Observations on Freedom

Well ok, it's been two weeks since I made the switch from commuting 126 miles each day and being responsible for a massive facility, including a church and school, to working from home or very close to it, grading history and woodworking.  It's time for a report.

One of the first of two things I noticed after I stopped commuting was my spike in energy levels. Even though my drive was not that bad, it was slowly destroying me. My attitude, energy level, optimism, and level of stress changed almost instantaneously. I now have an abundance of energy, don't have to deal with the dipwads on the road, and I can actually slow down on some days and smell the roses--or in my case, the wood chips--around me.

Furthermore, I don't feel like life is passing me by, that I am missing out. I don't feel as if I have to entertain myself on the internet. I don't find myself dreaming about what life would be like living in a cabin in West Va. or Montana or wherever anymore. I find myself making my present situation better and being as real as I can be regarding my present circumstances and taking on tasks that actually need to be done.

The second major thing I noticed was that I have, at long last, regained some measure of patience with those around me. What would set me off on an epic rant, at least in my head, laced with a colorful MF-laden series of epithets, now seems like a very small matter. Because of this, I am a better father and person. I still think people are bullshit when appropriate--while recognizing my own--but it concerns me much less. They can go screw, whoever they are, and I will stay home and grade papers and smile at my AR-15 when I need a pick me up, and then go down to my personal woodshop while imagining it to be larger, grander, and more well-appointed with tools than Vahalla.

Yes, I will do all these things. Repeatedly. And not give a damn about they guy next door or wherever. None of that shit really matters now.

In a word, my shackles have been broken. I have my freedom, my liberty. In our day and age we piss away our liberty and freedom so casually, in part because 99% of the jackasses around us are doing the same thing. What our Founding Fathers fought and pledged their sacred honor for, we freely fritter away.  Yet time is our most valuable commodity. How we use it, or fill it, will determine the core result of our lives on a day to day basis.

For 5 fast years I enjoyed serving the Church, doing my job, and being the Johnny-except-my-name-is-Nick-on-the-spot savior for the entire complex. It became routine to solve everyone's problems.

People often called me for the most bullshit things, however. And so for the past two years I steadily disappeared into the background, moved my office to the mechanical room, and tried not to answer the phone. Nevertheless, I found that my new boss was also finding creative ways for me to run around in circles, re-invent the wheel, and carry his water.

While this was still relatively light duty in some ways, I found myself carrying more stress than I really wanted and began evaluating my future: do I blink again and watch another 5 years of my life go by, commuting 2.5 hours a day, or do I make a radical change for the sake of my family.
I chose the latter course, and now see very clearly that the Lord has set His people free.

I am rambling now, but my point is that the taste of freedom is ultra-sweet. Whatever freedom means to you, it's goodness cannot be underestimated. We give that up if we are not careful when we enter the work force. We give that up when we don't make doing what we love or believe in a real priority. We give that up when we chose to become a slave.

I understand that the world still needs janitors. In fact, I performed those duties as needed for 5 years. To those who wondered, I was a maintenance director, not a MF janitor. I don't have a problem with janitors. Some are geniuses, though most are not. It simply displeased me when the haughty felt sorry for me, you know, because sitting in an office, under a blinding flourescent light, staring at a bluish screen for 8 hours is sublime and uplifting.

Save your sympathy, jerkfaces.

Anyway, I've digressed.

While I may be in what still might be considered the honeymoon period, I do a lot more work and find that having both intellectual and creative physical work in my day is both challenging and satisfying for my personality. I don't mind editing American History tests and commenting on them, even when I am tired.

I simply enjoy kicking ass. So I think that's what I'll continue to do.

Godspeed,

--Nick-Dog

Do or Die

Sink or swim. Dominate or be defeated.

The Tuesday after Easter, I gave 3 weeks notice that I would be leaving work to pursue woodworking and grading as my full-time occupations.

I have been chomping at the bit to make the switch for some time. My boss, for the next week or so, is a nice guy, but he is also somewhat maddening to work for. The kinda person who schedules you to meet endlessly with new groups of people, to rehash and come to the conclusions you have already reached time and again. In addition to all my other responsibilities this new one of being accountable for others' recommendations and decisions, and then pretend to be happy about it, was probably the last thing I could endure.

I know I could have kept along to get along, but the door I had been waiting for finally opened. I got a phone call the Weds. before Easter, letting me know that there was an American History grading position open in Front Royal if I wanted it, one in which I could work from home. Are you kidding? The clouds had parted and a light from Heaven beamed upon me. F-yea..., I mean, Yes!

By Easter Monday, I had a solid part-time to possibly full-time gig, alongside my work at the wood shop. When I got the phone call I felt so much peace, I knew it was the right thing, and now I am finished with training for grading and prepping to go balls-to-the-wall on both fronts.  No more commuting for over an hour each way. No more worrying about D.C. blowing up while at work. No more bullshit, for the most part, unless it is self-induced.

I can deal with that.

The main consequences of my decision are peace, freedom, joy, energy, and hope. I have more energy and excitement than I have experienced in a long, long time. The security of a stable 9-5 ain't nothing, but there comes a time when you grow out of a position, where you know you need to make a move or risk becoming a mindless drone, living in a tolerable and comfortable rut.

Ruts and comfort, though, have never been my cup of tea.

For the first time since I exited college, I will be using my degree to obtain a living. I will continue as well to follow the path of woodworking. I can also now see a way forward to building a much-need addition to our house and finish the zillions of half-finished projects I have left for myself.

Raising my cup of tea to all those who read my blog. Pray for me that I may succeed, and I will in turn pray for you that you will never cease to kick ass in your life.

Over and Out,

--Nick-Dog

My fetish for olde things....

So I purchased today a new-to-me Parks "12 Planer for my home wood shop.

A Parks Planer is a popular old tool for tinkerers and woodworkers to restore. The design is simple and proven, starting sometime in the 1930s and produced under the Parks and Craftsman label until the early 80s. The one I laid my hands on today is probably from the 50s or 60s, looking at the design; that is just a guesttimate, pending investigation.

So what on earth did I buy an olde tool for, when I could go to Lowes and plunk the same amount of cash on a quality new one? Well, my reasons are numerous, but it all amounts basically to this: they just don't make them like they used to. The old iron on vintage tools is usually pretty awesome. The designs are simple and effective. Many were made in the USA and to stand the test of time.

Old tools, machinery, and cars, IMO, carry with them the allure of ages gone by. They are monuments to the past, a testimonial, for better or worse, to the attitudes, feelings, and culture of those that used and created them.

It's not that I needed another project. I have plenty. Enough to keep me busy for as long as I'd like. The fact is, I love restoring things, bringing them back to life and honoring the "older" than me ways. You can't recreate the feelings of old things in new things. You just can't. New things are often disposable. Old things were meant to last, and can often be repaired.

Maybe I'm just hopelessly romantic regarding certain antiques. However, I take comfort in knowing that I'm not the only one who thinks in this way.

The gent I purchased the planer from had a house in 1980s old suburbia with a driveway and garage filled with old machinery for wood and metal working. He basically had a small path from his house to his garage, and the rest of the stuff was covered in tarps. Don't ask me where he got all this stuff. I think it finds him, but he had basically anything and everything one could ever want for a shop.

The seller, an engineer, was a really chill guy. He spoke with a slow southern draw, and I was saddened to hear that he was "between jobs." You could tell that he was an intelligent dude, who could basically do anything he put his mind to. He allowed me to test the planer and run a board of 100-year-old white oak, which the planer smoothed with relish. I was pretty surprised. I expected the planer to balk. I thought, "Damn, wow." We dropped the setting to take a larger bite, but that was too much, and likely would have been for the Grizzly I am accustomed to using as well.

After loading up, we chatted about his tool collection and additional country storehouse of old machinery. I told him I would hit him up in the future and we parted ways.

On the way, I had considered haggling, because I was unsure of what I was getting myself into with this old work horse, but when I saw that this man was good and honest and out of work, I thought better of it and decided to simply pay the fair price he had asked for the machine and head out. In doing so, I left like I had done the right thing, and may eventually give him a call back the next time I have a tool need.

All that said, I look forward to restoring this tool, as needed, and putting it to plenty of good use.

Over and Out,

--Nick-Dog

B to the W

I've been so busy, life's been a blur. Except today, Sunday 3/11/12. Today, I got it all in, more or less.

I woke up this morning to the sound of the phone ringing. Praying it was not work, I answered and discovered that the fence installer dude could get to me earlier this morning than had previously planned. Score. We went to mass the night before, so my Sunday was now going to be truly open.

We walked the property and talked guns. I am sure my sketchy neighbors saw me gesturing to their playset, which had strayed over my property line. It was removed shortly thereafter. We'll see what happens on getting a fence installed along with 3 gates, 2 four ft. and 1 twelve ft. There's lots of dips and corners to deal with on my property, so there are going to be numerous wooden posts (probably?) cemented and braced in the corners. I am hoping for a solid bid so I can get this done and be done with it, not to mention having a physical and psychological barrier to outsiders considering entering my property. Finally and most importantly, I need to keep my kids safe and away from the road. This is my greatest concern.

Brunch and homemade coffee followed, as I got my act together and began prepping for painting the rest of my kitchen. This project, like so many others, had been lingering for a long time. I have been the king of starting projects and not finishing them around here, though that trend has been changing. Anyway, in addition to cleaning the walls and trim and wet sanding drywall, I cleaned those areas of the kitchen that rarely receive attention.

Clare cooked an amazing brunch --her cooking skills rival that of the gods--and we jetted out to the Thompson Wilderness Wildlife area. Our end of the trail was pretty much deserted and we enjoyed time by a chortling creek and miniture waterfall. It was secluded and serene, and we were able to enjoy time by the water on one of the first really nice Springy days. Score.

We returned home after a scenic drive through Paris, Va. and stop at Martin's and Spelunkers'. At home I cleaned the porch, the yard, and split the remainder of the wood I had cut. Clare cooked Burgers and coleslaw to die for, and the peepers are peeping in chorus.

It's the beginning of Spring in Virginia. I have found that I live for this time. The weather is perfect, refreshingly cool and perfect for a cold beer and work on the house. Before we ate, I went outside and sat under my tree, where I will be installing a permeanant fire pit/sitting ring for summer nights by the fire. I sat to watch the remnant of the sun set over the mountain and see Jupiter and Venus shine in its place.

All I can say is, I hope I have days like this more often. Here's to liberty and getting things done!

Cheers,

--Nick-Dog

EDC Considerations

For quite some time, I've been giving more thought to a better EDC (that's 'every day carry') for my personal set up.

At the moment I am toting a Maxpedition M-2 belt pouch that has plenty of room, too much girth, and no effective organization. Generally, always on my person are the following: my cell, a lighter, Spyderco folder, Leatherman, and flashlight. While it's on the belt, finding and actually keeping things in this pouch is a hassle. The zippers and clips are a certfiable pain in the ass too, and so more often than not the pouch remains open throughout the day.

Because of this I've searched high and low to find the PERFECT solution, and after hours of dedicated searching, I think I've found it--a custom skinny sheath called the Skinth.

Created by a fellow prepper, various custom set-ups and ideas for a variety of needs exist for the Skinth. While the name is kinda gay sounding, I really don't give a damn. There are simply no other sleek options out there for what I want, so a Skinth XL will be coming my way sometime in the near future.

My hope is that the pouch will disappear along the waistline, generally appearing much like a quasi-yuppie smart phone holder. And speaking of phones, I am preparing myself for the possibility that I might actually have to get a conventional holder as well, which will suit me just fine.

Also on deck for purchase is a new Protac in AA by Streamlight. My Microstream went missing some time ago, though I expect it turn up eventually. How was it lost? Well, you see when you sit down at a certain angle with the Maxpedition M-2 pouch open... You see where this is going. My bad.

Finally, I am considering the purchase of the CQB tool/knife from Spartan blades. Thank you Mercop for another awesome idea/product recommendation. In his video, he demonstrates the awesome utility in having a go-to knife for off-side back up. I was mega impressed. Essentially, he shows a modern adaptation of how the samurai carried their blades and used them. Notwithstanding the $160 price tag, I think this set up, if used and trained with regularly, would be absoluetly *bleeping* devastating and effective.

And that's why I like it.

As gear goes, the quest continues for awesome stuff. However, training with it, knowing deployment options, AND ACTUALLY USING THE SHIT is generally way more important than fru-fru carry cases. Though those kick ass too.

Over and Out. Peace,

--Nick-Dog

Back on the Road

The Jeep that is.

I owned a Mustang once. I mean twice. Both were great in their own right. A 1967, old iron that carried respect and inspired awe, and a 1998, that owned the streets in modern fashion--at least to my mind. I was somewhat sad to see the '67 hauled off after I sold it to a father and son team off ebay. "Relief" is perhaps the best word to describe the emotion I felt when I took the money and ran, almost literally, to the bus stop after selling the '98. With 267k on the odo, it had more than paid its dues, carrying me from A to B during the best and worst of times.

But the Jeep. The Jeep. A Wrangler in 4WD with the legendary 4.0 under the hood. It's a whole different ball of wax altogether.

Jeeps are built like little tanks. Whereas Mustangs are built for speed, Jeeps take an entirely different approach, much like the turtle in the turtle and the hare parable. Mile for mile, the Jeep keeps marching along. It is not concerned about speed or obstacles, only about finishing the race.

Except when there is an electrical problem, that is.

LOL, I love Jeep Wranglers and their XJ (Cherokee) brethern. They inspire within me a wanderlust that can only be satisfied by getting behind the wheel and slamming the gas. If one can deal with their idiosyncries and not mind being stranded here and there occasionally, then owning a Jeep can be an absolute joy, albeit one that can be difficult to explain to others who don't share the same gluttony for occasional self-inflicted hardship and challenge.

These were my thoughts as I was lampooned on shoulder near the interstate by my house one morning several weeks ago, dialing AAA. I felt no animosity towards me vehicle, only a sense of angst that I couldn't get it to start, and awe mixed with fear at the mechanical conundrums that lie before me. Thank goodness for the Jeep forums, which helped in diagnosing and resolving my issues.

Things that got replaced/installed in this process:

*Champion 7034 sparkplugs
*Crankshaft Position Sensor
*Camshaft Position Sensor
*CCV Valves & Hoses
*Engine Coolant Temperature Sensor
*Starter

The K&N air filter was cleaned, as well as the throttle body, Idle Air Control Sensor, fuel system (BG44k), and the battery, after being tested, had it and its cable leads cleaned up.

The Jeep is up and runs incredibly strong right now, but one last hurdle remains before full harmony can be achieved--the Fuel Regulator/filter on top of the gas tank. The check valve in it has failed, and so I have to crank 2 sometimes 3 times to build up enough fuel pressure to get her to fire up.

Through all this, I have grown ever closer to my '01 Wrangler, especially after driving the minivan to work. While the latter vehicle is perfectly comfortable, I love the fit and feel of my beast 4WD. After all this I am now inspired to spend stupid money on insane modifications that will actually kill MPG and street manners, and create increased off-road performance and personality.

Tragic or not, I just love these damn things. I guess I do fit in out here after all, lol.

Over & Out,

--Nick-Dog

Weapons & Such 2012

All this month, I've been feeling like I've had my back to the wall, dueling with bullshit scenarios that all at once decide to rear their ugly head. From trips to the ER with my son to a broken down Jeep, to the whole family getting sick, there have been few things that have brought me back to Sun-Tzu like focus, two of which are thus:

1.) Prayer.

2.) Cleaning my weapons, i.e., guns.

I know it sounds banal to some, but there is nothing like taking some alone time to focus on your weapon(s). In this instance numerous weapon's lubrication and mechanical health. The smell of the oil and spent powder one encounters are the smells of war, at least when it comes to paper targets. And with that said, like the bullseye, said odors draws a person's mind into focus as well as to an avid appreciation of the tools of man.

After I was finished oiling up some weapons and wiping things down, after just a crazy couple of weeks, I felt renewed, refreshed, and refocused by paying attention to my go to pieces. So in the spirit of MadOgre and Martin's Blog (the last of which my computer OS will not let me comment to save my life), I will state my 3 weapon's goals for the year:

1.) Optics and hardware for the AR. Looking at a Red Dot, quad rail, handle and rear flip up site specifically, not to mention a carrying strap. Add in a few more P-Mags from JABTAC and bulk 5.56 and this weapon will be ready for domination. Add in a tactical carbine class and it will be all sweetness and light in the firearms department.

2.) 2nd Glock. Three is two, two is one, one is none. It would like to see a G17 RTF or additional Gen3 added to the cache. Having two of one's carry weapon is not a bad idea for numerous reasons. It's time to put my money where my mowth is and keep an extra just in case. Besides, a G17 is a fine investment. Hell, why not have 3?

3.) Gun Safe. One of the struggles in my house is the lack of space. I like to have things set up in stations, and an aptly placed gun safe would go a long way to improving my level of organization. I have guns placed strategically about the house, but those notwithstanding, I'd like to have a dedicated location for my weapons and other valuables.

I could go on ad nauseum with my weapon wish list, but I will stop now. Suffice it say, it always feels good to add to the supply. And with that,

Here's to wishing you all a zombie free 2012!

Over and Out,

--Nick-Dog