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Last weekend, Emily and the kids travelled to Evansville and left me at home to fend for myself. I was on-call for work, which is why I couldn’t join them. I also had to get some things done around the farm and the house, such as dismantling the kids old swingset in preparation for the new one to be installed.

Honestly, I don’t usually handle this well. When left home alone, I tend to stay up way too late, eat too much, and accomplish little. However, I did pretty well this time! I generally went to bed around 12:30 each night. On Saturday I went riding (horse), and then spent about 4 hours moving hay and cleaning up stuff around the farm. Sunday I spent most of the day taking apart the swing set, cleaning up the litter box, and doing some laundry. I also managed to watch three movies I have wanted to see but Emily did not… they were “2012″, “Harold and Kumar Escape from Guantanomo Bay”, “Lara Croft: Tomb Raider”. As for eating too much, well, we won’t discuss that…

Fortunately I watched 2012 first, because it was fairly depressing. This is not a movie I would recommend to anyone who has fears about the “end of the world”, but the effects were pretty cool. Tomb Raider was much better than I anticipated, even though I’m not a big Angelina Jolie fan. It wasn’t great, but it wasn’t bad. Think “Raiders of the Lost Ark” meets “National Treasure”. Finally, Harold and Kumar did not disappoint! Yes, the movie is lewd and crude, but I was still laughing. And I even discovered a “math poem” in it that I had never heard. Perhaps had math been like this when I was a kid, I would have enjoyed it more…

The Square Root of 3
by Dave Feinberg

I’m sure that I will always be
A lonely number like root three

The three is all that’s good and right,
Why must my three keep out of sight
Beneath the vicious square root sign,
I wish instead I were a nine

For nine could thwart this evil trick,
with just some quick arithmetic

I know I’ll never see the sun, as 1.7321
Such is my reality, a sad irrationality

When hark! What is this I see,
Another square root of a three

As quietly co-waltzing by,
Together now we multiply
To form a number we prefer,
Rejoicing as an integer

We break free from our mortal bonds
With the wave of magic wands

Our square root signs become unglued
Your love for me has been renewed

Recently it hit the news that the very first Superman comic book, Action Comics No. 1 (1938), sold for a record-setting $1 Million. At least, that was the record — for less than a week. Four days later, the first Batman comic (1939) sold for $1,075,000. 

Comics are neat, and they bring a certain feeling of nostalgia when you pick up a really old issue and reflect on them from the perspective of the time in which they were created. But honestly… a million bucks?! For something that you probably won’t let people even touch?

They say a fool and his money are soon parted. And perhaps this is the case, or perhaps this is a sound ”investment” that will pay double dividends in a few years. But for now, all I can think of is, wow… this person could have REALLY made a difference in someone’s life (or the lives of many) with that kind of money. And aside from the usual “what would you do with a million bucks” question, or the requisite “we could feed 1000 homeless people with that” angle, I’m thinking… how much of would it take for me (and my family) to be really “comfortable” in this life? And I’ve come up with some numbers…

Read the rest of this entry »

When I bought my truck, I asked the guy I got it from a LOT of questions. Since it was just outside Seattle and I was in Indiana, I clearly couldn’t see it. So I had to rely on his word. He was a nice guy, but he wasn’t overly descriptive. And once I received the truck, that quickly became clear. For example, I asked “does it have any rust? His response? “Just a little here and there, but nothing major….” To clarify, I asked “So the drip rails and floor pans are all solid?” That got me a “yeah, they are….”. Well, it turned out that the drip rails have a lot of rust, the driver’s side door has a lot of rust, and the driver’s side floor pan is half missing. But, I honestly don’t think he misled me on purpose. We just had different standards.

Warning…. what follows is a long, truck-related update on some recent work I did. If you don’t want the specifics, you can just click on the before and after pictures and get an idea of what I did. =)  Read the rest of this entry »

Well, it looks like my blog can no longer be viewed from work… it is now blocked and classified as “Alcohol”. lol! The content filter must’ve picked up on my “Cheap Beer Playoffs” post and has now screened me out. Nice…

Right now we are buried under about 9″ of accumulated snow. It started last Friday/Saturday with a couple of inches, then dropped another 7-8″ on us Tuesday night and into last night. Now they are saying we could get a little more Friday night and possible a good one Sunday night, depending on how the system sets up. That would be crazy, because we are already nearly 4″ over our seasonal average for snow, and this is about to go down as the coldest February since 1978. Kind of cool, though, because my kids are the same age I was back then, and I still remember that winter.

I actually have a pretty nasty cold right now, but I’m hopeful that it’s on it’s way out. I’ve taken off two days from work this week, which I rarely ever do. But why go in and “spread the love” to everyone else? I feel much better tonight than I have the past two days. Sometimes you just need a little rest. I probably didn’t help my case by playing in our basketball game Monday night, but it was the last one in our playoffs. We didn’t win, but I had my best game of the year with 8pts and a few solid boards. And of course, two fouls. =)

Overall I’ve been busy working on the truck and the farm. For those who don’t know, since my grandpa passed away I’ve taken over boarding horses on the farm. Right now I have four there, and that’s really as many as I care to have at this point. There’s not really enough good pasture to support more, and more would just be a headache. I’m not getting fancy with it, but I am trying to straighten some things out. I’ve created a boarding contract, and am trying to fix things up a bit. The fence was really in bad condition in several spots, so I’ve spent a lot of time getting it fixed and getting the electric running reliably again.

As for the truck, I recently did quite a bit of work on it. I’ll upload some pictures and post about that soon.

Hope everyone is staying warm!!

Well, this is my first post of the new year and new decade! Hard to believe we’re in the ’10s now. What will be really weird, though, is when we get into the 20s, 30s, and 40s. That’s because I’ll (hopefully) be of the age where I’m still talking about the 1920s/30s/etc. It’s kind of cool, really. I always thought it was neat to live at the turn of a century, and by having been born in the early 70s, I’ll get a good dose of each. When I was born, the 50s and 60s were still in the rearview mirror.

And speaking of rearview mirrors and things of the past (like that segue?), I’m getting ready to start the new year off by diving into the truck a little further. Back in December, I had an issue with the charging system that REALLY gave me fits. The battery was not charging, so with the cold weather my trips were kept to only as far as the battery would let me go. The battery was good, so no issue there. My alternator tested “bad” (according to NAPA), so I replaced it. No dice. I was advised you should just replace the voltage regulator at the same time, so I did. No dice. Hmm…. maybe it’s the starter solenoid, I thought, since my old one was pretty cruddy. So I replaced it and the starter cable, which was partially stripped. STILL no luck. I was about at my wit’s end when some of the fine fellas at fordification.com FINALLY picked up on the fact that I had recently installed an electronic ignition. As it turned out, I had bypassed a resistor wire which in previous discussions was considered to be a one-purpose wire in order to feed 12v of electric to the starter coil. Well, that little ‘ol wire also told the voltage regulator when to let the alternator charge the battery. Oops! A little splicing, and that’s good now. But what an adventure!

Well, not long after that I found that the old truck just wasn’t stopping very well anymore. And it was loud, and losing power. I like to rely on my brakes, so I’m not digging into that work yet. But a local shop was more than happy to put new shoes all the way around, a new drum on one wheel, a new adjuster kit, and to fix an exhaust leak that had developed. All that done, it IS quieter (for a truck with dual glasspacks) and stops MUCH better now! I was told I was basically stopping with one wheel before that!

But now I’m STILL losing power. The cold weather hurts. It takes a long time to warm up, and seems to drink gas while stumbling along. Discussion has resulted in the diagnosis of carburetor icing and a lack of warm air. So I’m back-tracking and replacing the big 14×4 air cleaner I installed when I first got the truck with an original style “dry air” cleaner with a snorkel and air riser from the manifold. I’ll also be installing new valve covers and gaskets, a heated carburetor spacer, new heater hose, new lower radiator hoses, and a new thermostat. In the end, it should look like this (but not that clean). And of course, the big deal (for me) is that I’m going to attempt all of this myself. Wish me good luck and good fortune!!

Finally, I’ll end this (somewhat lengthy) post with this… some folks wonder why I mess with this old truck. Why would I want to drive something thats 43 years old and lacking many of the modern “luxuries”? Well, it’s not that I wouldn’t want something new(er). I do. But I also ENJOY driving this truck when it’s running well. And working on it has been a great learning experience for me thus far. I’ve mentioned before how it reminds me of when I was a kid, and my summers on the farm. Well, it still does, and this song by Alan Jackson really describes the feeling well:

(from “Drive”)
Just an old half ton shortbed ford
My uncle bought new in ‘64
Daddy got it right ’cause the engine was smoking
A couple of burnt valves and he had it going
He let me drive her when we’d haul off a load
Down a dirt strip where we’d dump trash off of Thigpen Road
I’d sit up in the seat and stretch my feet out to the pedals
Smiling like a hero that just received his medal

It was just an old hand-me-down Ford
With a three-speed on the column and a dent in the door
A young boy two hands on the wheel
I can’t replace the way it mode me feel
And I would press that clutch
And I would keep it right
And he’d say, “a little slower son you’re doing just fine”
Just a dirt road with trash on each side
But I was Mario Andretti
When daddy let me driveI’m grown up now three daughters of my own
I let them drive my old Jeep across the pasture at our home
Maybe one day they’ll reach back in their file
And pull out that old memory
And think of me and smile and say It was just an old worn out Jeep
Rusty old floorboard, hot on my feet
A young girl two hands on the wheel
I can’t replace the way it made me feel
And he’d say, “turn it left and steer it right,
Straighten up girl, you’re doing just fine”
Just a little valley by the river where we’d ride
But I was high on a mountain
When daddy let me drive

Video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dQe3DKDQRRs

Recently, T-bone and I agreed to play in a church basketball league. T-bone — aka “Mr. Basketball” — ended up poofing out after 3 games with host of issues I can’t divulge due to HIPAA regulations. LOL! That left me to play on my own with the rest of the team.

Now, I’ll be up-front on this… I have absolutely ZERO basketball skills. In fact, they are so poor that on most days I can’t even spell baksetball. I dribble off my feet. I don’t see passes coming. I try to pass, but the ball moves in slow motion when I let go of it. I try to get in low and post up, but get called for 3-second violations. So I move around, which has all the effectiveness of a dog sniffing for a place to pee. I might eventually find someplace to set up, but mostly I’m just sniffing. I try to get in for rebounds, but inevitably there’s some 6′5″ dude with 4′ arms in my way. I have a 3″ vertical jump, so most rebounds just bounce over my head.

But I run… and I do my best. So far I’m averaging about 4pts per game, a few rebounds, maybe an assist or two, and 2 fouls. I should have more fouls, but what the heck… I’m not trying to hurt anyone, especially me! Unfortunately, what I’ve found is most of the guys in my league should be calling me “dad”. Ok, not really, but they ARE mostly like 15 years younger than me!

Last night Emily and the kids came to watch… and I hit my first 3 pointer! YES!! Except the kids didn’t see it. My daughter didn’t believe my wife when she said daddy had hit a basket. My biggest fans don’t even believe it when I hit a shot! LOL!

Rodney Dangerfield had nothing on this. I wonder if they have a church shuffleboard league?

Many of you who know me are likely aware that my grandpa (aka “Pop”) passed away last week. It has been a long week, and it’s still setting in with me, to a degree. At 91yrs (and change), he’s just always been there. It’s pretty amazing, somewhat unusual, and very fortunate that he lived that long and still had all of his faculties. While his body was giving out on him toward the end, his mind was still fairly sharp. I hope I inherited that gene.

Many people have asked if we were close, and I guess you could say we were. In many ways he was like a father to me. As a kid I spent many, many hours on the farm “shadowing” my grandpa around. One of my favorite memories was riding in the combine with him in the fall or sitting on his lap and “driving” the old blue truck. I attended church with him for several years and, for whatever reason, also went to a lot of Farm Bureau meetings. lol! This continued as I grew older, and transitioned from just following and riding along to actually doing things. We spent many hours building fence and stalls, baling hay, bringing in crops, taking care of livestock, and going to shows/auctions/church/etc. Pop was one of the few people who knew how to get me up in the morning. While my grandma would yell at me from the bottom of the stairs until she got mad at me, Pop would come sit on the bed next to mine and start listing off things we needed to do until I finally raised the proverbial white flag and got up.

Like any relationship, Pop and I didn’t always see eye-to-eye on things. We were especially prone and well known for getting into arguments when baling hay. Usually it was because he was going too fast, baling up snakes and wasps, or complaining about the way we were stacking. Fortunately, looking back it’s kind of funny. He used to get mad because I wouldn’t see a wrench that was right next to me. He once fussed because I didn’t know “this way” meant “right”, and “that way” referred to “left”. We were from different generations, but I always looked up to him and hoped he would approve of the job I was doing.

Unfortunately, Pop got out of the cattle business - my favorite part of the farm - not long after I left for college. Then, in 1996 (around the time I got married), he quit the grain-farming operation. He still baled a little hay and boarded horses (there are 4 left there now), but the farm operations had largely ceased. Pop was pretty set in his ways, and sometimes allowed others to take advantage of him. He came from a generation that took people for their word, which seemed to attract a lot of people who had ulterior motives. In recent years, the back fields were sold off for apartment and home developments. I somewhat regret that I did not spend more time there over the past 10 years helping out with things, but as the farm ceased “normal” operations it lost some of the luster for me. I knew I was not going to be able to farm it myself, which made it more difficult for me to spend time maintaining it. That was a bit selfish, I guess. It’s a bit surreal to me now, because this is the first time since the early 1900’s that no-one directely related to me has lived on the farm. And while I’ll still likely do some things around there for a while, it will never again be (even remotely) the way it was. 

As a WWII Army veteran, Pop was part of the “greatest generation” that saw times like we’ll hopefully never see again. But all that considered, he kept a very positive outlook on life and tried not to worry, which is something I need to try harder to emulate. I am fortunate not only to have known my grandpa, but to have lived 37 years with him around. While I often joke about how he used to leave me at church, auctions, the 4-H grounds, etc., he was there for my high school and college graduations, my wedding, my first house, and the births of my children. My kids knew him and loved him, and were also touched by his passing. That is very special to me.

It’s hard to let someone go that you know and love, and it really makes a difference when losing that person changes something that has been so iconic in your life. To me, my grandparents and the farm would just always be there. As a kid, it never crossed my mind that it would ever be any different. Perhaps in Heaven there’s one just like it that my grandparents are farming right now. Only there, everything grows green, the cattle are healthy, and sun and rain comes in precise amounts. The pastor at Pop’s funeral noted that, in Heaven, we will work to tend God’s farm (garden). If that’s the case, then perhaps someday Pop and I will once again mend fence together or even put up some hay. And if so, I promise not to curse at him for going too fast. =)

So I’ll catch you later, Pop. You’ll be missed until then.