The Falcon Has Landed

Saturday we bundled Chris up, loaded the car with food, drugs, and chairs, picked up Lisa Chapin, and headed to Fort Point in the city to watch the Maltese Falcon sail in under the Golden Gate Bridge. It was an amazing day in the city with the temps in the mid-70's, no clouds, and it seemed like every sailor in the Bay Area was out on their boat. After sitting in traffic for almost 1.5 hours, we made it to Fort Point. Traffic karma paid off and someone was vacating a VERY busy parking lot as we were pulling in.

After getting the chairs all set up and prepared, we waited about 15 minutes at which point I saw the biggest mast I've ever seen on the outside of the bridge. The sailboats were swarming around, a fire boat was out, someone was rowing, and as the Falcon passed under the bridge, every sailboat jibed and all sailed on the same tack right next to the Falcon.



The Falcon is 289 feet long and the mast height is 190 feet tall. The bridge height above the water at low tide is 220 feet. It really was amazing to see regardless of that boat being a monstrosity of nature. Most of the boats sailing around her were 40+ feet long, and they looked like toys.

Lisa shopping for her new boat
After 45 minutes, we needed to get Chris back in the car and drugged up again, so we drove through Pacific Heights and head back over the Bay Bridge. We drove around Yerba Buena/Treasure Island, managed to drive right under the new part of the Bay Bridge they are building and into a Coast Guard check point (clearly, we were somewhere we weren't supposed to be).

It seemed no matter where we drove that day, we could see the Falcon. It loomed over the horizon, looking like tall buildings off in the distance. It finally anchored for the night in Sausalito and will be moving to Pier 35 in the city for some work and lots of private tours. I wish we could get on her, but no can do... you have to know Mr. Perkins, and as many people as I know, I don't think I can make it happen. I'm working on it though.

Another fine example of something fun to do in the Bay Area that was free (with the exception of the gas, which still cost us probably $20 all in all).

Does this mean I'm over the software hill?

Okay, last week I decided I was going to try to install my new copy of Vista Ultimate on the media server hooked up to the TV. I figured if it sucked it wouldn't affect much. So, I'm looking at the box, which is beautiful packaging by the way, but there's no obvious way to get into the box. I start pushing, pulling, unlocking what looks like tabs, untaping things, etc... still no movement on this box. Just when I was about to get a crow bar to pry the thing open, I decided to Google "open Vista box". Click here to see what I saw. 569K hits... something is wrong with this scenario. I'm not the only retard out there having trouble figuring this out.

I did finally get it open, but Microsoft needs to have focus groups on their packaging from now on. Even Microsoft has instructions on their site on how to open the box.

Advanced Digititis

It's been a much quieter end of the week than it was the beginning of the week. It's been a lot of work running around, making sure my patient is fed, doped up, keeping the house clean, cooking, and trying to cram a little work in between the lines.

Chris had an allergic reaction yesterday to the antibiotics he was on, so he's not taking those anymore. We have a follow up appointment to check on his hand tomorrow, so should have a few more tidbits to report. He seems to be doing okay though - I would guess a little tired of having his hand up in the air. We went to Goodwill on Friday to outfit him for the next few weeks with some shirts we can hack up, and the chick behind the counter saw his hand and started saying "GNARLY DUDE, that is so GNARLY, I wish I had my cellphone, I'd send everyone pictures." I mean, it was just so WEIRD to have someone react like that. For the most part, people either ask what he did, or they look like their going to hurl. Either way, they don't make a big deal of it. The hand looks worse than it is. It's bad, don't get me wrong, but we have to keep ointment on it too. So, it has that ooze thing going.

Friday night I managed to break the 2nd toe on my left foot (I swear, I was not trying to steal the spotlight from Chris). It's all bruised up and swollen, but I can at least walk on it now. And Chris, not to be outdone, managed to break HIS left pinky toe on Saturday morning.

All I can do at this point is sit back and laugh, because it keeps getting better and better... :)

Pelagic Dreams

Sea-Fever
by John Masefield
(1878-1967)

I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face and a grey dawn breaking.

I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must down to the seas again to the vagrant gypsy life.
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.


So, the other day Kim popped an unexpected question on me while I was sitting there bored out of my skull. "Have you thought about studying for your Captain's License while you're out of commission?". No, actually I hadn't, but it semmed like a damned fine idea to me. I've always wanted to take care of that before I'm 40, and I don't really have anything better to do in the next month or two while my hand heals. I told her about the big book by Charles Wing, "Get Your Captain's License", and that the filing fees are only a few hundred bucks if you just take the test, not the $1,250 for the full class and exam.

Next thing I know, Lisa Chapin drops the book in my lap and they're both grinning at me. I thanked them, shook my head, and set the tome aside to peruse at a later date. Two days later, after I had become more accustomed to the Percocet coursing through my veins, I cracked the 800 page book. The first chapter covers eligibility requirements. It looked to me that because of my tenure at SailTime, I might actually qualify for Inland Masters < 100 Tons. This is an "academic" notch above the standard Six Pack, requires the same sea service and the test is only 20 more questions for the same amount. After checking with my old friend Captain Greg White, he said to go for it, so I've loaded the software and aimed it toward that heading.

While watching "White Squall" for the twentieth time last night, I was touched by the notion that they had to turn around and go home. Being still kid enough, I completely empathized with the disappointment of that concept. I then realized that that's the beauty of doing a circumnavigation, you never have to turn around ang go back. If you're lucky, you just cross your path. So we're aiming toward that heading too... West.

Chris Larsen
(1969- )

9.5 out of 10 isn't bad

Chris asked me to post this on his behalf to the blog (and all I did was edit this, he diligently typed the whole thing with one hand):

"Virgil Briggman is back on the air...", "Good morning Vietnam!", and all that crap. So, I'm sitting here waiting for my double-dose of Percocet to kick in, I thought I'd sneak in my first blog in a while. As you may or may not know, I had a little "industrial accident" in the shop Friday morning. That roughly translates to cutting my middle f'ing finger off (I'm already qualified to be a high school shop teacher). Luckily, it was still hanging by a little flap of skin, so I didn't have to go through the agony of looking for it.

I was in the process of milling 2" legs for the matching night stands that will complete our bedroom suite. Anyhoo, I was doing something relatively safe, and something I do all the time. I use 4/4 stock to do all my glue ups, since thicker stuff is more expensive, and I think it's a little more environmentally responsible. I'm modifying the plans to beef up the leg thickness to give it a much more substantial, antique look, that worked really well on the dresser. So Friday morning, I was ripping my blanks to 2+ inches, so they could be jointed and planed down to their finished thickness/width. I was actually thinking about safety as I was pushing the 4+ inch wide, 2+ inch thick board along the rip fence. Halfway through 4+ the board I grabbed the push stick to finish the cut with my right hand safely out of the way. For some reason, at the very end of the board, maybe I torqued it by not having enough lateral force fom the push stick. Whatever the cause, I don't have anti-kickback rollers or a splitter installed, so that's my bad. Anyway, the board shot back toward me, missing my ribcage (thank god I always allow kickback clearance) and somehow drug my hand back with it. With the way my hand had contorted because of the kickback, my middle finger took the brunt. I thought my ring finger got compressed and was broken, but it turned out that my index snapped. There's also a nice gash on my thumb that took my thumbnail off, along with the bone tip. All in all, a pretty gruesome sight. I haven't had the guts to look at any pics (which I was thoughtful enough to insist on) or the x-rays, which we might've actually stolen. Always thinking about the blog!

After emitting a scream that elicited from the depths of my soul when I saw my finger flopping loosely, I calmly took control of the situation by clamping my right hand around my wrist and getting Kim to stop doing her decapitated chicken dance. We put the remains of my hand in a bag of ice, and tied a tea-towel around my wrist. Kim managed to beep the car and I was able to just barely crawl into the passenger side before blacking out, which would've been a major problem for Kim to get me into the car by herself.

There were typical communication issues with the various medical personnel we encountered. Somebody asked where my finger was. I said "In the bag".
The discrepancy caused Kim to have to go home and look for more parts. They kept changing their minds on which digits were involved. The shots into the base of each digit were excruciating. They kept asking me silly questions like name, age and pain rated from 1-10. Some bookkeeping yutz came out and immediately started discussing financing options, while I was mentally preparing myself to be an amputee.

Another ambulance ride, and I was in Stanford. I won't bore you with any additional details, but some of the highlights were "F**k Seth Thomas", regarding how slow the minutes were during the nights they wouldn't let me sleep more than an hour. When the nurse who had just given me a suppository (the size and shape of a rifle bullet) asked if I needed anything else, I said, "Hell, I was going to ask you out to dinner!". The same nurse, upon removing my catheter, told me that if I didn't pee in the next six hours, it would have to go back in. I leaned over to Lisa Chapin and said, "She gets me. Incentive through implied threat". I dutifully spent the next two hours trying to pee into an empty jug, something I used to do all the time when driving between Austin and Houston. On a side note, I'm still "farting" out my peehole, which is something I've never experienced in all my 39 years, and certainly wasn't on the list (way down from three-way with twins). It doesn't get much better than that, though. I can certainly tell you that much.

Well, I'm kind of tuckered out after this, so I'm going to watch TV through a narcotic haze. "Hi, I'm Chris Larsen and I've been sober for five days..."

And in a split second...

...it was all over. Sort of. So, our first full day at home. Yeah... actually, I wasn't sure about how it was going to go when I woke up at 5:37am. Around 6 I woke Chris up, fed him his drugs, and proceeded to just get on with my day. He stayed in bed, a little woozy, but eventually as regular morning came, he stood up out of bed, and started wandering around. He sat in the chair in front of the TV with his monstrous Carter pillow and watched CNN Headline News with me (sadly for Chris, this week is a non-Robin Meade week). He spent part of the day sleeping in bed and part of the day sitting in the chair. At one point, he even sat at the computer and checked his email and surfed the web with one hand. I guess lots of guys do that kind of thing anyway. (Yes, that was my one shot at Larsen humor, and I think I failed miserably). Generally, things are much much better than yesterday this time. Amazing how much being non-home means.

Lisa came over tonight and I managed to have a real meal since I finally had to cook for someone else. I called Chris' manager at West Marine and had him "employee purchase" the book for getting a Coast Guard Captain's license (Lisa picked it up at WM before she came). I figure if Chris is going to be hanging for a while, it's not a bad way to get one of those things that is important to him out of the way. Lisa also brought a lot of coastal navigation maps, so he can study the things he loves the most.

Lisa just "checked out" on some 30+ footers at a local Sailtime type of place, so she's joining and hopefully we'll be getting a lot more experience on some bigger boats now with Lisa Chapin at the helm. Good thing Chris taught me how to sail... he can kick back and enjoy the sailing, and Lisa and me can do the work. I love hanging out with smart and independent chicks.

So a few learning lessons (feel free to add your own):

1. When you move to a new place, find the local emergency room. You never know when you are going to need it. I had Chris in the car and we were driving who-knows-where when I had to call Cathi in North Carolina to find out where the closest place was.

2. When the dog runs off in the middle of a major trauma, let the dog run. She will come back. She knows where home is.

3. Take a second and hold your left hand out and your fingers out straight. See how your middle finger is longer than all the other ones? You probably use that one more than most of the other ones, right? Chris' left middle finger is now 2 inches shorter than it used to be. Tonight, he called it his "Hobbit" finger. Appreciate that you have a middle finger that can extend, it works, bends, and can pull the clutch of a motorcycle if you needed it to.

4. Realize that in a HALF OF A SECOND, your life can change for the rest of your life. Most of us take weeks to make decisions, thinking that it's a huge deal and it will affect the rest of your life. Yeah, really not that big of a deal honestly. The BIG DEAL are the decisions that are made for you that you have no choice over.

5. Appreciate that when bad things happen to you, it really CAN be a lot worse. It could have been your whole hand, or your head, or a piece of wood shot through your stomach. That pretty much would have sucked.

6. Know that the movie that you play in your head is different than the one the other guy is playing in his head. Just because you HEARD the accident doesn't mean you experienced it. He actually remembers it, can relive it, and watched it happen in person. Perspective changes everything.

7. Always keep $20 in reserve in your car somewhere. When you have to pay to park at a hospital, and they ask for $12 while you are exiting the garage to go pick your patient up at the main entrance, and you have $3 in your wallet, at least you will have another $20 sitting somewhere in emergency in your car (and the best part is, there is no need to panic when you have money in your car to cover those things).

8. Finally, appreciate those around you that are kind and giving and good family and friends. You don't know who they really are until your world changes. Those are the people that are there for you, no matter what. You'll know them when you see them.

Okay, that's my soapbox for the day, and all the things I've thought of in the last couple of days. I'm sure more are coming, but for now, kiss your middle finger for me and hope for another great day!

Chris is HOME!

As promised, I put the picture of his current state of hand HERE. I'M WARNING YOU, DON'T LOOK AT THIS IF YOU GET WEIRD ABOUT BLOOD OR ANYTHING LIKE THAT. Seriously...His fingers are okay. He can feel them all. And really, that's all that is important.

Chris came home this afternoon. I arrived at the hospital about 10:45 this morning, and around noon the doctor came and said he was going to discharge him. I had been having my doubts before that he would even come home on Tuesday since he wasn't eating much and generally miserable. Hadn't been out of the bed yet. I was starting to "nag" him about eating or they wouldn't let him out. Anyway, doc says they are letting him go because there isn't much else they can do for him, and Chris has said he just wants to go home. I experienced a serious wave of anxiety, because I was ready on Tuesday for him to come home, but it just didn't seem right to me. Lesson learned, no time seemed right looking back.

As soon as they said he could come home, he immediately chippered up (if you can call it that).

I ran down to the pharmacy and filled his 6 prescriptions before he left the hospital. And then, we finally left Stanford at 3:30p. Typically, it would take a little over an hour to get back to Livermore, but thanks to Bay Area traffic, it took about 1.75 hours.

He's pumped full of narcotics, so he's in and out of sleep. I'm trying not to bug him every 1-2 hours like they did in the hospital. I'm going to grill up some chicken and broccoli tonight and hope he eats some of it. He kind of has to for the antibiotic stuff. Narcotics are a funny thing... he said to me that he has never been happier not being home, and it confused me, but he explained that this isn't him home (well, in some ways it isn't, but it's the only home we have). He also woke up a couple of minutes ago, was staring at the ceiling, and said something about thinking about the tables and the guys that make peanut butter. I remember being in the hospital myself and seeing monkeys and pigs climbing on the walls, so hey - peanut butter and tables seems completely appropriate.

Personally, I'm really nervous about the coming month. I have never had children, I don't think of myself as the best "caregiver", and I'm afraid to completely screw something up. The entire drive home, I was afraid to get in an accident, and then what. Talk about anxiety. I'm now half a bottle through some Fenestra Tempranillo, so my anxiety has waned a bit.

Arriving back in Livermore felt like we'd been gone for days. There was all the dishes from Thursday night's meal that I hadn't put away because the dishwasher was full. I had a full load of laundry to do, as well as Chris'. So, as soon as we got back, I got him situated on the couch (where he said he wanted to be), and I took off to start my work.

Ahhh.. just took off about 2 hours ago, and finally back to the email. Chris ATE a banana and drank a "cocktail" of cranberry juice and 7-UP. He's now in bed, bathed, and ready for a good night's sleep. He's taking his drugs and seems to be doing better. He mentioned something else about the peanut butter and tables, so I'm going to have to ask him about that later.

I'm sure this is long-winded by now, and you are ready to be done with it. Sorry about that - you all know how much I talk. I'll be doing some work tomorrow, and Lisa Chapin is going to be heading back down here to spend some time with Chris. That reminds me that I wanted (once again) to put some special thanks out to:

Eric & Lisa - for fielding my panic calls, emailing my dad, being another stoic voice of reason. Eric, you and Chris have a lot in common. We love you guys so very much.

Teri - for putting me up, and putting up with me. You made this last weekend bearable for me in so many ways. Your friendship (once again), your patience, your kindness... thank you so much.

Lisa - for loving Chris and being his sister, and being there no matter what. For bringing me rum in the ER (that's a story that we'll tell in 10 years). Between you and Teri, I don't know what I would have done.

Kyle - for showing immense sensitivity for a situation that was so completely jacked up. You are an amazing 21 year old, and I'm proud to say that I know you.

ASSers - thanks all of you for calling and emailing. We miss and love you guys. We'll go sailing next year on Travis. Promise.

Bartab - once again, my parrothead friends that I first found in Austin came to my emotional rescue. Despite the distance, I had a "family" I could rely on to e-listen to me.

And finally, certainly FIRST in my list, my mom and dad and Carl and Lynn and my brother Jon, who all care for and treat Chris like their own son and family member. You all helped us both through this (he just doesn't know it yet). Thank you all for being awesome parents and family members. You guys are the best.

Let the recovery begin...

kim

Have you met Lisa Chapin?

Lisa Chapin has been through this with us all along. I called her when I left for the Pleasanton hospital, and she met us there telling everyone she was Chris' sister. Lisa has come and stayed with Chris here in Stanford (tag team girlfriending), and Lisa has called and checked on me. Lisa brought me a diet coke with rum in it at the Emergency Room in Pleasanton because I was wired, anxiety-ridden, and needed a shot. Seriously.

Everyone needs a Lisa Chapin.

Kyle

Kyle is Cathi's 21 year old son. I've known Kyle since he was around 7 years old. Kyle now lives a mile away from us in Livermore.

The other day, when I thought Chris' finger was not attached and was back at the house, I went back to look for it. I couldn't find it, though wasn't really thinking that it would have flung anywhere. I called Cathi, and she had Kyle go over to the house to look for it. Kyle and his friend patiently sat in the garage determining trajectories based on the angle of the table saw blade (no surprise on this, since Kyle is brilliant). We realized somewhere in that time frame that he still did have the finger, and Kyle could stop searching.

Later that day while Chris was en route to Stanford, I went home to shower and called Cathi again. Cathi told me that earlier that day Kyle had said to her that he didn't want us to come home to the mess that was there. Cutting arteries has that effect. Anyway, Kyle cleaned it all up - there is not a trace of blood in the driveway or anywhere in the garage.

We were both quite touched by Kyle taking care of this and his reasons... so thank you from the bottom of my heart Kyle. I will always remember that.

Electromagnetic Radiation is a Wonderful Thing

Hey all y'all.

I want to reiterate again how much it's helped me over the last couple of days to hear from all of you. I'm doing everything I can to be the non-freakout Kim that Chris needs me to be.

I left yesterday morning for a while, and went back to Livermore to check on everything. It's a little over an hour from here to Livermore, so I called Teri to see if I could crash at her place until this was over. Teri is an old old friend of mine from 1994 time frame, and has always been one of those friends that you could rely on with your life no matter what. I wasn't sure I would be able to get in touch with her, but I also knew that if she was away, I could just move into her place anyway (she confirmed my suspicions also). Teri also has a dog, part chow part black something-or-other (wasn't there a Yorkie in there at some point). Teri also loves the B, and B loves Teri. So, it got me within 20 minutes of the hospital in non-commute traffic, I'm with someone that I've known for a long long time, and I feel like I'm with family here. Teri took a lot of the stress I had been having off of my shoulders. I packed my clothes up, the dog, and moved into Teri's.

I stayed at the hospital yesterday through about 8:30, but I was really having a hard time staying awake. The adrenaline was finally wearing off, and it was becoming increasingly important to get some sleep (I didn't realize until later yesterday that I hadn't slept in almost 36 hours). I also hadn't been eating. It's the little things in life you forget I guess. So, I left and had the ultimate comfort food that I haven't had since I moved to California, and won't eat under normal circumstances... CARL'S JR #3! (There isn't an In-n-Out on the way home). Let me tell you, that was damned near one of the best comfort food meals I've ever had. Had a nice couple of hours with Teri before I fell into a forehead first snooze into the back of the couch. I packed enough pants and shorts and undies to get through to next week, but apparently forgot that I need shirts to go with the pants. Space out much?

Lisa came over here this morning and sat with Chris from 8 until noonish. We're BLESSED... Lisa loves Chris like a brother, and would be there for him at the drop of a pin. *I* have 2 women here right now, September 21, in the Bay Area that I could rely on with my life that are like sisters to me. I got here at noon, brought flowers to try to brighten up his room (but I really wanted a pirate balloon, and had I been able to find a Johnny Depp poster, I probably would have found a way to tape it to the wall). On Lisa's suggestion, I brought a bowl of halloween candy for the nurses, so they come in here to get candy, check on Chris. So far, I don't think the little ploy is working, but then again we are in an ICU type of unit, so I'm not surprised. The food delivery chick came without a banana though, I offered her candy, found out that Chris ordered a banana, told her, and the chick came back with 2 bananas. Maybe I'm wrong about the manipulation part. I also brought the nurses a container of cookies. Always fun to give a bunch of skinny chicks sugary stuff that I don't eat myself.

Chris is doing better today, though I would guess it's hard to tell to anyone that didn't see him the last 2 days. He did finally lose the catheter. We're out of the 24 hour window for finger rejection now, and the finger appears to have not only survived but Chris can feel his finger tip (Allysone, our AWESOME nurse, has said he's the first one she's had with this injury that can feel the fingertip). He's eating a little bit, and drinking water. I think he's still in pain, but it appears to be not near as bad as it was yesterday. I can tell that's he's definitely getting tired of people being around and prodding him all the time.

I finally opened the X-Ray CD that I ganked from Pleasanton. I asked for the images, so when they brought the image folder, the technician dropped a CD in there and gave us the eyeball like "here's your CD, just grab it while you can." So, I grabbed it and stuck it in Lisa's bag. I loaded it a couple of minutes ago, and I'm thinking that they didn't want us to take it (but I have it now, and not sure I really want to admit that I have the thing). Loaded it up, found the image I wanted, and had to do an alt-print screen to get it out of there:



Finally, tomorrow the Occupational Therapist will come and unwrap his hand and make a full splint for him to go home with. For those morbid friends of ours, I'll be taking pictures of the unwrapped, newly reconnected and regenerated, hand. I promise, I will not post them openly.

Thanks again to everyone. We have wonderful friends and family, and this has made me miss all of you so much. Not that I wasn't already missing you, but DAMN I really miss you now. We love all of you very very much.

Sense of Humor

So, I've been on the phone with about 30 people today. I thank ALL of you for calling, for your concern for Chris, your concern for me. He's in constant pain it seems, and I'm doing everything I can to just hold myself together for him.

Wouldn't you know, Chris is still cracking jokes, almost constantly, regardless of his pain. And as expected, our friends are showing their wonderful senses of humor too:


(Thank you Michelle Scarisbrick for that new bumper sticker)

And from the Casatis:
Q: What should Chris name his boat now?
A: Tempus Digit
(to which Chris replied "Digits Fly???"

Thanks for keeping the humor going... it means a lot to us.

Bent and Broken

Chris had a fencing match with his table saw this morning, and the saw won. It was about 10:45am, I was sitting down for work, and I heard the typical buzz of him cutting wood in the garage. Next thing I heard was something cutting not-wood, he screamed, and I ran as he was yelling at me that he cut his finger off. In typical Kim Paternoster fashion, I freaked out. In typical Chris Larsen fashion, he stayed stoic, calm, told me how to tourniquet his arm and how to fill a bag full of ice so he could stick his hand in it. He told me to unlock the car so he could sit down, and thought HE was going to have to drive ME to the ER. (Note to self: I really have to work on that panic thing, but geezus who has the time...)

NOTE TO READERS: This was actually a boo boo... turns out, you should NOT stick a severed anything directly on water or ice. You should stick it in a bag, then stick THAT bag in another bag full of ice. As the skin dries out, it shrivels, and it can make it so things can't be reattached.

ANYWAY... I have pictures, Chris asked for them for the blog. IT'S NOT PRETTY. Really, if you must, they are HERE, but do NOT email me if you end up having nausea.

I want to thank Amy (you were a bright light in a dismal outlook and did a fabulous job taking care of my best friend, and seriously... let's do a beer, you are walking distance from our house, we owe you a few), Ryan (funny guy and thanks for helping us deal with the whole pee in the bottle thing), and Chris (you are the reason we are at Stanford Hospital, and without YOU, Chris would have lost the finger). I hope all of you went home and had a beer or three tonight.

It's 12:16am here at Stanford Hospital, and he's just come out of surgery after 5+ hours. He should be here within the hour. They were able to reattach the middle finger, despite how it looked. It's been a very long day, and looking to be a long 3-4 month recovery for him.

I can't wait to see him, even though he's going to be completely out of it (somehow I'm thinking it may not be much different than some of those nights on Sometimes Island). It's really hard when your best friend is going through so much pain, and there's not a thing you can do about it. It's even worse for him, but I'll tell you one thing - Chris Larsen is one of the strongest people I've ever known. "On a scale of 1-10, where's your pain", and he can actually SAY 10, and you know he means it... and he's SAYING it. Think about that.

Keep him in your thoughts. The rest of you woodworkers... get a damned blade stop mechanism. The money spent is a hell of a lot better than what this could end up being.

By Popular Demand, the Redneck Smoker

A couple of people asked "how do you build a redneck smoker?" So, here's the rundown, and the recipe for pulled pork that follows.

Qty Size Description
2 14" Azalea Pots
1 13" Weber Grill Grate
1 8" HD Aluminum Baking Pan
1 750W Hot Plate
1 6' Indoor Extension Cord
2 16AWG F Spade Connectors (sometimes can be found in mixed pkg).
2 16AWG M Spade Connectors
1 large diameter analog cooking thermometer that goes well over 250F
1 digital thermometer with probe (remote style recommended)
wood chips
meat

Carefully remove knob from rheostat on front of hot plate.
Disconnect leads from hot plate to rheostat.
Make sure to remember color coding on leads,
you will need to reconnect them properly later.
Cut ends off extension cord and strip 1/4" off all 4 conductors.
Crimp M spade connectors for hot plate leads onto one end of extension cord
Crimp F spade connectors for rheostat terminals onto other.
Inert M ends of extension cord into hot plate leads.
Reassemble hot plate as needed.
Set one pot on spacers to provide circulation under pot.
Set hot plate down into bottom of pot, leading hot plate plug &
rheostat end of extension cord through bottom of pot.
Connect rheostat to F end of extension cord, using proper polarity.
Set baking pan onto hot plate.
Sprinkle handful of wood chips into pan.
Set grill into bottom pot (make sure to wash off packing oil).
Set top pot upside down on bottom pot.
Insert analog thermometer into hole on top pot (when cooking, not for test run).

Smoker will maintain 250F on "High" (9:00).
We have smoked a whole chicken in 2 hours (probe temp 180F).
Smoker will maintain 215F on "Med-Low" (4:30).

Silicone gloves or some kind of removable handle is
recommended when checking meat, as pots get hot.

I recommend firing up your smoker on high for an hour after assembly
to check that everything works before risking dinner, and also to let
plastic warm up fully, and to finalize any offgassing from plastics.
This also has the benefit of infusing all materials with smoke.
You should see tons of smoke pouring out of the hole in the top.

And here's the recipe:

Pulled Pork Recipe courtesy Alton Brown

Brine (note my changes in parens, since Alton's is quite salty, so I
combined Alton's and Emeril's brine):
8 ounces or 3/4 cup molasses (KP: 1 cup molasses)
12 ounces pickling salt (KP: 1 cup salt)
2 quarts bottled water (KP: 1 gallon water, tap is fine)
6 to 8 pound Boston butt

Rub:
1 teaspoon whole cumin seed
1 teaspoon whole fennel seed
1 teaspoon whole coriander
1 tablespoon chili powder
1 tablespoon onion powder
1 tablespoon paprika


Combine molasses, pickling salt, and water in 6 quart Lexan. Add Boston butt
making sure it is completely submerged in brine, cover, and let sit in
refrigerator for a minimum of 8 hours. 12 hours is ideal. (KP: We use a
small cooler for this)

Place cumin seed, fennel seed, and coriander in food grinder and grind fine.
Transfer to a small mixing bowl and stir in chili powder, onion powder, and
paprika.

Remove Boston butt from brine and pat dry. Sift the rub evenly over the
shoulder and then pat onto the meat making sure as much of the rub as
possible adheres. More rub will adhere to the meat if you are wearing latex
gloves during the application.

Preheat smoker to 210 degrees F. Place butt in smoker and cook for 10 to12
hours, maintaining a temperature of 210 degrees F. Begin checking meat for
doneness after 10 hours of cooking time. Use fork to check for doneness.
Meat is done when it falls apart easily when pulling with a fork. Once done,
remove from pot and set aside to rest for at least 1 hour. Pull meat apart
with 2 forks and serve as sandwich with coleslaw and dressing as desired.

(KP: Meat should be 195 degrees internally when done if you want it to just
fall apart. I also read that if it hits a plateau at 160-165 and you are
within 2 hours of eating dinner, you can remove it from the smoker, wrap it
in foil, and stick it in the oven for 2 hours on 250. Apparently past 6
hours or so, the meat doesn't absorb smoke anymore. I don't buy it, but it's
definitely a thought)

Taste of Texas

So yesterday, I rebuilt the redneck smoker that we hauled halfway across the continent. There were some burned out parts, but for a few bucks and a few minutes, we were back in business. Kim brined a pork butt overnight, and I soaked the mesquite chips I picked up yesterday, and this morning at 9am, we fired that mother up. An hour later, Cathi said "It smells like something's burning", so I raced outside as she protested that she was just kidding. Once we found the balance point for the new rheostat, we were cruising at 215F. One nice thing about living in CA is that you keep the windows open, so the whole house smelled like Salt Lick. Nine hours later, we pulled off a lovely little crunchy bundle of delightfulness and tooled over to Cathi's boyfriend's house with it, where I proceeded to shred it with a couple of forks. Some of it actually made it onto the serving platter (which I was quite proud of). So here I sit, all packed from another big dinner. Kim and I are going on a diet tomorrow, unless we think of something else good to cook.

Follow-up on "Seattle Birthday Bash"

While leafing through my back-issues of "Good Old Boat" while sitting in the "library" (thanks to Spices 3), I came across an interesting coincidence. The boat in the article "Trekka begat Dolly..." in the July/August issue of this year (which coincidentally has my letter to the editor published in it on page 6) is the same boat we saw going backwards through the locks. Evidently, John Guzzwell's Polynesian wife Dorothy was at the helm (we originally thought she was Asian, for obvious reasons). For those of you that may not know, John Guzzwell solo-circumnavigated in between 1955 and 1959. He also featured prominently in Miles Smeeton's book "Once is Enough" as a very able-handed crew member. The irony is that this is such a beautiful boat, built by a very accomplished sailor, which was handled very poorly in what could've been a very damaging situation. Since I obviously couldn't narc on Dorothy (aka "Giggles") via an e-mail to "Good Old Boat" or to John directly, I had to blow off steam here. The fact that we saw a boat with such a pedigree being completely mishandled bothers me immensely. Please do not derive any ethno-centric or sexist commentary from an objective observation. Kim handled tacking "Cariad" much better than I could've. This coincidence totally smacks of the "Cariad Connection" we had with Valiant Owner's Newsletter article about the boat named "Cariad" that won the Swiftsure this year and Kim talking about hooking up with an old friend on Facebook with a boat named "Cariad"...



Lat/Long:
47D 39' 56.36 N x 122D 23' 48.72" W

Boat Shopping

So Saturday, Kim and I went into Oakland via BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit), a commuter train that comes almost all the way out to Livermore (I think they're looking at extending it). Anyhoo, it's great people watching, and I loved the coffee stains under the "No Food or Drink" signs. We disembarked in downtown Oakland, and Lisa Chapin pulled up a few minutes later to take us over to Jack London Square. This is a touristy place on the north side of the Estuary that separates Oakland from Alameda. It's got a Barnes & Noble, a bunch of restaurants, Jack London's house and his favorite bar, Heinold's, but more on that later.

Lisa had already been to the boat show, so she was able to direct us past all of the powerboats to the sailboats (of course you can just look for the masts). We gave a cursory glance at the Island Packet 46', and made our way to the end of the dock to the grand dame of the ball, the Valiant 42'. This is the new version of the '94 vintage boat we just sailed in Seattle last weekend, so we were already fairly familiar with the boat. The broker/owner was characteristically nice, and while Kim and Lisa engaged him in over an hour of boat-related small talk, I poked my head into every nook and cranny in the boat. I checked out engine access, bleeder valves, drip loops, wire runs, bilge access, keel-bolted mast step, bonding, cabinet joinery, etc. The two most noticeable differences in the two were this one had an option cabinet in the galley, which provided much-needed storage, without blocking the view of the saloon, or more importantly the flat-screen TV. BTW, we've decided that our 42" LCD is a bit much for the bulkhead. The other difference, and this is a biggie, is that there was three more inches of headroom. On the '94, I just barely cleared the liner, and I could see myself evolving into Quasimodo after any amount of significant time on the '94. The additional headroom made it feel quite spacious inside. I sat back and envisioned Kim and I trying to get around each other in a humid, equatorial anchorage, and it seemed totally possible (as long as we stock up on deodorant). After my survey, I sat down and joined the conversation (where I could get a word in edgewise), but concentrated my attention on the feeling of living aboard something 300 square foot range. At $432K (boat show sale price), that boat was not an option, but I did run home and e-mail Valiant, asking when they bumped up the head room.

After the boat show, we were all pretty thirsty, so we strolled over to Heinold's to have some water and refreshments. It's basically an ancient shack, that has almost completely been absorbed by the condos being build directly behind it. It even has a protective structure built all the way around it due to all of the construction. As you step into this dark hole, literally because the floor is tilted about ten degrees due to a little earthquake they had in 1906. The walls and everything that has been around for more than a year is completely coated in creosote. I can totally smell a hundred years of cigars that are no longer allowed to be smoked inside. We had our drinks, precariously seated on the slant and exchanged good-natured banter with the Asian bartender who made comments about immigrant wait-staff. They had a pretty cool t-shirt, but I've got to start drawing the line somewhere. We paid our tab (cash only), and headed over to Alameda for some marina shopping. My Precision 21' sailboat has graciously been sitting in Kim's brother's warehouse (thanks Jon!) since we pulled into town, so it's time to stick it somewhere a little more useful. Alameda Marina has dry storage, a ramp next door (which requires you to drive through someone else's parking lot), and a trio of cranes. If your boat has an eyebolt, bolted to the keel on the balance point, you can move your backstay out of the way, and lift it off the trailer and right down (15') into the water. If not, there are slings and stuff. I didn't really cotton to that idea too much, nor was I terribly keen on the quarter mile drive with the mast up to get to the ramp. I also thought about the hour it would take to motor down the Estuary to get to the Bay and thought we might look elsewhere, but it was an interesting exercise.

After that, we had to get home in time for dinner, so Lisa dropped us off at the BART station. We grilled some steaks and Kim tried a new recipe, horseradish au gratin potatoes. YUMMM!

Sunday, I had to go into West Marine, so after that, Lisa, Kim and I ran over to Forbidden Island Tiki Lounge for our Painkiller fix and ran into the people we had dinner plans with, Kathryn and Soren. Kathryn is an old motorcycle riding chick friend from Kim's past who also happens to be deaf, so with her no-holds-barred sarcasm and the inherent communication difficulties, she's always a blast to hang out with. She came to visit us for a few days last year in Austin. We finally got to meet her boyfriend Soren, who does light-rendering for Sony movies (he's worked on all three Spiderman movies). They are big Tiki bar freaks, hence us running into them. We then drove over to Spices 3, a Thai place that is famous for their zesty fare. They certainly lived up to their reputation, and there were a lot of jokes about dreading the morning's constitutional (which unfortunately turned out to be an accurate prediction).

We said our goodbyes and headed home and went to bed. At about 11pm, I jumped out of bed due to a weird vibrating feeling and said "I think we just had an earthquake". This morning there was 2.9 in San Ramon at the same time, but everyone assures me you couldn't feel that from here in Livermore. In four months, I've never had that feeling before, but who knows. BTW, we missed a 3.7 the morning we drove to Seattle.

Lat/Long:
37D 46' 41.97" N x 122D 15' 04.88" W

Isaac's Storm

Y'all be careful down there, y'hear?

Seattle Birthday Bash

The ENTIRE ALBUM of the trip is here.

So, as previously noted, we headed up to Seattle for the weekend. We drove North for 14 hours, taking pics of every mountain we came across (i.e. Shasta, St. Helens, Hood, Rainier, etc.). They were all breathtaking. It was pretty cool to see St. Helens live and not on CNN as I did in my youth. Anyhoo, the Pacific Northwest is pretty freaking cool. Each bend in the road opens a new vista where you can totally see someone (ourselves) building a log cabin and doing woodworking all winter long while you're shut in. I don't think that's a bad way to live.


We got to our destination (Alex's house, an old friend of Kim's from high school, recently reacquainted via Facebook) late evening on Friday night, just in time for Alex's two sons' bedtimes. Let me tell you that two strangers showing up at bedtime was not conducive to a 7 & 5 year old's sleepiness. After the ruckus died down, we decided what we were doing for the weekend and when.

Saturday morning we all loaded up into two vehicles after splitting up the kids so they could take turns riding in Kim's FJ cruiser to and from the Port Townsend Wooden Boat Festival. Alex and his father Phil are exceedingly bright people (Alex works at Microsoft, and Phil is a brilliant civil engineer who couldn't tell me what he did in Panama or he'd have to kill me). We actually discussed fusion vs. fission reactions along the way.

The trip across Puget Sound was really cool, literally, and we drove up the magnificent Olympic Peninsula through several very quaint towns. We spied Port Townsend because of all of the masts, secured parking and moseyed into the festival. There were woodworking booths/schools/demos/vendors everywhere. As you might well imagine, I had a "woody" because of the synthesis of two of my deepest passions. Kim was very understanding as I ambled along like a hormone drunk zombie from booth to booth.





We toured a nice schooner ("Adventuress") that was used for education and preservation purposes. We checked out Charlie's Charts and got Margo Wood to autograph the Polynesia chart book (did I mention we're going to Tahiti next year for my 40th?). We just missed Brion Toss' lecture, so I didn't need to buy the "Riggers Apprentice". I'll get it next weekend at WM.







After an hour of walking the docks, all of the wooden boats started to look alike, kind of like a Hawaiian Tropic bikini contest. They're all awesome, but I'll never have one. Too high maintenance. We strolled into town and checked out the nautical crafts, which were really cool. We chatted with locals and almost convinced ourselves that this would be a cool place to live, but then I remembered Seasonal Affective Disorder. Maybe we'll just visit a lot. Did I mention the weather was spectacular? 70's without a cloud in the sky.

We rendezvoused back with our host and family and made the trek back to Seattle proper. Kim and I loaded up on some really cool swag, which wasn't cheap, but will last us for years.


"Cariad", 2008 Swiftsure
Sunday dawned bright, clear and with the wind whispering among the pine tree tops, so after coffee and croissants, we headed to the marina. Alex has a beautiful Valiant 42 (which is on our short list). We got the boat ready, and while the shore power was charging the batteries, he gave us an owner's tour of the boat. The boat is exceedingly well-designed, and Alex had made some really smart mods (e.g. custom yet easily replaceable instrument panel). We let him school us, took pics, tried to ask intellient questions, you know the drill. Once Alex deemed the battery was charged, we cast off and motored out into Puget Sound.

The wind was blowing 16+ knots, but Alex is a racer, so we soon hoisted the main, staysail, and genoa and were clipping along at 7+ knots. The Valiant 42 is one of the most well-respected pelagic cruisers, and "Cariad" (Welsh for "love") settled into her groove. With a nice bow wave on the leeward side, we rapidly approached the Olympic peninsula and had to tack. Tacking a cutter was an interesting task. Alex explained that if you tack the genny, the staysail will help it across without getting fouled. That tack took us back to north Seattle, so it was time to head home. Being a rather successful racer (Alex won the Swiftsure this year in his division), we hoisted the spinnaker and headed downwind. After ironing out a few technical problems, mostly because we were the newbies on board, we gybed and were back in front of the breakwater at the marina all too soon. All in all a glorious daysail. We put the boat away properly, took some pics, and went back to the house.

Alex had rock band practice, so we drove off to find more Seattle sights. We toured the Hiram M. Chittendom Locks, which separate Puget Sound from Lake Union. We were lucky enough to watch a rather comical (because nobody or nothing got hurt/damaged) transit downstream. It may be difficult to tell from static pics, but the two sailboats we witnessed were actually going backwards (yes, rudder forward) as they got caught bass-ackwards in the lock's current. The Corps guys have a saying "lake line last" meaning that because of the current, you want to release your bowline first, then your stern line. If you don't do it that way, the stern gets caught in the current (especially the keel that is mostly aft) and you'll start heading downstream backwards.  
One guy tried to maneuver his boat, but didn't have the turning radius. The Asian lady in the gorgeous wooden boat just giggled and steered backwards straight down the fairway. This was all accompanied by much commentary from the peanut gallery on the observation walkways. I guess keeping your boat in fresh water with access to Puget Sound is worth all of the hassle of transiting.

Sunday night culminated in a fire in the backyard, Kim playing piano, and plank-grilled freshly frozen salmon from the Alaskan boats that hit Seattle every morning. It was undoubtedly the best salmon I've ever had in my life, and there wasn't a speck of seasoning on it. Another round of get the monsters to bed ensued and we all crashed hard for the night.

Monday, we got up early, hit West Marine, the Microsoft store, said our goodbyes and headed East. Snoqualmie Falls was spectacular and a rather brisk hike. After exhausting ourselves, we got in the truck and headed south for several hours until we were well South of Portland, in Oregon's capitol of Salem. A rather mediocre dinner, based on the hotel clerk's recommendation, and we crashed hard in the hotel room after playing catch-up with the online crossword puzzles.

Tuesday we drove home. Cathi had dinner waiting for us when we got home. After exchanging anecdotes from our respective weekends, I sat down and started my requisite blog (THIS one). Kim will do her usual polishing and embed a few of the dozens of pics we took. I'm looking forward to finishing my dresser and starting the next project on Cathi's house, which will probably be her master bath. If all goes well, I will be able to finish the project while she's in N. Carolina visiting her son (who has just come home from Iraq) and his new daughter.

Lat/Long:
47D 40' 44.75" N 122D 24' 26.66" W

What I Did With My Tax Relief Check...

For a long time now, I've been living out of one of those damned Rubbermaid dressers from Wal-Mart. It's made me feel a little white trash, so I took a couple of weeks off from working on Cathi's house and bought some quartersawn white oak for some plans that I've had for years. Six hundred dollars later, my truck now popping a wheelie up 680, I unload a couple of hundred pounds of QSWO, poplar and plywood into the garage. The dresser is called a gentleman's chest, and is a standard Arts & Crafts piece of bedroom furniture. I really liked the asymmetrical look and the flexibility of the cabinet opposite the smaller drawers.


I started cutting out the parts of the case (which gives the frame rigidity and reduces seasonal wood movement, which would cause the drawers to bind) being extremely careful to cut them as perfecty square as possible. Taking the time to make these parts perfect will yield serious dividends later on. I cut the dadoes in the case for the intersecting parts, making sure they all aligned perfectly. Any error would be noticeable and interfere with drawer movement. Once all of the parts for the case were made, I glued it up in stages, according to the directions and went to work on the oak. Carefully selecting the wood for optimal aesthetics. The medullary ray flake/fleck is one of the most striking aspects of quartersawn white oak. Ironically, Gustav Stickley used ammonia fuming on his furniture to subdue the ray flake to give his pieces a more homogenous look. Most woodworkers today take great pains in formulating their finishes to celebrate this effect, which in certain light and at certain angles is actually reflective.


I cut out the dozens of pieces of QSWO to the dimensions in the plans, labeled each with a part number and the "show" side, then starded applying the parts to the case. I had to cut wide slabs of QSWO into thin panels using a technique called resawing, which means holding the board on edge and running it across the band saw (the $200 band saw I got off of CraigsList in Austin for $80 because the guy didn't want to have to put it together). That was first for me and required me to make a special jig for the bandsaw to align the board properly. Luckily, I was able to plane the panels down to the proper thickness, which means I didn't get off center too much. The panels were prestained so no unstained edges might show. The sides went together first, then when cured, they were applied to the case. This formed the inside dimensions I needed to apply all of the oak to the plywood edge, thus hiding the plywood and making the entire dresser appear to be of solid oak.


The top got glued up and all of the trim pieces were applied. It was starting to look like a piece of furniture. Camping and sailing got in the way, but when we got back, I dove back in, finishing the case. It was now time to make the drawers.

Following the directions, I planed $100 worth of 3/4"+ poplar down to the 1/2" in the plans. Since the large drawers were taller than the poplar was wide, I had to glue them up. The next day, when picking up the cured 1/2" panels, they snapped off on the glue lines. Quite bummed out, I went and bought more 3/4" poplar and started building the drawers without planing it down. I reasoned that it would be much beefier than the flimsy 1/2" stuff. Unfortunately, this caused a whole slew of modifications in the drawer dimensions. When it came time to cut the drawers' lock joint, I setup the table saw for the original 1/2" thickness and proceeded to make the first set of cuts on all of the applicable boards. When I realized I had made a mistake, I then had to figure out how to salvage the drawer stock. I settled on a symmetrical "T" shaped joint, which was necessarily thinner than the sturdier "L" joint I should have had, but there was nothing I could do at this point.

I also have to mention that I originally had planned on making my dresser with dovetail joints, but after messing with the $200 dovetail jig I bought for the occasion, having the spindle come out of my new router (which is an all day repair job), and finding out that Stickley pieces have a lock joint, I settled on what I thought was going to be the lesser of two evils.


When glueing up the drawers, I realized I had made another mistake. The back of the drawer should be shorter than the sides, so the drawer bottom overlaps the back for nailing purposes. I had made the back of the drawer the same height, cut the groove for the drawer bottom in the back, and had cut the drawer bottom short enought to fit into the back groove. The drawer bottoms should've been 1/2" deeper. Because drawer bottoms are loosely fit to allow for seasonal wood expansion, they aren't glued in. As a result, my drawer bottoms are completely loose, captured in the groove on all four sides, instead of nailed/screwed in the back, so they have a nice, loose sound. I hope that when I pile my tidy whities into the drawers, the weight and muffling will compensate.

When fitting the drawers, each drawer had to be numbered and paired with each opening in the case, based on a best fit trial and error process. There were slight differences in the opening dimensions and drawer sizes that seem to me almost unavoidable, considering the care I took. Each drawer was custom sanded to fit into it's respective slot.


When I was happy with the fit, it was time to make the QSWO faces for each drawer. Once again, the required height was taller than my board width, so I broke out the glue once again. This time, everything went well, and I had some nice looking boards with glue lines that were mostly inconspicuous. The medullary ray flake was spectacular on the board I saved for these parts, and the front of the dresser is a writhing exploding celebration of QSWO. Each face was custom fit into its respective drawer, then double stick taped to the drawers with shims underneath to center them in the opening. Gingerly removed, making sure to keep the tape from slipping, the drawers were screwed to the faces from the inside. These screw holes indexed the faces to the drawers, so I was able to remove them and put several coats of hand-rubbed polyurethane on them, which really brings out the luster of the finish (which is TransTint Reddish Brown #6003, thanks to Kim's dad Joe). I still have to disassemble everything and put several coats of poly on the case, but otherwise, it's a done deal. It weighs about 200 pounds, so getting it into the house is going to be interesting. It exactly matches the headboard I made before we left Austin, so I'm on my way to a complete bedroom set. I looked online, and comparable dressers are going for $2,000-$2,500, so I think it was a good investment. I'm looking forward to it being in place, loading it up, and moving the Rubbermaid dresser out into the shop for tool storage.

Laborious Woodward Reprise

Saturday, we took the The Twins to Woodward Reservoir as our first catting experience with "The Lisa Chapin". Traffic was bad on 120 because there was a slow truck with stuff piled up over the cab. You know the type. We finally made it by noon, paid the entrance fee, drove around the lake with tent cities everywhere. We could see the water being churned up by all of the powerboats and jet skis. As we wound around the lake to the part we were familiar with from the last trip, we saw a Hobie sail in the near distance. We were very cautious to avoid the Fleet 20 meth heads we were stuck with a few weeks ago, but evidently they had the weekend off (probably because of the powerboating idiots that come out on Labor Day). We drove around, looking for a place to beach launch, but the entire shoreline was jam packed. We finally decided to check the ramp out. We managed to setup and launch between smokers. Unfortunately, the ramp is at the very downwind end of the less windy side of the lake. As a result, we spent an hour tacking back and forth, making maybe fifty yards of windward progress on each tack. At times, it looked like we tacked back over our previous track. On top of that, there were several of those monster powerboats with the horizontal exhaust pipes blasting out 150 decibels all around us. The smokers kept doing donuts in front of us or upwind, so we got to enjoy the aroma of burnt dinosaurs.

We finally made it up to dam, and rounded our "race buoy", which is just the leftmost "NO BOATS" buoy along the front of the dam. We skimmed along the dam and basically did beam reaches across the lake, making sure to stay as far away from everyone else as possible. It was kind of like avoiding a hundred rubber duckies in a tub. We saw some interesting things like a small ski boat with nine latinas dancing. We tacked past them, and Kim did a little pole dancing on the shroud which really whipped them into a frenzy. Unfortunately, we also saw a skier get hit by a jet skier. We cruised on by the authorities as they were taking the victim to shore for medical care and towed the impounded jet ski. We suspect that alcohol may have been involved.

All things being considered, we actually had a nice sail. The wind was light and variable, but it was a perfect temperature, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. The wind built a little toward afternoon, then started to drop off. Since we didn't want to have to scull the two miles home, we headed downwind for the ramp. We were able to sail right between the ramp fingers, and we put the boat up around 4pm. A windy drive home heralded a cold front that relieved the 100+ F temps we'd been having all week (which made my woodworking shop more of a sweat shop). Wed' closed the house up, intending to turn the AC on, but forgot the latter part, so the house was nice and toasty when we got back. Fortunately, the 70F wind cooled the house off in a jiff.

Lisa stayed the night and drove me into West Marine on Alameda the next morning, since Kim was coming in too and we didn't want two vehicled in town. Sunday, after work, we hit the Tiki bar while we decided what we wanted for dinner. The Zombie had five stars on the menu, and the last star was drunk (literally). We checked out a Thai place (Toomies), based on our waitress' recommendation. Toomies turned out to be awesome. We strolled the streets of downtown Alameda for a while, then headed home.

Sorry no pics, we're waiting on our waterproof camera case.

Lat/Long:
37 51 08.38 N 120 51 17.52 W

GOP Convenience?

Political Warning (a.k.a. don't read this if you are a McCain supporter):

Okay, so there are a few things that occur to me this morning as I'm watching CNN coverage of Hurricane Gustav. CNN reported that the GOP Convention is being truncated, and Laura Bush and Cindy McCain are both going to discuss hurricane relief. Did the Republicans buy a hurricane? It has to be the only explanation after McCain's retarded VP pick from last week... not that Palin is retarded, but I CERTAINLY wouldn't want this woman running our country in the likely event that McCain can't be the President anymore (he's 72 and doesn't look like he's in the best health IMHO).

I saw an article a couple of days ago that said "Does McCain think American women are idiots?" He chose Palin in hopes that he would capture the women that wanted Hillary in office and aren't overly thrilled with Barack. I don't think McCain counted on those women having brains. I don't care if Palin is a woman or a polar bear, I'm not voting that ticket.

The one interesting thing I am thinking out of this election is either way that wins is going to be a first in this country. We'll either have an executive woman in office, or (crossing my fingers and doing everything I can to help this along) we'll have a non-white man as president.

In the news that started this whole discussion, I'm thinking of all my friends in New Orleans who chose to stay there after Katrina and rebuild. I'm happy that Gustav appears to have lost a lot of strength on it's way across the Gulf, though it does look like the Crescent City is on the back-side of the hurricane unfortunately. Y'all hang in there.

2 other things:

As of 11:13am PST, the storm surge hasn't hit NOLA yet, though the water is already breaching the Industrial Canal in the Ninth Ward. Just about 2.5 years ago, Robin and I drove through the Ninth Ward. In 2.5 years, the place still hasn't fully rebuilt. In fact, recent pictures I've seen still make it look like the war zone I'd seen with her in person. It was tearjerking to drive through 20+ miles of neighborhoods that had just been utterly destroyed. Now, it looks like with the storm surge coming, it's going to happen again. I'm starting to think that in our lifetime, NOLA will cease to exist.

And... this morning Palin announced her 17 year old daughter is pregnant. Is this what "family values" means to Republicans? They spout anti-abortion sentiment, and now there's going to be yet another child bearing a child in an overly populated world. They spout anti-gay marriage, but Cheney's daughter is openly lesbian. Is it all hypocritical? Do they even know what they sound like?