Sublime Ugliness and Cringe-a-thon

My Favorite Bathing Beauty

Well, the forms came off this morning and the fire pit is finally revealed in all its sublime horrible glory. I’ve still got some pointing up to do but for my first ever cement project I’m extremely pleased at how well it came out but I have to admit it is extremely ugly. The key feature remains that it is functional. I even sloped the base towards the rear so nothing will roll out. I’m sure this would haunt the dreams of a trained mason but I’m taking more than appropriate pride in how it came out. It was a lot more work than I thought going in and esthetics have never been my strong suit (could be from having to look in a mirror for the past sixty or so years).

The Last Forms

I’m sure my Favorite Panamanian, who returns tonight, will have some very polite suggestions as to my lack of architectural grace but the fire pit and I are in this together. I may consider lining the outside with exposed stone but the fire place itself rocks! Trust me. I will adamantly oppose her first inclination which I’m sure will be to buy me a large sledge hammer.

The Result

Finally the fire pit project also brought the death knell for my last pair of running shoes. When running was a part of my daily routine I used to go through a couple pairs of shoes per year. These shoes are the last ones remaining and the ones I wore for that last run in 2013 before the doctors gave me the choice of continuing to run or have my knee amputated. I really miss those runs but these shoes gave me an additional four years of lawn mowing, Thanksgiving football games, and assorted other projects but are now falling apart. Several semi-important pieces fell off during my hillside adventures this week. I replaced them with possibly the most comfortable sneakers I’ve ever owned but my wife has issue with the white color. A basic style disagreement as I chose comfort over fashion. This will teach her to leave me to own devices.

The Old Shoes

Instant Comfort

Making the final cement pours last night went faster than anticipated and I finally snuck out for a movie or more appropriately a Cringe-a-thon. I went to see Ingrid Goes West which had me flinching throughout. It was that good. Aubrey Plaza dominates as the cringe master playing a deranged internet stalker with enough resources to travel west and haunt the life of a social media maven. The cringes come because Plaza veers from almost likable to insanely stalkerish. I was visibly wincing as her character couldn’t help but victimize herself (and everyone else involved) repeatedly. The film is an excellent expose on the extremely limited depth of social media types. The only character remotely likable in the cast is Ice Cube’s son who resembles his dad so much as to question whether he is fact a clone. This is Plaza’s film though and she abandons the brash personae most of her roles called for and this works because despite all the evidence against her you can’t help but feel her pain. I’ll never see this movie again because of how uncomfortable it made me feel at times (caring about a stalker) but it was a fun ride.

Steel Revealed

An outsider looking at the US for the past few years would think Americans were polarized, incapable of working together as the far right and far left have taken center stage to drown out any sane discourse. While that is true on a superficial level and resulted in the abomination currently residing in Washington, a more realistic view has been on display in Houston over the past few days. There’s a burgeoning center of the political spectrum that constitutes a majority of Americans. It’s often well disguised as the media searches for “newsworthy” stories of divisiveness.

That majority are the Americans who line up to help when the community needs them. They constantly donate money at a rate unmatched around the globe. You see it most evident when a crisis like Houston arises. More than 60 inches of rain with Hurricane Harvey rendered Houston into a lake. While most of the eastern based media often portray Texas as a backwoods, good ole boy red state, it is in reality one of the great melting pot states of the union. If you look closely at a number of the photos you’ll see true Americans in action. African-Americans rescuing whites and vice versa, as race rightfully is forgotten in the face of tragedy. The “Cajun Navy” has deployed to the rivers that used to be Houston streets to make rescues regardless of the race or political leanings of who they rescue, seeing them as fellow Americans.

This is the more accurate view. A view the White Nationalists of Charlottesville or the BLM activists don’t want you to see because they thrive on division. The pundits around the globe would best take a lesson from what they’re seeing in Houston. We’re not as divided as you might think based on what the media puts out. America would be a very dangerous foe to any who thought to exploit the internal political divisions which is in fact just surface drama except for the professional activists on either end of the spectrum.

Usually when my wife is on one of her many vacations away from home I spend a lot of time at the local cinema but I’ve yet to go there this week despite planning to on several occasions. The reason – my revenge fireplace. Exacting retribution on the many rocks I’ve painfully  excavated over the past year by encasing them in cement has turned out to be a lot more work than I thought going in. Still worth it though. Last evening, after work, I was faced with the most delicate part of the project and we all know delicacy is not part of my DNA. I had to create the forms for the back and sides of the fire pit that would be strong enough to bear the weight of the cement and the rocks. I went round and round until I thought of the huge bag of discards from the hardwood floor installation. They’ve been sitting in the garage waiting for the fire pit to be created so I could immolate them.

My Masterpiece of Form Building

I pieced a bunch together in true jigsaw puzzle fashion and I had my forms. It still looked like an abomination that any true carpenter or mason would run screaming away from but it worked. I went through a bag and a half of cement, four bags of sand, and most of the accumulated rocks. I made the last pour using a flashlight as the summer evenings continue to dwindle daylight. My wife, seeing this only through these pictures must wonder what the hell I’m up to but I think it’ll come out okay. I’ll pick up some more cement and sand today and hope to finish it tonight. And see a movie!

Cement Dance and Yoga Cats

New Jersey Supervisor

So, my first experience with Portland cement was certainly educational if not pristine. I re-learned the old lesson of how hard it is to stir the sand, cement and water together. I also learned that using a thin plastic container and then using a shovel to stir is a situation fraught with peril. My after work project took its first hit when my imagined bending of a single sheet of plywood into a circle for the form of the base of the fire pit failed miserably. Using a saw I was able to jury rig something that while not aesthetically pleasing (so glad it’s in the back yard where no one can see it) did the job.

The Aftermath and my Jury Rigged Form System

I placed the largest of excavated stone in the base and started mixing. I was into the second load when I noticed something dripping on my foot. In my overly energetic stirring I’d opened a good size hole in the bottom of the container. Whilst carrying the container over to the pit I’d left a trail of cement across the lawn and recently completed patio stones. I debated leaving it to harden to have a funny story to tell future generations. That feeling lasted about three seconds. Luckily cement is still vulnerable until it hardens and some energetic use of the garden hose removed all evidence of my mini-disaster (so glad my wife wasn’t around to comment on my actions).

New Jersey Project

I poured the last load of cement just as the sun set and prayed it would set overnight. I consider it a success that I got most of the cement into the pit although before my serial hosing of the area it did look like a gray powder bomb went off in the area but hey, I’m a rookie. I crossed my fingers this morning when I went out to inspect but it had hardened overnight and actually looks more or less as I envisioned. Lucky rather than good – my life’s mantra. The first pile of the damnable stones that caused so much pain in their discovery has been repaid by encasement in cement.

I’m not the only one excavating. Wingman was overseeing a contractor to address the serial flooding in his New Jersey basement. This is important as that is where his future game room is located. As I spent some time on the shop-vac during my stays there I know this is a huge deal to finish up. I’m sure my granddaughter is providing cogent suggestions to the contractor – if she’s anything like her grandmother.

Wife and her Yoga Partner

That grandmother reported in from her sojourn with the Virginia Musquetera. They spent part of the day trying to track down old friends. They went to the addresses they lived at when we were there but I gently reminded her it had been more than twelve years since we left. They achieved some minor successes and considered the time well spent. Earlier in the day they conducted yoga operations to which the Musquetera’s cat decided to join. From a look at the pictures the cat needed the workout a lot more than my wife.

I re-connected with an old friend reading L.E. Modesitt’s book, Scholar. I’m self-important enough to think of favorite authors as old friends despite the lack of any real world connection. I’ve read literally everything Modesitt has written over the years, usually either fantasy or science fiction. I’m a huge fan of his Recluse series. He started the Imager series about ten years ago and I devoured the first three when they came out. I decided to go away for a few years to allow him to publish a few more books in the series since I’m not patient enough to enjoy waiting for a new book to arrive. I’m glad I did because Scholar was a true treat and right in line with what drew me to Modesitt in the first place – his characters. He tells their story from first person perspective and the hero is always understated but increasingly effective. In this case his hero is a scholar who can also secretly “image” which basically means conjure things. He’s sent as a representative to a remote province where he deals with a staggering load of issues and battles. Modesitt excels at the both action and intrigue. The book while long, and typically Modesitt dense, I loved meeting  this new cast of characters. I’ve already started on the next book in the series.

Subbing the Terrain Again

The Girl Her Grandfather Always Called "Popsicle"
Passing on her Knowledge to her Own Daughter

Yesterday included activities not conducive to a day following a night full of dancing and consuming mass quantities of the fermenter’s art. First there was the trip to the Hartford Airport where I had to drop off my Favorite Panamanian. She, in her role as the Massachusetts Musquetera, was headed south to spend some time with the Virginia Musquetera. That stalwart soul was overdue for some sister time with my wife following the month’s tragic event. I like the ease of getting in and out of the Hartford Airport. There’s only one problem – it’s in Connecticut; which despite its closeness always seems to throw up at least a couple curve balls to deflect what would otherwise be an easy trip.

Wingman Who Also Did Some Digging Yesterday
Demonstrating the Fine Art of Recovery Operations 

Despite my bitching and moaning about Connecticut traffic (again) she made it down to Virginia safely and I’m sure there was some late night conversing going down. Left to my own devices I started in on my latest excavation project on the back hill.  Again, not the prescribed activity for a foggy (at least in my head) Sunday. Predictably every single shovel struck stone and by the end of the day my wrists were once again throbbing from interaction with glacial debris. I added to my collection of stones, including one of the mongosso variety. I did get the hole roughed out and hope today to get the forms in place to start pouring cement. This is where it’s going to get interesting for this first time mason. I thank God I’m not being supervised as I’m sure my wife’s expertise would have been extended to this area if she was around.

Three Hours of Digging Yielded This

Meanwhile in NH - Grandpuppy Riggins Monitoring School Bus Boarding

Since separating from my wife for a week and further enhancing arthritic wrists wasn’t cheerful enough I had to attend the wake of a long time employee yesterday as well. We’re approximately the same age and he worked up until this spring when they discovered the cancer that eventually killed him this past week. He was much too young and never got to enjoy the retirement he and I spoke about at lengths over the years I’ve known him. It’s events like this that remind me of the encroaching years and leads me to question why I still work when I don’t have to. A certain tropical condo continues to exude its presence.

Rockin Saturday

Wife with the Mafiosos Last Night

I just returned from dropping my Favorite Panamanian off at the airport and I’m feeling the absence of Buddy the Wonder Pooch semi-acutely right now. “Luckily” I have full plate to keep me busy over the next few days of her absence. That started yesterday when I finally attacked the pile of stone that’s been taunting me for nearly a year now. The pile consisted of all the stones I ran into during my various excavations since we moved in. It was always my stated intent to construct a fire pit out of their carcasses.

The Three Rock Piles - Fire Pit Will go into Bare Spot to the Left

This was, in small part, revenge for all the pain they were to locate. I figured a subsequent life getting seared on a regular basis was adequate recompense for all the wrist jamming. Of course I always wanted a place to burn things as well. I’ve written before as to pyro-maniacal side. I’ve never attempted anything like this and miss having my engineer son close enough to consult. I spent an hour or so doodling on a page coming up with my design. I’m going to dig into the side of the hill (and probably find more rocks) and try a fairly simple scheme using Portland cement to build it. Yesterday’s first step was moving the rock pile from the future location of the fire pit. I sorted them out by size creating three separate piles figuring the biggest rocks should go on bottom (rocket scientist that I am).

My Highly Technical Plan

Those weren’t the only rocks Saturday called for. There was also some serious rock and roll at an evening party for one of the Panamanian Mafia members. She rented the local legion hall where we’ve had several memorable nights of dancing. Everyone was supposed to wear something orange but my wife missed that instruction. Since I’m not allowed to choose my own clothes (for very cogent reasons) I got a pass on this faux pas. We traveled and sat with the Neighborhood Mafiosos for a truly fun evening of friends, food, dancing, and the occasional beer. (Alright – more than occasional)

My Date - Acquiring Some Orange to Wear

Our Very Fun Table

Wife and Mafiosos Sliding Electrically

I’d like to think our table dominated the dancing portion of the party but we had a couple ringers in the form of my wife and the Mafioso. At any rate it’d been a long time since we’d had such an opportunity to cut loose and we made the most of it. It was a little concerning when we slowed down for an operational pause and noted it wasn’t even ten o’clock yet. The entire group resolved to keep going and we ended up closing the place. I’m glad we had this opportunity given this week’s separation. Now to start digging into that damned hill.

Just an Occasional Beer

Colonel Voice

My Lunch Date Yesterday
More than Ready for her Close-up

Yesterday was another day of high adventure with my Favorite Panamanian. I casually asked the other day when her military ID card was set to expire only to discover that date was next Tuesday. She will conveniently be in Virginia starting on Sunday so a quick reaction drill was required. Civilians don’t realize the importance of the card which by itself is minor. The key issue is being current in the DEERS system which controls everything from pay to medical benefits, so a fairly big deal.

The Same Could be Said About a Certain Granddaughter

In the past we’ve gone down to the Naval Base in Newport, Rhode Island since it’s an active duty base and also offers my wife access to a good sized PX. That wasn’t possible yesterday, the only day left on our schedule. I checked online and found that the defunct Fort Devens still had some vestigial reserve military elements, amongst which was an ID card section. Not that I needed any reminders but driving onto Fort Devens was another indication of how old I’m getting. I have a lot of good memories from making my first ever household goods shipment from there to chasing recalcitrant ROTC cadets around as a Captain. I found the former base consumed by major civilian companies which have re-purposed most of the base and I struggled to find anything remotely familiar. The Army enclave was a small fenced in collection of buildings manned by a very self-important civilian rent-a-cop gate guard. A question for the ages why does the smaller the installation increase the self-importance of these jack-os proportionally. He eventually bequeathed us entrance and we found the small ID card office. I was a little shaken when I saw a hand written note that the office was closing at 1pm but that still gave us a couple hours if I didn’t count lunch (which I wasn’t prepared to).

I was directed to a table which had a sign saying “if there is no clipboard here then I don’t have time for anybody else”. There was no clipboard. My wife asked me why I was so pissed after turning away. I made eye contact with the civilian clerk and informed him we had a situation. He meekly surrendered the clipboard saying he might not be able to fit us in before he had to leave “for training”. I’d been in the Army long enough to know what Friday afternoon mandatory training encompassed. I told him I was confident he’d be able to fit us in. We had to wait an hour but he got us and a number of other people in that came in after we did. The clerk turned out to be a good guy if a little under-confident in his abilities. As I was leaving one of the other people waiting thanked me for speaking up. My wife commented that she was glad to see I hadn’t lost what she called my “Colonel Voice” which is apparently what I’d used in talking with the clerk.

My wife hadn’t eaten breakfast despite my caution not to forget when I first went to work in the morning. The time between then and when I picked her up was spent preparing for her close-up. She takes ID card pictures a lot more seriously than I do. Despite her herculean efforts she was still disappointed in the result. I wisely chose to disagree with her since I honestly thought/think she looked great. Since I had to get back to work but was dealing with a famished spouse we pulled off the road into Leominster for lunch. I’ve driven by Leominster millions of times but never stopped in there. After some minor exploration we found a grill that offered outside seating and had an enjoyable lunch together. We’ve both been charging around so much lately that this was the first time we’d been able to sit down with just each other in a while.  We followed that up with another date later in the day as she caught the tail end of First Friday celebrations. A good, if hurried day.

Bang, Joseph Bang

Next Week's Visitor Counting Ducks Yesterday

We have a full blown Musquetera adventure on the hoof as I write this. The two northern musqueteras planned on driving down on Sunday to spend the week with the Virginia Musquetera. I’ve learned that using the word “planning” with these three is a tenuous proposition at best. Last night the Maine Musquetera pulled out due to business requirements and there is no way my wife would attempt a solo drive to Virginia. She also has to be back by Thursday night since we have some very special guests inbound from New Jersey a week from today.

Getting So Big

Well, my life was calm for all of three days which is better than some people can hope for. She’ll fly down on Sunday and back on Thursday night. This will free me up from supervision long enough to start the final phase of the backyard projects – the fire pit. This will be uncharted territory for me. I’m hoping I don’t emerge with the Quasimodo style of stonework. You'll have to promise not to laugh.

Last night we took in yet another movie – Logan Lucky. This marked Steven Soderbergh’s return to directing after a failed retirement. He transported his Ocean’s Eleven heist ideas into Appalachia with red neck “heroes” working very hard on maintaining their drawls. The cast is amazing with big stars popping up in minor roles throughout. Channing Tatum proves once again that he is more than capable of carrying a big movie. He plays the Danny Ocean part while, in a major departure, we have 007 himself playing hillbilly safecracker Joe Bang (hence the title above). The pacing is a little jumpy in true Soderbergh fashion but the characters are developed and engaging. Although the Logan brothers seemed to get a brain transplant halfway through the movie with their IQs jumping hundred points they are so charming you can forgive them. Elvis’ granddaughter is along as the final Logan. You’d think this would be a send up of the backwoods boys but they come across much better than their more sophisticated counterparts. Truly enjoyable.

Autumnal Break

Weather took a serious turn towards seasonal change yesterday. I’m hoping this harbinger of my favorite season of the year hangs around for a while. I celebrate the first cold snap of each fall as mosquitos meet their annual demise and perspiration goes on hiatus. I know I’m jumping the gun just a bit and that summer probably has a few more haymakers to throw our way but it was way cool to sleep with windows open all night for the first time in a long while.

Our movie catchup schedule continued apace last night as my wife and I took in Wind River. This is a very stark outing with the desolate, but spectacular, winter landscape of Wyoming playing a major supporting character and reflecting the barren lives of the main characters. Jeremy Renner continues to evolve as an actor and exudes gravitas as a taciturn hero with the weight of the world on his shoulders but still in hot, if understated, pursuit of justice for a murdered Indian girl. His Avenger co-star Red Witch more than holds her own in the talented cast in the crucial role of the sole FBI agent also trying to track down the killer. There are several startling shootouts in the cleverly crafted tale. Gil Birmingham, in an all too small part, once again steals every scene he’s in as a grieving father. This reminded me in a lot of ways of CJ Box’s outstanding novels set in generally the same area. I can’t recommend this movie highly enough. I think Renner is going to be something very special as he reaches middle age and settles into the parts Tommy Lee Jones has outgrown.

To answer your question, yes it was a very slow day yesterday, event wise, and I’ve been up to my hips in alligators all day today with no time to write.