30 minutes. Rendered flexible by heat and humidity, the wood fiber can now be bent by the cooper, who uses a winch to gradually arch the staves and tighten them to obtain the shape of the barrel body. The body is held trussed in place like this until the metal hoops are definitely placed.
The heating of the wood is "toasting", and the amount of toast will dictate the flavor of the product placed in the barrel.
The rest of the process involves the barrel heads and such, and that part didn't fascinate me nearly as much as the rest of it did. Of course, without the heads, the barrel is nothing more than a wooden tube, right?
Anyhow, I got my answers and I feel as though I've recaptured some sort of lost knowledge. No fancy schmancy Da Vinci code necessary, everything was available online.
I'm sure I'll appreciate my barrel-aged whiskey much more than I have in the past. I'll raise my next glass in honor of the cooper responsible for that perfect "toast".
It just occurred to me that, like barrels and wine, people must be well-aged before they can fully express their potential. Call it my little life lesson, proving that you're never too old to learn.
Posted by Da Goddess at 04:23 PM | Comments (3)
May 16, 2006
Flickr Ickr, Errrr... And "Bettr" Things
Flickr has "upgraded" and redesigned many functions and the way a user's page displays. I can't find a damn thing anymore.
Sigh. I hate change.
On a brighter note, I had a wonderful early birthday dinner with the Smashes, Gracie, my son, and Kevin from Texas. While at the restaurant, we ran into another friend I haven't seen in quite some time. It was a great way to end my very hectic day.
Posted by Da Goddess at 09:30 PM | Comments (2)
Small Things
This flower was among a cluster of tiny little blooms on the side of a small, gently sloping hill.
Posted by Da Goddess at 07:23 AM | Comments (1)
May 15, 2006
Magic Number
I always thought the magic number was 42. I mean, it's supposed to be the answer to everything, right? So why is it that 40 seems to be the new 42?
First, I got to spend the entire Mother's Day weekend with my son. We had a great time. There was a small music festival here in town over the weekend and our local blues group had a tent there. I didn't have to do much other than talk to people who were interested in our group, which I could do while sitting if needed. And it was needed. But it was on the bay and it was beautiful outside (for the most part). I got to hang with my kid and my friends, hear great music, take fun photos, and enjoy the lovely weather.
And then we come to how 40 played into some of the events of the weekend.
The mere mention of my impending 40th birthday brought about many wonderful comments and proposals. More than one person told me I don't look 40. This is something I've received a lot lately. I've been carded more times than ever before. Nice! I've also been told there's no way I could possibly be more than 30-32. These folks are now my new best friends. I physically feel older than 40 but feel much younger mentally.
Then there were a couple of gentlemen who came by our booth during the festival (I was working the blues society tent with others in the group). One guy and I started talking about an upcoming blues festival north of here. It's huge...and it's one of those events I've always wanted to attend but couldn't afford. Out of the blue, this man offered to take me. I laughed, but he said he was serious. Especially because it's happening during my "birthday weekend". Another man heard my birthday was coming up and bought me a CD from one of my favorite local bands!
And that leads me to that band. Without naming names, let's just say I did an interview with the frontman for the group and it turns out it's been incorporated into their press kit.
Hello!
What's up with all the good stuff? That's so not in keeping with my latest run of luck. But, that's what's going on. I'm flattered and pleased, and really, really stumped.
As for the one blues fest, I doubt that I'll go. Despite the offer and the guy having my card and email address, I really don't believe he'll contact me. Still, it was nice to have that offered. And it made me feel pretty damn good about myself.
40 does seem to be a magical number, no matter what people say about 42.
Posted by Da Goddess at 04:26 AM | Comments (4)
May 11, 2006
Map Schmap - San Diego
I just received word that nine of my photos have been included in the San Diego version of Schmap. Add to that the photos they used of Las Vegas and I'm feeling a wee bit giddy.
Can I get a small round of applause, please? Thank you, thank you very much.
I don't care if they don't pay for this. The inclusion is one of those things that can go on the old resume someday.
If you haven't checked out Schmap yet, you should. It's fantastic! No need for an online connection once you download it; no need for confusing maps. Instead, you have an interactive map on your computer with photos of current landmarks. Makes life so much easier!
Posted by Da Goddess at 12:48 AM | Comments (5)
May 10, 2006
Unfrozen Caveman Blogger
Your world frightens and confuses me! When I see my image on the security camera at the country club, I wonder, are they stealing my soul? I get so upset, I hop out of my Range Rover, and run across the fairway to the clubhouse, where I get Carlos to make me one of those martinis he's so famous for, to soothe my primitive caveman brain. But whatever world you're from, I do know one thing:
Now that simple VCRs are fading into obsolescence, I'm screwed.
I've had my VCR a couple years. That's pretty good, considering how often I tape things. Little did I know, though, since I last purchased a VCR, they've essentially been phased out of stock from Walmart and Target, etc. Walmart stocks only a handful of VHS tapes - just until they run out. Although their website says otherwise, this is the official line as told to me per the store manager.
Silly me, thinking something as essential as a VCR would stick around for a few more years. The world is changing quickly and I can't seem to keep up. Not that I really ever tried, but still...
Is it too much to ask to keep VCRs around a little longer?
None of this makes much sense unless you've guessed that my VCR took a major turn for the worse last night. Somehow that screeching noise just isn't welcome. Nor is the clunking sound.
Why does everyone have to convert to DVRs? Wwwwwhhhhhhyyyyyyyy? What about those poor people out in the middle of Arctic? You know, the ones without food and stuff. The ones recently unfrozen. Do you think they can afford a DVR? Or the subscription for content? No, they can't. And neither can I. But unlike the unfrozen cavemen, I'll track down one of those $40 recorders and tell my dad it's on my birthday list. I know he'll go for it. A $40 birthday gift? What a bargain!
So the quest begins. It'll distract me from my new residence search just long enough to provide a little comic relief. I hope.
On the new home front, things aren't going all that well. I have determined that I need a single story, on the first floor (basically NO steps), in a specific price range, in a certain area, and the landlord must be willing to work with my twice a month payments. I've found several places that fall into one or two of those categories, but none with all. And so it continues. I refuse to be beaten by this thing. I will prevail.
I would also like to give big thanks to a certain "I wish to remain anonymous" for helping me out of the jam I was in with my current landlord. I've bought a month of quiet from her and it gives me time to look for a new place. So, again, THANK YOU to "I wish to remain anonymous" - you're a life saver. Repayment will be slow, but it will happen.
Before I logoff, I have to share this last thing with you. Little Dude told me things at school have been going really well since we had that problem with the boys who threatened him, except for a new boy at school. "He keeps calling me 'g.a.y.', Mom. Why does he do that?" I had to explain that name-calling is a sign of a limited vocabulary or, at the very least, an unimaginative bully. And I also had to explain exactly what gay meant. The funny thing is, L.D. knew what it meant without knowing that word. Go figure. I guess it's one of those things I took for granted - he knows lots of gay people, he just didn't know there was a label for them. I sort of preferred the whole "no label" thing. All it takes, though, is for one person to ruin that for a kid.
What I'm really proud of, when it comes to L.D., is his ability to see people for who they are individually. How they conduct themselves toward him and others determines how he views them. He's an open book and I think that's pretty damn admirable.
Well, here's to a few drama-free hours. May your life be calm for a bit, too.
Posted by Da Goddess at 10:19 PM | Comments (2)
May 03, 2006
Unhatched Lemon Chicks
I counted my chickens before they hatched. Hell, I put every fucking egg in the same basket! And I got nothin' but lemonade.
Oh, how the not-so-mighty fall. It's not nearly as splendid or noteworthy when we insignificant common folk stumble, but it's definitely a more acrid pill we must swallow.
I'm hours away from hearing my new landlord tell me she's filing a 3 Day or Quit notice. Y'see, I'd counted on that tax refund of mine to be able to pay all of this month's rent in one "swell foop". And then God laughed.
Turns out the payment plan I'd made with the U.S. Dept. of Education wasn't enough to satisfy the...uh...U.S. Dept. of Education. Go figure! That's what you get when crazy people try to reason with other crazy people. No plan or contract in the world was good enough for them. They're taking all of my refund.
Oh, sure. I can get half of it back. But that won't happen until mid-July. And by then, well, I'm not sure where to tell them to stick send it.
I knew better than to count on that money. I also knew better than to buy groceries for my son, pay for the power to prepare and serve those groceries, and I most certainly knew better than to pass up the opportunity to be a fluffer for the new Guys Gone Wild video collection.
Damn it all to hell. I never get that last one right.
If anyone has a really wealthy uncle desperate for a housewife, would you, could you, send him my way before tomorrow? I promise not to bankrupt him. I only need $800. And I promise I don't want to be written into his will. Honest. I leave that stuff for Anna Nicole.
Posted by Da Goddess at 10:20 AM | Comments (3)