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Really old in fact. Older than my beloved old 1930 Singer Model 101, the machine I’ve been happily using for the last 25 years. When I first stumbled across the 101 it was in miserable shape, having existed for an unknown length of time in a barn and providing shelter for generations of mice. The works were frozen, it was filthy and needed intensive cleaning, but went on to become one of my most reliable and trusted possessions. I’ve sewn countless dresses, coats and Halloween costumes on this gleaming old machine, but its greatest talent is to sew through boat canvas like it is butter. Eight layers of canvas (folds on seams) may slow it somewhat, but with a little coaxing it can handle ten layers. I challenge any non-commercial machine to match that! Needless to say, I frequently find myself lugging 37 pounds of Singer back and forth, a task I’d prefer to avoid, or find the machine is aboard the boat when I need it home.
Last weekend Felicia and I were asked if we would like to give an old treadle machine a home, and we happily accepted. It is a 1916 Singer Model 66 with the ‘Red Eye’ (appropriately!) pattern, and it looked as forlorn as my 101 did 25 years ago. Everything was frozen solid and once again it’s clear small rodents resided within the ornate table. It’s taken several days of repeated part soakings in diesel fuel (I know, kerosene is the solvent of choice, but diesel is what I had on hand,) lots of oil and even more cleaning, and everything is whirring smoothly. This photo shows the 66 during the initial stages of cleaning and prior to installing a new belt.
As with my ‘old’ 1930 101, the ‘new’ 1916 66 is no collector-grade antique. Both machines have seen extensive use over the decades, with decals worn off, chips and marks that proudly convey a usefulness which is far from over. The best part is now the 101 can stay aboard Annabel Lee on a more permanent basis while the Red Eye will be my ‘home’ machine!
It seems a fun holiday, harmless, really. Candy for the kiddies all dressed in their cute little costumes. But there’s a darker side often overlooked. It’s the annual carnage some hapless pumpkins suffer at the hands of knife-wielding maniacs in their quest to create Jack-O-Lanterns. Please be warned, the following image is rather graphic and may be upsetting to some viewers.
This poor victim, seen below, merely wanted to enjoy a late-season afternoon of boating, but in this case wound up on the wrong end of a Danforth. (Boat US Claim #9876543)
And a less known but disturbing fact about pumpkins is that they do at times turn to cannibalism. Shown here, one can clearly see the terror of the much smaller pumpkin, which doesn’t stand a chance against the ravenous produce eying it hungrily.
I wish I could provide better pictures of this year’s specimen. Unfortunately they have proven difficult to photograph, as flashbulbs and bright lights can scare them off. In the next image we see the Zombie-O-Lantern, with the brains of some unsuspecting pumpkin still dangling from its jagged grin.
Pumpkins be warned. It is not safe in suburbia
That is the question of the day, (besides what did that guy do last night). It’s orange, and I mean BRIGHT orange, in that day-glo fluorescent this picture doesn’t do it justice way.
So what is this stuff we’ve been scraping away? Turns out, it’s Phillybond Orange, a two component, epoxy paste, developed for sealing exposed edges on stern-tubes. Which is precisely what it’s doing, bonding the stuffing box to the stern-tube. And quite firmly sealed between them is the inner cutlass bearing. And by all appearances, that particular bearing is years past needing replacement, which brings us to why we’re trying to separate that brilliant orange bond.
Here’s the outer cutlass bearing and stern-tube. If you look real hard, you can almost see the engine from here. So what exactly is the stern tube constructed of? Yet another thing to ponder.
I stop in the A&P this afternoon to grab a few necessary provisions, plus some CheezDoodles (buy one, get one free, how could I resist?) I detest those ‘express yourself’ self-serve check-outs on the principal that as stores phase them in on the premise of improving customer convenience, they cut their costs (savings I doubt will be passed along to us shoppers) while eliminating jobs for people like the nice high-school age kid at the actual express lane. So I wait at the employee operated register behind a neatly groomed but rather grim looking fellow, very grim looking indeed, with a cart containing five gallon-size bottles of bleach, for which he paid with a fresh hundred dollar bill. The kid at the register gave him his change and said “Have a nice day.” He turned and left without a word.
I find myself wondering what that gentleman had planned for his Friday night.
… are three things that have made me very happy over the last few days. Which, I suppose, says something about me and my warped sense of humor.
Loki loves to watch the squirrels on the front lawn, staring out the window and mumbling anxiously as they scamper to and fro. But he’d never encountered one first-hand as most squirrels avoid the fenced backyard. The other day I was outside with the dogs. Moxy and Rex followed me back into the kitchen, though Loki was still attending to some doggie business. As I step to the sink I see something has he’s finished up and taken to chasing a squirrel around a tree. Most squirrels have the sense to stay above ground, but this poor thing made the dreadful mistake of venturing to the ground. Over the years occasional critters have wandered into the fenced zone, and the results were never pretty. In a panic I rushed outside, shouting and trying to distract Loki. But it was too late, he’d caught it, and he trotted over proud as could be, squirrel dangling limply from his mouth. Tail wagging, he presented me with his trophy, gently laying it at my feet. The poor thing’s still breathing and from what I can see, unmarked. It stands up, a bit wobbly and dazed but otherwise fine, just very confused. I wrap it in a dishtowel and return it to the tree, where it runs up, slightly shaken but otherwise fine, and with any luck somewhat wiser. Loki’s looking at me, baffled as to why I released that wonderful furry toy. What amazes me is how very gently he must have carried it, and I’m so happy knowing he clearly lacks the killer instinct.
Zombies… What more can I say. Saturday night we went to see Zombieland, and I can’t recall the last time I laughed so hard. Yes, it’s gross. Yes, it’s violent. Yes, there is much in poor taste. In short, my kind of movie! My advice, don’t read the reviews and Wiki pages, spoilers abound. Just watch and enjoy. The ‘Rules’ are brilliant, and yay for Twinkies! This gets my vote as the ‘Feel Good’ movie of the year!
And the Flying Spaghetti Monster… Felicia is taking a course on ‘Argumentative Studies’ or something like that, though Frank suggested she should get credit for life experience. Argumentation has specific guidelines and rules, much like in the Zombie Apocalypse, and provides hours of fascinating amusement. Felicia seems to be enjoying this class, both in subject matter and the professor, who apparently brings up unique subjects for debate. Along the lines of religion and the whole evolution vs ‘intelligent design’ in schools, the topic was raised of the Flying Spaghetti Monster. Following all proper rules of argumentation, this tackles the sticky topics of defining religion. I think their ‘about the cause’ page sums it up best, though I recommend reading through their other pages as well, especially the hate mail page. That one’s a real eye opener. All the same, I think I’ve found god!
He’s door-bell happy, ever since he figured out nudging the doggie-out-doorbell ( sleigh-bells hung from the kitchen doorknob) will trigger the nearest human to open the door to the fenced yard for him and his canine buddies. He’s starting to ring it just to step outside and lounge on the deck. Clearly he’s got the hang of this trick. Starting tomorrow we’ll start limiting how often it yields an open door.
Last week at Anime Next 2009, she’s the ‘Shadowgirl’ on the left, and they took Best in Show.
She also did great a photoshoot in her Zero Suit…
In other news, work continues aboard Annabel Lee. Slowly. I can’t remember the last day we didn’t have rain. Hell, the other day 5 inches of hail dropped just down the road from here. Keeps up like this, I’m debating between installing a periscope and rounding up animals two by two.
At last! The keel is solid once again, structurally reinforced in every direction and built back out to (almost) proper dimensions. I didn’t take many pictures in the sticky, messy, itchy process, not until we neared the end. And I’m not going into details now, I’m still too tired. It turned into a 12 hour marathon, and that after getting home at midnight the night before after stuffing the entire contents of one dorm room into one brown station wagon. Coherency is low at present. I need more caffeine.
Next step, sand the cure glass, fair it, Pettit Protect, and THEN we can start putting working parts like the shaft, prop and rudder back in place.
Too much to elaborate on at this time. Maybe once all the (fiberglass) dust settles.
“I love this boat. If we keep taking parts off, soon it’ll be gone!”
We ache. Our fingers hurt. We’re exhausted and again questioning our sanity. The weather’s been miserably cold and uncooperative, though the cover is still up, so while things are cramped at least they’re dry.
We’re still at it. The main planks are all off the bridge, and the black goo beneath as well. Now it’s just the outer trim pieces. But it was so bitter and damp today, we called it quits a bit early, and we’ll start over tomorrow. And I’m bringing a space heater this time.
And the headliner’s down, revealing fascinating details of the construction closer photos will show more clearly. This boat is built like a tank. But that’s for tomorrow, if I’m not to beat to post it.
As I’ve been removing wood in the cabin, I planned to number it for reference when things go back together. Only I’ve found it was already numbered during construction 32 years ago. The amusing part is,as the boat was built in Hong Kong, it’s written in both English and Chinese.
None of the above. Only this blog, updated in no particular regularity, and my modest little web site, used mostly for some random bits of info and lots of boat pics ,which I finally updated! (My laptop was going through a sassy period, and required some serious shock treatment. All the programs are re-install, up and running, and I’ve been catching up on some overdue loose ends.) As I understand it, each of the above mentioned social-networking applications, while hugely popular, are massively time-consuming. That’s two strikes. 1, I’m not a social creature, nor do I have the desire to become one. And 2, my time is a limited commodity. Between writing, the boat, and life in general, I don’t have time for much else. I have seen first-hand some people who spend vast amounts of their day updating others on every last detail of their lives, rather than just heading out and *living*. Do you, kind reader, really care if I’m warm or cold or hungry or whatever else at this very moment. On that note I will get back to being those very things and more, and you’ll all just have to wonder.
I love a good mystery.
I mean really! It’s 20! You’d think by the way people around here are acting we’re living in Fargo or Bismarck, North Dakota, where it hit -44 this morning. Personally I think it’s quite pleasant out, brisk and refreshing. Drop the top on the Mustang, crank the heat, crank the radio, and laugh at the strange looks people give as I pass. It’s all a matter of layers. My cozy old full-length army coat, long-johns, hiking socks, gloves, a scarf and my ‘Elmer Fudd’ hunting hat, I’m good to go. Life is too short to drive around with the roof up all the time.
A white Christmas in north Jersey? Perhaps, if it doesn’t all melt in the next few days. All the same, it is pretty and the dogs love it, and I love not having 16 muddy paws to contend with, as my mom’s dogs are visiting. Friday’s storm dropped over six inches by us, and Sunday added another four or so. Felicia and I built a snow ‘T-Rex’ (pictures to follow) then all went out to get a tree. Okay, let’s see. We own a pickup, a station wagon and a convertible Mustang. The obvious choice would be the truck, but that’s got some mechanical issues. Next choice, the wagon. Nope. That’s filled to the roof with boat stuff, with only the front seat free. That leaves the Mustang. We get to the tree lot which hasn’t been plowed and get good and stuck. Manage to get the car pointed towards the exit, then go buy our tree, all three feet tall of it. Drop the roof, set it in the back seat next, and the three of us climb in. One kid at the lot waves that the road is clear, two guys at the lot push on the trunk, and we shoot out fishtailing the whole way. Another memorable tree trip!
Yeah, well. Let’s see. It’s that time of the year again. There’s a ladder in the back of my car, along with tools and stuff. Annabel Lee’s up on the hard. We’ve set time aside this week to winterize the boat. AS you may notice the lack of coherency, I’m just a bit tired and I’ve downed a bit of rum to mellow out after digging out a bunch of I’m not sure what where the keel is weeping. Trust me, my typing’s way worse, but I keep fixing my mistakes. Way more to say, in coming days I’ll be posting on the definition of insanity as it relates to owning a boat, and no, this doesn’t mean I’d change it, all the same looking back over the last year, I’ve gained some interesting insights I should share with those of you out there who bother to read.
Oh yeah, and my parents are in town, so right now there’s four large dogs running around here. Twice the dogs for the cats to torment. Did all you good readers click for the kitties today? <see below>.
Nap time. Later.
…but right now I’m too busy working, writing, and trying to squeeze every last minute into boat time before they start pulling the docks out and I’m counting the days till spring. I have wonderful pictures of cruising up and down the river, beautiful scenery, the dogs hanging out on deck and lots of other good stuff, but you’ll all just have to wait until I’ve got nothing better to do and maybe I’ll post them. Right now the days are getting shorter, chillier, and the trees are starting to change. I won’t give up without a fight!
Yesterday over breakfast, while my daughter and I gazed sleepily at our respective laptops, tea in hand, she announced that there would be a very limited theater release one night one time only showing of WarGames. It was the 25th anniversary (yes, now I feel REALLY old.) She’d never seen it, and neither had her boyfriend. These kids are hardcore gamers, Erik’s a program de-bugger (I’m sure there’s some more technical term for what he does, but you get the idea) and Felicia’s a Political Science/Philosophy major, and neither of them ever saw WarGames.
The audience was disappointingly small, maybe a good twenty of us in all, and aside from our kids, all were of a vintage that we recognized 8″ Floppy disks, Apple IIs, rotary phones, Ataris and Galaga arcade machines. Oh, and soda cans with pull-tabs. I was delighted to see a 78 Fairmont in one of the early scenes, not to mention some lovely Ford pickups. And the audience found it amusing when a then 17 year old Ally Sheedy declares “Forty-one? That’s OLD.” Yet with all the nostalgia, the message remains disturbingly relevant, and it’s amazing to see just how, even after 25 years, as much as things have changed, they’ve stayed disturbingly the same. For all of you who remember that movie, you know what I mean. But see it again. The past twenty-five years gave me a different perspective, revealing facets I couldn’t appreciate or comprehend in 1983. And for those of you who’ve never seen this movie, see it. Then think about it.
Okay. Somehow, inexplicably, with even less sleep than last night, I’m up and functioning better than yesterday. Webster Hall was bigger, louder, and more insane than Blend Bar. Cross Canadian Ragweed opened, playing a different set of songs, putting on an amazing show. We met up with some friends, and weren’t surprised to find some familiar faces from the night before as well. We all took the same positions right up front, and made enough noise that Cody Canada recognized us, thanking those of us from Jersey who came to both shows! These guys are awesome, and if you’re looking for some real, honest to god in your face alt-country-rock, they’re worth the look.
The next band up was a bunch of New Orleans degenerates (said with the highest respect), and the name of the band is… Cowboy Mouth! My voice is gone from shouting that over and over, as this band demands audience participation on all levels. Getting smashed, dancing and screaming isn’t enough. Expect to leave exhausted, laughing, grinning, and friendly with your fellow audience members. The show goes beyond description, though checking out their site and listening to recordings gives a bit of a hint. I’ll be seeing them again, and I’ll make sure I’m well-rested, well-hydrated, and eat my Wheaties before going! Oh, yeah… and I even caught a drum-stick!!!
Okay, so last night, by some wierd twist of the universe, Cross Canadian Ragweed was playing in, of all places, Ridgewood, NJ. Go figure. Needless to say, we were there. Damn right. Who says I can’t function on 4 hours sleep? ‘Cause tonight they’re playing Webster Hall in Manhattan, and if you’re gonna burn it at both ends, why not throw some gasoline (and Scotch) on you’re at it. If this isn’t all that coherent, it’s just cause neither is the person at the keyboard right now. All in the name of fun.
Also, I’d like to mention that the opening band, a bunch of local grown Jersey guys operating under the name of Super Satellite, were pretty damned good. I’ll be following their progress and listening in to them more closely after I’ve caught up on some sleep. (Place your bets how much I get tonight.) My ears are still ringing, my head aches a bit, so let’s hear it for round 2! What?
And a side note for those of you out there who’ve written me over the last few days. You know who you are. I may catch up on some email tomorrow, though that remains to be seen. Right now, my mail is on another computer, and I don’t have an address to reply. Congratulations, the baby is adorable, and as for Annabel Lee, there is more to the name, but that goes without saying.
It started snowing here around noon, and by dark several inches had accumulated, coating everything in a shimmering blanket. The dogs couldn’t be happier, rolling around and running figure eights in the yard. Everything is tranquil and beautiful… in other words, a perfect night for FIREWORKS!!!
Truthfully, just about anything is a good excuse for fireworks. New Years, birthdays, the Giants win the Superbowl, and of course, the Fourth of July. Any celebration. Or just any old day when blowing something up will blow off some stress. Fortunately, my neighbors have become accustomed to these random unannounced pyrotechnic displays, and usually just come out to watch as I set off a few fountains and mortars. But snow is one of the prettiest settings for fireworks, reflecting the colors in a way photos can’t capture.
