For all of you music fans out there, or anyone who could just plain use a little boogie on their biscuit, click on the title above. The Boogie Pimps sampling "Somebody to Love" with interesting background video. A friend e-mailed me this link, and since I haven't tried linking to video before, here goes...it's all about refining my blogging skills, you know.
I love the expressions on the kids faces in this video, by the way. Like looking in a mirror, actually. And, I know, this blog is supposed to be Me writing about the Current Situation, but as this link showed up absolutely out of the blue, an unsolicited and unanticipated hello from a friend in Denver that I haven't spoken to in almost two years, after another nasty, brutish, and long day for yours truly at the jolly old jobsite that's left me without the energy to write anything meaningful or original it just seems right to share this little smile-maker with you and all of my vast public audience. Kind of a public service from the Bigdog.
Seeya.
Monday, June 26, 2006
Saturday, June 24, 2006
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
New Camera....
OK, I took the plunge and bought a new camera. Thanks to Zeke for the link to Steve's Digicam review site - it helped me make the decision to get this particular camera. The Digital Photography Review website also had some good info. My old Nikon FG died a while back (broken shutter spring), and my newer Canon point and shoot digital is on its last legs, so I decided to indulge. The two "Moment of Zen" pics were taken with the new unit. More to come later as I get the hang of it.....let me know what you think of these.
Sunday, June 18, 2006
Sex Survey
OK Friends & Neighbors, survey time. What are your thoughts on casual sex? More specifically, I'd like to know what you think about sex as purely a way to release built-up tensions and get some good aerobic exercise without any emotional connection to your partner versus the concept of the physical union as a more sacred act that should be held in reserve until there is emotional intimacy between a couple. The meaningful overnight relationship vs. the karmic intertwining of two souls. Taking advantage of the local gym's open house with no intention of buying a full membership vs. in-depth study of the farmer's almanac and careful selection of what the garden will grow before tilling the soil.
This is a purely scholarly endeavour and in no way related to anything going on in my life right now, of course.
This is a purely scholarly endeavour and in no way related to anything going on in my life right now, of course.
Sunday, June 11, 2006
There I was...
The anchorage at the Caribbean Club was crowded - it was Saturday night, after all. The band that was playing attracts folks from as far away as Homestead and Marathon, and there was the usual crowd of locals that had arrived by boat so they could enjoy the music, imbibe to their maximum capacity, and then spend the night, or morning, on their boats and avoid the problems associated with drinking and driving. I had decided that afternoon to take part in all of this, and that's where this story comes from.
Unfortunately, the area where the bottom provides good holding for an anchor is confined to the area immediately in front of the 'Crib and down a couple of hundred yards to Sundowners. Beyond that it's hard and slick. There were a dozen or so boats at anchor, spread a little more than a hundred feet apart. I was angling for a spot at the northern fringe of the anchorage, picking my way through in a drizzling rain. The sun had gone down two hours ago. About 30 minutes after my engine quit, as a matter of fact. I was coming in under full sail, and had just passed clear of the last boat, a big trimaran, when the squall hit.
Now, I don't think anyone who knows me has ever accused me of being overly bright. Especially about knowing when to go for a sail and when to stay at home and read a book. When I first bought Reprieve a year ago, my maiden voyage was right on the heels of Tropical Storm Arlene. In retrospect, that trip should have waited a week or so, because it just wasn't a good idea to be out sailing in the Atlantic on a 35 year old sailboat in six foot seas and 25 knot winds, knowing nothing about her seaworthiness or overall mechanical condition. I just couldn't wait, though. I had a BOAT! and wasn't going to let a little gale force wind get in my way. Now, almost exactly one year later, I'm out sailing as Tropical Storm Alberto is forming off the western tip of Cuba. There were, of course, compelling reasons for having to be out on the boat this particular weekend - the Rotten Johnny's were playing the 'Crib, I just got a new outboard motor and, you know, I had to go give it a run.
So, there I was.... Pitch dark. Motor not working. In a driving rain with the wind howling, surrounded by other people's really expensive boats. I knew I was getting blown away from the good holding ground, and I wasn't sure I had enough room to come about and try to work my way back into the anchorage area. So....I took off my shirt, and using it like a glove I braked the mainsheet as I gybed to try to soften the blow on the rigging when the main swung across. Reprieve jumped when the boom reached the end of it's travel, but luckily the mast and rigging stayed connected to the boat. My shirt got a hole burned in it, but I didn't lose any skin. Once the boat was heading back toward the 'Crib I figured I had about thirty seconds to catch my breath before it would be time to slack the sheets and climb out to the bow to get the anchor down. Luckily I had rigged the little Danforth on the bow before I left, so all I had to do was go forward, take it off it's cradle, drop it, get a set on it, and then feed out the anchor line to the right length. Luckily, the anchor set the first time I pulled on it and I had allowed plenty of room between me and the next boat to for not only the amount of anchor line I'd need to feed out, but also the amount of drift there would be from the time I loosed the sheets to the point that the anchor set. I ended up with a good fifty yards between my stern the bow of the next boat. Soaked to the bone, I retreated to the cabin for dry clothes and a cold beer.
So, did I go ashore and boogie? Nope. The rain didn't let up, and as casual as the Caribbean Club is I didn't want to show up looking like the losing contestant in a wet t-shirt contest. Besides, with the wind blowing like it was I wouldn't be able to get the dinghy to the shore without the outboard.
Have I mentioned that there have been a few occasions in my life when I've had some lapses in judgment? You may recall that this whole trip started out, in part, becasue I had a new outboard motor to play with. A brand new Mercury 4-stroke 4-horsepower beauty, as a matter of fact, and totally high tech. Picked it up this morning from the dealer. Took it out of the box, read the start-up and break-in stuff, and headed out. And I actually did most everything right, believe it or not. I filled it up with oil. I let it run at a low idle, fast idle, medium throttle, etc. for the required amounts of time. I shifted into and out of gear with a "quick fluid motion", just like the book called for. I didn't however, check the oil after the first 30 minutes of motoring.
So there I was....coming through Dusenberry Creek between Tarpon Basin and Blackwater Sound when the engine died. I managed to get the jib up and make it to the open water before the sun went down without getting tangled up in the mangroves, and then drifted and fiddled with the engine until I realized that the dipstick was dry. Dammit! The book said the motor would use oil for the first few hours of operation, but I had overlooked that little tidbit. I hadn't brought any oil with me, of course, so all I could do was raise the main and head for the club. Luckily, I'm obviously not the first knucklehad to have done this, and the fine folks at Mercury Marine have the decency to look out for idiots like me by engineering a low-oil engine shut-off mechanism. No warning lights, beepers, or buzzers here. Forget to add oil and the engine goes into survival mode and shuts itself down and stays that way until it gets the right amount of oil.
Anyway, I ended up staying on Reprieve and listening to the sounds of the band and the partiers for a while. Every now and then I could hear the women laughing, and I pictured them bouncing around the dance floor laughing and shaking their butts. Ahhh well....there's always next weekend, right?
There were a few more squalls in the night, but the hook held tight and I got about six hours of the kind of sleep that should be reserved for saints. The weather cleared a bit early in the morning, so I rowed the dinghy in, walked to a gas station and got some oil. The engine started right up after I added the oil, and I headed back to my mooring. It was squally and wet on the way back, but there were no real dramas.
That was my weekend. I'm looking forward to trying this trip again under more enlightened and less stormy circumstances, you know?
Unfortunately, the area where the bottom provides good holding for an anchor is confined to the area immediately in front of the 'Crib and down a couple of hundred yards to Sundowners. Beyond that it's hard and slick. There were a dozen or so boats at anchor, spread a little more than a hundred feet apart. I was angling for a spot at the northern fringe of the anchorage, picking my way through in a drizzling rain. The sun had gone down two hours ago. About 30 minutes after my engine quit, as a matter of fact. I was coming in under full sail, and had just passed clear of the last boat, a big trimaran, when the squall hit.
Now, I don't think anyone who knows me has ever accused me of being overly bright. Especially about knowing when to go for a sail and when to stay at home and read a book. When I first bought Reprieve a year ago, my maiden voyage was right on the heels of Tropical Storm Arlene. In retrospect, that trip should have waited a week or so, because it just wasn't a good idea to be out sailing in the Atlantic on a 35 year old sailboat in six foot seas and 25 knot winds, knowing nothing about her seaworthiness or overall mechanical condition. I just couldn't wait, though. I had a BOAT! and wasn't going to let a little gale force wind get in my way. Now, almost exactly one year later, I'm out sailing as Tropical Storm Alberto is forming off the western tip of Cuba. There were, of course, compelling reasons for having to be out on the boat this particular weekend - the Rotten Johnny's were playing the 'Crib, I just got a new outboard motor and, you know, I had to go give it a run.
So, there I was.... Pitch dark. Motor not working. In a driving rain with the wind howling, surrounded by other people's really expensive boats. I knew I was getting blown away from the good holding ground, and I wasn't sure I had enough room to come about and try to work my way back into the anchorage area. So....I took off my shirt, and using it like a glove I braked the mainsheet as I gybed to try to soften the blow on the rigging when the main swung across. Reprieve jumped when the boom reached the end of it's travel, but luckily the mast and rigging stayed connected to the boat. My shirt got a hole burned in it, but I didn't lose any skin. Once the boat was heading back toward the 'Crib I figured I had about thirty seconds to catch my breath before it would be time to slack the sheets and climb out to the bow to get the anchor down. Luckily I had rigged the little Danforth on the bow before I left, so all I had to do was go forward, take it off it's cradle, drop it, get a set on it, and then feed out the anchor line to the right length. Luckily, the anchor set the first time I pulled on it and I had allowed plenty of room between me and the next boat to for not only the amount of anchor line I'd need to feed out, but also the amount of drift there would be from the time I loosed the sheets to the point that the anchor set. I ended up with a good fifty yards between my stern the bow of the next boat. Soaked to the bone, I retreated to the cabin for dry clothes and a cold beer.
So, did I go ashore and boogie? Nope. The rain didn't let up, and as casual as the Caribbean Club is I didn't want to show up looking like the losing contestant in a wet t-shirt contest. Besides, with the wind blowing like it was I wouldn't be able to get the dinghy to the shore without the outboard.
Have I mentioned that there have been a few occasions in my life when I've had some lapses in judgment? You may recall that this whole trip started out, in part, becasue I had a new outboard motor to play with. A brand new Mercury 4-stroke 4-horsepower beauty, as a matter of fact, and totally high tech. Picked it up this morning from the dealer. Took it out of the box, read the start-up and break-in stuff, and headed out. And I actually did most everything right, believe it or not. I filled it up with oil. I let it run at a low idle, fast idle, medium throttle, etc. for the required amounts of time. I shifted into and out of gear with a "quick fluid motion", just like the book called for. I didn't however, check the oil after the first 30 minutes of motoring.
So there I was....coming through Dusenberry Creek between Tarpon Basin and Blackwater Sound when the engine died. I managed to get the jib up and make it to the open water before the sun went down without getting tangled up in the mangroves, and then drifted and fiddled with the engine until I realized that the dipstick was dry. Dammit! The book said the motor would use oil for the first few hours of operation, but I had overlooked that little tidbit. I hadn't brought any oil with me, of course, so all I could do was raise the main and head for the club. Luckily, I'm obviously not the first knucklehad to have done this, and the fine folks at Mercury Marine have the decency to look out for idiots like me by engineering a low-oil engine shut-off mechanism. No warning lights, beepers, or buzzers here. Forget to add oil and the engine goes into survival mode and shuts itself down and stays that way until it gets the right amount of oil.
Anyway, I ended up staying on Reprieve and listening to the sounds of the band and the partiers for a while. Every now and then I could hear the women laughing, and I pictured them bouncing around the dance floor laughing and shaking their butts. Ahhh well....there's always next weekend, right?
There were a few more squalls in the night, but the hook held tight and I got about six hours of the kind of sleep that should be reserved for saints. The weather cleared a bit early in the morning, so I rowed the dinghy in, walked to a gas station and got some oil. The engine started right up after I added the oil, and I headed back to my mooring. It was squally and wet on the way back, but there were no real dramas.
That was my weekend. I'm looking forward to trying this trip again under more enlightened and less stormy circumstances, you know?
Saturday, June 10, 2006
Raccoon critics
OK boys and girls, I now know how the mostly viciously abused rejects from the American Idol TV show feel. Early this morning I was sitting on the back porch playing my guitar, trying to get the hang of Souvenirs, one of my favorite Prine tunes (yeah, I know I'm playing hooky from work today, and it feels GREAT!). It had just started getting light, and I was sleepy enough that my focus was zeroed in on the effort of trying to get my left hand fingers to hit the right chords while my right hand fingers picked the right strings, so I didn't see the raccoon until he started hissing at me. That's right, the little masked fuzzball was sitting on his haunches about ten feet away with his lips curled and was just a-hissing away at me. At first, I thought maybe he was trying to sing along, but pretty quickly I realized that he was just being rude. I stopped playing, and he stopped hissing. I hit a string and he cocked his head and gave me a quick little spitting hiss. "Go fly a kite, buddy, and stop that infernal racket" he seemed to be saying.
Well, I'm naturally inclined to be a little shy about my guitar playing, considering it to be an exercise much like praying - best kept just between me and the Lord, you know. So, of course, I picked up my guitar and my cup of coffee and retreated into the house. The little monster sniffed around where I had been sitting and then shambled off into the mangroves with his mission accomplished.
Guess I'll use the study for a practice studio from now on, huh?
Well, I'm naturally inclined to be a little shy about my guitar playing, considering it to be an exercise much like praying - best kept just between me and the Lord, you know. So, of course, I picked up my guitar and my cup of coffee and retreated into the house. The little monster sniffed around where I had been sitting and then shambled off into the mangroves with his mission accomplished.
Guess I'll use the study for a practice studio from now on, huh?
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