Winter Wonderland

Winter has felt very strong this year.  Many snow storms, each requiring manual labor with my ol' snowblower. 10-horsepower mind you, not those wimpy 8hp deals. No sir, my machine is a real beast only to be wielded by men and trained oxen.  For a while there I was feeling pretty beat down by all the effort and not having any fun with it. At the time I just figured the funk was from either all the snow storms and labor to move it or some other rut, work maybe.

One evening I was in the basement having a party with myself.  Wife came down to see what I was up to and we started talking about our loss of Watson. It totally ruined my party.  But in hindsight that's when I started feeling better. No shit.  Only today did I realize that it was that issue keeping me depressed. Not the damn storms, not work. Nope, just straight up unacknowledged sorrow and mourning.

 So now the next storm comes. There I am battling with winter again. This time I actually went out while it was still snowing and blowing, before the plows even. And I'm workin' and 'blowin' and then I shout into the wind whipped snow 'IS THAT ALL YOU GOT?'  followed by a menicial laughter.

Then news of another storm approaching. Shit, well now would be a good day to shovel the roof.  So I did. 2.5 hours later I finished. Of course I was a nut and did a 1.25 hour snowshoe prior.  Which finally gets me to what I wanted to post originally.  

Fun pics, and a gratuitous kid photo.

Makin' Music

On Friday morning I disappeared deep into the winter Maine woods.  The black cast iron woodstove was cranking out warm dry heat when I arrived at 10.  The band members had been there a day earlier, setting up the makeshift studio. A studio we would not leave from for three days.  

 The computer program and motu were running properly.  The song list was laid out, all the practicing, practiced.  The goal was simple.  Lay down clean tracks for eight songs.

Once I was settled in and gone through an orientation period with the recording program we were ready to go. But first, WHISKEY SHOTS!  rock-n-roll, right?

 So began my three days in a dark room, listening to music with headphones as sound engineer of North Bridge. 

Watson: My Dog

Mid-week I happened to on my way home from a petroleum cleanup site in Houlton when she called me.  Wife found a small private farm advertising the 5 week old Aussie Pups the Uncle Henrys.  I was right near by and planned to meet her at the farm.  While standing among two litters of baby Aussies one of them walk up behind us, tap me on the foot, and sat down at heel position.  As if to say, 'Hey, Pick Me."  

 After waiting a few weeks for him to grow to 8 weeks by the 10th week we had started a puppy obedience training class.  This went very well, thou the memorable moment was when we learned that he could be submissive and peed on the floor from fear of the training woman once.  But from that we learned how to use the clicker training technique and his behavioral keys to understand how to maximize his potential.

Shortly afterward Wife took Watson for agility training classes.  This mostly served to reinforce voice commands.  When he was 3 and 4 years old Wife also found a woman in Stonington who had sheep and did herding instruction.  That was expensive but worth it for the few extra voice commands he learned, such as 'out' 'in' and the hand commands to wave him left or right.  

An incredibly loving dog Watson would lick the wax out of your ear then move over to your mouth if you'd let him.  More than once he basically 'french kissed' me. So gross.  Snuggling in bed was an exceptional skill.

Every day, rain or shine, 365 days a year he demanded high energy play.   And we gave it to him just about as much as he needed and we could handle.   During winter Wife and I would often switch half way through a session so that the other could warm up by the fire inside.  Frisbee was his athletically preferred sport, following a close second with chasing an 10" rubber ball (Jolly Ball).

In short he was the best dog ever.

But it only  took three weeks.  He had developed a cough.   We took him to the vet and found that his lympnodes were swollen but it might me a result of kennel cough. He was given some meds, that by Wednesday we knew were not working.  Watson stopped eating. And running much.  And was now sleeping out side for the whole night, alone.  

I went back to the vet with W ('W' pronounced Dubya, short for Watson) and I was told that he had lymphoma. Cancer of the lymph system.  This was not good.  We got a referral to a vet in Portland and got the next available visit.  

 Tuesday 9:30.  When I got in with the vet tech and started to give her some background on W, I totally started crying. BooHoo-n' even.  I knew by now. I had a whole day to google the shit out of the topic.  And by this morning his eye had tinted yellow. A sign of jaundice and an indication of  cancer migration  into his liver.  The Portland vet said he was to Stage IV probably even V by this point. That indicated to me how aggressive the disease was.  We, of course, talked about the chemo treatments but it just does not make sense to spend that kind of money (5-grand) only to extend our own emotional and physical agony.  And he may only live for 6 months.  No.  That is not good for us or him.

I texted Wife, she was at work: 

'Can you come home?'

'Why?'

 'To say goodbye'.

I had scheduled for the vet to lay Watson down that afternoon.  I had too, it was the only way.  We went in at 1:50pm.  

Holding Watson as he died,  hearing and watching as he exhaled his last two spastic breaths was without a doubt the saddest day of my life and I feel a profound deep sadness for him.

We decided to have him cremated.  The place that conducted it did an excellent job, and even included some clipping of his fur and a little certificate with his paw stamp. 

I will miss Watson forever.

We got Watson, a Red Merle colored, Australian Shepard, in Old Town, Maine in May 2003.  

He died of lymphoma on  November 9, 2010.

Kerekpar uzleti dolgok

The first Hungarian bike shop we visited.

Title: Bicycle Shop (my Hungarian Translation without letter accents)

  So before we left for our trip to Hungary one of my secret self-centered goals was to come home with a bicycle.  Preferably something old and something Italian.  

During the several drives between families homes I spotted two shops.  One morning Wife, LilGuns and Wife's Uncle 'Steve' brought us over to the both shops.  At the first I found a nice pair of gloves and a decent Specialized riding jersey.  At the second shop we got a really nice German made handlebar bag and a Cofidis cycling cap.  At this point I pretty much declared victory for bike shop related souvenirs.

A couple of days later 'Steve' and I with LilGuns left the house early to walk for groceries. He said we'd be quick and will stop at a bar and get groceries on the way.  its about 8am.  Well, yep we stopped at a shop were we each got a shot of palinka and an ice cream cone for Sam. Did the shot and walked over to the small grocery store for breakfast foods.  Of course this included paprika's.
About an hour later George showed up and I could hear they kept saying 'bickli'. That i figured they must have been talking about another bike shop. So the three of us went over.  We walked in and were looking around. I was a shot, and two beers in at 9am so i wasnt really thinking clearly.  I didnt really see anthing of interest, mostly hybrid style bikes, until i turned around and this 'wet white' frame with chrome fork were hanging.  I started to look at it and didnt think too much of it. Then 'Steve' reaches over, pulls it down and sticks it in my hands. 

'Hmm, this is pretty light. Oooo. huh?' I think and mumble as I look over the frame.  Clearly a racing frame.  'How much is this?  20,000 forint, about $87USD.  'Whats the size? do you have a ruler?' 'its a steel frame, right?'and since I know basic frame geometry I sized it up.  Apparently 54 cm. MY SIZE. 'Is the bottom bracket english or italian?' Italian.  I was slowly digesting the facts here.  And as light dawns on Marblehead I say to George,' for $87 its worth the risk to send it home. I havent heard of a F. Moser but its got all the right signs of a good bike.'

I bought it. and the shop guys removed the fork for shipping.  We got it home and sized it to the luggage, too big.  We quickly returned to the shop and they had an extra bike box and spacer for the rear dropouts.  Afterward, we packed the bike and and called around for shipping.  Fucking UPS wanted $576 dollars to ship it back home.  FAHKYOU GUYS.  We went to the regular post office, $75 dollars US; AND it got to the house in 6 days, undamaged. 

TO BE CONTINUED

On the Road

I pulled on to I-95 at 5:30am driving north.  The oranges, purples, pinks and blues started to brighten in the pre-dawn sky as the sun rose.  Near Benton, in a field on the right, four deer were feeding in a cut hayfield.  Their breath visible in the cold morning air. 

After nearly 4 hours I arrived at the job site and the task of removing gasoline contaminated soil began.  At 4 pm the sky was dark again, the work day done and 930 yards of soil had been removed.

Based on the number of service vehicles and trucks in the parking lot, my hotel choice was a popular one among others working in the same area.  At 5:15pm I was unpacked and it was time for a shit, shower and shave before heading out into the cold dark to track down some dinner in this small eastern Maine border town.

After a burger and some beers I returned to my room to check email and send notes back to the office. The free wi-fi signal offered by the hotel was weak so I found my self sitting near the door with the laptop propped up on the sink.  The bleak florescent lighting and asylum white walls, all reflecting in the sink mirror, cast a depressing aurora. 

I quickly finished my work and moved into bed;  5:30am would come fast, lucky for me the bedside alarm clock was already set for the right wake up time and tomorrow was Friday.

outting

Last weekend Wife and I attended the wedding of an old friend of mine. It was significant because, well not only the wedding, but that it would be the first night that we would leave LilGuns over night with his Grandparents.

We picked up my brothers lady in Cape E. and got to the Portland Club at just before 5. the last guests to arrive...of course. After shooting the shit with my bud's, many of who were in the wedding party, we were told to take our seats by someone.
The entrance of the wedding party began and before you knew it they bride and groom are walking out. Ten minutes start to finish. Let the reception begin!
The three of us went right back outside to the car where I had a few beers waiting in the car trunk. Hey, there is no need to buy 6 moderate quality 4$ beers when I got 6 good quality on ice right out side. The ladies each had a Sam Adams, I had two NewCastles. My brother came out and a few others. They shared some Crown Royal whiskey. Now, primed up we can go back in and have dinner.
The bride/groom first dance was a fun choreographed thing. Best one I ever saw...Something along the lines of THIS.
And the food was good. So, with that hurdle crossed there was nothing to do but feed wife a shot of tequila and dance and smoke a cigar.

Peanut Butter

I was fooling around with LilGuns and thought I had detected the sweet sweet aroma of a nice full diaper. I called in Wife for a poopypants ruling. I heard a shout from the bathroom.

Holding the boy now at arms length, I tracked down Mommy for the second opinion. Secretly hoping for an All Clear, but really knowing where the outcome would end, On the changing table.
Let me back this story up a little bit. L.G. is just over 6 months old now. Growing right along like a little beansprout. He's got some good hair coming in, sitting up playing, interacting, knows his name and recently two sharp little teeth (lower center) poked through.
Now that there are teeth we started to introduce foods. Some beats here...let him gnaw on Mommys apple there. The last couple of days he has been eating carrots like no ones business. Last night he sucked up about 3 ounces, give or take.
Jumping back to this morning, I pull off his pants and open up the diaper.

Oh! Hey! Who put peanut butter in here?

*w00t* *w00t* Yep. So, to be anti-climatic I wiped him up and re-dressed the boy for school.

Bring on the fudge brownies.

p.s. I hope this story makes my aunt gag a little bit

NOW! NOW! Yesterday!

It's not quite 5pm yet. But I am DONE.

Today was one of the craziest days at work ever.
Twice today the next phone call came within the same second of hanging up the last call. Field person #1 called in to tell me they uncovered a 'mystery tank'. (An underground storage tank that for some reason nobody seemed to realize was there). So that set of a flurry of phone calls.

A sub- called in to tell me that the code enf. officer of the town need 'something in writing' by the end of the day or the client would not get to open their store. Sweet, thanks for the heads up and the specificity.
5 phone calls, with two messages to that guy. He called me back at 4pm. Ya know, cause i have no where else to be.
The client called me like 8 times today because he was getting worried the store wouldn't open. The sub called me back and I, well I spoke forcefully to him. I'm done with his shit. Worst communicator ever.

• Field person #2 calls. "Joe. there are bees in the well."

• Wife calls" Joe what do you think about the color of the britax car seat. tan or brown."
  

AAAAAAAAHHHHH!

"Boss. I got to get that report out. NOW!" I got this guy waiting. That guy wont give the permit. The client has not reviewed it. You need to sign it. "I got like TWO 'A'-on-fire priorities right now." It was a cry for help. All he did was short out and call the client to get approval to send the report without reading it. I got the report out.

Simultaneously at 3pm the lawyer guy called me, "Hi. those copies you sent are too light. can you get me other versions?" "What's the time line?" I ask. "Yeah, thats the thing, we need them by the end of the business day today" AYFKM!

So yup. I am a miracle worker. I managed to get copies of the year old invoices faxed to me. The woman had apparently put them in the trash yesterday and fished them out to fax them. *PHEW!* I then met lawyer man on the street and handed him the paper work covert spy style under a shady tree.

All of this pushed aside my task list today of: a late report, a 20,000$ invoice and 4 reimbursement requests worth about 12,000$.

Well, I am outta here...

For tonight it's time to keep laying hardwood flooring with dad in a hot, humid sunny, room. *WOOT **WOOT*

GeologyJoe: Bird Savior

The weather was beautiful yesterday morning. We even had a door open to enjoy it. Then a small bird decided to fly into the office.

"Joe! Joe! A bird, a bird flew in the office." I hear from my desk while I am preparing my daily ToDo list.
We find which office our little visitor made it in to and I quickly shut that door to keep him contained.
What to do? What to do?
Knowing they will fly towards the light I shut off the lights, drew the shades and opened a window. The plan was to get the bird to fly around and hopefully find the window in the darkened room. I approached the little bird but he was not about to budge from his perch on top of the window shade.
Quickly reformulating the plan I grabbed a towel from my desk. The little bird actually let me pick him up.
I started to carry him out and he wiggled free, fluttered about and landed on my co-workers shoulder and back.
She squealed.
"Don't move! Don't move!" I say laughing.
I quickly got the bird back into hand and brought him out side. I figured that once we were out and I let go, he would just fly away.
Nope. He just hung out in my hand. I eventually was able to get him to jump into a nearby tree. The little bird, while probably dazed from smacking into a couple of windows, eventually flew away.

Can anyone ID the bird for me? I wish the picture were better but I couldn't seem to get the camera to focus on the foreground. Oh well.