Cat Play

I believe that I have mentioned that Tiger, the Wonder cat and I engage in a certain amount of play.

The general result is that I bleed profusely and he licks his rear. This is starting to get old.

My new strategy is to grab his neck (they just freeze as that was precisely what their mothers did)

Once immobilized, I simply beat the crap out of him.

Don't mess with curmudgeons.

Flowers

My Sainted wife just came home from the garden center with a beautiful flower.

"Oh is that a lilac?" I politely asked. NO it was a gladiolus.

I try to be strong at these moments, but regrettably, my brain simply exploded.  Lilacs? Glads? Roses? Wisteria? Phlox? Hydrandia?

They are flowers. That is all a normal human needs to know.

Pool Life

I believe I may have mentioned we have a swimming pool. In Northern NJ this can be both a blessing and a curse.

The swimming part - absolutely delightful.

The maintenance part - excruciating. Sure, there's an automatic chlorinator, but there is no automatic PH increaser, Alkalinity balancer, Hardener balancer, etc.

Then there is the cleaning of the skimmer and dumping out whatever the Polaris found at the bottom.

Let me be frank here - the first time you empty the skimmer of all manner of dead bugs, you puke. The first time you smelled the dead worms and whatnot the Polaris had picked up, you puked.

The actual swim part is the least of the things.

Water

In our little town in Northern NJ, we have our own water company. At last count we have something like 8,000 households.

And a water company.

These are civil servants, no doubt working with their sister and cousin.  They do virtually nothing, so it is a sweet deal.  Our kids will be paying for their retirement packages long after we are gone.

When I first got here, I thought their billing cycle was weird - get a bill on the 10th, payment by the 15th.  So I (stupidly) called and said every other bill in the known universe is due at the end of the month.  Would you be so kind as to adjust things?

Being civil servants, their immediate response was NO!  It might make more work for them.

So these days, I pay when I feel like it. But I keep a careful eye on the valve out front.  If a town truck sneaks up, I sic Tiger on them.  

When the best of intentions...

Tiger, the Wonder cat is well known around here for his ability to break things.  Give the little bugger a new desk lamp and the lamp is in a landfill the next day.

So when my wife had to empty her china closet for the floor work in the dining room, she smartly took precautions.

They largely were centered around a plastic covering taped strongly across our living room arch to just make the living room off limits for Tiger.

However, and you probably saw this coming, there was a slight flaw in our protection plan. Part of our redesign work over the years was to give the entire downstairs a flow - no dead-end rooms, etc.  The living room has a sort of back door onto the porch.

Oops.  I am praying things are intact.

Admitting to Aging

An alert reader called to catch up and said the words "too many things are starting to break".

At our age, I thought - I know.  Is this some kind of news?

Turns out it was his mother's observation.

I'm beginning to think I'm getting old. 

Damn.

Catboxes

I have, in the past, had a good laugh as people walked their dogs in freezing rain and such.

Cats?  Catboxes.  No sweat.

Unless not.  I am currently having an "oops, I missed the catbox" issue.  And I'm the cleanup guy, so this is, in a word, disgusting.

I've done all the recommended things: a box for each plus an extra for their "convenience".  PLUS none in a dead-end area, so they don't feel threatened.

Current plan: I shoot one and see if things change. If not, I shoot the other.

Garden Centers

I am not an especially physical guy - I'm a damned curmudgeon. 

So when it came to moving my dear wife's garden center 6 feet over to get more parking space in the garage, I was at a crossroad.

I have really strong friends, but it seemed really wussy to call on them.

So here I am, on the floor of said garage pushing the damned thing myself.  It worked!

I'm on the garage floor. It took longer to get back up. Sheesh.

Coffee

"Oh rats, the coffee boiled over again, dammit"

This is not something you hear from normal people.  My Mr. Coffee, for example.

You hear it from my wife because she insists on using a 1950 era percolator.  She loves her coffee, so we have let this bizarre and mind-boggling thing go on.

The coffee boiled over this morning. She was upstairs showering, I was here in Command Central catching up on Matlock.

Matlock cannot be ignored for any reason.

Lobstering

Lobstering is very important here in Maine : a close family friend was so good, other lobstermen would simply follow him around and drop their traps right next to his.

He was of the generation where you rowed out to pull traps.  He finally got a motorized boat, and in the day, it was powered by a Chevy engine.

It moved like lightning, being a light boat (at 35 feet, no less).

He was letting me drive it back to the harbor one time.  You would probably think, no big whoop. 

Hah. He was one of the original lobstermen, and his recommended route was very close to shore. Rocks, ledges, bars and stuff.

I nearly passed out. I suspect not a good move when you are at the helm of a fast-moving boat.

Chlorine

As a pool owner, there are certain duties.

We have what is called an automatic chlorinator.

Automatic my left...it needs refilling and attention. So I drag out a 40 pound box to reload its "automaticness"

Chlorine is the gas they used in WW I. It is still quite effective. I have to take breather breaks as I load the chlorinator and then wash my hands very, very well.

This is what they call "high tech"

What I call it is not for publication.

Varicose Veins

There are parts of aging that combine ugliness and, well, ugliness.

I seem to be getting varicose veins.

In the scheme of things, this is clearly a yawner.  To me, this is close to a death sentence.  I like to show off my finely shaped legs. They barely keep me upright, but they should look good doing so when they actually work.

This simply won't do.

Cat Tails

You have probably heard you never pull on a cat's tail.

There seems to be some misinformation. I pull on Tiger, the Wonder cat's tail. A lot. He simply turns around for another round.

I really tire after 5 rounds of these things.

The good news - he promptly falls asleep.

Actually, so do I.

Joys of Cottage Ownership

Some years ago, we made improvements in our little place in Maine.

Bear in mind, when we bought it, the fridge was plugged into a ceiling kitchen light fixture, and the place had a 5 gallon hot water heater.

There was pretty much nowhere to go but up.

There is apparently a sewer system as well.  This is a don't ask sort of thing.  We are rock-bound and right on the harbor.

If it is working, it must be OK.

"Honey do"

Shortly after I got married, I was introduced to this "honey do" concept. Apparently, there are things that need doing around your new house that you, "honey," are the ONLY person capable of doing. 

Let us pause here - women have survived oh, some hundreds of thousands years, and I have to suspect that "Honey do" didn't figure in here. More likely, you would then, dragging an appropriate amount of attached female hair to the fire, say "honey do."

In today's world, this natural order has somehow bizarrely reversed course. It is just awful. "Oh dear, the upstairs toilet is clogged again." "I dont know what that icky bug is, but just make it go away" Stuff like that.

Here's the trick: grab a pair of pliers.  You suddenly look like you know what you're doing. No matter you are completely clueless, but it looks good.

AND the "honey do" is retired. Genius, no?

Taking Off

With sailing, there are two terrifiing moments: taking off (remember, no motor) and the return - again, no motor, so you had to stop a 2ton 40 foot racing sailboat very smartly.

The taking off bit was the toughest. The Skipper would be on the bow pulling very strongly on the mooring rope to get the boat moving.

We, back at the helm had a few more things to do:

1) not pee our shorts (by the way, we curmudgeons, being constructed of sterner stuff, managed this, by and large).

2)put the tiller full over so the sail will fill

3)pull sheets left and right to trim the mainsail so it filled correctly

4)actually steer the boat.

It is hard for helmsman moi, to disclose all this. After all, it was over in less than a minute: a minute I would not trade for anything.

Then the sailing bit commenced.  I would not trade it for anything either.

Finn Boats

The Finnish.  Who actually knew they existed?. I think there was an Arctic Circle involved so my brain just shut down.

Well, as a seafaring nation, they were pretty good at building boats.

Our first was a finn boat: beautifully designed, fast, and easy to handle.

Sadly, we had to sail it to Camden for winter storage.  Google the Camden inner harbor.  It is a tad tight.

We piled in under full sail (as ever, no motor).

To this day, I have no idea how we pulled this off.  The Skipper was in control, and he could magically stop a sailboat under full sail at a precise point.

The mind boggles.

SPAM

I strongly suspect curmudgeons are missing out.

There are legs of lamb, roast beefs, even a roasted hog or two to be had.

But there is only one SPAM.  Delightfully spiced ham with the same half life as highly processed Plutonium, it is a food miracle.

It is also a national hero - both Hawaii and England live by the stuff, as a result of WW II.  Which sort of supports the Plutonium bit.

Here's a theory - eat delicious SPAM with a Plutonium half life, and you lengthen your own life.

24,000 years: I'm working on it. 

 

I'm Not Cleaning This Up

 The damned cats seem to like to munch on grass plants.  Then promptly throw up.  

What a wonderful way to greet the day.

As usual, it is my job to clean this up. I have an idea that given enough time, whatever it is will be eaten by ants and what not.

My Sainted wife disagrees.

Life Adventures

Some years ago, we made improvements in our little place in Maine.

Bear in mind, when we bought it, the fridge was plugged into a ceiling kitchen light fixture, and the place had a 5 gallon hot water heater.

There was pretty much nowhere to go but up.

There is apparently a sewer system as well.  This is a don't ask sort of thing.  We are rock-bound and right on the harbor.

If it is working, it must be OK.

Gravel

Some years ago.. OK 50, we mentioned to my Grandfather that the driveway could use some gravel.

"No sweat, consider it done"

They appear to have a different definition of "gravel" up there.

A random collection of rocks seemed to be their definition of gravel. 

So, quite angry, I went to see where things had gone amiss. I should have realized the problem by the remarkable confused look in their eyes, but I was like 22, and those things sort of scooted by me.

Happily, they finally caught up with this century and our driveway is OK.

Hey - racing down the driveway in a $70,000 car is not the time to encounter the odd rock.

Bunnies

The very mention of bunnies seems to draw out an immediate "aww" from everybody.

I live with a gardener.  The very mention of bunnies brings out "kill it, now"

They eat expensive flowers like no tomorrow, so there is apparently some tension there.

Enter Tiger, the Wonder cat.  He tracks them down, and, as cats have for millenia, promptly wants to show his skill off by bringing them to the back porch.

I am simply amazed cats outspeed rabbits, but I have years of proof. Maybe not normal cats, but with Tiger, those bunnies are goners.

My Sainted wife makes like the circle of life is something she would like to avoid observing. Bunnies? Not so much.

Absolute Idiocy

We have to get through Wiscasset when we go to Maine.  In the day, it had slowly rotting schooners in their harbor, quite the attraction.

This is Route 1, so the workarounds (which we all know after years of putting up with this crap) are fine, but lengthy.

The old schooners have finally rotted away. Now all Wiscasset is known for is Red's lobster rolls. People line up to get them.

A child - and not a necessarily smart one - can make a stupendous lobster roll. Briefly, a toasted New England roll, a few chunks of lobster held together with Mayo.  That's it.

So the painful slow trip through Wiscasset, largely because of Red's is absolute idiocy.

Grown Men Behaving Like Idiots

Before we got our dock (I was 50, Buzz something like 56, and the Skipper, something close to infinity), we had a system to get out to the sailboat.

Our part of Maine, as I think I have mentioned, has 10 foot tides. Tricky stuff.

At low tide, this was the drill: we went down the 20 stairs to the beach/cove/slippery seaweed-covered rocks. We then carried (I am not making this up) the skiff to a vaguely floatable point where we used poles to get the thing to a more floatable point.

3 grown men, standing in an 8 foot skiff, poling.

Anyway, off we went and another beautiful sail occurred.

Boat Painting Pt II

I think I may have made the lobster boat painting story a tad too romantic.

You had to paint the bottom of the boat as well.

We used high-tech ablative paint, the only thing that would kill barnacles, adventurous clams and such.

We wore no masks.  We cleaned up by pushing our hands around in the cove. The EPA hadn't even been invented.

Ablative paint is really toxic.  Why you may ask?: It busily kills life forms.

All I know is that it is 50 years later.  My hands haven't fallen off.  My lungs seem to still work properly.

Curmudgeons are made of sterner stuff.

Rocks on Board

A close family friend in Maine was a first-class lobsterfisherman, Everett Watts. I defy ANYBODY to come up with a more classic New England coast family name.

Anyway, this is about rocks.  Every year, Everett would run his lobster boat aground for its annual painting.  No harm at all - these guys knew where the good muck was.

The plan was have it lean to port one day, paint your little heart out, and on the next tide, lean it to starboard and, once again, paint your little heart out.

Exactly how do you get a 35 foot boat to lean as needed?  Rocks.

You piled them on the starboard side day one, and the port side day two.

I kid you not.

Cats

I have two cats. One is wild (Tiger, the Wonder Cat) and one is a sleeper (except for 6 am, when it is time to awaken me to feed her).

Fine. My cats, my curse. Not unlike kids, although I'm told it takes two to tango for that stuff. 

So here I am at 10 pm. Tiger is out doing what he does best. (frankly, I think it is sleep).

A certain Sainted wife has decided that she can't sleep if beasts might attack cats out at night. And then the wife-induced stress thing starts up.  "Where are the cats?" "Do you know how late it is?"

Happily, these are easily answered questions: "No, I don't know" and "Yes"

Apparently, this doesn't help matters.

Bats in the Belfry

There is this charming event we do each year to get things going at our little place in Maine.

I call it OPENING THE FRIGGING COTTAGE.

First, you simply pray the key still works. (note to self - remember to actually take it)

Then, there is the plumbing.  Got water pressure?  And is the hot-water heater working?

You have just driven 10 hours with one whining wife and two whining cats. Your patience is not at its best.

Happily, it usually goes OK.  Some years ago not quite so OK. A bat zipped in.  I'm not quite sure I have ever seen a human being move faster.  My Sainted wife had a sheet over her head in about 1 and 1/2 seconds.

I was still simply wondering "is there a bird or something in the house?" Apparently they trained girls at Catholic school with really great precision but to be honest, the hairdoes they wore in the 70s could indeed support a lot of creatures - probably entire families of them.

But, what to do? I think there was a tennis racket over in the garage, but I could just see me doing more damge to myself than the bat. Plan "B": I yelled like I have never yelled before.

Bat gone. Although, we did sleep with every light in the damned place on.

Cats and Shoes

Being on vacation around boats is a time for practical footwear, and Sperry topsiders are the shoe of choice amongst us sailors.  Regrettably, they are world-famous for lack of arch support, and more to the point of this missive, for the foot odor that topsiders are so effective at capturing and storing.

Tiger, the wonder cat, often inexplicably takes to attacking my topsiders, then dozing off on them.  Now, many might think this cute - even the curmudgeons amongst us - but could there be a more sinister explanation?  Is he taking aggressions against my person out on my shoes?  I guess, better them than me.  Or, as is more likely the case, is he simply being overcome by the poisonous odor and he simply passes out after playing with them.

That, of course, makes one wonder why he would mount the attacks against such a poisonous foe only to lose again and again.  Not the actions of a wonder cat.

Tis quite the puzzler, no?